I’ve Seen it All Before, But...

When I began my career as a Rabbi, experience was an issue. At one point, a prominent synagogue in New York refused to consider my application due to inexperience. For years, I have heard the remark "you’re the Rabbi? But you’re so young!". (By the way, I’m finally past that stage, a clear sign of middle age setting in). For a Rabbi, experience and age are assets, enabling him to somewhat resemble the visage of a "true" Rabbi (i.e., someone who looks Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments).

Yet, after nearly 15 years in the rabbinate, having finally conquered the disabilities of youth and inexperience, I have encountered a new problem: too much experience.

I first encountered it at a funeral. An elderly woman had passed away, and I was wrapping up my preparatory meeting with her daughter. As I was leaving, I put on my rabbinic face of earnest concern, and told her in a soothing tone how sorry I was about her loss. Unfortunately, this woman worked as a secretary for a pulpit Rabbi, and had seen this spiel many a time before at her own office. She immediately turned to me and said: "come on Rabbi! You’ve seen this all before, haven’t you?".

It was then I realized I had too much experience.

With experience, the lessons of humiliating mistakes and proud triumphs get seared into your memory and become second nature. Unfortunately, at the same time, experience burns out emotional nerve endings. Whether it’s weddings or funerals or Bar Mitzvas, when you do something over and over again, it’s just another routine. Emotions that flow automatically at wedding and funeral number one are much harder to access at number one hundred or number two hundred. I imagine that even Liz Taylor found it hard to get very excited about her ninth wedding.

It is tempting to replace the lost excitement with a bored cynicism. Having done it all before, seasoned veterans proudly adopt a world weary, casual attitude to life’s peak moments. Getting excited is for neophytes, for people too inexperienced to know better. When you’ve seen it all, life’s just reruns, n’est ce pas?

Frankly, I can’t stand cynicism. To me, cynicism is merely a disguise for emotional impotence. As I searched for a way to remain emotionally engaged in my work, I came across a useful bit of Talmudic wisdom on coping with the dulling nature of routine.

Boredom during prayer during prayer is a common problem. Yes, prayer is a spiritual peak moment when one is in direct contact with the divine. However, constantly praying three times daily can transform pristine prayer into a pure monotony. To prevent this from happening, the Talmud recommends three responses. First, one must always come with an appropriate attitude. Never approach prayer with an attitude of annoyance, muttering to yourself "Oh no; I have to pray again!!". Second, always pray with appropriate words, words of humility and sensitivity. And finally, try to find a new insight to add to each day’s prayers.

This is an exceptional piece of advice. The difference between rote prayers and real prayers is attitude, focus and creativity. The same prayer can continue to inspire, even if you repeat it a thousand times a year.

This Talmudic insight is useful in countering the numbing effects of any repetition. First of all, you have to refuse to treat peak moments casually. A wedding can never be "just another wedding", and a funeral is never something that "threw your schedule off". Never treat another person’s peak moment as your own burden.

In addition, language is key. Even if you’ve been to 500 shiva houses, that doesn’t mean that now it’s simply a place to shmooze, tell jokes, and talk about your golf game. Humble words pave the way for a sincere connection.

And finally, find something new. Often when I am preparing for a funeral, someone describes their mother as a "typical Jewish mother". They even assume their mother’s story is boring, telling me "I’m sure a lot of people say this about their mothers". Yet despite the disclaimer, I search for how this woman was unusual, what part of her biography made her different. We all know how wonderful the ideal Jewish mother can be; but isn’t it nice to hear about the little acts of kindness that made this specific woman unique?

Yes, I’ve seen it all before. Even so, this rerun still matters. As long as each Jewish mother has a different recipe for chicken soup, as long as each young couple has their own "story" about how they met, I pledge to keep my focus, and refuse to allow remarkable peak moments to become a dreary routine.

Choices

We live in a world of choice. Everywhere we turn we are assaulted by a multitude of choices. For the discriminating grocery shopper, an endless array of salad dressings, breakfast cereals and toilet paper awaits. On TV, there are hundreds of cable channels to entertain us. Or try painting your house; you’d be amazed how many shades of white there actually are. Even the banal act of ordering a coffee can become an overwhelming decision. Was that a grande decaf skim latte, or a venti soy chai?

However, these are ersatz choices. Yes, we often expend a great deal of energy on these minor decisions . That’s because we live in a culture of consumerism, surrounded by billions of dollars of advertising designed to convince us that meaningless minutiae matter. And while it’s nice to have the option, in reality it makes no difference at all if you paint your house in “winter white” or “white dove”.

There is a popular belief in free will, based on our own perceptions of freedom of choice. However, many philosophers argue that in reality, there is no free will. To prove this, they note how most people’s lives are extremely predictable, and their actions never stray far from the routine. While we might imagine we have the free will to choose a particular flavor of ice cream, in the end, whether you pick vanilla or chocolate, you will still be the same old person. And for the most part, people don’t change all that much.

Real choices change lives. If there is free will, (and it is a fundamental Jewish belief), it isn’t about petty, meaningless decisions. We encounter free will in the real choices in life: Will I break those old bad habits, or remain mired in mediocrity? Will I transform, or will I remain the same as I was, is, and always will be?

We can make real choices all the time. Dozens of times each day, we decide whether we will transcend the mediocre and act with genuine character. Even small gestures like stopping to shake a hand can be real choices, a small step on the road to personal growth.

Unfortunately, we are so bogged down by a multitude of phony, ersatz choices, that we often overlook the real choices we have to make. We worry about the best; the best handbag, the best watch, the best power tie. What about the best character?

In the documentary 9-11 ,which is about firehouse near Ground Zero, the producers ask one of the firefighters why he chose his career. He answered:

“I wanted to be able to wake up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror, and say I’m doing something with my life”.

The next time you shop for paint, think about that fireman. And while it’s nice to have a kaleidoscope of colors to choose from, remember that “mocha brown” is not a real choice.

A real choice is when you decide to actually do something with your life.

The Lesson of a Sleepless Night

(this is a few years old, but never posted on this website)

I like to get a good night’s sleep. But, like most parents of small children, my sleep will often get interrupted; and, like most parents of small children, I get annoyed when my kids wake me up. Usually, I try to solve any "problem" with the utmost speed, dispensing water, calming words and occasionally discipline in 30 seconds flat, and then rush right back to bed. But one night was different; at 1:30 AM, my 5 year old son called me, upset that a spider had climbed by his bed. I patiently explained to my son that there is no reason to be afraid of spiders because they are a lot smaller than us, and that spiders are actually good and friendly creatures (OK, I was exaggerating; what would you say to a frantic child at 1:30 AM?). I sat on his bed for an hour and a half, waiting patiently until he calmed down and went back to sleep. I did not get annoyed.

My newfound calm was not due to a relaxed schedule at work; in fact, it was the week before Rosh Hashanah, and I was frantically looking for the right topic for a sermon. However, that night, I had the blessing of perspective. An hour before the spider "crisis", I was woken up by a phone call. A friend’s mother had just died and he had a few questions about Jewish mourning practices. During our conversation, I could hear the pain in his voice. When my son woke me an hour later, how busy I was or how much I needed my sleep made no difference to me. I was quite happy to sit on his bed and talk about spiders. That night I realized that parent-child relationships are invaluable, and every minute spent together is a gift; and if the price of those precious minutes is a mediocre Rosh Hashanah sermon, so be it.

Everybody understands the value of perspective; it is easy to recognize that big things are more important than little things. Yet, despite knowing this, we lose our perspective anyway. The reason why we do so is the power of details.

Human beings are adept at fixating on details. To make matters worse, we are unaware of our capacity to blow things out of proportion. The Jews, travelling through the desert after the exodus from Egypt, survive by eating manna, a miraculous food that appears each morning. Are they happy? No!! They complain to Moses "we remember the fish....the cucumbers, the watermelons, the leeks and garlic....that we ate in Egypt....and now, our soul is dried out....all we have to eat is this manna". I could never understand these absurd Jews, recently released from the hell of slavery, only to complain about the menu on the way to the promised land. Then I began to officiate at weddings. On occasion, I would arrive at the synagogue, only to find the bride teary eyed; why? What could have marred the happiest day of her life? And then, someone would explain.......the wrong color napkins arrived. It may seem ridiculous that a bride could get upset about the napkins at her wedding; unfortunately, it’s human nature to obsess about details. My experiences at weddings gave me new insight into the Jew’s complaints in the desert. They were intoxicated by details, crying because God had delivered the wrong color napkins.

This intoxication can cloud our moral judgement. A study by two psychologists, John Darley and C. Daniel Batson, found that 63% of Seminary students, on their way to give a sermon, would stop to help a homeless man help if they had extra time. However only 10% stopped for the homeless man when they were late. What is more astonishing is that the students were giving a sermon about caring for strangers!! Although arriving on time is certainly a virtue, fixating on punctuality can distort our moral judgement. Remarkably, the power of details is such that it is natural to ignore the needy as we rush to preach compassion.

We spend too much time worrying about the watermelons and napkins of life. It sometimes takes a misfortune to remind us to ignore details and focus on what is important. What I learnt that sleepless night, sitting on my son’s bed, is that talking about spiders with a five year old is more important than a good night’s sleep. Luckily for me, as tired as I was the next day, I came up with an interesting Rosh Hashanah sermon. It was on the topic of........perspective.

Sorry that the following obit ended being premature, but CTV had reported on Friday afternoon at about 2 that the Pope had died...

Just heard about the Pope's death. Here's something I was working on, an unfortunately had to change from present to past tense while writing.

The Pope: A Rabbi’s Tribute

Usually, Rabbis don’t give eulogies for Popes. In fact, historically, Catholic-Jewish relations have been quite difficult, to say the least. In medieval and early modern history, the Catholic Church was the driving force in European anti-Semitism. Jews were viewed as the killers of Jesus, unworthy of rights and even basic protections. Papal declarations required that Jews wear unusual identifying clothes (like the infamous yellow star), outlawed the Talmud, and insisted Jews attend conversionary sermons. Church sponsored crusades, blood libels and inquisitions brought violence and fear to all European Jewish communities. And while there are some notable exceptions, most Popes were very much a part of this anti-Semitic milieu. In 1555, Pope Paul IV wrote: "It appears utterly absurd and impermissible that the Jews, whom God has condemned to eternal slavery for their guilt, should enjoy our Christian love."

These anti-Semitic attitudes continued to persist in the Catholic Church well into the 20th century. David Kertzer, a professor at Brown University and the author of The Popes Against the Jews, marshals compelling evidence that the Vatican continued to promote anti-Semitism well into the early 1900’s. One example is the blood libel, the odious claim that Jews conducted a ritual murder of a Christian child in preparation for the holiday of Passover. When Pope Leo XIII was asked in 1900 to repudiate this canard, he instead appointed commission that concluded that "ritual murder is a historical certainty ... and such murder furthermore was charged and punished many times”. Until recent years, Catholic-Jewish relations were filled with anger and mistrust.

Since the Vatican’s publication of Nostra Aetate (“Our Time”) on October 28th, 1965, there has been a dramatic change in Catholic-Jewish relations. Nostra Aetate condemned, on theological grounds, any form of Catholic anti-Semitism. Following this declaration, a friendly spirit of Catholic-Jewish dialogue slowly developed, for which quite a few people can take credit. But there is no question that the most important figure in the rapprochement of the last forty years was the late Karol Jozef Wojtyla, Pope John Paul II.

Despite being a fairly conservative Pope, John Paul II worked tirelessly to change the Vatican’s attitude towards the Jews. He was the youngest bishop at the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, which adopted Nostra Aetate. He was the first Pope to visit a synagogue. He was the first Pope to visit Auschwitz. Under his tenure, the Vatican finally recognized the State of Israel, and in 2000 he made a historic visit to Israel. Without question, Pope John Paul II has transformed the face of Catholic-Jewish relations. No wonder that on January 18th of this year 160 Rabbis visited the Vatican to bless the Pope.

While the career of John Paul II is quite impressive, what touches me even more is the humanity of Karol Wojtyla. A PBS documentary, Pope John Paul II: The Millennial Pope, explores Wojtyla’s personal relationships as a young man in Wadowice, Poland, during a virulently anti-Semitic era. Notably, he didn’t show any trace of anti-Semitism. He cultivated Jewish friendships. He even played goalie for a primarily Jewish soccer team, and one of his best friends was a Jew, Jerzy Kluger.

Although he never was an active part of the anti-German resistance, Wojtyla did show compassion and bravery. Sister Zofia Zarnecka, a fellow university student, told PBS how Wojtyla protected a Jewish student, Anka Weber. "He often escorted her down the street and fended off the bigots who called themselves, 'All-Poland Youth.'". Edith Schiere, another Jewish Wadowician who now lives in Israel, told PBS that during the war, she managed to escape Auschwitz and, wandering in her weakened condition, met Karol Wojtyla. He carried her on his back to the train station and got her some food. In the interview, she said she felt terrible that she never had the chance to thank him.

This tribute is my way of thanking John Paul II, for Edith Schiere and the rest of the Jewish people. John Paul II was a “mensch”, an exceptional human being. Because of his genuine concern and compassion, John Paul II succeeded in single-handedly changing Catholic-Jewish relations. He will leave behind a legacy of peace and understanding.

May his memory be a blessing for all of humanity.

The Power of No

We hate the word no. No is negative. No represents denial and prohibition. In a world of instant gratification, the word no is taboo.

Unfortunately, no is underrated. Self denial is the foundation of civilization. Thinkers from Plato to Hobbes to Freud have embraced this idea, and recognized the importance of impulse control in the formation of society. Community and camaraderie depend on our ability to say no to selfishness.

The power of no is also a critical part of personal development. Self mastery is a prerequisite to human greatness. Rav Solovietchik explains that in Judaism, the heroic is not found in mere victory. A true hero must also be capable of self-defeat. The Mishnah explains: “Who is powerful? The one who controls his urges.” With discipline comes power. A mighty warrior may win battle after battle, only to be addicted to victory. Genuine heroes are masters of their own victories, people who can sacrifice the very object of their ambitions.

Heroic discipline is becoming a lost art. Michael Medved, the film critic, tells of a visit to a TV show taping that he made several years ago. He had brought along his 6 year old daughter Sarah, and upon arriving, the show’s producer offered Sarah a candy bar. Before accepting, Sarah brought the candy bar to her father to check if it was kosher. There was no kosher sign on the candy bar, so Sarah reluctantly returned it to the producer. The producer was shocked by the little girl’s refusal. She berated Medved for denying his daughter a little enjoyment, and declared that Medved’s insistence on kashrut would emotionally cripple his daughter when she got older. This producer, an influential pop culture personality, simply could not understand the idea of self discipline; to her, any form of self denial is unhealthy.

Pop culture celebrates self indulgence, and self discipline is seen as repressive and depressing. That’s why we no longer have role models; character doesn’t matter anymore. Contemporary heroes possess fame and fortune but little else. Michael Jackson and Monica Lewinsky are contemporary icons, while the army private in Iraq is a forgotten misfit.

It’s time to reclaim the power of no. As selfishness has become more respectable, family and community have suffered. Marriage and family are based on discipline, character and self sacrifice. In a me-culture, leasing a BMW is a higher budgetary priority than a third child; self indulgence is more important than an established spouse. Community depends on generosity, a value that is incomprehensible to the selfish. Why give away anything you might enjoy yourself?

True heroes don’t question generosity. They understand self defeat is sometimes the greatest victory, that giving is sometimes greater than taking. They understand there is more to life than candy bars and BMW’s.

They understand the power of no.

Small Things Worth Sweating

"Don’t sweat the small stuff" is a cliche that for the most part is correct. Oftentimes, we do fixate on silly details. However, sometimes details are larger than they appear.

In his autobiography, Amos Oz describes a scene from his childhood in Jerusalem in the 1940's. In Auster’s grocery shop, there would be passionate discussions over which cheese to buy: should it be the kibbutz cheese, or the cheese from the local Arab villages? Yes, there’s a duty to support the kibbutzim, for ‘charity begins at home". On the other hand, you may not discriminate against outsiders, for "one law shall be for you and the stranger in your midst". So a trip to the grocery could turn into a heated debate over....one’s choice of cheese.

Incidents like the "cheese debates" are an essential part of Jewish culture. One of the hallmarks of the Talmud is attention to detail. A classic example of this is a discussion about the obligation to dispose of bread before Passover. The Talmud ponders the following questions: A mouse goes into a room with some bread, and later leaves with some bread. Can you assume it took out the original bread, or perhaps this is a new piece of bread and he left the original behind? What if a white mouse goes in, but a black mouse comes out with bread? What if a mouse goes in with bread, and a weasel comes out with bread? Finally, the Talmud declares "teiku", it has no definitive answer!

This attention to detail is more than academic. Details make a big difference. Small gestures express larger commitments. A suitor’s rose is more than a mere rose; in the right context, a simple rose represents profound love.

I once read about an executive who immediately threw out any CV’s with typos. This may seem harsh, but it is appropriate. Looking for typos in a CV is not nitpicking. If an applicant is truly interested, his CV would be flawless. On a CV, presentation equals commitment.

Indeed, the very fabric of society is formed by small details. When Rudy Giuliani became mayor of New York, he began to combat crime by concentrating on the presence of squeegee men. On busy corners, men would rush out at red lights to wash windshields and then intimidate the drivers for spare change. While they had been ignored by previous administrations as a mere annoyance, Giuliani realized squeegee men played a key role in the perpetuation of crime. By tolerating the minor infractions of the squeegee men, the police department fostered a culture of lawlessness. The squeegee men gave the city an ambience of disorder, a place where anything goes. By cracking down on these minor infractions, Giuliani transformed the culture of New York.

We should never fixate on petty details. But there is small stuff worth sweating, little acts of commitment that make a big difference.