Is it Good For the Jews?
For 21st century Jews, the question seems old fashioned, a vestige of the era of Yiddish and chicken shmaltz. However, on occasion, this question slips through our minds: “is it good for the Jews?”
I understand why we think these narrow-minded thoughts. As Jews, we have spent the last 2,000 years focusing on survival. Years of persecution have taught Jews to be sensitive to changes in the political environment. Survival often depended on figuring out if a news story was “good for the Jews”.
Yet this question, so critical to one generation of Jews, appears absurd to a generation of Jews raised in a secure milieu. This question now seems funny, good material for borscht belt comedians. For Canadian Jews, news is not a life and death affair.
Unfortunately, an enduring byproduct of this question is narcissism. Compulsively worrying whether or not everything is “good for the Jews” means you stop worrying about what is good for the world. While we no longer fear for our survival, we have not outgrown a self centered focus on exclusively Jewish concerns.
That is why there is no shortage of “old fashioned” Jews, who may not worry if anything is good for the Jews, but are too cynical to worry if it’s good for the world. They mock Jews who worry about human rights. Helping outsiders is futile, naïve Jewish kindness that will simply be ignored. Their view is that Jews should worry about Jews, period.
It is critical to care both about oneself and the rest of the world. The famous Rabbi, Hillel, put it so well: “If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And when I am for myself, what am I?”. Of course we must worry about survival. But what are we surviving for? To remain a ghettoized curiosity, cutoff from the world? God told Abraham that “in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed.” If we ignore the world, we are ignoring Abraham’s legacy.
That is why I took a trip to Ottawa, with a group of March of the Living students, to talk to MP’s about the situation in Darfur. For the past three years, the Government of Sudan has been massacring tribes in the Darfur region. Between 200,000 and 400,000 people have died, and up to 2.5 million people have been driven from their homes. Our group felt we just had to raise our voices in protest.
We went to Ottawa not just as Canadians, but as Jews. We went because we had just visited Auschwitz, and felt compelled by history to make our voices heard. We went because the Torah obligates us to love the stranger. We went because you cannot be a good Jew without caring about humanity.
We went, because if you think about it, human rights is “good for the Jews.”
Friday, June 23, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Are We Running in the Right Direction?
We are born to run. Man is an ambitious being, created to get things done. In fact, without a good challenge, we start to fall apart. Boredom is not only frustrating, it’s downright dangerous, and without challenges, people get depressed. Elderly people who are inactive tend to die at a younger age than those who are busy and challenged.
Because we are born to run, we try to run as fast as possible. Since the beginning of time, man has competed to see who is the fastest. The ancient Olympics were at first a 190 meter race, and later expanded to include chariot racing and other sports. Man has raced camels, horses and dogs, just to see who has the quickest animals. We run marathons and sprints, and race on bicycles and on skis. And in the 20th century, with the arrival of motor technology, we have begun to race motorcycles and cars and motorboats.
As history moves on, all of us run faster. There is no question that as technology progresses, the pace of life speeds up. Today, we can fly off to Europe and China at a moment’s notice, and order what we need off the internet. We have Palm Pilots to make us more efficient, and we can dash off phone calls from our cell phones and e-mails from our Blackberrys in a moment’s notice. Mankind continues to move faster and faster, achieving bigger and greater victories every day.
Now, the ultimate race, The Grand Prix, is coming to Montreal, and along with it a great deal of glamour and glitz. It attracts the international jet set of the wealthy and successful, people who are considered winners in the race of life. It is the perfect symbol of the 21st century: speed, wealth, accomplishment.
While I salute the accomplishments of the swift and successful, and appreciate the need for speed (I’m a blackberry addict myself) I feel there is still something missing. As we run and rush, we neglect to ask a simple question: are we running in the right direction?
There is a small prayer recited when a book of the Talmud is completed. In it, we remind ourselves to build meaningful lives, and not to follow those who live selfishly and foolishly. The prayer says “we run, and they run; we run to an eternal life, and they run to an empty pit”. Anyone can run; the problem is that sometimes we can run in the wrong direction.
Running the wrong way gets you nowhere fast. There’s the famous story of the Minnesota Vikings football player Jim Marshall, who mistakenly ran the football the wrong way, and scored for the opposing team. Imagine if we’re doing that in life? What if we’re doing all of this running, only to land up in an empty pit!
We need to run, but we need to run in the right direction. In Pirkei Avot, it says one should “run like a deer….to do the will of God.” A real champion crosses the right finish line.
Unfortunately, there is no Grand Prix for those who run in the right direction. You don’t have TV cameras following those who devote their lives to spirituality and kindness. But every time a person runs to help the poor, every time we hurry home to hug our spouses and children, every time we squeeze our schedules so we can study Torah and pray, we will be winning the race of life.
Moving fast is not enough. To be a true winner, you have to be moving in the right direction.
We are born to run. Man is an ambitious being, created to get things done. In fact, without a good challenge, we start to fall apart. Boredom is not only frustrating, it’s downright dangerous, and without challenges, people get depressed. Elderly people who are inactive tend to die at a younger age than those who are busy and challenged.
Because we are born to run, we try to run as fast as possible. Since the beginning of time, man has competed to see who is the fastest. The ancient Olympics were at first a 190 meter race, and later expanded to include chariot racing and other sports. Man has raced camels, horses and dogs, just to see who has the quickest animals. We run marathons and sprints, and race on bicycles and on skis. And in the 20th century, with the arrival of motor technology, we have begun to race motorcycles and cars and motorboats.
As history moves on, all of us run faster. There is no question that as technology progresses, the pace of life speeds up. Today, we can fly off to Europe and China at a moment’s notice, and order what we need off the internet. We have Palm Pilots to make us more efficient, and we can dash off phone calls from our cell phones and e-mails from our Blackberrys in a moment’s notice. Mankind continues to move faster and faster, achieving bigger and greater victories every day.
Now, the ultimate race, The Grand Prix, is coming to Montreal, and along with it a great deal of glamour and glitz. It attracts the international jet set of the wealthy and successful, people who are considered winners in the race of life. It is the perfect symbol of the 21st century: speed, wealth, accomplishment.
While I salute the accomplishments of the swift and successful, and appreciate the need for speed (I’m a blackberry addict myself) I feel there is still something missing. As we run and rush, we neglect to ask a simple question: are we running in the right direction?
There is a small prayer recited when a book of the Talmud is completed. In it, we remind ourselves to build meaningful lives, and not to follow those who live selfishly and foolishly. The prayer says “we run, and they run; we run to an eternal life, and they run to an empty pit”. Anyone can run; the problem is that sometimes we can run in the wrong direction.
Running the wrong way gets you nowhere fast. There’s the famous story of the Minnesota Vikings football player Jim Marshall, who mistakenly ran the football the wrong way, and scored for the opposing team. Imagine if we’re doing that in life? What if we’re doing all of this running, only to land up in an empty pit!
We need to run, but we need to run in the right direction. In Pirkei Avot, it says one should “run like a deer….to do the will of God.” A real champion crosses the right finish line.
Unfortunately, there is no Grand Prix for those who run in the right direction. You don’t have TV cameras following those who devote their lives to spirituality and kindness. But every time a person runs to help the poor, every time we hurry home to hug our spouses and children, every time we squeeze our schedules so we can study Torah and pray, we will be winning the race of life.
Moving fast is not enough. To be a true winner, you have to be moving in the right direction.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The March of the Future
It’s a bizarre place to take a group of high school students. On this year’s March of the Living, I traveled with the teenagers to Poland and Israel. Frankly, it is a gut wrenching journey. An itinerary that includes ghettoes, concentration camps and death camps is gruesome, even for people with thick skins; so why were sixteen year olds visiting these sites in Poland?
We went because we had to go. No one wants to visit some of the most horrific places on earth. But for Jews, history is current events. Year after year, we sit at the Seder and recount the exodus from Egypt. Even though 3,300 years may have passed, the exodus is still our story, one that reminds us who we are. Certainly the most recent chapters in our story, the Holocaust and the State of Israel, cannot be ignored. And so we traveled to Poland and Israel, on a journey to reconnect with our history.
In some ways, 60 years ago could not be more distant. Here they were, a group of comfortable 21st century teenagers armed with ipods, cellphones and digital cameras, confronting the unimaginable. At first, many of the students found it difficult to feel sadness; they simply could not grasp what they were seeing. It was too foreign, too unbelievable.
That changed when the survivors began to speak. Traveling with us were six survivors, eyewitnesses to the Holocaust. As we heard their stories of suffering and survival, everyone’s tears flowed.
The survivors, all senior citizens, did not come along to serve as guides. They came back to Poland, one last time, to offer testimony on behalf of the six million. This was their last chance to make sure that future generations do not forget.
Our digital era teenagers may not have realized it, but they are the last generation to hear eyewitnesses to the Holocaust. As time marches on, there are fewer and fewer survivors. Ultimately, we will be left with witnesses of witnesses; our ipod wearing teens are the ones who will retell the story of the Holocaust in the future.
When I returned, a student asked me: will there be a March of the Living 50 years from now? Will people still care about this story?
My answer to her was simple: It’s in your hands. You will decide whether future generations remember the horrors of the Holocaust and the miracles of Israel. You will decide if future generations know what it means to be a Jew. The future of the Jewish people is in your hands.
On the March of the Living, I saw the Jewish future. I saw a group of ordinary teenagers learn about Judaism with idealism and intensity. I am proud to have gotten to know them. To be honest, I can’t think of better people to entrust with the Jewish future.
It’s a bizarre place to take a group of high school students. On this year’s March of the Living, I traveled with the teenagers to Poland and Israel. Frankly, it is a gut wrenching journey. An itinerary that includes ghettoes, concentration camps and death camps is gruesome, even for people with thick skins; so why were sixteen year olds visiting these sites in Poland?
We went because we had to go. No one wants to visit some of the most horrific places on earth. But for Jews, history is current events. Year after year, we sit at the Seder and recount the exodus from Egypt. Even though 3,300 years may have passed, the exodus is still our story, one that reminds us who we are. Certainly the most recent chapters in our story, the Holocaust and the State of Israel, cannot be ignored. And so we traveled to Poland and Israel, on a journey to reconnect with our history.
In some ways, 60 years ago could not be more distant. Here they were, a group of comfortable 21st century teenagers armed with ipods, cellphones and digital cameras, confronting the unimaginable. At first, many of the students found it difficult to feel sadness; they simply could not grasp what they were seeing. It was too foreign, too unbelievable.
That changed when the survivors began to speak. Traveling with us were six survivors, eyewitnesses to the Holocaust. As we heard their stories of suffering and survival, everyone’s tears flowed.
The survivors, all senior citizens, did not come along to serve as guides. They came back to Poland, one last time, to offer testimony on behalf of the six million. This was their last chance to make sure that future generations do not forget.
Our digital era teenagers may not have realized it, but they are the last generation to hear eyewitnesses to the Holocaust. As time marches on, there are fewer and fewer survivors. Ultimately, we will be left with witnesses of witnesses; our ipod wearing teens are the ones who will retell the story of the Holocaust in the future.
When I returned, a student asked me: will there be a March of the Living 50 years from now? Will people still care about this story?
My answer to her was simple: It’s in your hands. You will decide whether future generations remember the horrors of the Holocaust and the miracles of Israel. You will decide if future generations know what it means to be a Jew. The future of the Jewish people is in your hands.
On the March of the Living, I saw the Jewish future. I saw a group of ordinary teenagers learn about Judaism with idealism and intensity. I am proud to have gotten to know them. To be honest, I can’t think of better people to entrust with the Jewish future.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
In Poland, I was Thinking of Darfur
On the map, Poland and the Sudan are a continent apart. Yet, when I visited Poland three weeks ago, my mind continually wandered off to the Sudan. What I saw in Poland reminded me how today, in the Sudan, history once again repeats itself.
I did not go to Poland for a holiday. I was traveling with the March of the Living, an educational program that brings teens to visit the concentration camps. We toured the sites of awful atrocities: Treblinka, Majdanek, Auschwitz-Birkenau. We stepped inside a gas chamber; the thought of what had occurred there was overwhelming. We viewed a display of children’s clothes, taken from toddlers before their death. A survivor spoke to us about the time when a few Nazi thugs went to his barrack, took a two by four, walked over to a bunk, and pressed it down on the necks of four sleeping inmates until they choked.
And then we arrived at the greatest monument to man’s inhumanity to man. In the concentration camp of Majdanek, there is a dome of ashes. Inside the dome is a mound of human ashes over fifteen feet tall, the horrific proceeds of burned victims. The sight is simply too hard to bear. Our students were immediately overwhelmed with grief, and began to weep. They had come face to face with evil.
It was here that I remembered Darfur. Intellectually, I understand the human capacity for evil, yet it is difficult for my heart to accept it. Living in an open and tolerant country like Canada, it is difficult to imagine the hatred necessary to perpetrate these crimes. Our shining record on human rights leaves us blind to the reality: human beings can be exceptionally evil. They can slaughter other humans by the million, and burn their bodies into a pile of ash. And this sort of evil didn’t just happen 60 years ago. It continues on today, in the Darfur region of Western Sudan.
For the past three years, the Government of Sudan, along with allied militias, have been massacring black tribes in the region. Tens of thousands have been murdered, countless women have been raped, and up to 2.5 million people have been driven from their homes. Various estimates peg the death toll at somewhere between 200,000 and 400,000. Today, thousands of miles from Poland, a genocide marches on.
It is critical to remember that without indifference, the Holocaust could not have occured. During the Holocaust, the world ignored the plight of the Jews. At a conference in Evian in 1938, and at a later conference in Bermuda in 1943, the entire world community refused to help Jewish refugees fleeing from the Holocaust. The United States refused numerous requests to bomb Auschwitz, and Canada refused Jews entry during the Holocaust, sticking to a policy of “none is too many”. The Holocaust amply demonstrated, as the famous quote goes, that “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing”.
The same pattern of indifference has repeated itself with Darfur. Until recently, there has been a virtual media blackout about Darfur. Media studies show that in June, 2005, TV news spent 50 times more coverage on the Michael Jackson molestation trial than it did on the Darfur tragedy, and it devoted 12 times the coverage to the tomfoolery of Tom Cruise than it did to Sudanese oppression. Obviously, celebrities matter more than mass murder. In addition, most members of parliament have kept a wary distance from this issue, afraid that a proper resolution to this humanitarian crisis will require Canadians to make costly commitments. So, as diplomats debate and discuss this issue, a genocide ensues. Only recently has the government of Canada, as well as a multiparty group of parliamentarians, started to pay attention to Darfur.
After visiting the concentration camps, many of the teenage students I was with began to search for a way to respond. They wondered if the slogan “never again” really had any meaning, if after the Holocaust, the world stood by during subsequent atrocities in Cambodia, Bosnia and Rwanda. They wondered if they could make a difference for the people in Darfur.
As their Rabbi, I felt responsible to do something. Before leaving to Poland, I had explored the possibility of a lobby mission to Parliament about Darfur. But I was afraid that no one would pay attention, and it would be a waste of time.
After coming home from Poland, I realized I had to go to Ottawa, no matter what. How could I do otherwise, after seeing the dome of ashes? There were now 6 million voices in my head, shouting “never again”. And prodding me was the passion of these students, wondering if they could make the world into a better place.
At the end of June, I will visit Ottawa with a group of students from the March of the Living, and talk to anyone who will listen. I have to. I cannot ignore what I saw in Majdanek, and I will not disappoint the students.
On the map, Poland and the Sudan are a continent apart. Yet, when I visited Poland three weeks ago, my mind continually wandered off to the Sudan. What I saw in Poland reminded me how today, in the Sudan, history once again repeats itself.
I did not go to Poland for a holiday. I was traveling with the March of the Living, an educational program that brings teens to visit the concentration camps. We toured the sites of awful atrocities: Treblinka, Majdanek, Auschwitz-Birkenau. We stepped inside a gas chamber; the thought of what had occurred there was overwhelming. We viewed a display of children’s clothes, taken from toddlers before their death. A survivor spoke to us about the time when a few Nazi thugs went to his barrack, took a two by four, walked over to a bunk, and pressed it down on the necks of four sleeping inmates until they choked.
And then we arrived at the greatest monument to man’s inhumanity to man. In the concentration camp of Majdanek, there is a dome of ashes. Inside the dome is a mound of human ashes over fifteen feet tall, the horrific proceeds of burned victims. The sight is simply too hard to bear. Our students were immediately overwhelmed with grief, and began to weep. They had come face to face with evil.
It was here that I remembered Darfur. Intellectually, I understand the human capacity for evil, yet it is difficult for my heart to accept it. Living in an open and tolerant country like Canada, it is difficult to imagine the hatred necessary to perpetrate these crimes. Our shining record on human rights leaves us blind to the reality: human beings can be exceptionally evil. They can slaughter other humans by the million, and burn their bodies into a pile of ash. And this sort of evil didn’t just happen 60 years ago. It continues on today, in the Darfur region of Western Sudan.
For the past three years, the Government of Sudan, along with allied militias, have been massacring black tribes in the region. Tens of thousands have been murdered, countless women have been raped, and up to 2.5 million people have been driven from their homes. Various estimates peg the death toll at somewhere between 200,000 and 400,000. Today, thousands of miles from Poland, a genocide marches on.
It is critical to remember that without indifference, the Holocaust could not have occured. During the Holocaust, the world ignored the plight of the Jews. At a conference in Evian in 1938, and at a later conference in Bermuda in 1943, the entire world community refused to help Jewish refugees fleeing from the Holocaust. The United States refused numerous requests to bomb Auschwitz, and Canada refused Jews entry during the Holocaust, sticking to a policy of “none is too many”. The Holocaust amply demonstrated, as the famous quote goes, that “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing”.
The same pattern of indifference has repeated itself with Darfur. Until recently, there has been a virtual media blackout about Darfur. Media studies show that in June, 2005, TV news spent 50 times more coverage on the Michael Jackson molestation trial than it did on the Darfur tragedy, and it devoted 12 times the coverage to the tomfoolery of Tom Cruise than it did to Sudanese oppression. Obviously, celebrities matter more than mass murder. In addition, most members of parliament have kept a wary distance from this issue, afraid that a proper resolution to this humanitarian crisis will require Canadians to make costly commitments. So, as diplomats debate and discuss this issue, a genocide ensues. Only recently has the government of Canada, as well as a multiparty group of parliamentarians, started to pay attention to Darfur.
After visiting the concentration camps, many of the teenage students I was with began to search for a way to respond. They wondered if the slogan “never again” really had any meaning, if after the Holocaust, the world stood by during subsequent atrocities in Cambodia, Bosnia and Rwanda. They wondered if they could make a difference for the people in Darfur.
As their Rabbi, I felt responsible to do something. Before leaving to Poland, I had explored the possibility of a lobby mission to Parliament about Darfur. But I was afraid that no one would pay attention, and it would be a waste of time.
After coming home from Poland, I realized I had to go to Ottawa, no matter what. How could I do otherwise, after seeing the dome of ashes? There were now 6 million voices in my head, shouting “never again”. And prodding me was the passion of these students, wondering if they could make the world into a better place.
At the end of June, I will visit Ottawa with a group of students from the March of the Living, and talk to anyone who will listen. I have to. I cannot ignore what I saw in Majdanek, and I will not disappoint the students.
Monday, April 17, 2006
More Bar Than Mitzvah?
At times, even a Orthodox Rabbi can have trouble with tradition. In particular, I believe it’s time to change our Bar-Bat Mitzvah traditions.
Yes, we’re too rigorous in our Bar-Bat Mitzvah “traditions”. (I somehow neglected studying these “traditions” in Yeshiva.) “Tradition” states that each Bar-Bat Mitzvah must include a night affair, a game room for the teens, and expensive giveaways. In addition, the event must have the proper caterer, florist, photographer, band, D.J. and videographer. Despite my own traditional inclinations, these “traditions” make me uncomfortable. To me, these “traditions” smack of true fanaticism.
Yes, these indulgent Bar-Bat Mitzvahs are actually the products of fanaticism. George Santayana once said “a fanatic is someone who redoubles his efforts while losing sight of his goal”. Considering this, our Bar Mitzvahs are events only a fanatic could love. Having abandoned all but the most perfunctory religious rituals, our Bar-Bat Mitzvahs have become oversized celebrations with a slightly religious veneer. The contemporary Bar-Bat Mitzvah is an empty festivity, a party that celebrates itself.
Many have remarked that our Bar-Bat Mitzvah celebrations are “more bar than mitzvah”. Indeed, there are many non-Jews who are clamoring for a Bar-Bat Mitzvah of their own (no Haftorah necessary). An article in the Wall Street Journal 2 years ago, reported on the “faux Bar Mitzvah”, a party for affluent non-Jewish teens who felt neglected because they had missed out on the big Bar-Bat mitzvah party. Of course, the very existence of the “faux Bar Mitzvah” reveals a sad truth, that even our “real” Bar-Bat Mitzvahs are pretty phony as well, much more about bars than about mitzvahs.
I know this may sound radical, but it is time to bring religion back into the Bar-Bat Mitzvah celebration. I agree that the Bar-Bat Mitzvah should follow some serious preparations; preparations where the young person has done communal volunteering, some serious Torah study, and has spent more than an obligatory three weeks coming to services. At the celebration itself, Judaism must be a priority, not an afterthought. And after the Bar/Bat Mitzvah is over, the guests should have something better to talk about than the gowns and the hors d’ouerves.
At a recent Bat Mitzvah, the young woman got up to explain the theme of the night. The theme of her Bat Mitzvah was not a kitchy movie or pop musical group, but rather a quote from the Mishna: “Whoever saves one life, has saved an entire world”. She explained that this quote had inspired her to donate the gifts from her Bat Mitzvah to help buy an ambulance for the Magen David Adom. This act of remarkable charity made it a memorable Bat Mitzvah, an evening that celebrated Jewish values.
I hope this young woman’s generosity will inspire others to follow her example. It’s about time we break tradition, and make the Bar-Bat Mitzvah into a religious event again.
At times, even a Orthodox Rabbi can have trouble with tradition. In particular, I believe it’s time to change our Bar-Bat Mitzvah traditions.
Yes, we’re too rigorous in our Bar-Bat Mitzvah “traditions”. (I somehow neglected studying these “traditions” in Yeshiva.) “Tradition” states that each Bar-Bat Mitzvah must include a night affair, a game room for the teens, and expensive giveaways. In addition, the event must have the proper caterer, florist, photographer, band, D.J. and videographer. Despite my own traditional inclinations, these “traditions” make me uncomfortable. To me, these “traditions” smack of true fanaticism.
Yes, these indulgent Bar-Bat Mitzvahs are actually the products of fanaticism. George Santayana once said “a fanatic is someone who redoubles his efforts while losing sight of his goal”. Considering this, our Bar Mitzvahs are events only a fanatic could love. Having abandoned all but the most perfunctory religious rituals, our Bar-Bat Mitzvahs have become oversized celebrations with a slightly religious veneer. The contemporary Bar-Bat Mitzvah is an empty festivity, a party that celebrates itself.
Many have remarked that our Bar-Bat Mitzvah celebrations are “more bar than mitzvah”. Indeed, there are many non-Jews who are clamoring for a Bar-Bat Mitzvah of their own (no Haftorah necessary). An article in the Wall Street Journal 2 years ago, reported on the “faux Bar Mitzvah”, a party for affluent non-Jewish teens who felt neglected because they had missed out on the big Bar-Bat mitzvah party. Of course, the very existence of the “faux Bar Mitzvah” reveals a sad truth, that even our “real” Bar-Bat Mitzvahs are pretty phony as well, much more about bars than about mitzvahs.
I know this may sound radical, but it is time to bring religion back into the Bar-Bat Mitzvah celebration. I agree that the Bar-Bat Mitzvah should follow some serious preparations; preparations where the young person has done communal volunteering, some serious Torah study, and has spent more than an obligatory three weeks coming to services. At the celebration itself, Judaism must be a priority, not an afterthought. And after the Bar/Bat Mitzvah is over, the guests should have something better to talk about than the gowns and the hors d’ouerves.
At a recent Bat Mitzvah, the young woman got up to explain the theme of the night. The theme of her Bat Mitzvah was not a kitchy movie or pop musical group, but rather a quote from the Mishna: “Whoever saves one life, has saved an entire world”. She explained that this quote had inspired her to donate the gifts from her Bat Mitzvah to help buy an ambulance for the Magen David Adom. This act of remarkable charity made it a memorable Bat Mitzvah, an evening that celebrated Jewish values.
I hope this young woman’s generosity will inspire others to follow her example. It’s about time we break tradition, and make the Bar-Bat Mitzvah into a religious event again.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Hi! the article about Seville (somewhat edited) appeared in the Toronto Star. For the unedited version, see below, on March 28th.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Stop Whining and Start Moving
I have nothing against complaints. Complaints are society’s quality control mechanism, targeting ineffective things for improvement. More importantly, righteous protest is the first stop on the road to freedom. From the Exodus to the civil rights movement, outcries against injustice are a call to responsibility.
Yet there are complaints, and there are complaints. Many of today’s protests are old fashioned whining, with paranoia and self pity masquerading as calls for justice. A few insensitive cartoons in an obscure Danish paper, and all of a sudden you have a worldwide cause celebre. A public figure makes an errant remark, and all of sudden, there are accusations of anti-Semitism or sexism or racism. These complaints are more about making noise than pursuing justice.
Whining is a form self pity, and a way to shift the blame to someone else. This way, we are no longer responsible or in control. And it is natural. We all like to indulge in self pitying fantasies of helplessness.
So how do you break out of a whining spell? Do you need to read books or attend workshops? Actually it’s very simple. You just have to move on. When the Jews were being chased by the Egyptians at the Red Sea, they cried out to God, paralyzed by uncertainty. God’s answer was simple: "Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on”. God’s advice, to rephrase it in a less formal way, is to “stop whining and start moving”.
God tells the beleaguered Jews at the Red Sea to move on, because no one should ever believe that they are helpless. The moment we start whining, we must find ways to take action, any action, to change our circumstances. Even in the bleakest moments, a person can choose his destiny.
I draw inspiration from people who made the best of awful situations, like Rami Harpaz. Harpaz was an Israeli pilot who was an Egyptian prisoner of war for 3 years, along with 9 other Israelis. During this time, they conducted classes for each other, and worked on plans for their lives once they were freed. Then one day, a parcel arrived with a copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and they immediately started to work on a translation. Together, the ten P.O.W’s completed a translation, which is now one of two standard Hebrew translations of Tolkien. They may have been prisoners, but they refused to give up. Harpaz put it best in a recent interview: 'Falling into captivity presents one with a number of choices. You can either pity yourself and wallow in misery, or do something to organize your time as constructively as conditions allow”. His advice is useful to anyone, no matter what their situation: when you’re feeling sorry for yourself, you have to stop whining and start moving.
I have nothing against complaints. Complaints are society’s quality control mechanism, targeting ineffective things for improvement. More importantly, righteous protest is the first stop on the road to freedom. From the Exodus to the civil rights movement, outcries against injustice are a call to responsibility.
Yet there are complaints, and there are complaints. Many of today’s protests are old fashioned whining, with paranoia and self pity masquerading as calls for justice. A few insensitive cartoons in an obscure Danish paper, and all of a sudden you have a worldwide cause celebre. A public figure makes an errant remark, and all of sudden, there are accusations of anti-Semitism or sexism or racism. These complaints are more about making noise than pursuing justice.
Whining is a form self pity, and a way to shift the blame to someone else. This way, we are no longer responsible or in control. And it is natural. We all like to indulge in self pitying fantasies of helplessness.
So how do you break out of a whining spell? Do you need to read books or attend workshops? Actually it’s very simple. You just have to move on. When the Jews were being chased by the Egyptians at the Red Sea, they cried out to God, paralyzed by uncertainty. God’s answer was simple: "Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on”. God’s advice, to rephrase it in a less formal way, is to “stop whining and start moving”.
God tells the beleaguered Jews at the Red Sea to move on, because no one should ever believe that they are helpless. The moment we start whining, we must find ways to take action, any action, to change our circumstances. Even in the bleakest moments, a person can choose his destiny.
I draw inspiration from people who made the best of awful situations, like Rami Harpaz. Harpaz was an Israeli pilot who was an Egyptian prisoner of war for 3 years, along with 9 other Israelis. During this time, they conducted classes for each other, and worked on plans for their lives once they were freed. Then one day, a parcel arrived with a copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and they immediately started to work on a translation. Together, the ten P.O.W’s completed a translation, which is now one of two standard Hebrew translations of Tolkien. They may have been prisoners, but they refused to give up. Harpaz put it best in a recent interview: 'Falling into captivity presents one with a number of choices. You can either pity yourself and wallow in misery, or do something to organize your time as constructively as conditions allow”. His advice is useful to anyone, no matter what their situation: when you’re feeling sorry for yourself, you have to stop whining and start moving.
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