tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56276672024-03-12T21:25:35.807-04:00The Happiness WarriorRabbi Chaim Steinmetz's blog
Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.comBlogger581125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-69446967316169484992024-02-23T13:00:00.004-05:002024-02-23T13:00:24.240-05:00An Ever-Present Void<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006layout-margin" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9007940196864885006layout-margin_cell" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 20px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#ebf1f8" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006layout" style="background-color: #ebf1f8; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9007940196864885006column m_-9007940196864885006scale m_-9007940196864885006stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 252.175px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006image--mobile-scale m_-9007940196864885006image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9007940196864885006image_container m_-9007940196864885006content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhA4aueZs1-Npk9LADUu9kmcwLDPyrDNUdiDD8fgvkoqI3kLqL0ZtRjnfKe7Rn2zBgqacAKgKgTZgCSbIHnOSnvDBAxa1mC7thX0_EZDyer_cugCUJTklOQRpZEtCn7i3KYVdQCKu032TiMuYmi-UL2rlhlaugtgqSslT3b5kQUoUCeP7t1Ogr3vMN3VqNeXIutVSDicXq7gHUr=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="210" /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9007940196864885006text_content-cell m_-9007940196864885006content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 9px; font-style: italic;">Graves at Har Herzl. Israel’s military cemetary.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td align="center" class="m_-9007940196864885006column m_-9007940196864885006scale m_-9007940196864885006stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 308.225px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9007940196864885006content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 278.225px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#4e6898" height="1" style="background-color: #4e6898; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9007940196864885006text_content-cell m_-9007940196864885006content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Moses is not mentioned in Parshat Tetzaveh, the only such instance in the last four books of the Torah. This point, first mentioned by the Baal HaTurim, is a favorite of elementary school teachers looking for fun facts, and pulpit rabbis looking for sermon topics.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9007940196864885006column m_-9007940196864885006scale m_-9007940196864885006stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600.4px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9007940196864885006text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9007940196864885006text_content-cell m_-9007940196864885006content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">On its own, this observation is purely an exercise in poetry; in reality, multiple factors determined the division of Torah readings, and the fact that one short Parsha ended up without Moses’ name is not all that strange.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">What does matter is not whether Moses is “missing” from the Parsha, but our perception of it. The fact that this question is constantly repeated says a great deal about the reader; Moses is not mentioned, and it’s noticed.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Even when Moses is gone, he leaves behind an ever-present <span class="il">void</span>.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Many of those who comment on Moses' absence relate it to his date of death, which according to the Talmud (Kiddushin 38a,) was on the seventh of Adar; and most years, Tetzaveh and the seventh of Adar are on the same week. (This year they are a week apart.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The seventh of Adar is included on a list of fast days compiled by the Baal Halakhot Gedolot, an 8th-century work. While these fasts have long fallen out of practice (Rabbi Yoseph Karo writes they had already been discontinued by the 15th century), the fast of the seventh of Adar continued to be practiced by burial societies </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">(Chevrei Kadisha)</span><span style="color: #242424;">. They would assemble together for morning services, and recite special selichot prayers about the tasks of a </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevra Kadisha</span><span style="color: #242424;">. At night, they would join together for a special meal in honor of their service to the community.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The connection between </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevrei Kadisha</span><span style="color: #242424;"> and Moses is twofold. First, Moses was buried in an unmarked grave by God Himself. In each burial, the </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevra Kadisha </span><span style="color: #242424;">follows in God’s footsteps, and does a true act of kindness. (Because Moses' grave is unknown, the Israeli rabbinate designated the seventh of Adar as the memorial day for soldiers whose burial places are unknown.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The second reason is that Moses is a role model for </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevrei Kadisha. A</span><span style="color: #242424;">s the Jews left Egypt, Moses made certain to take with him Joseph's bones for burial in Israel. Even 400 years later, Joseph's bones were not seen as a funerary relic of the distant past; he was seen as family. And this is the very mission that every </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevra Kadisha </span><span style="color: #242424;">is tasked with: to ensure that those who are gone are never forgotten, and receive a proper burial.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">It is a profoundly holy task. On our missions to Israel, we visited the Shurah Army Base, where the bodies of the 1200 people murdered on October 7th were processed for burial. The scenes that played out there in the first few days of the war were gut-wrenching. Rabbi Benzi Mann, who has been serving at Shurah since October 7th, spoke about how every refrigerated truck in the country, including dairy transports covered with advertisements for chocolate milk and yogurt, were conscripted to transport bodies; to this day he feels uneasy seeing dairy trucks on the highway. When Benzi would open the trucks’ doors, there were so many bodies piled up that blood would come pouring out.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But despite the traumatic circumstances, these incredible reservists worked day and night to ensure the dead got a proper burial, and that their families had a chance to wish their loved ones farewell. The dedicated </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Chevra Kadisha</span><span style="color: #242424;"> at Shurah did everything possible to treat the dead, and their families, with love.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Rabbi Mann related a conversation between Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis, the Chief Rabbi of England, and President Isaac Herzog of Israel. Rabbi Mirvis told President Herzog he had visited Shurah. President Herzog replied that it was an awful place, “the gates of hell”; the very imprint of Hamas’ depraved crimes was on the body of every person murdered.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Rabbi Mirvis responded that on the contrary, Shurah was the “gates of heaven,” and a place of awe; it was a place where holy volunteers had heroically restored dignity to the deceased and their families.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The task of the Chevra Kadisha is to ensure the body is treated with respect. In preparation for burial, they do what is called a</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> taharah</span><span style="color: #242424;"> where they do what they can to clean the body and purify it, and recite prayers for the soul of the deceased. (In the case of those murdered on October 7th, many of the usual procedures were suspended; murder victims are meant to be buried in their clothes. However, the prayers and the arrangement of the bodies in the coffin remain the same.) Other societies may cremate remains, or toss them away; Tibetans practice a “sky-burial,” in which bodies are placed on the mountaintop to be eaten by vultures. Judaism’s perspective is different and views treating the body with respect as the highest priority.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The Chatam Sofer explains (Teshuvot 2:328) that the </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">taharah</span><span style="color: #242424;"> procedures are in place to show respect for man, who is created in the “image of God.” Even the dead body continues to carry a reflection of the divine image. The Chatam Sofer reminds us that by offering proper respect for the dead body, one offers respect for the living.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Jewish funerary and mourning rituals are not about closure and putting the death behind us. On the contrary, they are about preserving our connection to those who have passed away. We want to build a bridge from this world to the next, and to continue to keep our loved ones in our hearts.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">This is what Avishai Margalit has called “the ethics of memory.” While the philosophical basis of this idea is complex, it is very much a part of the Jewish tradition. The ritual of Shiva and the prayers of Yizkor and Kaddish all articulate the same idea: we must continue to remember those whom we love. We remember because to love someone is to love someone forever; we remember because we could never forgive ourselves for forgetting.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">On the last day of our most recent mission, we visited Har Herzl, Israel's military cemetery. Two sections have been designated for this war’s fallen soldiers. We went on a rainy day and it seemed like the stones were crying. All around us were the graves of people in their twenties and thirties, who once had a bright future ahead of them. A young widow, married for just two months, was sitting next to her husband’s grave; he was 23 years old. Our guide Michal spoke about the soldiers she knew in the section, who were friends from her neighborhood and school. Michal is far too young to know such tragedy; but now she does. Like every Israeli, she has gone to shiva after shiva, comforting and bereaved all at once.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">On Har Herzl this overwhelming sense of loss, this endless <span class="il">void</span>, is most profound. There is no grief like the grief of losing a young child at the height of their potential.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But at the same time, there is a recognition that within this absence those who have died will be ever-present. Virtually every grave was decorated by the families in tribute to their loved ones. Bottles of scotch, Israeli flags, soccer flags, photographs, letters, and miniature Torah scrolls all embrace the memory of those who are still loved. They are declarations that the fallen will never be forgotten. At every simcha, every Seder, every family get-together, they will be remembered. There may be a gaping <span class="il">void</span> in the mourners’ hearts, but within that <span class="il">void</span>, the memories of their loved ones are ever-present.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The Bible says, “Put me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death.” (Song of Songs 8:6) These bereaved families have declared that their love is forever, tied to the heart with an eternal bond. Nothing, not even death, can take their love away.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">They will always remember their loved ones. And so will we.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">May their memory be for a blessing.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-59310038881531875932024-02-20T10:59:00.005-05:002024-02-20T10:59:30.406-05:00KINDNESS, FREEDOM AND VICTORY<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740layout-margin" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740layout-margin_cell" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 20px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#ebf1f8" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740layout" style="background-color: #ebf1f8; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740column m_-2313829375023812740scale m_-2313829375023812740stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 252px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740image--mobile-scale m_-2313829375023812740image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740image_container m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiYF4F9N9oKYbJyOtsRfJsRTww757slsFmjp70Hav-8oVZbxuEWyM6TfemP2CPOt05o5bACf03khLFUkv8IUsfb_CTWETbAx5EJBuPPWI7xcidGveBIKHWkIPLukPkb3Me7OmtMUKD3EQ0SzvXZED5JKBp8Ku6BtpkdVRRlaPEoG0RWUBP4xFiGZjcGTO10qLIQTtQFxT1MBTsY=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="200" /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-2313829375023812740text_content-cell m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 9px; font-style: italic;">Our group, in front of the Asma’s Restaurant.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 9px; font-style: italic;">(Credit: Gil Golan)</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740column m_-2313829375023812740scale m_-2313829375023812740stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 308px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740text m_-2313829375023812740text--feature" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-2313829375023812740text_content-cell m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><h3 style="color: #717a80; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px;"><br /></h3><p style="font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">(Sermon given at The Great Synagogue of Jerusalem, Parshat Terumah, February 17, 2024)</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 278px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#4e6898" height="1" style="background-color: #4e6898; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-2313829375023812740text_content-cell m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There is a Hasidic tradition that every Torah reading contains hints regarding the events and news of that week. The Lubavitcher Rebbe referred to this idea frequently, and it can be found in Rabbinic writings as early as the 1600’s. </span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-2313829375023812740column m_-2313829375023812740scale m_-2313829375023812740stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-2313829375023812740text_content-cell m_-2313829375023812740content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This morning we read Parshat Terumah, and I would like to share my personal connection to this week’s Torah reading.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I am in Israel as part of a mission of nearly 50 people from Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York. After spending a week here, it was obvious that this verse at the beginning of the Torah reading reflected our experience:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Speak to the children of Israel, that they bring Me an offering. From everyone who gives it willingly from their heart, you shall take My offering.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Now is a time of great distress and difficulty; the agony of the October 7th massacre is compounded by the continuing tragedy of a painful, grinding war.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yet against this bleak, dark background, there are a myriad of points of light, beautiful acts of courage and kindness. So many have stepped forward and are giving from the heart. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There is a<i> balagan</i> of courage and kindness. We met a soldier in his 30’s who was living with his family in India, and operated several businesses there. He flew back immediately to join the battle against Hamas and was seriously injured in battle. Yet he was proud of having fought for his country, and spoke passionately about a communal project in Israel he was planning.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In the Galilee we met Asma, a Druze woman whose late husband was an IDF soldier who fell in battle. After the war started, she turned her restaurant Kosher so she could supply Jewish soldiers with meals. She often gives soldiers meals for free, paying for the costs out of her own pocket. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">These acts of kindness are bringing very different people closer together. At Hatzalah, we heard about Yossi, a Chassidic volunteer who, along with two friends, rushed out of synagogue on October 7th and drove an ambulance down to the Nova Festival. After completing several hospital transfers, they were transporting a young woman, who complained that she was very cold in the ambulance. Yossi and his team had already used up all the ambulance’s blankets, so Yossi reached into the front seat, took his Tallit and covered the young woman with it. The Nova Festival is worlds apart from Yossi’s Hasidic shteibel; but on that day they were united as one. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Never before has a Tallit accomplished such a holy task. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Despite all the distress and difficulty around us, we were buoyed by the remarkable kindness we saw; and as I reread Parshat Terumah last week, I understood it differently. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">What stood out to me this year was the chronology of the donations mentioned at the beginning of the Parsha; the newly freed slaves offered these gifts just a short time after the Exodus. <span style="color: black;">Moses didn’t need to call for voluntary donations in order to gather the requisite resources for building the sanctuary; the far simpler method of making an assessment, in which each person is taxed, could have accomplished the same thing. (This method would eventually be used with the half-shekel levy in the following Parsha.) </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I would argue that the voluntary donations served a larger purpose. Giving is a critical step on the road to freedom, and these donations were instituted to retrain the former slaves. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Several Rabbis have made a similar observation about the Passover Haggadah. The Haggadah begins with </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">ha lachma anya</span><span style="color: black;">, a section that symbolically invites in guests. Why is this the starting point of the Haggadah? Both Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explain that slaves don’t invite guests. Rabbi Soloveitchik simply notes that slaves can’t give to others because they have no property of their own; whatever they have belongs to their master. Rabbi Sacks explains that slaves are self absorbed, overwhelmed by their day-to-day needs. “Sharing food is the first act through which slaves become free human beings. Someone who fears tomorrow does not offer their bread to others.” Giving is a milestone of freedom, a clear sign that one is no longer an anxious slave. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I would take this connection in a different direction, and say that generosity is not just an outcome of freedom; it actually creates the mindset of freedom. A slave is a slave so long that they think like a victim; and a victim cannot figure out how to help themselves, let alone help others. Altruism changes one’s self-image; to help others is heroic behavior. Generosity, no matter what the circumstances, allows one to grab hold of their own destiny.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">On our mission, one of the most powerful meetings we had was with Lahav, a special forces veteran who was at the Nova festival with his younger brother. During that day, Lahav nearly lost his life multiple times; his brother was injured. Finally, they managed to escape and get home. The next day, while still in shock, Lahav received a message that he was being called up.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Lahav certainly didn’t have to report for duty; but he did anyway. Lahav told us that he realized he needed to flip the narrative; instead of being the victim, he was going to grab hold of his destiny and serve his country.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The next day Lahav was in Kfar Aza, fighting Hamas. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Flipping the narrative is precisely why charity is a critical step on the road to freedom; one becomes a giver, and no longer sees themselves as helpless and needy. That is why this act of communal generosity in Parshat Terumah was so critical for the former slaves.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And today, the charity we saw in Israel speaks of a Jewish spirit that refuses to play the victim.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But this verse also hints at a second insight: charity can teach us a great deal about authentic strength and power.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Torah portion speaks of the </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">nediv lev</span><span style="color: black;">, one who is giving of their heart; they have a heart that is virtually dripping with goodness. This stands in contrast with Pharaoh’s heart, one which is </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">kaved</span><span style="color: black;">, hard, and </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">chazak</span><span style="color: black;">, strong. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Which heart should triumph? One might think the heartless, like Pharaoh, hold the advantage. Actually, the opposite is true. Strength without solidarity fails in the long term. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One of the most difficult visits our group made was to the Shurah army base, which had the grim task, of preparing for burial, the bodies of the 1,200 people murdered on October 7th. Here, dedicated volunteers from the Chevra Kaddisha have restored dignity to the dead and offered comfort to their families. Their actions have sanctified this base, which is truly the gates of heaven. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Noa, the head of the women’s Chevra Kaddisha explained that “I am also fighting Hamas. When we do good we fight Hamas.” </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In this short phrase, Noa offered a powerful insight into this parsha: a giving heart is stronger than a heavy, hardened heart. Hardened hatreds can cause a great deal of destruction in explosive bursts of violence; but long-lasting communities require trust, solidarity, and compassion. The </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">nediv lev</span><span style="color: black;"> will always outlast the hard-hearted.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This will be true of this war as well. Yahya Sinwar hides, (or hid,) in tunnels, safe from the very war he set in motion; he uses his people as human shields, and cares very little for them. What we saw in Israel was the opposite. People putting others first. People giving from the heart. People standing up for each other. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In Israel we saw that there is nothing as strong as a people united for each other.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And that is the power of the </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">nediv lev</span><span style="color: black;">.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-2313829375023812740layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-24736878030021649172024-02-02T08:15:00.005-05:002024-02-02T08:15:47.540-05:00THE GROUND STILL TREMBLES<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773layout-margin" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1062236310610110773layout-margin_cell" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 20px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#ebf1f8" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773layout" style="background-color: #ebf1f8; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1062236310610110773column m_-1062236310610110773scale m_-1062236310610110773stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 252px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773image--mobile-scale m_-1062236310610110773image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1062236310610110773image_container m_-1062236310610110773content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiJTzsR-_dFA6SUiXYjrvYND7DDj40kE1mUA7GNVEDFnRlEBtutJwh0HFYSkm3w1WBkutWfb1nIckb6i0BWpaeMVgdLX8as69fYdXx2Wtz1zuoMcgNosZHZtDQEKUXpSSYWXBzNObWV1hcLRaLpeVZAgp0Hama-ZDONNCnT9b7Mu6rmNtPggniVRVKvAIX3j7-HXQnPVbfGE2WW=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="200" /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1062236310610110773text_content-cell m_-1062236310610110773content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 11px; font-style: italic;">An illustration from a published 1723 in Amsterdam, Jan and Kaspar Luiken</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td align="center" class="m_-1062236310610110773column m_-1062236310610110773scale m_-1062236310610110773stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 308px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><div style="height: 10px; line-height: 10px;"> </div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1062236310610110773text_content-cell m_-1062236310610110773content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">No moment in the Bible is more magnificent, no event more central. At the revelation on Mount Sinai, the veil between the mundane and the divine was torn away, and all assembled could see God directly.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1062236310610110773column m_-1062236310610110773scale m_-1062236310610110773stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1062236310610110773text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1062236310610110773text_content-cell m_-1062236310610110773content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The encounter at Mount Sinai carries great theological significance. Nachmanides says there is a daily commandment to never forget the encounter at Mount Sinai; Yehuda Halevi explains that this nationwide revelation is the foundation of the Torah. All of Judaism is a footnote to that day, an ongoing exploration of this intense spiritual singularity.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Words fail to describe that day. The Torah, in Parshat Yitro, describes something akin to a simultaneous hurricane and volcanic eruption, in which “...there were thunderings and lightning, and a thick cloud on the mountain; and the sound of the Shofar was very loud, so that all the people who were in the camp trembled … Mount Sinai was completely covered in smoke ... Its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mountain quaked greatly.” (Exodus 19:16-18.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Midrashim further dramatize this depiction. Rabbi Akiva says that the Jews saw the voice that spoke on Mount Sinai, something that is otherwise physically impossible. Other Midrashim say that all those who were blind and deaf were healed that day, and able to take part in the revelation. Another Midrash says that the call of Sinai was heard throughout the world, and all of humanity, in a sense, stood at the foot of Mount Sinai.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Taken together, these texts emphasize that the encounter at Mount Sinai was unparalleled and transcendent, an event that will never be repeated or equaled.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">So where does that leave those of us who were born too late to stand at Mount Sinai? This question is particularly difficult for those with deeply religious souls. They search for God and long to hear His voice. They wait patiently for a divine calling. But sadly, there are no new Mount Sinais available, no casual daily revelations.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Most people of faith find ways to accommodate this gaping lack of inspiration. Sometimes, even an occasional glimpse of transcendence can satisfy years of spiritual cravings. But at times, we need to turn in a different direction to discover the divine.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rav Simcha Bunim of Przysucha can help direct us. Rav Simcha Bunim was the “Un-Rebbe,” a radical Hassidic leader who diminished the importance of his own position, and urged his followers to find their own path. He would illustrate his view of the Rebbe’s role with the following parable:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Isaac from Krakow was a poor tailor, who was plagued by a recurring dream. In the dream, he had a vision of a large bounty of gold which was hidden under a bridge outside the imperial palace in Prague. Night after night, this dream would repeat itself, until finally, Isaac decided he had to make the ten-day journey to Prague to find this treasure. He explained to his wife why he had to go, and started his journey.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">In Prague, Isaac arrived and found the bridge just as it appeared in his dream. But he couldn’t dig for the treasure, because it was always under heavy guard; the bridge was right outside the palace, after all. For three nights, Isaac studied the guards’ rotations, hoping to find a pause long enough to allow him to start his search. On the third night, one of the guards grabbed him and arrested him. The guard shouted at Isaac, “You spy, I recognize you! You’ve been here three nights in a row, plotting against the king.” Isaac, in shock, began to sputter how he was an innocent man who was there because he had had a dream about some gold hidden under the bridge. Recognizing the simple sincerity of Isaac’s words, the guard released Isaac, and with a laugh, said: “You fool, you stood there for three nights straight just because of a dream! Last night I had a dream that there’s a treasure buried in the backyard of Isaac, the tailor in Krakow. Do you think I’m going to travel all the way to Krakow just because of a silly dream?”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Isaac immediately returned home. When he entered his house, his wife asked him: “Where’s the treasure?”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Isaac responded: “Give me a shovel and I’ll show you.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Isaac went outside and dug up the gold. The Prague treasure had been hidden right in his backyard all along.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rav Simcha Bunim used this tale as a parable about spirituality and wisdom. People chase spiritual gurus and great rabbis in the hope of achieving spiritual heights. But in the end, what we are looking for is hiding in our own backyard, buried under a lot of nonsense. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">For those in search of great revelations, Rav Simcha Bunim’s parable reminds us that before looking elsewhere, we need to turn inward and find the treasures buried in our own hearts.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This is true of the encounter at Sinai as well. The Talmud (Niddah 30b) relates that every child is instructed the entire Torah in their mother’s womb, only to have an angel force the child to forget what they learned at birth. This text is a bit of a riddle; why teach the fetus Torah, if it is meant to ultimately forget it a few weeks later?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rav Simcha Bunim’s parable explains this text well. The Torah once studied may be forgotten, but its imprint remains. What makes revelation compelling is that our hearts are already attuned to what is being said. There are debates among philosophers as to whether all of the commandments can be understood intellectually; but they are certainly understood by the soul, which immediately attaches itself to the divine. And that </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">a priori</span><span style="color: black;"> appreciation of revelation, that knowledge before knowledge, is a treasure we carry in our own hearts. Even when we stand far away from Sinai, there is another source of inspiration, right at our side.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Since October 7th, I have heard story after story of ordinary people who have done extraordinary things. When they tell others about what happened, they share one refrain: “I never imagined that I could have done this.” Yet in a time of crisis, these heroes found remarkable inner strength. Ordinary Israelis took on the battle from day one, rushing to the front lines before being called up. A soldier sacrificed his own life by falling on a grenade to save his comrades’ lives. Rescuers entered the Nova Festival under heavy fire and saved the lives of hundreds of participants. Dedicated parents, brothers, sisters, and children, have traveled everywhere demanding that the world bring the relatives home from captivity. A young mom built a large distribution center for evacuees in just a few days. Academicians have become ad hoc military suppliers, providing much-needed protective gear to soldiers. Bereaved parents have spoken to group after group, offering strength and comfort to others even while their own hearts are broken. Amidst all the darkness and destruction, these accidental heroes heard a small, still voice of inspiration, and answered the call.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">For years, I wondered if I could ever experience something like the encounter at Sinai; when would I feel the ground tremble with divine inspiration?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Now I have an answer. We stand at Sinai once again when we meet one of these heroes. They are spiritual treasures, right here in our own backyard. Listen to them, listen to their stories. What they have done is amazing.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And the world trembles before their greatness.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-26196316669204760872024-01-26T09:34:00.003-05:002024-01-26T09:34:24.002-05:00THE PEOPLE'S FLAG<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389layout-margin" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_6020888545241163389layout-margin_cell" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 20px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#ebf1f8" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389layout" style="background-color: #ebf1f8; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_6020888545241163389column m_6020888545241163389scale m_6020888545241163389stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 224px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389image--mobile-scale m_6020888545241163389image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_6020888545241163389image_container m_6020888545241163389content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhH9jxo05ApefloazaOsZs3RxqXMszTcDYRKc5Jmjece1ATgdHtw9bnzcdEFd5eFtpJ8zbi12BAt1iX7EVupexrztV4CO33FZhEaQAHjwfcIFqJVgk57qegtgOcORfLE7nD_IGgn90hJG-7AuWeFOj_oRbLNQzCQxrABd0cfloJfd89iIi21tVGY61vcTUdVElgE3I6hjw9tX44=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="200" /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_6020888545241163389text_content-cell m_6020888545241163389content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Herzl's sketch of his proposal for the flag of the Zionist movement.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td align="center" class="m_6020888545241163389column m_6020888545241163389scale m_6020888545241163389stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 336px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_6020888545241163389text_content-cell m_6020888545241163389content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">A country must have a flag. In 1896, Theodore Herzl wrote, “We have no flag, and we need one.” Herzl offered a somewhat pedestrian suggestion of “a white flag, with seven golden stars. The white field symbolizes our pure new life; the stars are the seven golden hours of our working day.” (However, Herzl carefully arranged the stars so that together, the seventh star is a Magen David.)</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_6020888545241163389column m_6020888545241163389scale m_6020888545241163389stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_6020888545241163389text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_6020888545241163389text_content-cell m_6020888545241163389content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Flags have always played a role in statecraft. In the book of Numbers, flags organize the Jews as they travel through the desert; in later Jewish history, impromptu flags, often used on Simchat Torah, were symbols of Jewish solidarity. In the ancient world, flags, ensigns, and banners played a critical role in warfare, where they took on extraordinary importance; capturing the enemy’s flag was an act of heroic valor, and a humiliation for the opponent. The Romans treated their ensigns as an object of worship; Josephus writes that the Romans considered it “a terrible thing… and a great shame, if they were stolen away.” In modern times, flags are primarily a national symbol.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">To Herzl, having a national flag was critical. He wrote, “If we desire to lead many men, we must raise a symbol above their heads.” To him, the flag was another way of transforming the humble Jewish masses into a nation. He would later write in his diary (June 1, 1901) that he hoped to be remembered by history as “an impecunious Jewish journalist, (who) amid the deepest degradation of the Jewish people and at a time of the most disgusting anti-Semitism, made a flag out of a rag and a people out of a decadent rabble, and was able to rally this people around such a flag.” The leader, and their flag, are what makes the people a people.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Herzl, along with his flag, lead the huddled masses to their promised land. However, what would ultimately become the flag of Israel represents a very different vision.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Four biblical commentators from medieval France mention flags in their commentaries on Parshat Beshalach, during a battle scene towards the end of the Parsha. The newly freed slaves are ruthlessly attacked in the desert by Amalek, who “surprised (the Jews) on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear.” (Deuteronomy 25:18.) The Jews have to fight back.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">What ensues during this is quite unusual. Joshua is sent to lead the Jews in battle; at the same time, the Torah tells us:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">And Moses said to Joshua…Tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in my hand.… Moses, Aaron, and Hur went to the top of the hill. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. </span><span style="color: black;">(Exodus 17:9-12)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">With Moses’ hands held high, Joshua wins the war.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Every commentary grapples with the same question: What is Moses doing with his hands? The most obvious answer, offered by Rabbi Abraham Ben HaRambam and Shadal, is that Moses raises his hands in prayer and miraculously protects the Jewish soldiers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Others find this explanation unsatisfying; if this was meant to be a time of miracles, why did Moses send the soldiers to begin with?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Four commentaries from Northern France, Bechor Shor, Rashbam, Hizzkuni, and Joseph Kara, offer a very different interpretation. Moses held his staff high (in his hands,) which functioned as a military flag. (It is fascinating that the commentaries offer three different vernacular words for flags:</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> banniere, confanon</span><span style="color: black;">, and </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">pendon</span><span style="color: black;">.) Holding the flag high strengthens the morale of the troops; Moses’ staff and his hands function like a flag.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">These two explanations are polar opposites. One sees Moses’ hand-raising as the prerequisite for a miraculous intervention; the other sees Moses’ staff as playing a mundane role, a rudimentary flag that rallies the troops on the ground.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 3:8) offers a middle ground; the hands of Moses functioned as a spiritual flag. It says that when Moses held his hands aloft, “the Jewish people turned their eyes upward and subjected their hearts to their Father in Heaven; then they prevailed. But if not, they fell in battle.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">For the Mishnah, the result of the war is miraculous, but the miracle doesn’t belong to Moses; it belongs to the people. Moses' hands held aloft, metaphorically the first flag of the Jewish people, is not about the leader; it is about the people. It reminds the soldiers to focus on their divine connection and reflect on their mission.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Mishnah offers a very different vision of what a flag is: it represents the shared values of the community. Its worth comes from what people project onto it and how people connect to it. Unlike Herzl, the Mishnah sees the value of the flag as depending on what people invest in it.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Herzl’s vision for a flag was rejected. Instead, a proposal by David Wolffsohn, a close associate of Herzl and his successor as President of the Zionist Organization, is accepted. Wolffsohn writes that at the first Zionist conference, the following inspiration came to him:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">At the behest of our leader Herzl, I came to Basel to make preparations for the Zionist Congress. Among many other problems that occupied me then was one which contained something of the essence of the Jewish problem. What flag would we hang in the Congress Hall? Then an idea struck me. We have a flag — and it is blue and white. The talith (prayer shawl) with which we wrap ourselves when we pray: that is our symbol. Let us take this Talith from its bag and unroll it before the eyes of Israel and the eyes of all nations. So I ordered a blue and white flag with the Shield of David painted upon it. That is how the national flag, that flew over Congress Hall, came into being.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Wolffsohn creates a flag that reflects every man; and it also reflects the everyman, the Tallit worn on the backs of tailors and wagon drivers, the ordinary folk who understood Zionism well before the rest of the world did. It is not a top-down flag, one brought by the leader to transform a hopeless rabble; instead, it is a people’s flag, one that draws its meaning from the hopes and dreams of its followers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik argues that the people’s attachment to the Israeli flag transforms it into a sacred object. In a Yiddish lecture given at a Mizrachi convention in the 1960s, Rabbi Soloveitchik remarked that he generally doesn’t understand the magical attraction of flags or other objects like it. However, the Israeli flag is different. The Shulchan Aruch says that a Jew who is murdered must be buried in the clothes he was wearing when he was killed. Soloveitchik says this law teaches us that clothing “acquires a certain sanctity when spattered with the blood of a martyr. How much more is this so of the blue and white flag, which has been immersed in the blood of thousands of young Jews who fell in battle defending the country and its population. The Israeli flag has a spark of sanctity that flows from devotion and self-sacrifice.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The people’s flag carries more than the hearts and souls of a nation; it represents the sacrifices that so many young people have made to build the State of Israel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Today, our young men and women have to go into battle; far too many will not come home again. It is grueling to continue to fight against a fanatical, bloodthirsty foe. The ongoing losses are too large to bear. As the war continues, we too, like Moses, find that our hands grow weary.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">What continues to hold the flag high are the people, who are filled with dedication. In the end, Moses can no longer hold up the flag; his hands need to be held aloft by Aaron and Hur. This moment offers a critical lesson: flags don’t belong to leaders, not even Moses. They belong to the entire people.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Today in Israel, it is the ordinary Israeli, and only the ordinary Israeli, who has held the country together. Previously unknown heroes have rushed to the front lines, organized volunteers, and taken care of a country in crisis. These ordinary people have consecrated the flag with the sacrifices they have made, sacrifices too great to count.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Israel’s flag is their flag. And they are holding it up high, despite everything.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-76872419453555175492024-01-19T10:38:00.000-05:002024-01-19T10:38:06.022-05:00WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU BITTER HERBS<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193layout-margin" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193layout-margin_cell" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 20px;" valign="top"><table bgcolor="#ebf1f8" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193layout" style="background-color: #ebf1f8; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193column m_-1150078967288697193scale m_-1150078967288697193stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 224px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193image--mobile-scale m_-1150078967288697193image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193image_container m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhhU93KvknNk1tJW0kZ9vZoJyfi90w24F7dI623lU5NL3aYLQmTrvkoxj4PdHHMvJg2njoRaAp1RW11Arj9tkMlk6-EyjG26HD7VAwObiyiJkfmqSwyLdAJeGYS7TysPpJyJFV8aBPB0dcn7O5O0KEnmRbuitX8wyCbhERSaKBFfd2cAsVPMwMhgoo9EIDGIEeEdptnSBxVtJ6Q=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="200" /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1150078967288697193text_content-cell m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 10px 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Passover, </span><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">Arthur Szyk, 1948</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193column m_-1150078967288697193scale m_-1150078967288697193stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 336px;" valign="top"><div style="height: 30px; line-height: 30px;"> </div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193text m_-1150078967288697193text--feature" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1150078967288697193text_content-cell m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><h3 style="color: #717a80; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4e6898; font-size: 22px; font-weight: normal;">WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU BITTER HERBS</span></h3><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 16px;">By Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="margin: 0px; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 306px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#4e6898" height="1" style="background-color: #4e6898; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1150078967288697193text_content-cell m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px 10px 10px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Bitter herbs are a culinary misfit. One can fulfill the obligation to eat the bitter herbs (</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">) at the Seder with many different sour and spicy vegetables, including horseradish, romaine lettuce, and chicory. But what is very strange about</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> is that we eat these vegetables on their own at the Seder; as the </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Mah Nishtanah </span><span style="color: #242424;"> exclaims, on any other night, no one would eat a bitter spoonful of horseradish straight up.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1150078967288697193column m_-1150078967288697193scale m_-1150078967288697193stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1150078967288697193text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1150078967288697193text_content-cell m_-1150078967288697193content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #17132e; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Maror was misunderstood from the very beginning. There is no clear indication in the Biblical text as to why it is included in the Seder. The Torah in Parashat Bo says the Passover sacrifice should be eaten “roasted in fire, with unleavened bread, and with bitter herbs….” While the Passover sacrifice has a direct connection to the night of the Exodus, and Matzah is connected to the haste in which the Jews left Egypt, the reader is left to imagine what purpose</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> might have.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Several commentaries see </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> as a way to enhance the meat of the Passover sacrifice. The Ohr HaChaim says that “it is the way of those who eat roasted meat to do so with something sharp, for this makes it tastier, and entices people to eat more.” Ibn Ezra and Ibn Kaspi offer similar interpretations. This perspective is found in the Talmud (Chullin 132b), as well. It asserts that certain offerings of meat must be eaten in “the manner of royalty”; and it explains that the manner of royalty is to eat meat “roasted and served with mustard.” </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">This interpretation is closest to the simple reading of the text. The Torah wants the Passover sacrifice to represent the joy of freedom, and be eaten in a royal fashion; to do so requires that it be served with an appropriate condiment.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But the Mishnah and Passover Haggadah offer a very different perspective on </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">; Rabban Gamliel says: “The reason for bitter herbs is because the Egyptians embittered our forefathers’ lives in Egypt…” </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> is interpreted as a symbol of slavery, not royalty.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">David Henshke argues that Rabban Gamliel’s explanation reflects a shift that took place after the destruction of the Temple. There was no longer a Passover sacrifice; one needed a new rationale to include the bitter herbs at the Seder. Rabban Gamliel found a different symbolism in the </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">, one that related to the actual suffering during slavery.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But this new understanding of </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> seems strange. An evening of redemption should be filled with joy and sweetness. The point of Passover is to escape the horrors of slavery; to place bitterness at the center of the Seder plate seems to undermine Passover’s message.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Most often, answers given to this question embrace the positive side of bitterness; or to put it a bit more cynically, that “suffering is good for us.” </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> is a reminder that slavery has shaped the Jewish soul just as much as freedom.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Undoubtedly, suffering can improve us as people. Professors Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun coined the term “post-traumatic growth” after observing that many of their trauma patients had reinvented themselves in the aftermath of a major tragedy. They had grown in terms of their strength of character, relationships with others, perspective on life, appreciation for life, and spirituality. Their suffering had changed them for the better.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Even before post-traumatic growth was discovered by psychologists, it was evident to philosophers and theologians. Nietzsche wrote that “to those human beings who are of any concern to me I wish suffering, desolation, sickness, ill-treatment, indignities…,” because Nietzsche recognized that character is forged in the crucible of adversity. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the Hebrew word for a “test of suffering,” </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">nisayon</span><span style="color: #242424;">, is the same as the Hebrew word for “raising up,”</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> nissa</span><span style="color: #242424;">, because a test raises one up; the bitterness of suffering is itself the silver lining that carries other blessings.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The Sefat Emet makes a direct connection between this idea and </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">. He says that “the bitterness of slavery was a preparation for redemption, and this (bitterness) remains with us during the times of redemption.” </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> reminds us that bitterness begets character, and is itself a gateway to redemption.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">As I get older, I get more uncomfortable with these types of explanations. I don’t contest their truth. Yes, suffering can spur spiritual growth. And one who suffers will find the pursuit of meaning to be the best way to live with suffering; as Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik wrote, “Judaism teaches us that the sufferer commits a grave sin if he allows his troubles to go to waste and remain without meaning or purpose.” Spiritual quests are how the soul copes with tragedy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But what I find deeply disturbing are articles and sermons that use this difficult truth to romanticize suffering. They depict the personal growth achieved in the face of suffering as some sort of Hollywood ending that makes it all worthwhile. But it doesn’t.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The Talmud discusses an idea called “afflictions of love,” which claims that the righteous suffer unnecessarily in order to receive a greater reward in the future. After a discussion of the great reward involved, it tells real-life stories about suffering. In one, Rabbi Yochanan suffers from an illness. His colleague Rabbi Chanina visits, and asks: “Is your suffering dear to you?”; perhaps Rabbi Yochanan appreciated the spiritual glory of suffering, and wanted to continue with his afflictions. Rabbi Yochanan offered a terse response: “Neither the sufferings nor their reward.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">After a lengthy discussion of theory, the Talmud shares the real-life verdict on suffering: all the growth in the world is not worth the suffering. </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Marror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> is always bitter, and may it stay far, far away from us, always.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">So how else can one see </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">? The past few months have given me a new reflection on the passage of Rabban Gamliel. I now believe that</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> reminds us that even when we can proudly sing “this year in Jerusalem,” there will still be </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> on the Seder plate. Despite returning to our homeland and building a remarkable state, we cannot banish the bitter herbs. Life will always have a side portion of </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;">.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">But the </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror </span><span style="color: #242424;">at the Seder is not there to sober us up and offer us cynical realism. Instead, it reminds us that</span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;"> maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> is never the final chapter. Bitter herbs may be ever-present, but so is redemption. We simply have to get through this portion of </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #242424;"> and start over again. We have overcome, we can overcome, and we will overcome.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">In the worst of times, Jews never gave up on redemption; and now that we have experienced a taste of redemption, we certainly cannot give up on redemption, no matter how bitter things are. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">This message was powerfully articulated in a heroic eulogy that a bereaved mother, Sarit Zussman, gave for her son, Ben, a fallen soldier. After speaking about her remarkable son and the profound love he shared with his family, she ended by speaking to the people of Israel:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">"And now to you, to all of you, to all of us, to the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. As a storyteller, I tell you: that our story has a happy ending. We are going to win. We have no other choice. We are a people who want to live, unlike our enemies, lowly and miserable, cowards, Nazis and their accomplices, who sanctify death. We will live, and thrive, and build...Do you hear, people of Israel? World, do you hear? Do you hear, lowly enemies who desire death and evil? Am Yisrael Chai – the Jewish people live, forever and ever and for all eternity, standing tall and with our heads held high…”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;">These moving words remind us that the true lesson of </span><span style="color: #424242; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #424242;"> is that we must hold on to hope, even when it seems impossible. The Seder ends with joy, despite the </span><span style="color: #424242; font-style: italic;">maror</span><span style="color: #424242;">. No matter how difficult it gets, we must hold our heads high and proudly declare: </span><span style="color: #424242; font-style: italic;">Am Yisrael Chai!</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-20568965686463397102024-01-12T11:42:00.001-05:002024-01-12T11:42:04.715-05:00We Must Never Forget Them<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372image--mobile-scale m_-4686274809638556372image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhmPJExEw_ped8WNvobfT0kUUZUmJ8jJTTToEjrSHrqfNhkgmgRjbiRK46mtyvBwjjO2hC_dnKXSU3Z2_pBMXMViDv4GOR-zaI65GEyzSCdMfg5cqiWNY6y0M-qBwEvk85Dbn46FWd5Y0GTsSxdMBG6ZGtD0GdpKYZizxrhw2nDsLuyivAQ-_V9GaeHMNzQYl3GQ9FOG6P5KlTp=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-4686274809638556372text_content-cell m_-4686274809638556372content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">The Israelites' Cruel Bondage in Egypt, <span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px;">Illustration from the 1728 </span><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">Figures de la Bible</span><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px;">; illustrated by Gerard Hoet (1648–1733) and others, and published by P. de Hondt in The Hague; image courtesy Bizzell Bible Collection</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-4686274809638556372column m_-4686274809638556372scale m_-4686274809638556372stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-4686274809638556372text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-4686274809638556372text_content-cell m_-4686274809638556372content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">One could call this the Gettysburg Address of the Exodus. At the beginning of Parshat Vaera, God speaks to Moses and assures him that slavery is about to come to an end:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">Therefore say to the children of Israel: ‘I am the Lord; I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, I will rescue you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments. I will take you as My people, and I will be your God. Then you shall know that I am the Lord your God who brings you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians. And I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; and I will give it to you as a heritage... (Exodus 6:6-8.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">In just a few sentences, the Torah gives us an overview of the full process of redemption; not just an escape from slavery, but the creation of a new nation with a homeland of their own. The Talmud refers to the first four verbs in this section (bring out, rescue, redeem, and take) as the “four languages of redemption”; And to this day, the four cups of wine at Passover Seder are in celebration of these words.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">The parsha begins with this speech, most probably in order to begin on a high point. But it also begins mid-conversation, which strips it of context. God’s words are actually a response to an angry challenge by Moses; after his initial petition to Pharaoh backfires, and causes even greater pain to the slaves, Moses turns to God and says: “Lord, why have you done such evil to this nation? Why is it that You have sent me?”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Moses’ words border on the sacrilegious. Indeed, several commentaries criticize Moses for this. Rashi says that God, in his response, subtly rebukes Moses for his complaint; one Midrash says Moses was later punished for challenging God, and not allowed to enter Israel. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Yet the simple reading of God’s response is that He takes Moses' challenge seriously; that is why God offers such a thorough and detailed reply. Moses is speaking on behalf of those who are oppressed and downtrodden, and even if he speaks with chutzpah, he does so out of love for his Jewish brothers and sisters.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Another Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 5:22) amplifies Moses' complaint. Moses knows the Jews will eventually be rescued, but he cannot tolerate the delay. A future redemption, Moses says, will not “help the Jews who are now being thrown under the building.” This curious phrase refers to a shocking image found in rabbinic literature (Midrash Zuta Kohelet 7:7, Rashi Sanhedrin 111a) that in the Egyptian construction projects of Pithom and Raamses, Jews were used as bricks, and squeezed into the gaps of walls. A similar Midrash (2:24) asserts Pharaoh sought to heal himself of leprosy by bathing in the blood of 150 murdered Jewish children each morning and evening.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">These midrashic images amplify the biblical text, which talks at length about Pharaoh's attempts to kill Jewish children. But they are not here just to vilify Pharaoh; they come to expose the inner workings of his regime.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Some acts of hatred are utilitarian; one feels threatened, and therefore needs to fight an enemy. But other times, hatred stands at the very foundation of a society. The historian Saul Friedlander coined the term “redemptive antisemitism,” to describe the Nazi hatred of Jews. The Nazis saw Jews as a virus that weakens and undermines humanity; the destruction of the Jews would bring goodness to the rest of the world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">These midrashim are articulating something similar. In one, the murder of Jewish children is seen as therapeutic, a way for Pharaoh to recover his health. In the other, dead Jews are the foundation of Egyptian development. For Pharaoh, killing is no longer the means of maintaining power, but the very purpose of power itself. Violence against Jews is the scaffolding that holds his regime together.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Unfortunately, these Midrashim are prescient, offering a clear description of Hamas. There are no limits to Hamas’ “100-year war.” It engaged in a premeditated mass murder in the most horrible, depraved fashion, all proudly recorded by terrorists on their body cameras. Even more shocking is Hamas’ overt contempt for the very people they claim to represent. Palestinians were Hamas’ first victims, as this autocratic regime has regularly murdered its opponents. Today, Palestinians are enduring great suffering because Hamas cynically uses civilians as human shields, and calculates the strategic value of their deaths. Hamas will have the Palestinians fight to the death in Gaza while many of its leaders sit comfortably in Doha.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Supporters of Israel are sometimes reluctant to speak about the tragedy of Palestinian civilians because it has been weaponized by Hamas and its enablers; as I write these words, the International Court of Justice is presiding over a South African claim that Israel has engaged in “genocide.” But even so, we must mourn for the deaths of those caught in the crossfire. Every human being is created in the image of God.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Hamas has built its regime with the blood of both Palestinians and Israelis. Its great construction project, the Gaza tunnels, is built for death, and by death. Hamas’ wanton violence may shock us; but the Midrash predicted this type of hatred hundreds of years ago.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Like Moses, we are anguished over the innocent babies who were massacred, and mourn for those who were brutally murdered. Israel has had to send its best and brightest out to take up the fight; and too many of them have fallen in battle. For all of these tragedies, we cry.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Every death is a profound loss; but the death of a young person is all the more painful because it is so unexpected. In the ordinary way of the world, children bury their parents, not the other way around. My father died in a car accident, predeceasing my grandfather by nearly 40 years. My grandfather was a jovial man, who always had a smile on his face; that is, except when he spoke about my father. Then the smile left his face; even decades later, the grief would quickly return. No suffering is greater than that of losing a child.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">A Hebrew expression, which is first found in Isaiah (38:10), best describes a young death: </span><span style="color: #242424; font-style: italic;">nektaph b’mei chayav</span><span style="color: #242424;">, “cut off in the middle of their days.” It emphasizes that a young death is actually a double tragedy; one loses not just the person, but also what the person could have been.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Each of these deaths are painful for our entire community. News reports out of Israel recount the entire biography of those who have died; the entire Jewish world repeats their names and their stories. And inevitably, we find that we are one or two degrees of separation from these tragedies.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Hamas sees our response as a weakness. Yahya Sinwar sees the Israeli concern for each hostage and each soldier to be a weakness; he considers his ability to write off the lives of thousands of Palestinians to be a strength. He ridicules Israel’s willingness to call a ceasefire in order to release a handful of hostages. Like Pharaoh, Sinwar is ready to build pyramids with the bodies of babies.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">Sinwar is correct that brutality holds strategic value; ignoring the suffering of one’s own people means that one can fight on without any limitations. But it is morally untenable. Moses cried for the babies Pharaoh was murdering, and we must follow his example. Even if it seems foolish, we must advocate for each hostage, and cry for every soldier.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424;">We must never forget them. And we must challenge God to remember them, and put an end to the suffering now.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-67516707740423283692023-12-15T13:19:00.003-05:002023-12-15T13:19:15.562-05:00The Optimism of Seven Lean Years<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712image--mobile-scale m_-6792367843444445712image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEj-KC8c7NGVKe-FkQjlRIk6p-tBN89UfW-d1l59fl8-1cnEemLa7neGeP03Gfil9n-HeSDgUPfsdnqXG7ep_FSfwCK73lOkAgCIUsQqzyRBHhTo_R0usxFaotAe0ZcV4uBmZbVyzxFl7H4YDWiOLqOXWY7ySUnO3kde4gQt3_sYy3IN_uZacwvQ7rnhnF13n6bYBydAb4j8CdsY=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-6792367843444445712text_content-cell m_-6792367843444445712content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Pharaoh's Dreams, c. 1896-1902, by James Jacques Joseph Tissot (French, 1836-1902),</span></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">gouache on board, Diameter: 5 1/8 in. (13 cm) each, at the Jewish Museum, New York</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-6792367843444445712column m_-6792367843444445712scale m_-6792367843444445712stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-6792367843444445712text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-6792367843444445712text_content-cell m_-6792367843444445712content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Optimism is profoundly human. The neuroscientist Tali Sharot, in her book </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">The Optimism Bias,</span><span style="color: black;"> shows that optimism is pervasive, cutting across all cultures. She draws the conclusion that humans are hotwired to imagine an unrealistic picture of the future. It is instinctive to dream of “happily ever after,” even if that often is not the case.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The belief in progress is equally instinctive, because it is nurtured by optimism; and it is just as irrational. In 1992, Francis Fukuyama, a political scientist, wrote </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">The End of History</span><span style="color: black;">. He saw the fall of the Soviet Union as representing the ultimate triumph of the western democratic order, and the culmination of all history. There would be no further conflicts, now that the world had seen the light.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Unfortunately, that was not true. New dictators arose, and arguably, democracy has been on the decline since he wrote the book.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the failures of optimism doesn't mean it should be completely rejected. Redemption is one of the foundational beliefs of Judaism. Jeremiah held out hope that a newly exiled nation would return home; Isaiah imagined a world filled with peace and harmony. Jews are called by Zechariah “prisoners of hope”; our soul’s first language is optimism.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But since October 7th, Jews have felt betrayed by optimism. History has gone backwards. It feels like it's 1948 again, with Israel fighting for its very existence. Every dream seems counterfeit. Optimism feels like a cognitive trap, which gives one false hope when hope is pointless.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">It is here where optimism needs an unlikely ally to succeed: pessimism. That is a central lesson of Joseph's dreams.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Joseph's life story revolves around three sets of dreams. The first two he has as a child, when he is the spoiled younger half-brother who is deeply resented by his siblings. He dreams that they are in the field, and his bundle of grain rises up, and the bundles of his brothers are bowing to him. Then Joseph has another dream, where the sun and the moon and the stars are all bowing to him.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">These dreams seemingly need no interpretation. Joseph is declaring himself the ruler of his brothers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Immediately, the opposite happens. The dreams stir the brothers’ jealousy, and they sell him into slavery in Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The second set of dreams occur when Joseph is in an Egyptian prison, and two fellow prisoners, the butler and the baker, ask him to interpret their dreams; Joseph does so accurately, predicting that the butler will be freed and the baker will be executed. Two years later, the butler will recommend Joseph as a dream interpreter.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The third set are Pharaoh's dreams. He has two dreams. In one, seven fat cows are swallowed up by seven skinny cows; in the second, seven healthy stalks of grain are devoured by seven sickly stalks of grain.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Joseph is called from prison to interpret Pharaoh's dreams; he explains that there will be seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. Luckily, Joseph explains, the dreams offer a timely warning, which will allow Egypt to get ready for the famine and overcome it. Joseph is so impressive, that he is immediately named the viceroy of Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">What jumps out at the reader is how Pharaoh’s dreams stand in sharp contrast with Joseph's dreams.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Pharaoh's dreams project a tragic ending; but because Pharaoh shared them, they will have a positive ending. Joseph's dreams project a very happy ending for him; but because Joseph shared them, he ends up a slave.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Pharaoh's dreams are difficult to interpret; he turns to all of his priests for answers, but none have one. It is clear to everyone that God is communicating with Pharaoh. In contrast, Joseph's dreams are obvious, and need no interpretation. And his brothers assume that these dreams are just the product of Joseph's imagination and nothing more.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Finally the most fascinating contrast has to do with what occurs after a double dream. Pharaoh's double dream indicates that it will come true immediately; Joseph's double dream seems to wait for a long time to come true.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There are many lessons that these contrasts teach. First of all, it reminds us to beware of happy endings. Joseph's dreams feed his own vanity and make him oblivious to his own brother's hatred; in fact, his dreams make their hatred worse. This is a good dream that causes damage, where a sunny picture of the future is actually a liability.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Second, one must recognize that pessimism often allows optimism to succeed. Pharaoh’s nightmares allow for proper preparation, to be ready for the upcoming famine. The unhappy ending in the dream actually helps Pharaoh achieve a happy ending in real life. This is a bad dream that does a great deal of good, preparing Egypt for the future.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Third, good dreams often have a very long runway. Joseph explains to Pharaoh that the double dream means “that the matter has been determined by God, and that God will soon carry it out.” This is a strange assertion, considering that Joseph's own double dream had seemingly not come true.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">However, I would argue that that isn't the case; Joseph's dreams actually came true immediately. What his brothers thought to be a mere figment of Joseph's ambition was actually a divine prophecy. However, both the brothers and Joseph misunderstood this dream; they assumed it meant that Joseph would be the recipient of great privilege, an entitled ruler who receives unearned gifts. But actually, the purpose of the dream was to call Joseph to be a true leader, to be a servant of both his family and all of Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In order to do that, Joseph would have to learn humility. In order to become an authentic leader, Joseph would need to be a slave first. And so he becomes a slave immediately, which prepares for the fulfillment of his dream.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Joseph could only achieve this dream through great difficulty. But the pain and suffering he endured as a slave got him ready for his ultimate role. And in the happiest of endings for the entire family, Joseph was in the exact right place to save them from the famine.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Right now it is difficult to dream, and optimism is scarce. But the lessons of our Torah reading is that there are no grand dreams of the future without difficulty and sacrifice. But if we learn to prepare for the famine, we will be able to endure.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And we have known this all along. In 1956, Moshe Dayan gave a eulogy for Roi Rotberg, a 21 year old soldier who was ambushed in the fields of Nahal Oz, near Gaza. This eulogy is prescient; it speaks directly to us today in the aftermath of October 7th. Dayan explained that Israel must never be lulled into complacency, imagining that everything will be okay. A country like Israel will have enemies, and she must be ready.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">He said:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">That is our generation's fate and our life's choice -- to be willing and armed, strong and unyielding, lest the sword be knocked from our fist and our lives cut down.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">It was difficult to contemplate this reality in 1956, when burying Roi Rotberg, a young soldier who was brutally killed on a Kibbutz. Is even more difficult to contemplate this reality in 2023, after so many were brutally murdered on Kibbutzim, and much like Roi, young soldiers are giving their lives on a daily basis for Israel. Dayan’s eulogy is painfully pessimistic.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But like Pharaoh's nightmarish dream, this bitter pessimism is the only way forward to a better future. Ordinary optimism might cause us to overestimate what can be, and imagine that we simply can be carefree. But optimism is not a blank check.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Mature optimism is something different; it walks hand in hand with pessimism, to enable one to be ready for each day's crisis. Tomorrow will be another day, another opportunity for hope. But not today. We must not lose sight of reality.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">What gives me optimism now is how Israelis are heroically carrying the burden of an awful time; they stand ready to meet the challenges of the seven lean years. Shai Bernstein (whose father, Dr. David Bernstein, taught at Ramaz for many years,) wrote a powerful note about his service in Gaza:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen with my own eyes.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen injured friends in the hospital who, despite the pain and long recovery process that await them, seem way stronger than me.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen Colonel Asaf Chamami’s mom at his Shiva; I almost fell apart right in front of her eyes. She was the strong one, not me.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen teachers, doctors, factory workers, and people working in tech, leaving their jobs and families, leaving everything they have and fighting like lions.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen Matan (voted for Meretz), Jonathan (Lapid), Guy (Bibi), and Itamar (Gantz) having a fierce political argument.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">It looked like a competition of who loved the State of Israel more.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen the same four chevra leap with all of their gear into the breach, together as one.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen them run to aid the injured after the missile hit us, even though the bullets were still flying over their heads. Each one carrying the stretcher, lending a shoulder, together.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen communities across the US buckling down, raising money and working hard to send supplies, to support to the soldiers and citizens of Israel. (Some of the letters we got from kids were so simple, yet special and moving - you could cry).</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I’ve seen a polarized and divided nation that became united in an instant.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">We realize that we’re fighting not only for our lives, but for our very right to exist.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This letter chronicles the pain of young men and women leaving their families, of injured soldiers in the hospital, of parents burying their children. And yet the letter is not at all pessimistic. It is inspiring that so many people like Shai are willing to carry the burden of the seven lean years, and ensure a better future.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And even during a nightmare, that is worthy of optimism.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-86885607925421176482023-12-06T13:18:00.004-05:002023-12-06T13:21:35.742-05:00 Wrestling Lessons: A Sermon About the KJ Mission to Israel<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="1131" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/891177707?h=5e827db681&title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="640"></iframe> <p><a href="https://vimeo.com/891177707">KJ/Ramaz Israel Thanksgiving Mission - Produced by Elyssa Brezel</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user120403155">Esther Feierman</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1471959678389819783column m_-1471959678389819783scale m_-1471959678389819783stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1471959678389819783column m_-1471959678389819783scale m_-1471959678389819783stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh68k-6Blsdhc83jJmRa7-dCOwRq-x52h3ojc4Tt9qZ-AT1kimq-ggP4gZUSYg1i-GleFquVirS3cvn5E3UHtNT4RyQ57u2r3jOU6JodtaPwE9tkD9ubnp-Os6O0-tSLmMvLEq9RwceKHpeEedK_8D77JpVDLPtWiFoo5IP_EAUUw=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1471959678389819783column m_-1471959678389819783scale m_-1471959678389819783stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1471959678389819783text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1471959678389819783text_content-cell m_-1471959678389819783content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">When will the war be over? Last week in Israel, this question came up multiple times in conversation. Our group had the privilege of eating lunch last Shabbat with Benny Gantz, and we asked him the same question. At the time, there was a ceasefire; some soldiers were coming home for the weekend, and everyone seemed to catch their breath once again. But this was only a temporary lull; Hamas is still in power, and hostages are still in captivity. Unfortunately, as Gantz and many others explained, there is no quick solution; the war may take several more months to achieve its objectives.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This was a difficult answer for us to hear. Everyone wants things to go back to normal as soon as possible.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We want our hostages home, we want our soldiers home, we want the evacuees back in their homes.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But sometimes there aren't any quick answers. Sometimes you must wrestle instead.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Our Torah reading includes the passage about Jacob's wrestling match with the angel. They wrestle for hours until morning; it only ends then because the angel begs Jacob to let him leave.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Hebrew word for wrestling, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">vayeavek,</span><span style="color: black;"> emphasizes how tedious and uncomfortable wrestling is. The Ramban offers two theories regarding the origin of the word. One is that it’s related to the Hebrew word for hugging, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">chibuk</span><span style="color: black;">; wrestlers hold each other close as they grapple in excruciating intimacy with their enemy. The other is that </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">vayeavek</span><span style="color: black;"> is related to the Hebrew word for dust,</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> avak</span><span style="color: black;">. Wrestling is a very slow form of combat; the feet of wrestlers are constantly shifting, in search of a more advantageous position. When wrestlers wrestle, they kick up a lot of dust.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In short, wrestling is both painful and painfully slow. But Israel is born in a wrestling match. At daybreak, the angel changes Jacob's name to Israel, in recognition of Jacob's courage; the angel declares to Jacob, “You have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome,” and these words in Hebrew contain the root of the word “Israel.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Here we need to pause for a moment. Names are powerful reflections of plans and perspectives. Is the Torah suggesting that the people of Israel are fated to wrestle?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And the answer is: absolutely yes.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Wrestling is part of every life; there are no easy solutions for the endless challenges of life. This is all the more so true of a people who have held tight to their destiny for 3,300 years; to survive, an aptitude for wrestling must be part of Jewish DNA.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We are once again facing a time of wrestling for Jews; and the lessons of Jacob’s wrestling match are now more important than ever. I’d like to share three insights from this section of the Torah today.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The first is: you know it won't be easy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Side by side with this horrific massacre in Israel is a dramatic uptick in antisemitism around the world. Many Jews have been stunned by this. In truth, I am among them. Had you asked me a few years ago, I would have told you that antisemitism was disappearing.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But now antisemitism is back with enormous intensity. This is profoundly disconcerting for us. But it's disconcerting only because we had the wrong expectations. We had forgotten that being a Jew won't always be easy, that wrestling is a part of Jewish destiny.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At the same time, this attack by Hamas shocked Israel, which was completely unprepared. As Ronen Bergman reported yesterday in the New York Times, although Israeli intelligence had reliable reports of a planned Hamas attack, it was dismissed it as being improbable.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This type of mistake is sadly a common one. People evaluate the future based on what they see in the present; and they have a predisposition to optimism and tend to accept the most positive view of their own situation. The desire “to dwell in tranquility” caused Israel to forget the most important rule: it won't come easy. And frankly, you can't expect a high-tech fence to fight a war. Just ask the French; it didn’t work in World War II either.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The first, and most difficult, wrestling lesson is that it doesn't come easy. Not life, not being a Jew. But this name change reminds us that we can handle it. We are Israel, we are wrestlers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And we are fortunate to have so many heroes ready to wrestle. Dan Polisar of Shalem College spoke to our group about his son, who is a commander currently on duty in Gaza. A piece of rubble had fallen on his helmet, and he was taken to the hospital to be checked out. Thankfully everything was good, but the doctor wanted him to stay home for a few days of monitoring. But that outcome was not acceptable; the commander knew his troops needed him. So, Dan and his son argued with the doctor; she still refused to let him go. They insisted she speak to her supervisor. That didn’t work, so they insisted that she speak to the head of the hospital; finally, the medical staff reluctantly allowed the commander to return.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But Dan related one other point, which was the most powerful part of this story. During the back and forth with the doctor, Dan and his son were discussing their problem in the waiting room. There, a soldier, who Dan described as having “a bruise the size of Texas on his arm,” sees them talking and asks them what had happened. When the soldier hears their predicament, he laughs and says: “Who cares if the doctor doesn’t give you permission? Just grab a transport and go back to Gaza!”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jacob gets injured during his wrestling match, but he forges ahead; so do these heroes, bruises and all. Yes, wrestling isn’t easy. Israel’s soldiers know that, but they are ready to take on the challenge anyway.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The second lesson is you don't let anyone wrestle alone.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At the end of the wrestling match, the angel injures Jacob on his thigh. Because of that, the Torah tells us that Jews are forbidden from eating the sciatic nerve.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the reason is somewhat unclear. Why would we commemorate this injury, and why with a prohibition?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The 13th-century French rabbi Hizkunni offers a fascinating explanation. He says that the prohibition against eating the sciatic nerve is a penalty; Jacob's family is being punished because Jacob was left alone and vulnerable. Jacob's sons should not have neglected their father and left him unaccompanied. And so, for generations, Jews have accepted this penalty and not eaten the sciatic nerve.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The lesson is you don't allow someone to wrestle alone.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We can be proud of how united the Jewish people are. In Israel, everybody is getting involved, whether it be soldiers in the reserves or volunteers in the streets.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We met an injured soldier who was fighting alongside Yossi Hershkovitz, the principal of the Pelech High School for Boys in Jerusalem; prior to that, he had taught at SAR. Hershkovitz died when a booby-trapped tunnel claimed his life.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The injured soldier told us that all of the younger members of the unit asked Hershkovitz why he reported. Hershkovitz was 44, had five children, and was exempt from service. Hershkovitz told them that he was there because the younger soldiers needed his experience and his help. He wasn't going to let them remain alone.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This is the story of Israel today; remarkable sacrifices, all in the cause of helping each other.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Jews of America are doing their part as well. A few weeks ago, there was an unprecedented rally, where 290,000 people stood in solidarity with Israel. To my mind, the most powerful speech came from Natan Sharansky, who explained to the crowd why unity matters. He spoke about how he and his friends resisted against the former Soviet Union, and said:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Many people thought that our cause was hopeless. How could a few men and women beat an empire all on their own?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">But we knew very well that we weren’t truly alone. Israel and the Jewish People stood with us. From the small demonstration that four students organized at Columbia University in 1964, to the massive rally when 250,000 Jews gathered right here in this very place in 1987, three generations of World Jewry dedicated themselves to our struggle. Many of your grandparents fought for us. Many of your parents fought for us. Many of you fought for us. And this fact, this togetherness, gave me strength in my years in the Soviet Gulag.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">My jailors tried to tell me that I am alone, that I am doomed, that our struggle will fail. But all I had to do was to remember the many Jewish visitors who came to see us in Moscow over the years to know that they were lying. I knew you. I knew how devoted and loving you were. I knew that we were</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">one fighting family. And so I knew that there was only one possible outcome for our joint struggle….victory.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Coming together matters. That’s why our mission went to Israel. And at every stop we were thanked for coming, by cab drivers, soldiers, and even by Benny Gantz.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And that is why I tell everyone I see they must go visit Israel now. We cannot allow Jacob to wrestle alone.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The third lesson is we are wrestling for something bigger.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The night after the conclusion of the mission I went to the wedding of our friends' son Yoni Troy, to Tali Miller. It was a beautiful wedding, the children of two families that had made Aliyah, building their own home together in Israel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Underneath the Chuppah, there were several prayers recited. An uncle of the bride recited the prayer for the Israeli soldiers. Cousins of the groom, whose homes are on the Gaza border, recited a prayer for those who have been evacuated. And Naor, Yoni’s commanding officer, who rushed in from his base and was still in uniform, recited a prayer for the hostages. Naor is from Sderot, and ten people he knew, including family members, were killed, and five others were taken hostage. There was not a dry eye when Naor recited the prayer.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Afterwards, something troubled me. Here we were, at the picture-perfect Jewish wedding of two wonderful people from two wonderful families in Israel. For centuries, Jews have prayed under the Chuppah “od yishamah b’arei yehuda,” that soon we would return to Israel, and the rejoicing of brides and grooms would once again be heard in the cities of Judea. And now we were at a wedding in the hills of Judea, where everything we prayed for has come true; and even so, we have to offer these heartbreaking prayers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The question is: What point was there in praying for weddings in Israel for all these centuries, when now, weddings in Israel need new prayers?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the answer is simple: the centuries of wrestling were for something bigger than comfort or happiness.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yes, Israel comes with crises, challenges, and hardships.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But at least we're back in our homeland.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Herman Wouk, the playwright and novelist visited Israel in 1955. He was invited by David Ben-Gurion, who was out of politics at the time, to visit him in Sde Boker in the Negev. At that point, terrorists were regularly coming across the border from Gaza, and they needed to provide Wouk with an army escort, and Wouk had to return to Tel Aviv before sunset.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At the end of the visit, Ben-Gurion turned to Wouk and said, “When are you moving to Israel? You know that this is the only place for Jews like you. You know only here you will be free.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Wouk responded with a bit of shock. He said: “Free? Free? The enemy has armies surrounding you, their leaders publicly threatening to wipe out the Zionist entity, your roads are impassable after sundown, and you say that you're free?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Ben-Gurion responded, “I did not say safe. I said free.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And that was the ultimate lesson of our trip. We've seen Israel at a difficult time; but this is also Israel's finest hour. We are wrestling once again, and that’s never easy; but we are wrestling for something bigger. And thank God we have our own sovereignty, our own state, our own army.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Thank God we're free.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And that's worth wrestling for.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-41592073484565025282023-11-29T14:53:00.002-05:002023-11-29T14:53:25.600-05:00A Letter From Israel: It's Time to Start Dreaming<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365image--mobile-scale m_8527480997550063365image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhSEfNLcZuJeWyQyVzUzn7ign7RB8-h3FRU8g6aDP9YIO4W5BdsZDza3RG-AP03xdVNr_QxGjVizvkCo7jn6MI9wrlC97GR5PeHDwTV-9ozNMM1Yv4TfIXMgLENP9rUcbK2jeznRr0xRnFzl-jVWKj1R71A8NyLKEEkx9jkMWrbrjHnvAcwjIYCH6bO7YpZbE4R7JqvB6eMIbd3=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_8527480997550063365text_content-cell m_8527480997550063365content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A Scene from Kfar Aza</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_8527480997550063365column m_8527480997550063365scale m_8527480997550063365stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_8527480997550063365text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_8527480997550063365text_content-cell m_8527480997550063365content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">It was a landscape of horror. Kfar Aza, one of the Kibbutzim ravaged during the Hamas massacre, is filled with rubble and burned-out buildings. (The terrorists came ready with gasoline and tires to burn down the homes of those who wouldn't leave their safe rooms.) While all of the bodies had already been taken for burial, there still were the outlines on the grass where they had sat, unmoved, for over a week. We heard first-hand reports of the brutal murders and the extreme sadism of the terrorists. Shock, heartbreak, and anger competed for control of my heart.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">I was visiting Israel as part of a group from Kehilath Jeshurun and Ramaz. But this was no ordinary trip; our group made multiple difficult visits, where we could see the hurt and suffering of Israel up close.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">One stop was at Shurah, the army base tasked with processing the 1200 people murdered during this massacre. Rabbi Bentzi Mann, who was first called to serve at this base on October 8th, spoke about the overwhelming task of identifying and securing a dignified burial for the dead. He told us that during the first days of the war, refrigerator trucks that ordinarily transport chocolate milk and yogurt were filled with bodies instead. When they would open the doors to remove the bodies, blood would come pouring out. Now, every time he sees a yogurt truck, Bentzi is reminded of death.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">These difficult stories were everywhere we went. We heard from people who had witnessed the murders of their loved ones. We spoke to the families of hostages, and visited the wounded in hospitals. We saw firsthand the pain and horror Israelis are experiencing.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">At the same time, this heartbreak was mixed with inspiration. We met heroes who on October 7th, rushed down to the south on their own accord to take on the attackers; we met medics who risked their lives to pull the wounded out of the battle zone.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">At one point, we stopped at a gas station. Coincidentally, it turned out that Masad at the cash register, from Israel's Bedouin community, was a hero who had saved the lives of 14 people on October 7th. We visited grassroots organizations that are helping evacuees from the north and the south; we met with doctors who have been working 16 hours a day, and volunteers who have given up their jobs to help those in need full-time. This sense of unity is what is holding Israel together right now.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Most inspiring is that Israelis still have dreams. On Shabbat in Jerusalem, we read Parashat Vayetzei, which begins with Jacob's dream. Dreams have long been a metaphor for hope, with Aristotle calling hope “a waking dream.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;">Jacob's dream is the ultimate vision of hope. It is of a ladder on which angels are going up and down, symbolizing that God is sending His emissaries to watch over Jacob. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;">This vision comes to Jacob at the lowest moment in his life, when he's being chased away from home, and his brother Esau wants to murder him. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #424242;">And now Jacob has his dream, from which we learn that it is at the worst moments in time, one needs to dream the most. As Langston Hughes put it:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e; font-size: 13px;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e; font-style: italic;">Hold fast to dreams</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e; font-style: italic;">For if dreams die</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e; font-style: italic;">Life is a broken-winged bird</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e; font-style: italic;">That cannot fly.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Jacob holds fast to his dream; and that changes his perspective. Rashi explains that after he wakes up, Jacob's “heart lifted his feet up,” because he was now filled with hope.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Jews have always understood that you are what you dream. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev points out in his commentary that the Hebrew word for dreaming, “chalom,” is similar to the word for healing, “hachlamah.” And that is because dreams of hope can give a tattered soul the strength to continue forward.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Right now in Israel, there are still dreams amidst all of the nightmares. On Shabbat morning I joined the aufruf of Yoni, the son of dear friends. At the Kiddush, Yoni, a soldier so devoted he had to be pushed to go home for Shabbat by his commanding officer, gave a D'var Torah. In Jacob's dream, there is a ladder whose feet are on Earth, and whose head extends into heaven. Yoni explained that this is symbolic of the times we are in. Even if the ladder is stuck in our muddy and ugly reality, our heads must always be in the skies, filled with vision and values.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">This vision is one and the same with Isaiah's, who tells us that one day swords will be beaten into plowshares. And, as Yoni reminded us, we must not forget this, even now. Yes, it is a horrible time; unquestionably there are many Palestinian civilians who are suffering profoundly in this war. Of course, it must be pointed out where the blame lies. They are largely in harm's way because Hamas has turned all of Gaza into human shields; Hamas relishes civilian casualties, because they are of strategic value to this terror group. Supporters of Israel are sometimes reluctant to speak about the tragedy of Palestinian civilian casualties because it has been weaponized by Hamas and its enablers.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">But that is no reason for us to forget Isaiah's dream; and there are so many who have not lost sight of this vision. Eli Beer, the CEO of United Hatzalah, has a son who is a medic and serves in an elite combat unit. The soldiers don't have their cell phones while on duty, and often can only speak to their families sporadically for a very short time. When Eli spoke to his son, he asked him to share the highlight of the previous week; and his son told Eli that he had found a 12-year-old Palestinian girl who was injured, and he had treated her and sent her in an ambulance to Soroka Hospital in Beersheba. Isaiah's dream is still alive even during this bitter War.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">There are many other inspiring dreams everywhere. I met Shelli Shemtov, whose son Omer is one of the hostages. She told me that she's keeping his room exactly as Omer left it, cluttered and messy. She said that when he gets home, (and I emphasize, she said “when,”) she will hug him, then kick him in the behind and tell him to go back to his room and clean it up.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">What an inspiring mother, what a powerful dream.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Racheli Fraenkel, who spent Shabbat with our group, spoke to me about the Day of Unity which she and her husband established after the kidnapping and murder of her son Naftali in 2014. She mentioned to me that this year, and in the years to come, this day will be even more important. Israel was on the brink of a civil war just days before this war; unity was a distant possibility. Now, after this catastrophe, we must dream once again of unity.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">In Kfar Aza we were taken around by Doron Libstein, whose late brother Ofir had been the head of the regional council. Ofir was among the first people murdered. Doron took us to the spot Ofir was killed, and asked us to sing Hatikvah, Israel's anthem of hope.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">And Doron has hope. He wants to help Kfar Aza rebuild, and become bigger and better. He wants to bring more people to this beautiful corner of the Negev, and fill it with life and vibrancy once again.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">That is Doron’s dream. And we all must dream with him because it is dreams that have kept the Jewish people alive.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">We know that at the worst of times, we need dreams more than ever. And now is one of those times.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #2d2c2e;">Now is a time to dream.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-34824935986276698992023-11-17T11:36:00.005-05:002023-11-17T11:36:59.731-05:00The Magic of The Twice Dug Well<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393image--mobile-scale m_7347176861728094393image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEghCvPsk1yjwn2LbnEsPwqlDXtZTxhZdDLC4U-qPPslMhpE6sYZZEW3FWviyW86QlEtbGuSBgNQqOJQF7EpbLSQP8Te9ZDDQRp0oL3n7PvuNkOvX1JRGkuE9dXwARlJnA3Tz4rLua1ty6dkZD12X3m0g_K_hL1BL87upWrgCw_XcQfqSa7YbMchgKthv_1vR5PNnbwnE6SPJl-K=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="464" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_7347176861728094393text_content-cell m_7347176861728094393content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Excavations. Tell Jemmeh, (Gerar). Solomonic level. Excavated section of the mound</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_7347176861728094393text_content-cell m_7347176861728094393content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_7347176861728094393column m_7347176861728094393scale m_7347176861728094393stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_7347176861728094393text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_7347176861728094393text_content-cell m_7347176861728094393content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #424242;"> </span><span color="var(--neutralDark)">Where was Gerar located? Determining the location of biblical cities requires careful evaluation of archeological, historical, and literary evidence. It is both an art and a science, and because of that, opens the door for multiple opinions.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Several archaeological sites, or “tels,” have been identified as Gerar. Eliezer Oren of Ben Gurion University has argued that Tel Haror, located between Ofakim and Netivot, is Gerar. It is a large city, and the location also seems to correspond to an ambiguous description given by the Church Father Eusebius in the 4th century.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Many other archeologists and Bible scholars take a different view. In the 1920s W. J. Phythian-Adams and Flinders Petrie identified the excavations at Tel Jemmeh with Gerar. They did so because a Byzantine village, Umm Gerar, (essentially the same name,) was nearby.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Yehuda and Yoel Elitzur, (father and son Bible scholars,) note that the biblical record corresponds with this identification. Gerar is described in the Tanakh as being close to Gaza, which is true of Tel Jemmeh but not of Tel Haror. Tel Jemmeh also is a place of abundant well water, which is characteristic of cities closer to the coast. A place like this is somewhere that one would naturally go to during a famine. Tel Jemmeh best fits the biblical description of Gerar.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Gerar’s location was just a matter of academic interest until a month and a half ago; but it is now part of the geography of tragedy. The area of Tel Jemmeh is about a mile from Re’im, where the Nova Festival took place and over 350 were murdered. It is also very close to many of the Kibbutzim that were destroyed during the horrific, depraved Hamas massacre. Gerar is near to all of these sites of tragedy; and after October 7th, this text speaks to us with a different voice.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Genesis 26 begins with Rebecca and Isaac leaving home in a famine in search of food. They arrive in Gerar, on their way down to Egypt; but God tells them to stay there and not leave the Land of Israel.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">In Gerar, they become extremely successful, to the point that the local people are jealous. The Philistines stop up all of the wells in Gerar that Abraham had dug; Abimelech the local king tells Isaac: “Go away from us, for you have become far too big for us.”</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">And so Isaac moves into the Valley of Gerar, and there “Isaac dug again the wells of water which they had dug in the days of Abraham his father, (for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Abraham.) He called them by the names which his father had called them.” Isaac digs two more wells, but the Philistines claim them as well; finally, after digging a third well, the Philistines leave him alone. Isaac continues on to Beersheba; finally, after all this, Abimelech comes to offer Isaac a treaty.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Every commentary approaches this text with one question in mind: What relevance do these wells have? The purpose of the biblical record is to inspire and enlighten future generations. Who once owned which well under which name thousands of years ago seems to be an unimportant detail, a narrative without any abiding purpose.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Because of this question, the Ramban offers a mystical interpretation that sees this text as a prophecy for the future. A similar allegorical approach is taken up by many later commentators, who offer interpretations that see the wells as symbolizing the search for spirituality and inner faith.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Other commentaries see this narrative as a reflection of contemporary struggles. Saadia Gaon, who was a fierce opponent of the Karaites who had rejected the rabbinic tradition, saw in Isaac's decision to give the wells the same names as his father a comment on the importance of preserving the traditions and customs of previous generations.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, who lived at a time when Jews were fighting for acceptance and equal rights, saw in the Philistines' jealousy of Isaac's success a reflection of his own time; that just like Isaac, even after reentering society, Jews would remain the subject of harassment and envy. He explains that even after receiving equal rights, the struggle was not complete. Jews would need to aspire to an honored place in society, and work to become a true light unto the nations, cherished for their teachings and values.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">At its core, this narrative is about Isaac’s response to discrimination; however, the meaning of the text is unclear. Don Isaac Abrabanel and the Ramban have contrary views regarding what Isaac actually did. The Ramban says that Isaac left Gerar and traveled far away, where he was no longer subject to Abimelech and the people of Gerar. The wells Isaac restores are not the ones in Gerar; rather they are a second set of wells, found elsewhere, and not a matter of dispute. This reading has Isaac acting submissively, avoiding conflict with the people of Gerar. (Abrabanel notes that this is why the Ramban sees no real purpose to this text. By the Ramban’s reading, Isaac does nothing.) But the Ramban’s reading is a forced, contorted explanation, because it assumes that the text is talking about two different sets of wells that were closed up by the Philistines; and that is divorced from the simple reading of the text.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Don Isaac Abrabanel, as mentioned, offers a very different perspective. While Isaac does move from Gerar, he does so for a logistical reason; the land cannot accommodate his livestock and the livestock of others. But Isaac remained very close by, despite the Philistines’ demands that he leave. Abrabanel then explains that “Isaac lived there against their desires, and not only that, he dug again the wells that they had closed. And to further assert his rights, he gave the wells the exact same names his father had.”</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Abrabanel reads this text as a story of defiance. This is even more remarkable because until this point, Isaac's life had been guided by others: he was nearly sacrificed by his father, had his wife chosen by his father's servant, and he settled in Gerar because God told him to. But when the chips are down, Isaac rises to the occasion and defies Abimelech. Even Isaac will stand up for his father's legacy.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Abrabanel’s explanation of the wells is exactly what we need to read right now. Defiance isn’t only found in confrontation; it is found in resilience too. Yes, many times during Jewish history we have had to retreat; many times Jews looked like the Ramban’s description of Isaac, a man who avoids conflict with a more powerful adversary. But the overarching theme of Jewish history is that Jews will find a way to make a comeback, even after failures, retreats, and catastrophes. No matter how disappointing a defeat may be, the Jews will not give up, and will return to dig the wells again and again.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">A people that knows how to rebuild what is destroyed is here to stay. And that is the magic of the twice-dug well.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This magic can be found all over Israel. Sivan Rahav Meir shared a fascinating WhatsApp message written by Nogah Ashkenazi, a German convert to Judaism. Nogah wrote that when the war started, she planned on immediately returning to her family in Germany; they were urging her to come back as well. But then Nogah changed her mind. She was part of a local WhatsApp group; and there she read her neighbors’ messages to each other. And that changed her mind.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">She wrote a message to her WhatsApp group to explain:</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>...My first thought was to leave everything and fly to Germany to my parents with the children. My family was already preparing for our arrival.</i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>But when I opened this group on Monday and saw all the messages here, and saw all the strong women, and how you put all your efforts to help on all fronts with whatever is needed, I was so impressed. I was amazed to see the strength of our nation. And it just kept getting even more and more impressive. This is what changed my mind.</i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><span color="var(--neutralDark)">I am not going to run away, not going to leave, because I too am very much a part of all of this. I am Jewish, and this is what I chose; and this is the vow I made in front of the </span><span color="var(--neutralDark)">rabbis</span><span color="var(--neutralDark)"> during conversion, and more importantly, the vow I made in front of God. Germany is no longer my home; I am not German, I am Jewish, and this is my place.</span></i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>And I'm not leaving. On the contrary, I have become even more Jewish in my identity.</i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>So I want to thank each of you for supporting me. My family in Germany doesn't understand my choice, and I can't blame them. You don't know what it is to be part of the Jewish people if you haven't lived it with every cell in your body….</i></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This is a powerful message, a declaration of the Jewish spirit. Even though Nogah is new to the Jewish people, she speaks with Isaac’s voice. It is a voice of defiance, which refuses to accept destruction and persecution.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Today, as we fight another conflict near Gerar, Isaac’s example will guide us. We will find strength in each other, comfort in our dreams, and hope in our history. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span color="var(--neutralDark)"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">And no matter what, we will restore, we will rebuild, we will return.</span></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-21779455673358807822023-10-31T10:54:00.003-04:002023-10-31T10:54:19.674-04:00Our Family Has Arrived<p> </p><table bgcolor="#000000" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="background-color: black; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333image--mobile-scale m_263999520460615333image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiDVlgu2RvhwSLNT28_RYfDvXr8CksFG13vebXYl81VIGSRatQbG8hpIszcoALX9wu67j1QdBENZn2nH9Dcs30W1vGoU26wZlb9LqG2Mbd6ykVn5haMUzxX4HpLwyvL_clJiG25D6qcM8NniXGu7hFJhrhCrq4W_90RKqb-z2GGqMRItlCTdzPCoBRjhW1Fzzlu_3143mXXfI3w=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_263999520460615333text_content-cell m_263999520460615333content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">A local Eilat brewery changed it's label with the new slogan of Israel: "Together we will win."</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_263999520460615333text_content-cell m_263999520460615333content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_263999520460615333column m_263999520460615333scale m_263999520460615333stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_263999520460615333text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_263999520460615333text_content-cell m_263999520460615333content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> "Abram ha’Ivri" is a curious term, most often associated with Egypt, and first used in our Torah reading. The meaning of the word Ivri is unclear. But one interpretation in the Midrash is influential in its own right. Rabbi Judah interprets Ivri as meaning "the entire world is on one side and Abraham is on the other (m'ever) side." Rabbi Judah sees in this phrase a critical aspect of Abraham's mission: to stand apart from the rest of the world. Jews are meant to remain eternal iconoclasts, beginning with the rejection of idolatry.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 19px;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">To live apart need not mean living alone. Abraham himself had close allies; Mamre, Eshkol and Aner are mentioned in the very same verse as having formed a covenant with Abraham. There were people, then as now, who appreciated the Jews for their differences, not despite them. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">These allies are exceptionally important now. As I traveled through Israel this week, Israelis of every political persuasion told me how grateful they were for stalwart support, both military and diplomatic, that the United States and President Biden have offered to Israel during this war. And it is not just the United States; England, France and Germany among others have come forward in support. Israel is not alone. Abraham would have found it difficult to fight the war against the four kings without the the support of his allies; the same is true of Israel today. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Even so, living apart has had a profound impact on our history. The stubborn Jewish insistence on being a nation that dwells alone drew derision from the Greeks and fury from the Romans. Jewish rejection of Christianity and Islam provoked further hatred; the insistence on dwelling apart stoked theological animosity.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Through the centuries these negative attitudes morphed into antisemitism, an amalgam of attitudes that made the Jew the protagonist of all the world's ills. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Culturally, antisemitism has shaped how Jews see themselves. Because of it, Jews were constantly under the spotlight, with the behavior of a single Jew becoming the standard by which every Jew is judged. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The legacy of this spotlight endures. Even after being granted political rights, many Jews made sure to carefully modify their behavior to become more acceptable to non-Jews. At times, they would cut off their Jewish legs to fit the shortened bed of "tolerance" the hostile world offered them, and imitate the very people who ridiculed them. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Among non-Jews, the constant and careful examination of Jews to see if they are actually worthy of being treated as equals became a stealth form of antisemitism, an expression of disgust hidden under the mask of "honest criticism." Under this protocol, every Jewish criminal is highlighted, and every Jewish misdeed exaggerated.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Both of these responses are on full display during this conflict. Jewish students who desperately want acceptance avoid expressing public support for Israel; a small group of them have become her fiercist critics. It is a Jewish Stockholm Syndrome, an unhealthy need to identify with those who detest you, the product of centuries of exclusion. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At the same time, Jewish students are watching their friends rush to go out and protest on behalf of Hamas, even before Israel responded. These students feel profoundly betrayed by classmates and teachers who celebrate those who murdered their fellow Jews.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This one-sided perspective of "honest criticism" of Jews leads to this. A monstrous massacre of burning, beheading, raping and kidnapping is quickly ignored and put on the back burner. At the same time, any misstep by Israel is immediately seized upon. If Israel is thought to have bombed a hospital, the world is up in arms. When it turns out that Islamic Jihad actually bombed the hospital, the very same Palestinian deaths are no longer worth discussing. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Although I could certainly go on, I want to turn to another aspect of Jewish identity found in this week's parsha: a deep loyalty to family.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Torah speaks at length about Abraham's war. Four kings come from the East to Canaan, to reassert their control over five local kings. Abraham rushes to defend the local kings. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One might wonder why this is relevant to Abraham's biography and included in the Torah's account. Is it to show that Abraham is a capable general? Is it because he felt deeply connected to the local nations? </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The answer is offered by the way the Torah phrases how Abraham heard the news. It says "and Abram heard that his brother was taken captive..." Lot, Abraham's nephew, was taken captive during the war; and Abraham rushes to set him free. The Torah actually calls Lot a brother even though he's a nephew, to let us know that for Abraham, Lot is a brother. And this perspective that Jews are a family, rather than an ordinary nation, stands at the center of Jewish identity. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Abraham's war to free Lot is the first example in Jewish literature of what the rabbinic tradition calls </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">pidyon shevuyim</span><span style="color: black;">, the ransoming of captives. Charity must be raised to ransom any Jew, even a compete stranger; and </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">pidyon shevuyim</span><span style="color: black;"> is considered by the Talmud to be the highest form of charity. No Jew can be left behind.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Jewish passion for ransoming captives became so large, that the Talmud had to insist that no ransom exceed the normal price one would pay for a slave; they didn't want kidnappers to target Jews. What is fascinating is that Jews continued to pay large ransoms, and developed halakhic rationales to allow it. The long history of ransoming captives is best explained by this: The Jewish people consider themselves to be one large family. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I was in Israel this past week with Rabbi Josh Lookstein on a mission on behalf of our community. Everywhere we went, we repeatedly spoke about this bond of family. Israelis I met were moved to hear about all our community has been doing on behalf of Israel at this time. The metaphor of family came up often; and the remarkable organizations that have sprouted up everywhere to help the soldiers and the displaced are a reflection of this idea. I will have more to say about this on Shabbat, when I deliver the Leah Modlin Annual Lecture on Caring and Community Service. There are so many exceptional stories. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But one last story for this article. In Ichilov Hospital, I met a young man, Omer, who was saved because someone in his group messaged a friend, who then drove down to save them. I was told that this was not unique; multiple people, after getting a text jumped into their cars to help family and friends.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One such story, which has been reported widely, is about the Tibon family. Amir and Miri Tibon and their two little daughters live in Nachal Oz. They entered their safe room after hearing the sirens; a little while later they heard gunshots, and Amir immediately understood there were terrorists in the Kibbutz. He immediately texted his father, Noam, a retired general, saying Nachal Oz had been invaded. His father wrote back: "I'm coming."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Noam drove south. Much happened to Noam along the way, including a firefight with Hamas terrorists and transporting wounded soldiers. It took a lot of time. Noam finally met up with another retired general, and together they drove to Nachal Oz. There, they joined forces with a small group of soldiers that were getting ready to liberate the Kibbutz.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Meanwhile, inside the safe room, the two young girls were barely able to remain disciplined. But Amir told them not to worry, their grandfather, Saba, is coming. They just had to stay quiet a little longer.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Finally Noam made his way to the house, knocked on the window of the safe room and said, "I'm here." The two little girls jumped up and shouted: "Saba Higiyah," "grandfather has arrived."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I have thought about this story throughout the last two weeks. Family shows up when their relatives are in need. What I can tell you is that Israel's needs are enormous, economically, militarily and emotionally. This the greatest crisis since the Yom Kippur War, and may even be larger than that as well. Before I went to Israel, I had monitored the news constantly. I imagined then I understood what was happening; but now I realize things are even more desperate than I previously thought. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 19px;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I know our community has done so much already. But this is going to be a long journey, and we must not quit. We will need to give more, lobby more, demonstrate more, and just do more of everything. Because when family needs you, no distance is too long.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #242424; font-size: 19px;">Just ask Noam.</span><span style="color: black;"> </span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-7558427772302037072023-10-20T09:44:00.002-04:002023-10-20T09:44:16.911-04:00We Will Rebuild, Even After This<p> </p><table bgcolor="#000000" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="background-color: black; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081image--mobile-scale m_2810358138651333081image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhUjG1cZ-Ccx9liiae84Nw64mxGsSNdpZ5Pz05Y_Jhyphenhyphenw_NoKqO1IwWta8L3v93Fx47fB9nnkeYs5GhbiQcsUK4jpt8JwbhqfTCCgRTeK0-OqBn2Cmk4ZFPmjBTv38sy9_omOilhgKpxBfJBsq2Jxn1nr1TrZDT1RJWRIueN-ucoXZsVGTd4EiSPFBXA5u-NsnPPCZH-rkAyd56n=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="237" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2810358138651333081text_content-cell m_2810358138651333081content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Love at the Western Wall, Jerusalem.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2810358138651333081text_content-cell m_2810358138651333081content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2810358138651333081column m_2810358138651333081scale m_2810358138651333081stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2810358138651333081text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2810358138651333081text_content-cell m_2810358138651333081content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jewish history seems to be impossible. How can a tiny nation persevere despite centuries of persecution? This question has been posed many times by many observers. Mark Twain wrote the following in an essay for Harper's Magazine in 1898:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Many countries mastered Empire-building. Twain lists the empires that once dominated the world but have since shriveled away: the Egyptians, the Babylonians, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans. They had dominating militaries and well-developed economies. But once these empires fell apart, they couldn't rebuild.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">On the other hand, Jews have always known how to overcome adversity. The Yiddish phrase </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">mir zaynen du</span><span style="color: black;">, “we are here,” is both a description of Jewish history as well as the vow of Jewish determination.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">After the barbaric Simchat Torah Massacre, we have once again seen Jewish determination in action. Israelis have come together to fight for their country, and the Jewish world has stood in solidarity with their brothers and sisters in Israel. Rabbi Joe Wolfson in Tel Aviv described it this way: “I have lived 100 years in 5 days. If there is one thing I know it's this: If we are like this we are truly undefeatable.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This courageous response is far from instinctive. Grief is an all-encompassing emotion. The darkness felt after experiencing trauma seems to lead in only one direction: resignation.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Comfort seems unattainable at such times. And this is what happens to Noah. After the flood, after the entire world is wiped out before his eyes, Noah immediately plants a vineyard and drinks its wine. George Bernard Shaw once remarked, “Alcohol is the anesthetic which enables the bereft man to endure the painful operation of living.” Noah is simply searching for a way to numb the pain.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Another Biblical character, Lot, does much the same. After witnessing the destruction of Sodom, including the loss of several family members, he too turns to the bottle and gets drunk.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At first glance, their response is reasonable. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 70a) remarks that “wine was only created in order to comfort mourners.” Noah and Lot are mourners searching for a way to cope with the pain.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yet the verdict on their drinking is negative. Noah falls into a stupor and lies naked in clear sight of his children; he is later humiliated by his son and grandson. Lot, when he gets drunk, is seduced by his daughters. The outcome of these Biblical episodes is meant as an editorial comment; Noah and Lot’s drinking is implicitly condemned. But the question remains: What did they do wrong? Didn’t the Talmud say that is what wine is for?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The answer can be found in a Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 36:3). It quotes the verse (Genesis 9:20) that says, “Noah, a man of the soil, began to plant a vineyard,” and comments:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Noah, a man of the soil, began [vayaḥel] – he lost his holiness and became ordinary [ḥulin].</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Using a play on the Hebrew word </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">vayahel</span><span style="color: black;">, the Midrash deems Noah’s behavior as merely ordinary, rather than holy. This itself is a bit puzzling; what status of holiness did Noah have? Generally, it is the Kohanim (priests) and sacred items that are considered to be uniquely holy because they are involved in the Temple service.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But that is exactly the point. Kohanim are prohibited from drinking when they are on call to serve in the Temple; they must be fully focused on their divine service. Like the Kohanim, this Midrash argues that Noah also had a divine mission.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Noah’s failure is that he didn’t realize this. Another Midrash criticizes Noah for not wanting to leave the ark. Perhaps for an ordinary person, that would be completely understandable; who would want to go out and witness the destruction the flood left behind?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But more is demanded of Noah. If God selected him to be the only survivor of the flood, that means that Noah is being designated for the mission of rebuilding the world. He must not hide in the ark; and like a Kohen, he must remain focused on his mission and not get drunk and distracted. Noah must go out and rebuild the world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Midrash concludes by saying:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">And he planted a vineyard.” Should Noah not have planted something else that was constructive, perhaps a fig tree branch or an olive tree branch? Instead, “he planted a vineyard.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Noah missed his calling.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jews see rebuilding as sacred. In the previous generation, many of the Holocaust survivors, broken in both body and soul, saw their mission as rebuilding what was destroyed. They fought to create the State of Israel, established Jewish communities, schools, and synagogues, and built beautiful Jewish families.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Here, one can find the elusive secret of Jewish survival: the determination to rebuild.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This belief in rebuilding is part of Israel’s DNA. Even during the worst days of the intifada, Israel moved forward. Greg Myre and Jennifer Griffin, two journalists who lived in Israel between 2000-2007 wrote that:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">We were consistently amazed at how quickly Israelis returned to places that had been bombed. The police, the rescue teams, and the cleanup crews restored a bomb site to an outward semblance of normality within hours of an attack. Debris was swept out. Hoses washed away blood from the sidewalk. Shattered windows were replaced. The yellow police tape came down.…. For Israelis, combating terror is not just a security question. It's a social, cultural, and psychological issue and the whole country is required to play its role. It's often measured in small deeds, like going back to a favorite cafe after an attack.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One must never allow destruction to be the final chapter.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Israel today is filled with grief, anxiety, and heartbreak. A cartoon now circulating shows a caricature of the map of Israel lying on the couch, while Sigmund Freud listens. The caption reads: “How does one find a psychologist for 9.3 million people?” So many families have experienced horrific loss; the families of hostages sit helplessly as their loved ones are held by a group of depraved murderers. Every Israeli, and every Jew, is heartbroken.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Even so, Israel is rebuilding. In Kibbutz Be’eri, where Hamas destroyed dozens of homes and murdered over 100 people, the famous printing house, which is the largest business in the area, has reopened. The surviving children, who are now housed in a hotel in the center of Israel, once again have a kindergarten in their hotel. Photos of it were posted online. They look pretty ordinary: toys, books, cheery signs, and sippy cups with each child’s name. Yet that kindergarten is quite extraordinary.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The weddings are also extraordinary. The Talmud says that every rejoicing bride and groom is the equivalent of rebuilding one of the destroyed buildings of Jerusalem; and today in Israel, young couples are coming forward to take part in the heroic act of Jewish rebuilding.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Tamar and Adir had not yet made plans to get married. But once the war broke out, they decided it was time; the future could no longer wait. They had a joyous wedding near the front, and walked down the aisle in their military uniforms. The video of them dancing with their parents into the Chuppah has gone viral in Israel. There are so many weddings of this kind, that one newspaper wrote an article about all of the “Weddings Under Fire.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Total strangers have come forward to help with these celebrations. Aviva and Yisrael, one of the engaged couples that moved up their wedding date, had decided to have a simple affair; their family, who lived in the South, couldn’t leave their homes to attend. They asked a local rabbi to help with a minyan for the wedding. The Rabbi shared the request on social media.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Aviva explains what happened next:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Two amazing guys from Ramot, Naveh and Ori, stepped in and helped organize everything. A hall, food, a photographer, musicians, and a DJ all materialized seemingly from thin air—the goodwill of Jewish people wishing to celebrate with a brother and sister they’d never met.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Every wedding is another step towards a better future. The Jewish tradition encourages the brokenhearted to find the inner strength to marry, have babies, and build communities, even after they have experienced death and destruction. The Jewish way forward is the way of rebuilding. And that has been the secret of Jewish survival.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We are all uncertain what will happen in the next few months. But one thing is certain: Israel will rebuild. Jews have always been ready to write the next chapter of Jewish History.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Am Yisrael Chai!</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-22537547877019938872023-10-13T10:15:00.001-04:002023-10-13T10:15:27.136-04:00Despite the Tears, A Shehecheyanu<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208image--mobile-scale m_5299439765781934208image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiecfOYn0TcLWoS4HtESxH3zlsoX21MDDCURgIypRbVNhza0oCfflES7Z-SBUjTkJOexGC-lyXxHRQg335JqY64Kqnw71_YDAq7XFAL0K-lqdBaA00s68Z4NJ0gv64eOuP_nbk41Zo9YFP81h5iNmBei1oVXOtDdhj-bQHl-Z5wttL_D1yDhazU_FBg0y_5EfYV5vs7BVPa4N7-=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_5299439765781934208text_content-cell m_5299439765781934208content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><h1 align="center" style="color: #717a80; font-size: 26px; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">Defense Minister Yoav Gallant meets troops on the Gaza border, October 10, 2023</span></h1></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_5299439765781934208text_content-cell m_5299439765781934208content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5299439765781934208column m_5299439765781934208scale m_5299439765781934208stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5299439765781934208text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_5299439765781934208text_content-cell m_5299439765781934208content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">There are times when the grief-stricken must recite a Shehecheyanu.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">This blessing is meant for joyous occasions and thanks God for having "kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">When one is grieving, this blessing seems out of place. But Jewish law expects mourners to recite this blessing when they are the beneficiaries of a gift. We don’t ignore the good, even in the worst circumstances.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">This past week, I was thinking about a Shehecheyanu that was recited 80 years ago.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">In </span><span style="color: #03143e; font-style: italic;">Hassidic Tales of the Holocaust</span><span style="color: #03143e;">, Yaffa Eliach recounts when the Bluzhever Rebbe, Rabbi Israel Spira, recited this blessing on a Chanukah evening in the Bergen Belsen Concentration Camp:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>….a wooden clog, the shoe of one of the inmates, became a hanukkiah; strings pulled from a concentration camp uniform, a wick; and the black camp shoe polish, oil.</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>Not far from the heaps of the bodies, the living skeletons assembled to participate in the kindling of Hanukkah lights.</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>The Rabbi of Bluzhov lit the first light and chanted the first two blessings…When he was about to recite the third blessing, he stopped, turned his head, and looked around as if he were searching for something.</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>Immediately, he turned his face back to the quivering small lights and in a strong, reassuring, comforting voice, chanted the third, Shehecheyanu blessing: "Blessed art Thou, 0 Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this moment."</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>Among the people present at the kindling of the lights was Mr. Zamietchkowski, one of the leaders of the Warsaw Bund….Afterward, he turned to the rabbi and said, "I can understand your need to light Hanukkah candles in these wretched times. I can even understand the historical note of the second blessing, 'Who brought miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.' But the fact that you recited the third blessing is beyond me. How could you thank God and say 'Blessed art Thou, 0 Lord our God, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this moment'? How could you say it when hundreds of dead Jewish bodies are literally lying within the shadows of the Hanukkah lights …and millions more are being massacred? For this you are thankful to God? For this you praise the Lord? This you call 'keeping us alive'?"</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i> </i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>"Zamietchkowski, you are a hundred percent right," answered the rabbi. "When I reached the third blessing, I also hesitated and asked myself, what should I do with this blessing? … But as I turned my head, I noticed that behind me a throng was standing, a large crowd of living Jews, their faces expressing faith and devotion... I said to myself, if God, blessed be He, has such a nation that at times like these ... stand and … listen to the Hanukkah blessing, … if, indeed, I was blessed to see such a people with so much faith and fervor, then I am under a special obligation to recite the third blessing.”</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">What the Bluzhever said is particularly relevant now, as we search for hope while engulfed by tragedy. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Yes, our grief is overwhelming. A friend of mine in Israel told me that his children who serve in the IDF have lost more friends in the past few days than he did in his lifetime. Entire families have been wiped out. The loss is so severe, that Israeli cemeteries are calling for volunteers to dig graves. The Jewish people are in mourning, just two degrees of separation from someone who was murdered or kidnapped.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Analogies fail when it comes to this attack. To call it a pogrom is a dramatic understatement. Even 9/11, which remains a deep American trauma 22 years later, pales in comparison to this attack; the Simchat Torah massacre is the equivalent of thirteen 9/11s. The only proper analogy for the two days of horror is the Holocaust.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">The barbarism of Hamas is incomprehensible. They murdered individuals by shooting them at point-blank range with rocket-propelled grenades. They slit throats. They massacred 40 babies. They took such pride in their depravity that they videotaped what they did.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Actually, incomprehensible is the wrong word to describe Hamas’ crimes. Good people simply have a failure of imagination, and they often refuse to understand the mindset of those who are evil. And that is a flaw. It hobbles democracies when they have to take on dictatorships; they imagine they can negotiate with those who are ruthless, and “bring out the best” in them. One who desires love finds it difficult to imagine that there are people who have a passion for cruelty.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Our Torah reading introduces us to Lemech, the first person who takes joy in violence. He boastfully recites the following poem to his wives:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>For I have killed a man as soon as I wounded him,</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>Even a young man as soon as I hurt him.</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold,</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"><i>Then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">This passage is enigmatic and difficult to interpret, and commentators offer multiple approaches. But the above translation is based on the commentary of Umberto Cassuto, who follows the approach of Rabbeinu Bachya. Lemech is the one who popularizes violence; his son is the inventor of the sword. Lemech sings about how strong he is, how easily he killed a young boy who displeased him; as Cassuto puts it, Lemech “boasts with great bravado of this cruel murder.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">There are always people who love violence. Lemech, and his son Tubal-Cain, refine the brutality of their ancestor Cain. While most people compose songs of love and inspiration, Lemech sings a song of death. And the Torah wants to show us, up close, that there are evil human beings like Lemech in this world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">It is fascinating that Lemech refers to God’s protection of Cain. This reminds us that forgiveness is not endless. Perhaps Cain deserved God’s mercy; he had committed a then-unfamiliar crime and did so in extreme jealousy. But Lemech mocks God’s kindness towards Cain by expecting the same for himself. This violent murderer has the brazen chutzpah to demand forgiveness afterward.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">What Hamas and its helpers in the international community do is pretty much the same. They expect all of their brutal crimes to be completely forgiven and any mistake by Israel to be severely punished. Our dear member Gilad Erdan has to combat the endless lies disseminated in the United Nations; dictatorships that murder their own people come forward to criticize Israel, and everyone sits and listens seriously to their prattling propaganda. But Hamas’ constant lying shouldn’t surprise us; if you're willing to murder babies, how difficult is it to lie?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">For the tragedies of this past week we all weep, and our eyes flow with tears. Yet even so, we must make a Shehecheyanu, just like the Bluzhever Rebbe.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">We must make a Shehecheyanu on exceptional kindness. A friend described what is happening in Israel as a “balagan of chesed,” or a chaotic whirlwind of kindness. Everywhere people are running and doing what they can for those in need. One Chabad in Jerusalem packed 25,000 sandwiches for the soldiers. There are hours-long waits at hospitals to donate blood, because so many people have come forward. Hundreds of volunteers have come to Soroka Hospital to help the wounded and their families with laundry, prescriptions, and rides. And here in New York, a lone man stood inside Kennedy Airport, buying plane tickets for soldiers returning home.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">We have to make a Shehecheyanu on the beautiful unity. This was not the case at all a few weeks ago; but now, in a crisis, Israel has once again pulled together. (But why does it have to wait for a crisis?) Yotam and Assaf Doctor, who own the aptly named “Brothers Restaurant” in Tel Aviv, started delivering thousands of meals to the front lines. But many soldiers wouldn’t eat them, because the restaurant wasn’t kosher. What did the Doctor brothers do? They called in the Rabbinate, and for the first time, became a kosher restaurant. The Jewish people are brothers and sisters; and family must stick together, in good times and in bad.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">We have to make a Shehecheyanu because of extraordinary courage. Perhaps, as the Haggadah says, in every generation someone comes to destroy the Jewish people. But more important to remember is that in every generation we have found the courage to overcome those enemies. They have been tossed into the ash-heap of history, and we are still here.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">This brings me to another Shehecheyanu story, from just a few days ago. Israeli media shared a video of David, a soldier in camouflage netting, holding his smartphone. David was participating in his son’s bris, and saying his blessings while in the field of battle. Following the Sephardic tradition, David recited the Shehecheyanu blessing.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">A pessimist might object to his Shehecheyanu, and see this as a moment of extreme disappointment. A young father should be with his family, not on the front lines endangering his life. A young mother should have her husband at her side, rather than worrying about if he will ever get to hold his baby boy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Even so, David’s Shehecheyanu is a meaningful blessing, and expresses the destiny of the Jewish people. For much of Jewish history, we were defenseless. That ended with the establishment of the State of Israel. That’s why, despite the circumstances, David can say Shehecheyanu.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">At the end of the bris, David and his fellow soldiers recited the words from Ezekiel (16:6), “And I said to you in your blood you shall live, and I said to you in your blood you shall live." Some of the soldiers began to cry. It is a time of bloodshed; these soldiers have witnessed the aftermath of Hamas’ atrocities. But the message of Ezekiel is that even in the worst times, Jews know that there will be better days ahead. Even amidst the blood, there shall be new life.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">And for that, we can all make a Shehecheyanu.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #03143e;">Am Yisrael Chai!</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-3588546849106896942023-09-08T11:41:00.002-04:002023-09-08T11:41:47.662-04:00Rabbis Roundtable: The Meaning of the High Holy Days<div><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I joined Rabbi Angela Buchdahl of Central Synagogue and Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove of Park Avenue Synagogue in a wide-ranging discussion about what the holidays mean, the challenges of preparing sermons, the moments that are most meaningful, and more. Below is the link to the entire broadcast.</span></div><div><br /></div><iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/Zd2msaxIDW4?si=TJlKhbuIgvvF55Rx" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Zd2msaxIDW4/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-56319512184539157112023-09-05T11:50:00.005-04:002023-09-05T11:50:47.174-04:00 Why Would You Want to Visit Poland?<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517image--mobile-scale m_-3077141378827087517image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiYxKvoHO7WMZ4S8oL0_v_410jkj3qfYCJibGVIWnezL1Oi0Zt8XIDrfOJQI9DJjlfs0oYnbqj9yQQaWpmmchrgB8ubtYP28Hr7e1hvoE-DI1rPzjhCnteR73IdtRoa_cWp2ZpOp5XCJPYxX90NFThIRMW0FrbQMpGLC4N1PXKlSgJ_Finq5ta-1AHxUffGDihF9eSKVIhPG_ar=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-3077141378827087517text_content-cell m_-3077141378827087517content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Eliyahu haNavi Synagogue, Nabi Daniel Street, Alexandria, Egypt</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><br /></td><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-3077141378827087517column m_-3077141378827087517scale m_-3077141378827087517stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-3077141378827087517text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-3077141378827087517text_content-cell m_-3077141378827087517content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">For the past few months, I have been promoting our synagogue mission to Poland, which took place in July. Every time I announced the mission from the pulpit, people would approach me and pose variations of the same question: Why would you want to visit Poland?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Those who oppose visiting Poland offer a straightforward argument. First, they wonder what is to be gained in visiting concentration camps and reliving the agony and pain of six million martyrs. They also carry a sense of resentment against Poland; many focus on the Poles who betrayed their Jewish neighbors, and at times, participated in the murders of Jews themselves. The blood-stained soil upon which millions of Jews were murdered should be abhorred.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This perspective is not new; its roots go back to the Bible. The Torah issues a command to the King that he "must not acquire great numbers of horses for himself or make the people return to Egypt to get more of them, for the Lord has told you, “You are not to go back that way again.” (Deuteronomy 17:16.) The simple reading of this verse implies that God had issued a command (which was previously unrecorded), that the Jews must never return to Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Multiple commentaries grapple with why there is such a prohibition. Rabbi David Tzvi Hoffmann actually rereads this passage as a curse; that if the King buys too many horses from Egypt, it will lead to the Jews returning there and being enslaved. He bases his interpretation on a verse later on in the book of Deuteronomy (28:68), where the Jews are told that if they violate the Torah they will be cursed: “And the Lord will take you back to Egypt in ships, by the way of which I said to you, ‘You shall never see it again.’ ’’ Returning to Egypt is not a prohibition, it’s a punishment.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbeinu Bachya offers a different rereading. In his view, this prohibition was only in force for the generation that left Egypt. The former slaves and their children were not to return to a land that, at the time, had a corrupt and perverse civilization.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The purpose of this prohibition was to avoid a culture that was the very opposite of the Torah.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the consensus view is that there is a prohibition against returning to Egypt. (The Talmud Yerushlami (Sukkah 5:1) says that there are actually three prohibitions recorded in the Bible against returning to Egypt.) The Talmud (Sukkah 41b) writes about the Jewish community in Alexandria, which thrived during the first two centuries of the Common Era. In the years 115-117, nearly 200,000 members of the Jewish community</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">were killed by Roman Emperor Trajan after riots in the Jewish quarter. This catastrophe is seen by the Talmud as a punishment for the sin of settling in Egypt,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">A permanent prohibition against living in Egypt requires a broader explanation. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch sees the rationale as having to do with the geopolitics of the ancient world, where Egypt, as a local power, had a significant influence throughout the region. This is clear from the Bible and the Talmud, where various people, from Abraham to Jeremiah, sought refuge in Egypt during times of crisis. Israel could easily become dependent on Egypt for supplies, which would lead to a loss of autonomy. Jews should strive to build their own country, not to return to Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yet even Rabbi Hirsch’s explanation depends on which historical era you live in; for example, his explanation would not hold true today.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the simplest understanding of this prohibition is that one should never return to a place of ugliness and horror where Jews were enslaved, tormented, and murdered for 400 years. Unlike Lot’s wife, we should never look back at what needed to be destroyed. That is why there is a permanent prohibition against returning to Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Bans on places of persecution do not end with Egypt. Although there is no clear source for it, there is a persistent tradition that after the expulsion in 1492, the Jews of Spain instituted a prohibition against returning there. Similar traditions relate to the cities of Trent and York, where ugly blood libels took place. These later bans were almost certainly inspired by the prohibition against returning to Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One could conclude that Poland and Germany are today's Egypt; one is a country that perpetrated the Holocaust, and the other is where it took place. For Jews, these countries are places of torment and horror, and should never be returned to.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Before returning to this argument, it should be noted that the prohibition against returning to Egypt was a rule more honored in the breach than in the observance. (The same is true of the tradition against resettling Spain.) Generations of Jews lived in Egypt for over two millennia. Maimonides, who unequivocally asserted in his Mishneh Torah that “it is permissible to live anywhere in the world, except for Egypt,” was living in Alexandria when he wrote those words. Later authors sit and puzzle at this striking contradiction; there's even an invented tradition that Maimonides signed his letters with the confession that he “violates three prohibitions every day” because he lived in Egypt. Despite this prohibition, Jews never gave a second thought about living in Egypt; instead, rabbinic authors came up with multiple interpretations of Halakhah that could explain Jewish practice.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One opinion that is particularly relevant to our discussion is offered by the 13th century rabbi, Yom Tov ben Abraham of Seville. He writes that the only prohibition against living in Egypt is when there is a Jewish state in Israel; in such a case, it is essentially a choice to move from a place of redemption and return to the very symbol of the bitterness of exile. But after the destruction of the Temple, when the entire Jewish experience was one of exile, there was no longer a prohibition against living in Egypt.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">By the logic of this argument, once the State of Israel was established, the prohibition against living in Egypt would restart.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This offers a second argument against visiting Poland: Why emphasize a country of exile when we can visit Israel?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Many have said precisely this. Shmuel Rosner wrote in </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">The New York Times </span><span style="color: black;">(February 14, 2018) that Israel should stop bringing students on Holocaust education trips because they will “contribute to a misperception by many Jews that remembering the Holocaust is the main feature of Judaism...a healthy society cannot be defined by the memory of a tragedy...”. Others have berated the community to stop obsessing over the Holocaust. In 1992, Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald warned that “obsessing over the Holocaust is exacting a great price. It is killing America’s Jews." This critique sees Holocaust education as replacing Judaism and Zionism with guilt and death. Rosner concludes that student visits to the concentration camps in Poland should end. And so do the others who ask: Why would you want to visit Poland?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I disagree. On our mission there were quite a few 'reluctant’ participants, people who came because their spouses or friends pressured them to join. Yet on the final night, everyone had changed their mind. There is something profoundly spiritual about visiting Poland.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One of the more fascinating explanations of the prohibition against returning to Egypt comes from the great (Egyptian-educated) kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria. He writes </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">(Shaar Hamitzvot</span><span style="color: black;">, Reah,) that everything spiritual that could be accomplished by living in Egypt had already been completed; in the language of Kabbalah, all of the sparks of holiness in Egypt had already been absorbed by the Jewish people. There is no spiritual work left to be done there, and that is why it is prohibited to return there.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But this is not true of Poland. There are sparks of holiness to be found everywhere.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There are lost Jews there. Avi Baumol, the Rabbi of Krakow, told us a remarkable story. A young woman saw him in a store and noticed his kippah. She introduced herself and mentioned that her maternal grandmother was Jewish. Rabbi Baumol explained to her that meant that she too is Jewish, and handed her his card; she was shocked, having never thought that way before. A week later she appeared at Rabbi Baumol’s office and said: “OK, I’m Jewish. Tell me what I need to do now,” and quickly enough, she became a regular member of the community.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There are six million souls there. Jews believe in an “ethics of memory”; this is why we visit graves, recite Kaddish, and tell stories about our grandparents. We have an obligation to make certain that the six million are not forgotten and that their burial places are visited. One of our stops on our trip was Zbylitowska Góra, a mass grave where thousands of people are buried, including the 800 children from the local orphanage. This spot is visited by student groups, and some of them leave behind notes. I found one written to those 800 children, which said: “I will remember you and I will love you.” That is our responsibility as well.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">There are Jews from around the world there. In Poland, Jewish groups visit not just death camps, but historic synagogues, schools, and neighborhoods. On Shabbat morning we went for prayers at the Rama Synagogue, which was built 500 years ago; every seat was taken with yeshiva and seminary students. And even in the death camps, these students carry the flag of Israel on their backs, a powerful testament to Jewish survival. Their very presence defiantly declares that “We are here.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Why would a Jew want to visit Poland? Because the story of redemption is still ongoing, and there are so many sparks of holiness for us to connect to.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-88432164031162688062023-09-01T11:41:00.002-04:002023-09-01T11:41:38.652-04:00The Secret of Jewish Resilience<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438image--mobile-scale m_-8258935994940752438image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEjJmwRDOTHoYsStvEnP9UVOpLAaPcvB4A2TReS-qvzNgnk9x_A8rfyZoGYHnPwqv7mMqGfuubToKI3Sp34AhnfDHVlKkhHtZWNRgjx4CKzz5R3uDiU5yh-48iXSbqfe-A62kEn2C1zHQXo4Exa5-ua12BXvYCUQriunxLRJXKW0rQaPBXoGgZbMk93-yb-XNMYDg8To6Tn7kLXe=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-8258935994940752438text_content-cell m_-8258935994940752438content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Thank offering unto the Lord, offering of first fruits, as in Deuteronomy 26:1-11, illustration from a Bible card published by the Providence Lithograph Company between 1896 and 1913</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-8258935994940752438column m_-8258935994940752438scale m_-8258935994940752438stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-8258935994940752438text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-8258935994940752438text_content-cell m_-8258935994940752438content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Totalitarians don’t like the truth. In the Soviet Union, reality was consistently denied, and bad news was ruthlessly censored. Josef Stalin’s declaration in 1935 that “Life is getting better, comrades! Life is getting merrier!” was turned into a full propaganda campaign, including a hit song. This joyous slogan was coined just a year after a four-year famine that claimed the lives of 8,000,000 people. A year later Stalin would launch the Great Purge, which would claim the lives of over 700,000 people. Life certainly wasn’t getting merrier.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Throughout history, authoritarian regimes from the Pharaohs down to Putin have hidden their failures. Ancient Egyptian records carry no mention of defeats; much the same is true in contemporary China and Russia, where disinformation <wbr></wbr>has been turned into an art form. Bad news is a challenge to the authority of dictators.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Tanakh is very different. Joshua Berman writes that “the Bible displays a penchant for judging its heroes harshly, and for recording Israel’s failings even more than its successes. No other ancient Near Eastern culture produced a literature so revealing of fault….”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Tanakh’s willingness to grapple with bad news launches a culture of authenticity and responsibility. Even more astounding is the obligation, found in Deuteronomy (26:5-9), to revisit the worst moments in our history at the most joyous of times. “Parshat HaBikkurim,” or the “The Declaration of the First Fruits,” was a short proclamation read by farmers when bringing their offering of first fruits to the Temple. In it, a short precis of Jewish history is offered:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"><i>My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down to Egypt and dwelt there, few in number; and there he became a nation, great, mighty, and populous. But the Egyptians mistreated us, afflicted us, and laid hard bondage on us. Then we cried out to the Lord God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and looked on our affliction and our labor and our oppression. So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders. And He has brought us to this place and has given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey....</i></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">While thanking God for the new harvest, a farmer recites a proclamation that tells the Jewish story, starting from the patriarchs. It is a narrative of wandering and slavery, with equal space allotted to the misery of exile and the blessings of redemption.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Parshat HaBikkurim also becomes the central text of the Passover Haggadah, where it is punctuated with additional commentary. The Mishnah states that the Haggadah follows a format that “begins with disgrace and concludes with their glory.” There are two theories in the Talmud about what this phrase means; but Rabbi David Tzvi Hoffman offers convincing arguments that the Mishnah is actually referring to the reading of Parshat HaBikkurim at the Seder, which emphasizes the humiliation of slavery before turning to the story of redemption.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Seder starts with an extended retelling of the years of slavery. This is particularly notable because being a slave was considered a stigma in the ancient world. Yet for Jews, this section was of such importance that the Talmud says that one should recite the story of disgrace and slavery “in a loud voice.” (Sotah 32b)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But why? What exactly is the point of revisiting slavery?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">“Beginning with disgrace and concluding with glory” is certainly an effective narrative tool; one truly appreciates freedom after enduring slavery. The Zohar remarks that “one doesn’t understand a sweet taste until they have tasted bitterness.” Starting the narrative in the midst of the agony of slavery is a far more meaningful and dramatic way to tell the story of redemption.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Remembering the disgrace of slavery also keeps one grounded. Maimonides explains that the shared lesson of the holidays of Pesach and Sukkot is that “man ought to remember his worst days in his days of prosperity. He will then offer a great deal of appreciation for God’s gifts, and learn the importance of a modest and humble life.” Success can corrode the soul, and allow people to imagine that they are invulnerable. The memories of slavery are meant to be humbling, a way to present the comfortable and prosperous with a more authentic picture of life.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">A third possibility is that recalling the years of slavery can, paradoxically, make us more resilient. Nicolas Taleb in his book </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder</span><span style="color: black;">, notes that the opposite of being fragile is not being strong; it is being able to adapt to threats and overcome them. He uses the example of </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Hormesis,</span><span style="color: black;"> which is the ability of organisms to become stronger when exposed to low-dose stress. In humans, exposure to small doses of poison increases the body’s ability to cope with larger doses of that poison in the future; similarly, vaccines expose people to a weakened or dead form of a virus that triggers the immune system and readies it to fight off future threats.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">On a psychological level, the same thing occurs when retelling family stories. Marshall Duke, a psychologist at Emory University, and his colleague Robyn Fivush, director of Emory’s Family Narratives Lab, have found that the most resilient children are those who are deeply familiar with their family's history and are taught an “oscillating narrative”: that the family has had challenges in the past, but then were able to overcome them. Knowing their family history of adversity made the children psychologically stronger.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Resilience is psychological hormesis, where one learns how to transcend their personal challenges by remembering past challenges endured by their parents and grandparents.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Resilience is why we begin the Exodus story with an extended discussion of slavery. The traumas of exile over us an important lesson: We have transcended slavery in the past, and we can do so in the future. As Michael Walzer puts it: “Wherever people know the Bible and experience oppression, the Exodus has sustained their spirits and inspired their resistance.” We retell the story of slavery because it strengthens us, and helps us transcend future challenges.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Parshat HaBikkurim’s narrative about the Exodus from Egypt stands in marked contrast to the ways of ancient Egypt, which exaggerated its victories and hid its defeats. But that is precisely the secret of Jewish resilience to this day; and these former slaves are still going strong, while their masters have long disappeared from the world stage.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jews continue to draw incredible strength from the Passover Seder. Natan Sharansky, who was imprisoned by the Soviet Union for nine years after he applied for a visa to emigrate to Israel, has spoken often about the meaning the Seder held for him in his years of imprisonment. During endless KGB interrogations, Sharansky would tell himself: “Your history did not begin with your birth or with the birth of the Soviet regime. You are continuing an exodus that began in Egypt. History is with you.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Sharansky would explain that he first learned about the Seder when he joined the Zionist movement at 24: “As part of my Zionist activities, I began to learn Hebrew in secret, in an underground ulpan. I celebrated the first Passover Seder of my life with my fiancé at the time, Avital (then Natalia), in Moscow. … As we didn’t know Hebrew well enough to read from the Haggadah, our teachers gave each of us a short part to memorize.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">A few years later when Sharansky was in solitary confinement, he continued to celebrate the Seder. As he put it, “Recalling the lines I had learned for my first Seder, I felt that our struggle continued…. I repeated the words of the Haggadah: ‘This year we are slaves, next year free men; this year we are here, and next year in Jerusalem.’... And I found out that this is the great place to …enjoy thinking that….next year we could be free people in Jerusalem.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Here is the secret of Jewish resilience on full display. Sharansky draws strength from the Seder, which tells a story that “begins with disgrace and concludes with glory.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The same holds true for all of us. No matter how awful the situation, we must remember that Jews have overcome worse in the past. And at the most difficult of times, we must never forget that tomorrow we could be free again.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-22023990630822031072023-07-27T10:40:00.004-04:002023-07-27T10:40:54.135-04:00Concluding Words for Tisha B’Av Evening 2023<p><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Traditionally, this moment is used to offer words of consolation.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b77d7d93-7fff-42c7-1fa3-bea9460cbe21"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But there is no comfort this year. The sins of the past are being repeated in the present.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Second Temple was destroyed because of unnecessary hatred. That is not just a Talmudic homily, It is a historical fact. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">No less than three factions of “baryonim”, zealots, took control of Jerusalem at that time: Eleazar ben-Simon’s group held the Temple itself. John of Gischala (Gush Chalav) and his faction occupied the outer courts of the Temple as well as a portion of the lower city. Simon ben-Giora retained control over the entire upper city. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And even with the Romans standing at the gates of Jerusalem, these men fought a vicious, bloody civil war, killing each other whenever they could. The hatred they had for their fellow Jews destroyed the Temple.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This year the nightmares of history have returned to the headlines. Israel is filled with anger, hostility, and strife. There is no spirit of brotherhood, no interest in consensus. Israel's enemies laugh at her, and these internal conflicts threaten to undermine the Jewish State. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It is difficult to find comfort when old wounds have been ripped open again. What consolation is even possible?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Yet I still have hope; perhaps the very essence of this day, Tisha B'Av, will lead us back onto the path of unity. It is true that one of the lessons of Jewish history is division is a direct cause of destruction. But there is a second lesson of Tisha B’Av as well: shared loss can inspire unity.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, in his essay Kol Dodi Dofek, explains that a common fate has brought Jews together during their years of exile. We have always been one nation and one family; unfortunately, this has been ignored all too often. But even though discord often arose among Jews, the indiscriminate persecution they shared was a constant reminder that Jews are one family with one fate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This lesson was brought home to me on our recent KJ mission to Poland. During the trip there were some very difficult moments when we felt profound grief; the heartbreak experienced beside a mass grave where 800 children were murdered is indescribable. But what gave us hope and inspiration was that our group was not alone. Multiple Jewish groups of all different ideologies and backgrounds were there as well, with black kippahs, knitted kippahs, and no kippahs at all. And everywhere we went there were large cohorts of Israeli students, proudly wearing Israeli flags on their backs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Walking through the valley of the shadow of death we realized how important it is for us to love our brothers and sisters unconditionally.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This year on TishaB’Av, I pray that the Jewish people will remember this lesson: After a churban, after destruction, love is the only way forward. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">On the final day of the trip, I told a story from Yaffa Eliach’s </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, one that has been retold many times before.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In it, the Bluzhever Rebbe, Rabbi Israel Spira, recounts what happened one day when he was in the Janowska labor camp.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Rebbe had befriended an irreligious freethinker, who quickly became his daily companion.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">One day the Nazis made a cruel selection. They dug a vast pit and said that in order to survive, the starving Jews, whose bodies had been beaten and broken, must jump across the pit to reach the other side. Those who fell into the pit were to be shot immediately.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Bluzhever’s friend turned to him and said: “Spira, all of our efforts to jump over the pits are in vain. We only entertain the Germans. Let’s sit down in the pits and wait for the bullets to end our wretched existence.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Rebbe refused to accept this suggestion and insisted to his friend that they both must jump. And so they did.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moments later, they were both on the other side. The Bluzhever’s friend said to him: “Tell me, Rebbe, how did you do it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Bluzhever responded: “I was holding onto the coattails of my father, and my grandfather and my great-grandfather, of blessed memory.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But then the Bluzhever turned to his companion and asked:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell me, my friend, how did </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">you</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> reach the other side of the pit?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I was holding on to you,” replied the rabbi’s friend.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This is what we must learn today: no matter how different we are from each other, no matter how many differences we have with each other, we can only survive if we hold on to each other. We will only find strength in unity, and only find comfort when embracing our brothers and sisters.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">May God inspire us to do so.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-58745807694575303292023-06-23T09:42:00.001-04:002023-06-23T09:42:04.865-04:00You Can't Say You Can't Play<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357image--mobile-scale m_5911038681793697357image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiZmUcc3rqYLPoGppyjEuxx-tF7mRpkFTbTv8Zbc5kvHEEW3hkcOlDEzrdcwQL6nNBz_1Rso5zRFXIAAukAzYACxEqyI6sxK_eOZWJqMiIptLiXxQ2ihNFS8MZCITjy-dx5ExBXlNzJJEIPL_plbixsk03XZFNmZXZziGKV0tkeNUUhkJhsJknPT2Du75Osb3VvJJ28vLl0HbzD=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_5911038681793697357text_content-cell m_5911038681793697357content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">The Punishment of the Rebels, Detail of a fresco, Sandro Boticelli, 1481 - 1482</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_5911038681793697357column m_5911038681793697357scale m_5911038681793697357stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_5911038681793697357text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_5911038681793697357text_content-cell m_5911038681793697357content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">We all carry the nicks and scratches of childhood.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I vividly remember an incident in the third grade. After a spat, two classmates ignored me all through recess. As we were walking back into school, one of them pointed to me and said, “We aren’t talking to Chaim; he’s not normal, you know. He doesn’t have a father, and anyone who doesn’t have a father must be crazy.” The remark really hurt; being an orphan was something I was terribly self-conscious about. The cruel schoolyard teasing poured salt into an open wound, and this insulting rejection made me feel profoundly lonely.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">No one likes being excluded. To have others judge you as undesirable is extremely painful. And while exclusion is challenging for individuals, social divisions are toxic for communities.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Korach is the paradigm of the community divider. The Talmud says, “Anyone who perpetuates a quarrel violates a prohibition, as it is stated: “And he should not be like Korach and his assembly”; the importance of unity is derived from the negative example of Korach.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">To fully understand this imperative, one must first consider how Korach’s quarrel started. The narrative begins with the vague words "and Korach took"; but what exactly Korach took is unclear. Perhaps, as the Midrash and the Netziv suggest, he took the hearts of his followers through persuasion. The Ramban sees it as referring to Korach taking a particular opinion; it is a reference to the inner workings of Korach's mind, when he took the decision to mount a battle against Moses. Rashi offers a very different view. He explains that the phrase means that Korach "took himself to one side" to separate from the rest of the community. Korach is creating social distance even before he comes with his complaint. Rabbi Yoseph Bechor Shor adds that the Hebrew letters for Korach are the same letters as the word for distant; the root of Korach’s rebellion is when one man decides to stand a distance from the community.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">While this debate between Rashi and the Ramban is about the interpretation of one word, it offers as well an insight into the genesis of disputes, an issue that is frequently discussed by contemporary political scientists. Are the social divisions of polarization simply a product of intense disagreement, or does polarization itself begin with social distance, which then fosters disagreement? The Ramban focuses on the intellectual aspects of a community quarrel: two sides have conflicting views (and interests,) and for that reason are in conflict. Rashi offers a different account. Before Korach mounts his insurrection, he first and foremost separates himself, and stands alienated from the rest of the community. He's no longer part of what they're doing. Only then does the quarrel begin.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rashi reminds us that polarization is often a product of social divisions and not the other way around. Local communities frequently forge strong individual bonds, and thereby avoid polarization despite political disagreements. Polarization arises when the conversation becomes global, and strangers, inflamed by TV talking heads, debate each other on Twitter; then it contaminates every community, no matter how tight-knit.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In short, distance fosters dispute and division. Similarly, small schools are less likely to form cliques than large ones; the intimacy of constantly being together with other students prevents exclusion.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The importance of community is critical in Jewish thought. The Talmud (Keritot 6b) says that any public fast day, (such as Yom Kippur,) that does not include the sinners of Israel is not a true fast day. The entirety of the community needs to come together as one, even if some have acted improperly and imperfectly. No person should be left behind.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This is easier said than done. Large synagogues can sometimes feel like train stations; everybody boards at the same time and take their seat, but outside of friends, have no interest in anyone around them. Gary Rosenblatt relates how a friend told him that when he was sitting shiva, he couldn’t identify someone who visited the shiva house several times. </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">"He looked familiar but I couldn't place him….I finally asked him who he was and he said, 'I'm the guy who's been sitting in your row in shul on Shabbat for the last six years."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">That’s what it’s like praying in a train station. You don’t know the other commuters. You can sit far apart, even while sitting in the very same row. And in that distance, exclusion emerges.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The most worrisome impact of these social distances is how they impact our kids. Even if the school mandates it, students will refuse to show up at the Bar Mitzvah of someone who isn’t part of their clique; they’ll simply mail in the reply card, and then claim to be sick that day. The empty seats at the Bar Mitzvah lunch speak of an ugly social divide. Birthday parties will exclude some of the children in a class; parents will thoughtlessly push aside the kids they think “don’t belong.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">I have thought for a long time about how to address this issue. A quick review of Pirkei Avot makes it clear that exclusion is against fundamental Jewish values. Pirkei Avot teaches the importance of loving all people (6:6), greeting others warmly (1:15), bringing people together (1:12), carrying the burden of others (6:6), and not separating from the community (2:4). It should be easy to preach against exclusion.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But I had to pause for a moment. If we are honest, we need to accept that it may be instinctual to exclude. The teacher and researcher Vivian Gussin Paley, in her book </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">You Can’t Say You Can’t Play</span><span style="color: black;">, describes an experiment in her Kindergarten classroom. She explains that she began to lose patience with the voices of exclusion in her classroom. So she put up a sign that said: </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">You can't say you can't play</span><span style="color: black;">. As she describes it: “I announced the new social order and, from the start, it is greeted with disbelief. Only four out of 25 in my kindergarten class find the idea appealing, and they are the children most often rejected.” There is enormous resistance in Paley’s classroom.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">One child said it straight: “It will be fairer, but how are we going to have any fun?” This is not just how a kindergartener thinks; adults consider what is exclusive as being far more desirable. But exclusivity often begins by excluding others; one needs a bouncer to make any gathering truly unique. The allure of exclusivity is that it separates the elite from the ordinary; and there is no greater balm for a fragile ego than to imagine that one is something other than ordinary. (Yes, excluders are often quite insecure.) Exclusion is part of a quest to feel special; and doesn’t everyone want to feel special? If we are honest, we will recognize that exclusion is instinctive.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But there is more to humanity than instinct; and even these young children in Paley’s classroom were able to listen to the better angels of their nature. She explains that after a short while, inclusion became the norm in her classroom; the new culture had a powerful effect on every child. They recognized it was the right way to do things and eventually embraced </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">You can't say you can't play</span><span style="color: black;">.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But for many children, it took an effort to be inclusive. In a later interview, Paley talked about Lisa, the kindergartener who at the time offered the most strenuous opposition to the </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">You can't say you can't play</span><span style="color: black;"> rule. Lisa eventually understood how important it was. But as Paley explained: “All the years later, whenever Lisa…met me in the hallway, she would always stop and ask me how is the rule doing, and give me an example of something she had done that showed she was still trying to follow the rule. The last time I met her was in the grocery store with her mother, and she said, "Mrs. Paley, it's still pretty hard for me, but I know I can do it, and I always try." And her mother nodded, and said, "She really does, you know."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yes, inclusion is possible if we really try. And try we must, because it changes who we are. Life is diminished when lived in a tiny corner. To be clustered into a tiny clique of the like-minded impoverishes the soul; it is like living in black and white, unable to appreciate the true color of the world around us. More significantly, separating into little social factions weakens our sense of community; and that hurts our synagogues and schools.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Above all it is wrong. To take yourself to one side and create a distance between yourself and others is hurtful. The pain of the child who gets left out is very real, and I can personally attest to that. The echoes of exclusion linger, even decades later.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Perhaps exclusion is an inborn tendency. But even so, there is no question that all of us can do better. Kindergartners can learn the rule Y</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">ou can't say you can't play; </span><span style="color: black;">so why can’t their parents?</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-53946966878254168032023-06-22T16:51:00.005-04:002023-06-22T16:51:28.714-04:00The Power of Jewish Chutzpah<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642image--mobile-scale m_9195818599310061642image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEidi8CjkByTQy3OgBXaUC2jI_DvIgSe41jfYf0bfkzeHSU8LngTrZ-KgdifLI_fy9-Pujfrvyv4CE3DAJgZHWPTsKpvkRp0JvgoA8JMrq-cmiSCmHfWA0G34Y3cTLPG4cM6nc6xPGLncx71L9Nc8tNJmCoLKvhryGfazwu6365l7fHCTYGJO_Uk8F5GaaV55lT-we5YvXYhyWR4=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_9195818599310061642text_content-cell m_9195818599310061642content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Hagana Ship "Exodus 1947" Off the Coast of Israel, Lazar Dunner, 1947</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_9195818599310061642column m_9195818599310061642scale m_9195818599310061642stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_9195818599310061642text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_9195818599310061642text_content-cell m_9195818599310061642content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">There is a tale told about the small Jewish community in Poland that lived in the village of a local nobleman, or </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">Poritz</span><span style="color: #060148;">. One day, the Poritz adopted a puppy, and grew extremely attached to his new dog. The Poritz’ priest and confessor, who was virulently anti-semitic, saw this as an opportunity. He convinced the simple-minded Poritz of a bizarre slander: the Jews know how to teach dogs how to talk, but were refusing to teach the Poritz's puppy because they hated him.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The leaders of the local Jewish community were summoned to the Poritz's palace and given an ultimatum: either they teach the puppy how to talk, or they must leave town. They pleaded repeatedly with the Poritz, but the Poritz refused to change his mind; he gave them a final week to decide what they wanted to do.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">At the end of the week, the Jewish community gathered together one final time. In desperation, the leader of the community called out to the crowd: "Can anyone here help?" In the back of the room a humble tailor raised his hand and said: "Let me go speak to the Poritz." With no other alternatives, they sent in the tailor.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">About an hour later, the tailor walked out of the palace along with the Poritz's dog. He announced proudly to the community that they have nothing more to worry about and can stay right where they are.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The leaders of the community were stunned; they ran over to the tailor to find out what he did, and why he was walking the dog.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The tailor explained that he told the Poritz that indeed, the Jews can teach dogs how to speak. However, the process is very complicated and time intensive; after all, even a human child takes a few years to learn how to speak. The tailor told the Poritz that if he allows him to take the puppy and train it non-stop for 6 years, it will learn how to speak.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The leaders were horrified. How could the tailor tell the Poritz this absurd lie? What will happen in 6 years' time?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The tailor smiled and said: "What will happen? In the next 6 years, I could die, the Poritz could die, and the dog could die. Why are you worried about that now?"</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">This is a classic story of Jewish <span class="il">chutzpah</span>; it flouts the rules, mocks convention, and ignores risk, all while driven by desperation. After centuries of dispersion and displacement, this trait of <span class="il">chutzpah</span> has developed into an art form.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"><span class="il">Chutzpah</span> plays a central role in the narrative of Parshat Shelach. The spies, who are sent to check on the promised land, offer a negative report. The people, hearing this, turn against Moses and God and organize a return to Egypt. God then appears, and condemns the entire generation to wander for 40 years in the desert and die there.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Immediately, regret sets in. “Then Moses told these words to all the children of Israel, and the people mourned greatly. And they rose early in the morning and went up to the top of the mountain, saying, “Here we are, and we will go up to the place which the Lord has promised, for we have sinned!” (Numbers 14:39-40.) Moses warns this group of would-be pioneers not to defy God, for it will not succeed. Even so, they stubbornly ignore Moses and press forward, and are killed by the Canaanites and Amalekites in battle.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">An unusual Hebrew word is employed to describe their decision to ascend the mountain: “va’yaapilu.” (It actually defines this episode, and the people who ascended the mountain are referred to in the Talmud as the “ma’apilim.”) This word is translated by Rashi as “insolence,” which means the verse is saying: “They defiantly ascended.” The ma’apilim are the role models of <span class="il">chutzpah</span>, ignoring Moses and God while taking destiny into their own hands.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">But the question remains as to why God rejected the ma’apilim in the first place. By expressing a willingness to go into battle, aren’t the ma’apilim repenting for the sin of the spies' cowardice? Why doesn’t God support their plan to enter the land?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Two perspectives arise in the commentaries. Some, like Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno, see the ma’apilim as spiritual failures, and that they are being punished for defying God’s command. They should not have invaded the land on their own initiative; the very failure of the ma’apilim is their <span class="il">chutzpah</span>. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">But others take a very different view. Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Berlin explains that the ma’apilim were misguided idealists who wanted to repent for the sin of the spies and were desperate to enter the land. They even accepted the inevitability of losing in battle. What they hoped for was to be taken by the Canaanites as captives, and brought to live in Israel. (And even if they would be killed in battle, they would at least have their bodies buried in Israel.) The ma’apilim were good people who were determined to make their way to the Promised Land, even if it cost them their freedom or their lives. They only failed because they misapprehended what God wanted of them.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">In the last century, the narrative of the ma’apilim has taken on new meaning. For anti-Zionists like the Munkaczer Rebbe, Rabbi Chaim Elazar Shapira, the lesson is simple: It is wrong to ascend to Israel without divine assent. He sees this text as a prophetic prediction, and connects this passage to the 1929 Arab riots, which he blames on a march by young Zionists to the Western Wall.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Within the Zionist movement, the ma’apilim were role models. In 1919, Levin Kipnes wrote the “ma’apilim song,” which, in contrast to the biblical text, urges the Jews of his time to “go up, go up; to the top of the mountain, go up.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Perhaps due to the popularity of this song, the term ma'apilim was used to describe the over 100,000 Jews who immigrated to British-controlled Palestine. The Peel Commission of 1937 limited Jewish immigration into Palestine to 12,000 people a year. This restriction occurred precisely at the time that Jews most desperately needed a safe haven. As Chaim Weizmann put it, for the millions of Jews then left in Europe at the time, </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">"The world is divided into places where they cannot live and places where they cannot enter."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Without any real choice, Zionist organizations ramped up illegal immigration in defiance of the authorities. These were modern-day ma’apilim, who with courage and <span class="il">chutzpah</span> ascended to their homeland.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">They took on immense risks. On February 24, 1942, the Struma, a ship sailing from Romania with 800 Jewish refugees, was torpedoed in the Black Sea by a Soviet submarine. There was only one survivor.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Even those who managed to get to mandatory Palestine often ended up in jail. Some were imprisoned in Atlit, south of Haifa, or sent to Cyprus; 1600 refugees were brought to Mauritius where they spent nearly 5 years. But against all odds, nearly 100,000 ma’apilim made their way from Europe to the future State of Israel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">One particularly daring episode inspired the Leon Uris novel (and later movie) </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">Exodus</span><span style="color: #060148;">. On July 11th, 1947, the steamship </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">President Warfield</span><span style="color: #060148;"> set sail to Mandatory Palestine from France. On this ship built for 800 people were nearly 4,500 Holocaust survivors. As it neared the coast it was met by 6 British warships. With its true identity no longer a secret, the crew unfurled a flag saying: “Haganah Ship - Exodus 1947.” The British Navy boarded the ship, and in the battle that ensued, two members of the crew and one of the passengers were killed.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">In order to deter future illegal immigration, Ernest Bevin, the British Foreign Minister, was determined to send these refugees back to Europe. The very next day the passengers were reboarded on three smaller ships and sent to France.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">When they reached France, the refugees were promised citizenship and financial support if they would leave the boats. But they refused, and the boats sat in port. After languishing for three weeks in the summer heat, Bevin sent the boats to Hamburg in the British military zone of Germany. Upon arriving there, British soldiers beat and bullied the survivors until they left the ship.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Bevin’s response backfired dramatically. The world was shocked by the spectacle of Holocaust survivors being brutally forced to return to Germany, and moved by the enduring courage of the survivors. This was a turning point that won many over to the Zionist cause just a short few months before the United Nations vote on establishing a Jewish State.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">These modern-day ma’apilim were successful.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">However, the contemporary usage of the word ma’apilim is unsettling; how can the biblical ma’apilim be considered role models? Rabbi Asher Weiss, in his commentary on this parsha, tells how he had a teacher in Yeshiva that forbade his students from singing Kipnes’ ma’apilim song.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">But later, Rabbi Weiss took another view. He quotes Rav Zadok of Lublin, (Tzidkat Hatzaddik 46) who offers a fascinating exegesis of this biblical passage. When Moses urges the ma’apilim not to go into battle, he says: “Why are you disobeying the Lord’s command? For this will not succeed.” Rav Zadok writes that the implication of the verse is: “This (time it will not succeed)...but another time it will.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">This is virtually a prophetic statement; Rav Tzadok, who died in 1900, was predicting acts of heroism that would happen decades after his death.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">But Rav Zadok explains why he offers this interpretation. What the ma’apilim did was a supreme act of <span class="il">chutzpah</span>, grabbing hold of leadership on their own and not waiting for Moses or God. Perhaps this <span class="il">chutzpah</span> was improper in the desert, while the Jews stood under God’s divine presence. But the Talmud says <span class="il">chutzpah</span> will be necessary in the times of the Messiah. During a godless time of conflict and confusion, no one would be sending out invitations to redemption. It would take <span class="il">chutzpah</span> to get things done; and then the world would need the spirit of the ma’apilim to return.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">And that is exactly what happened.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">After the British forced the passengers of the Exodus 1947 off their boats in Hamburg, they were taken to two Displaced Person camps. Upon registration, when asked their country of origin, all the survivors responded "Palestine". Soon enough, they made new plans. Within a year, nearly every passenger on the Exodus 1947 found their way to the newly created State of Israel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">This is exactly what Jewish <span class="il">chutzpah</span> is all about: a willingness to pursue one’s destiny, no matter what everyone else says; and the ma’apilim had plenty of <span class="il">chutzpah</span>. They were going to go home, no matter what.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">I imagine if they had to, they would have found a way to teach a dog to talk.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-73881326500102177762023-06-09T09:22:00.001-04:002023-06-09T09:22:11.176-04:00At the Heart of Complicated Legacy<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180image--mobile-scale m_-1930465851799076180image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle27 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiogkel6RS_AH4GdTy5rGNnIzc3-aX_PQTXYzUazArTCWCLuSYZu-RHPTI-1XY1hvKLFM11sTrrT1ec_0GoKl7iR1Y661URP436u3eSzg-ZgjlJAuV8xtK_7WaGu5EcCmcJEO5D5Ngwn_v_a7txjYNpZuC3r9SgS0TnuGJ9qTQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1930465851799076180text_content-cell m_-1930465851799076180content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Itzhak Stern (left) had not seen Oskar Schindler for four years when he met him again in Herbert Steinhouse's Paris office. Both men were still trying to get out of Europe, 1949</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-1930465851799076180column m_-1930465851799076180scale m_-1930465851799076180stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-1930465851799076180text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-1930465851799076180text_content-cell m_-1930465851799076180content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Oskar Schindler is an inconvenient hero. Without question, what he did during the Holocaust was exceptional; he risked his own life, time and time again, to save over 1,300 Jews. But Schindler was no saint. He spied for Abwehr, the counterintelligence arm of the German military in Czechoslovakia, and played a critical role in helping the Nazis take over that country. He was a hard-drinking man who died of liver disease, a womanizer who neglected his wife, and after the war, he would constantly make financial demands of those he saved. Schindler remains an enigma, an exceptional hero at one period of his life who lived very differently for the rest of it.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Complicated legacies are difficult to disentangle. A figure like Paul Gauguin, who abandoned his family to pursue his artistic aspirations, still challenges those who evaluate his biography: Do his cultural contributions mitigate his moral failures? While art historians and even philosophers might be willing to overlook his flaws, his family would undoubtedly have a very different perspective.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Talmud grapples with this question when discussing the life of Elisha ben Avuyah, who, embittered by Roman persecution, abandoned Judaism. He is called</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> Acher</span><span style="color: black;">, the “other one,” because the Rabbis don’t want to pronounce his name; he is seen as a traitor who abandoned the Jews in their time of need. The Talmud declares that</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> Acher </span><span style="color: black;">can never repent and is banished from the world to come.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yet Elisha ben Avuyah’s devoted disciple, Rabbi Meir, prays for him to be brought to heaven; Rabbi Meir cannot bear to see a beloved teacher languish in hell. </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Acher </span><span style="color: black;">is at once a despised heretic and a beloved teacher, and his legacy remains a matter of controversy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">And this goes to the crux of the matter: how complicated legacies are disentangled depends on who is looking at them. Children have a unique relationship with their parents, and both villains and heroes are seen in a very different light by their own families. (Jay Nordlinger wrote a book about the children of brutal dictators, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Children of Monsters,</span><span style="color: black;"> where he explores the very different ways they see their own fathers’ legacies.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">On the other hand, how we see historical figures is in many ways a look in the mirror. Evaluations of them often vary, depending on one’s political viewpoint, and frequently change with the times. There are ample examples of revisionism, where historical assessments are modified to better fit with contemporary attitudes.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The case of the “generation of the desert” offers a lesson on how difficult it is to judge a complicated legacy. The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot says that the Jews “tested” God ten times during the 40 years in the desert; it is a time of complaints, cowardice, and betrayal. They build an idol when Moses is slow to return from Mount Sinai, they rebel against Moses' leadership during the episode of the spies and do so again at the direction of Korach.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Throughout the Book of Numbers, the Jews complain and complain again. Some of the complaints are readily understandable, such as incidents when they don't have water or food, or when they face a large army. Some of the complaints, like one in this week's Torah reading, are unreasonable; instead of being appreciative of their freedom, they begin to hound Moshe for meat.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Hebrew word used to describe their complaining, “kimitonanim” (Numbers 11:1) elicits multiple negative interpretations among the commentaries. To Ramban, this word reflects bitterness, the broken soul of worried ex-slaves. However, Seforno sees the complainers as insincere. It is “as if” they were complaining, but not out of worry or fear; they just wanted to grumble. Ibn Ezra sees their complaint as reflecting an evil motivation; and Rashi concurs, saying the complainers were looking for a way to distance themselves from God.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In short, their incessant whining is indicative that they are lacking both character and faith. The quick and easy verdict on the generation of the desert is that they were moral failures.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">However, it’s not that simple. The full story of the generation of the desert is hidden from the text. The Torah is silent about most of their lives; there are no events recorded for 38 of the 40 years in the desert. This lack of information conspires against the generation of the desert and encourages us to condemn them. We only hear about their failures, not their day-to-day lives. Certainly, they must have done some good during those 38 years. But how good were they?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This issue is debated in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 110b). It explains:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">“The generation of the desert have no share in the World-to-Come … this is the view of Rabbi Akiva... Rabbi Eliezer says that (they were so pious that) about them the Book of Psalms (50:5) declares: “Gather My pious together to Me, those that have entered into My covenant.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Eliezer offers a revisionist view of the generation of the desert. He puts aside their complaints against Moshe and their lack of faith in God, and instead, focuses on the rest of the years they were in the desert. The Talmud explains Rabbi Eliezer was inspired by the verse in Jeremiah (2:2) which says: “Thus says the Lord: “I remember you, the kindness of your youth, the love of your betrothal, when you followed Me into the desert, in a land that is barren.” Following God into the barren desert is a profound act of faith.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">What about the complaining, the times that they tested God? Clearly, Rabbi Eliezer recognizes the generation of the desert was quite imperfect. But for all their failings, this generation did continue forward; and one must recognize that survival alone is heroic for a group of runaway slaves. One needs to see the positive in a complicated legacy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Eliezer does offer a rather generous reading of this generation’s legacy. It is fascinating that Rabbi Akiva, the eternal optimist, the one who always sees the best in human nature, takes a hard line on the generation of the desert; as the Talmud puts it “Rabbi Akiva left behind his kindness in this case.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Why does Rabbi Akiva do this? I would speculate that it had a lot to do with his historical perspective. Rabbi Akiva dreamt of the Jews overtaking the Romans and was the foremost rabbinic supporter of the Bar Kochva rebellion. This would require stoic courage, a willingness to battle and accept losses; survival alone would not suffice.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">That is why Rabbi Akiva needed to condemn the generation of the desert. Their spinelessness and dissension are the opposite of what is needed in a rebellion. Rabbi Akiva needed his own generation to despise cowardice.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In this case, current events suggest a particular interpretation of a complicated legacy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">As I mentioned before, family members wrestle with this subject as well. In my role as a Rabbi, I’ve watched families contend with complicated legacies at funerals as they prepare for their eulogies. There are many such scenarios; some include great leaders who were abusive parents, and predatory felons who were loving husbands.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">More difficult to unwind are the legacies of people whose relationships change; parents who are estranged from their children, only to reenter their lives years later, or those who go in the opposite direction, and disengage from their children later in life. Such eulogies will often latch on to the few good years at the end. (A similar perspective is offered by Teshuvah, repentance, which sees the person’s character at the end of their life to be determinative.) But not every complicated relationship follows a timeline; some have good and bad interspersed.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Eliezer offers a different way to interpret complicated legacies. He is willing to listen to the silences in the record and hear echoes of goodness. He appreciates how difficult the position of the generation in the desert was, and yet even so, they did end up being the parents of a generation of pioneers, whom they carried to the doorstep of the promised land. There is another story hidden between the lines of the text. And in their own struggle with complicated legacies, many family members use Rabbi Eliezer’s approach.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Years ago, I performed a very small unveiling, which was attended by the late woman’s child and another friend. The woman had suffered from serious mental illness all her adult years, and she had pushed her son away from a very young age; he never had an opportunity to form a loving relationship with his mother. I asked him at the unveiling if he had any memories of her that he thought he should share. The son thought for a moment, and said he remembered one time when he was sick, his mother, concerned about his welfare, made him a cup of tea and brought it to his bed. He explained that it was the one moment that he could see through the veil of mental illness and experience his mother’s love.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In his heart, the son could hear a voice of love breaking through all the confusion of a complicated legacy.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-74507239439430713182023-06-02T10:03:00.005-04:002023-06-02T10:03:45.209-04:00The Beauty of Small Blessings<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391image--mobile-scale m_-9086138833965444391image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle26 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEjAm61K-edq0DAc8hxj2LAK-q4LBesBTZeuriAA0bmdr559UjSNQ2hnkW8xHBHaxVmLscKI-gMD0NCGQtAVdCCq8nBdmP930p4QZ5KBGECGTDY5ExwoC4txBJjMgsU6oDV4LaGDryqgNPyrhYje_oIVMte17-APnC7vEXRuPQyq=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9086138833965444391text_content-cell m_-9086138833965444391content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">Priestly Blessing from 6th century B.C. in Jerusalem. Samuel and Saidye Bronfman</span></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">Archaeology Wing in the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_-9086138833965444391column m_-9086138833965444391scale m_-9086138833965444391stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_-9086138833965444391text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_-9086138833965444391text_content-cell m_-9086138833965444391content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">It all happened because of an annoying teenager. In 1979, Israeli archaeologist Gavriel Barkai was leading the excavation of a burial cave on the slopes of the Hinnom Valley. With him that day was a group of teenage interns, including one boy that Barkai described as a </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">nudnik</span><span style="color: #060148;">, a complete annoyance; so Barkai sent the boy to do busy work in a room that had been combed through very carefully. A little while later, Barkai felt a tug on his jacket. There was the nudnik, holding what was obviously a rare archaeological find in his hand. This boy had discovered a spot that had never been surveyed before.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">After a few days of non-stop excavation, Barkai came across an exceptional find: two small amulets made of silver, written in Paleo-Hebrew script, that were 2,700 years old. One of them was inscribed with the words of </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">Birkat Kohanim</span><span style="color: #060148;">, the priestly blessing. It is the oldest inscription of a biblical verse that has been found.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">There's something very fitting about this discovery. Although Birkat Kohanim is meant to be recited exclusively by Kohanim, it has become an extremely popular blessing for all occasions. It is part of the first prayers in the morning and the final prayers of the evening. Parents bless their children with Birkat Kohanim both on Friday nights and on special occasions, such as Erev Yom Kippur and at weddings. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Birkat Kohanim is the biblical equivalent of a hit single. Even 2,700 years ago people were carrying its words around their necks, hoping that a little bit of this blessing would rub off on them.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Brevity may be part of Birkat Kohanim’s popularity; it is a total of fifteen words in Hebrew, in short, rhythmic sentences of three, five, and seven words. In English, the blessing is:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">“May the Lord bless you and protect you;</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">May the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">May the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”’</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">What is striking is how generic the language of Birkat Kohanim is, perhaps because it is meant to be a brief, quick blessing. But the vague language of Birkat Kohanim animates a great deal of discussion among the commentaries, who, as the commentary of the Kli Yakar notes, “Each gives an interpretation according to their own sentiments.” They are searching for what the words of this blessing mean, and in a larger sense, what exactly it means to be blessed.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">One approach is to view Birkat Kohanim as an accordion, embracing multiple possibilities in just a few words. The medieval commentary of Rav Yoseph Bechor Shor explains that the words "May the Lord bless you” means “with children, strength, wisdom, long life, greatness, both as you go out and as you come in, in the city and in the field, with wealth, with overflowing fruit baskets and kneading troughs…." To be blessed is to be blessed with many things. Bechor Shor follows the approach of an earlier commentary, the Sifrei, which interprets Birkat Kohanim as referring to the lists of blessings found in Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28. Simplicity allows Birkat Kohanim to be all-embracing, and condense multiple blessings into fifteen short words.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">As beautiful as these interpretations sound, reality is quite different; blessings don't just arrive by the cartload. For this reason, many commentaries interpret the lack of specificity as an acknowledgment that blessings are difficult to define. (As the Netziv points out, a businessman and a Torah scholar pursue very different blessings, and each would be dissatisfied with the dreams of the other. One man’s blessing is another man’s boredom.) These commentaries focus instead on the section of Birkat Kohanim that offers a blessing of spiritual enlightenment: "May the Lord make his face shine on you." With enlightenment, all other divine gifts come into focus.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Like life itself, blessings are fragile and fleeting. This is already evident from the opening words of Birkat Kohanim: "May the Lord bless you and protect you." Ibn Ezra explains once you receive material blessings, you immediately need God's protection to prevent other people from stealing them. As the Mishna (Avot 2:7) puts it, the more one has, the more one has to worry about; blessings bring new complications of their own. And the greatest complication of all is human nature.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Humans are quite often the authors of their own misery. Maimonides writes that most of life’s problems are caused by human recklessness; poor habits can destroy one’s health and wealth, and human aggression can turn a blessed existence into a hellish landscape of death and destruction.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The blessing we need the most, to quote the Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 11:6), is: "May God give you the wisdom to be gracious to each other and merciful to each other." Birkat Kohanim concludes with a blessing of peace, because, as the Mishnah (Uktzin 3:12) points out, peace is the “vessel which holds all other blessings.” Without peace, all the blessings of the world turn into curses; indeed, the more that people have, the more they have to fight over. And whether or not we have the blessing of peace is up to mankind.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">This is the most significant message of Birkat Kohanim: a blessing is only a blessing if one can keep it.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Good tidings can also end up promoting bad character. The Netziv explains that when Birkat Kohanim talks about God’s protection, it is calling on God to protect us from the harmful effects of the very blessings we receive. A scholar who is given an abundance of wisdom is prone to arrogance; a businessman who meets a lot of success can become greedy and dishonest. One can receive many gifts in their lifetime; whether or not those gifts are truly a blessing depends on their character and values. In the wrong hands, blessings are destructive.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Finally, to have is not always to be happy. A great deal of what makes a blessing a blessing is our own subjective reaction to them. Even Bechor Shor, after offering his interpretation along with a lengthy list of blessings, writes that the ultimate blessing of Birkat Kohanim is that “you should be blessed with joy, that your heart should be happy with your lot.” </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">This comment is a reference to the words of the Mishnah, “Who is wealthy? One who is happy with his lot.” This Mishnah is often misread as promoting a lack of ambition, a willingness to sit back passively and accept what one is given. After all, one can be happy with their existing lot, so why pursue anything more? But then there would be no need for Birkat Kohanim, and no purpose for blessings and prayer.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Instead, the Mishnah is teaching a lesson of appreciation. Don’t become obsessed with social comparisons, and the mindset that if another person has more than you do, what you have is inadequate. Someone with a beautiful home will all too often feel disappointed if their neighbors have homes that are nicer than their own. (And with social media, the opportunities for social comparison are endless.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Don't be carried off by what psychologists call a "hedonic treadmill," and expect more and more every day. It is easy to get excited about something new: a new house, a new suit, a new car. But very quickly, one can become accustomed to old blessings and take them for granted; and then begins the never-ending search for something even better.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">To experience joy, one must first get off the hedonic treadmill and close one’s eyes to social comparison. To “be happy with one’s lot” is to appreciate the blessings one has, and accept them with gratitude.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">There's a beautiful song from the Israeli singer Rami Kleinstein entitled </span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">Matanot Ketanot</span><span style="color: #060148;"> (</span><span style="color: #060148; font-style: italic;">Small Blessings</span><span style="color: #060148;">) which talks about Friday afternoons in a small town in Israel. It was written by the songwriter Noam Chorev while on vacation in Thailand. He was in one of the most beautiful places in the world, yet on Friday afternoon he felt homesick, missing the magical atmosphere of an ordinary Shabbat evening back home.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The song begins with a description of the start of Shabbat. As the sun goes down, processions of people wearing white fill the streets, returning home from synagogue; the aromas of Shabbat food permeate the house, and Shabbat melodies fill the air.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">The song's refrain continues:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Small presents,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Someone sent me small presents,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Traces of sincerity, droplets of faith.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Small presents,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Someone sent me small presents,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Like the power to accept,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">What there isn't and what there is,</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">And what one can still pursue.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #060148;">Matanot Ketanot offers an insight that is central to the interpretation of Birkat Kohanim. In our day-to-day life, we often pursue large blessings, as we should; but even so, we must never stop being enchanted by small presents, those everyday gifts from God. And if we can find within ourselves the ability to do so, we will truly be blessed.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-56367396551816878652023-05-25T14:22:00.004-04:002023-05-25T14:22:34.870-04:00Without Loyalty, Judaism Disappears<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532image--mobile-scale m_2647070301342870532image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle25 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEjpTvoiuX7OFFZCZc-cBietBe6Fl66LPT2Ezf4SypOWcs75Wd0Z-MSVzYmZYnGUbE2OncrLy1mry8XSITB84JtyfjQV217JI-0oKUFC_6XUmLLnMZSa7Wj1Ac9KLdes3Wpq01V2hRdyLmicUZ3caAro6V_t8cnrFqI=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2647070301342870532text_content-cell m_2647070301342870532content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">William Blake, Naomi entreating Ruth and Orpah to return to the land of Moab</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">, 1795</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;"> </span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2647070301342870532column m_2647070301342870532scale m_2647070301342870532stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2647070301342870532text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2647070301342870532text_content-cell m_2647070301342870532content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Shlomo Carlebach would relate an anecdote about his visits to college campuses in the 1970s. After finishing a concert, he would ask the students he met what religion they were. Some would say they were Roman Catholic, while others would say they were Protestant. But other university students would answer his question by saying, “I am a human being.” To which Carlebach would immediately respond: </span><span style="color: #315fc3;">“</span><span style="color: black;">You must be a Jew!”</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The answer these students gave is not at all new, and echoes the words of the ancient philosopher Diogenes who, when asked where he came from, would declare "I am a citizen of the world." This view is even more seductive now that we live in a global village, and what happens anywhere is broadcast everywhere. To identify with one small group feels parochial and narrow.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Book of Ruth presents a dramatically different view than Diogenes, and offers a seminar on the importance of loyalty, of staying close to those who are closest to you.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The narrative of Ruth begins with an estrangement, a failure of loyalty. During a famine, a man named Elimelech and his family leave Israel and go to the plains of Moab. From later passages in the book, Elimelech's prominence becomes clear; yet during a crisis, he chooses to leave his community behind to find greener pastures for himself. Rashi condemns Elimelech’s behavior and writes: </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">He was very wealthy, and the leader of the generation. He left Israel for a foreign land because of his stinginess, for he was miserly toward the poor who came to beg from him; therefore Elimelech was punished.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Tragedy ensues. Elimelech dies, and his two sons, who then marry Moabite women, die as well. Naomi, Elimelech's widow, decides to return to the land of Israel and to her hometown of Bethlehem. As she leaves, Naomi is accompanied by her two Moabite daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. Mid-trip, Naomi stops and implores her daughters-in-law to return to their parents' homes because there's no future for them in Israel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Orpah accepts her mother-in-law's advice, and tearfully bids her farewell. But Ruth refuses to go. She remains at Naomi's side, even though her mother-in-law has excused her and exhorted her to leave. In two short sentences,(Ruth 1:16-17) Ruth expresses a profound depth of loyalty: </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In a comment that further highlights the theme of loyalty, the Midrash finds fault in Orpah's behavior. It connects her name to the Hebrew word </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">oreph</span><span style="color: black;">, the back of the neck. In the Midrash's view, Orpah is too quick to turn her back on Naomi, especially when her own sister-in-law continues forward.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Ruth's loyalty to her mother-in-law is all the more remarkable considering that she is a Moabite, from a nation that descended from Lot, Abraham’s nephew. Lot and Abraham share the journey from Aram to Canaan, then to Egypt and back. They are truly like brothers. But then they separate over a business dispute.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This separation grows deeper with time. After the Exodus, when the Jews are journeying from Egypt to the land of Israel, the Moabites refuse to offer them water and even engage Balaam to curse the Jews. Ruth's lineage is from a nation who have turned their backs on Abraham’s family, which makes Ruth’s loyalty all the more remarkable.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The conclusion of the Book of Ruth is intertwined with two legal institutions that obligate relatives to help out their kin. One is </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">yibum</span><span style="color: black;">, the levirate marriage. When a man dies childless and leaves behind a widow, the brother of the deceased has an obligation to continue that man's name and marry the widow. Marrying the widow to a family member (who then has children with her), ensures that the deceased brother will always be remembered, and his name will be carried on. (In the Book of Ruth, this legal institution is extended to include a close relative, Boaz, as well.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The second institution is the redemption of a field. The Bible explains (Leviticus 25:25) that </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">If one of your fellow Israelites becomes poor and sells some of their property, their nearest relative is to come and redeem what they have sold.</span><span style="color: black;"> This repurchase carries profound significance. In an agrarian society, identity is rooted in the land itself, which is transferred from generation to generation; when relatives repurchase these fields and return them to impoverished members of their family, they have returned them to their roots and given them dignity.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Both of these legal institutions are founded on the importance of loyalty, and reflect the unique obligations one has towards a close relative.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In the final chapter of the book, two men are confronted with these obligations: Boaz and </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Ploni Almoni </span><span style="color: black;"> (a pseudonym that means "anonymous"). They are the ones who must redeem Naomi’s fields, and marry her widowed daughter-in-law Ruth. The anonymous </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Ploni Almoni</span><span style="color: black;"> is given priority because he is the closest relative; but he refuses, saying (according to the interpretation of Ibn Ezra and Ralbag) that he's worried about a cash crunch, that if he acquires the new field he won’t have enough money to hire workers for all his properties.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Ploni Almoni</span><span style="color: black;"> puts his individual needs above his responsibility to his kin; and he remains anonymous to history, like a faded flower, like whirling dust. It is Boaz, who is loyal to his family and community, who together with Ruth becomes the foundation of the house of David, and the future of the Jewish nation.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Book of Ruth’s emphasis on the obligations of loyalty contrasts sharply with a staunchly universalist ethic, which sees preferential love for a particular community as narrow and self-centered.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">While moral universalism correctly demands that we treat everyone with dignity and justice, loyalty demands that we go a step further and make substantial sacrifices for kinfolk and compatriots. The moral argument for loyalty is grounded first in reality; to care about everyone is to care about no one in particular. Without preferential love, even basic relationships are impossible. Richard M. Hare pointed out that, even for universalists, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">If mothers had the propensity to care equally for all the children in the world, it is unlikely that children would be as well provided for even as they are. The dilution of the responsibility would weaken it out of existence.</span><span style="color: black;"> But the Book of Ruth goes further, well beyond a pragmatic acceptance of loyalty; instead, it celebrates the spiritual power of commitment.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Dr. Samuel Lebens, in his book </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">A Guide for the Jewish Undecided</span><span style="color: black;">, sees Ruth's conversion as a paradigm of authentic Jewish belief. Our identities always shape our perspective, or as Lebens puts it, “It is what makes reasoning possible to begin with.” He points out a fascinating contrast between the conversion of Ruth (the only one found in the Tanakh) and the conversion of Paul in the New Testament. As it is described in the Book of Acts, Paul comes to Christianity after he sees a grand vision on the road to Damascus, and suddenly the scales fall from his eyes. In contrast, the conversion of Ruth is founded on personal connection and familial love. On the road to Bethlehem, Ruth perseveres in her love for Naomi; and that draws her close to God and the Torah. It is her decision to commit to the Jewish people that transforms Ruth.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Faith grows out of our commitments, which is why the Book of Ruth is read on Shavuot. At the foot of Mount Sinai the Jews pledged </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">naaseh v’nishmah</span><span style="color: black;">, “we will do and we will listen.” In other words, the Jews were pledging to loyally follow God, and by doing so, understand the spiritual value of the Torah. Enlightenment is the product of one's commitments. And so it was with Ruth.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But like the Carlebach's college student, many young Jews find loyalty to be difficult. They have grown up in what psychologists call a </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">WEIRD</span><span style="color: black;"> culture: Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic, which, as Jonathan Haidt explains in </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">The Righteous Mind</span><span style="color: black;">, devalues loyalty. Calls for loyalty are often met with suspicion and derision. Even some young rabbis struggle with loyalty; they will dither in response to terror attacks and conflict in Israel, worried more about political implications than personal commitments.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">It is not surprising that as the Jewish community becomes more immersed in a </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">WEIRD</span><span style="color: black;"> culture, loyalty has diminished, as well as our community’s connection to Judaism and the Jewish people.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But on the road to Bethlehem, Ruth chooses loyalty. And that has made all the difference.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-16737350766982913362023-05-19T12:55:00.002-04:002023-05-19T12:55:07.698-04:00The Jerusalem of the Simple Jew<p> </p><blockquote style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><div lang="en-US" style="background-color: #fffefc;"><table bgcolor="#FFFEFC" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 622px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 15px 10px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#FFFEFC" style="border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid rgb(229, 223, 208); margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle24 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEjSpCNUqvkW-2O5RCWZbdcczC8MgmmXMZimxYYvyGVRj1q_TtAcbb_pnJiGru1F4uE5wGNBqnOEyNBwddl28yuQOuJqKDpT_O4uOmw5OXdm8vcmXO6PyXrW-yN-JV2OQ3reHSRaPty8RDQZBUGH1_81PUTQQbec4wz5YISePQur=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202124; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Paratroopers at the Western Wall During the Six Day War, June 7, 1967; David Rubinger</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"></td><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 300px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px;">On June 7, 1967, the Israeli army returned Jewish sovereignty to Jerusalem for the first time in 1,900 years. And for the last 56 years, this day has been celebrated on the Israeli calendar as Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day).</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Yitzchak Rabin, who was then the Chief of Staff of the Israeli army, visited the Kotel (the Western Wall of the Temple Mount) that day. Rabin reported that when they “reached the Western Wall, I was breathless ... I felt truly shaken and stood there murmuring a prayer for peace. The paratroopers were struggling to reach the Wall and touch it. We stood among a tangle of rugged, battle-weary men who were unable to believe their eyes or restrain their emotions. Their eyes were moist with tears, their speech incoherent. The overwhelming desire was to cling to the Wall, to hold on to that great moment as long as possible.” Rabin’s wife Leah would later say that he considered that visit to be the “peak moment” of his life. Even though he was a secular and stoic career military man, Jerusalem made a dramatic impact on Yitzchak Rabin, as it has on so many others. The question is why. Where does this Jerusalem mystique come from?</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">There’s no one answer to this question, and that’s part of the mystique. “Jerusalem has seventy names” declares the Midrash. And while the Tanakh does have several names for Jerusalem, including Tziyon, Shalem and Yevus, the Midrash’s point is that Jerusalem is transcendent, and as such, can be seen through multiple perspectives.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The student of history sees a city that has transformed the world, and is central to three major religions.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Extraordinary historical figures have traversed this city. The founders of Judaism lived here: Abraham and Isaac, David and Solomon, Isaiah and Jeremiah, Ezra and Nehemiah, Judah Maccabee and his sons, Hillel and Shammai, Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael. And the list goes on and on.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Jerusalem’s influence is not restricted to Judaism; the important personalities of Christianity, Jesus, James, Peter and Paul, all spent time in Jerusalem as well, and Muslims revere the Temple Mount as the location of Muhammad’s night journey.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Due to religious influence, Jerusalem has always grabbed the headlines. For hundreds of years, maps put Jerusalem at the center. In the Bünting Clover Leaf Map of 1581, the three continents of Europe, Africa and Asia are the petals of a clover, with Jerusalem in a circle at the very center of the world.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Over 60% of tourists who visit Jerusalem are Christian; they come because of the deep connection they have to its history. Thomas Friedman tells of one such visit to Jerusalem:</p><p style="margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px;">“When American astronaut Neil Armstrong, a devout Christian, visited Israel after his trip to the moon, he was taken on a tour of the Old City of Jerusalem by Israeli archaeologist Meir Ben-Dov. When they got to the Hulda Gate, which is at the top of the stairs leading to the Temple Mount, Armstrong asked Ben-Dov whether Jesus had stepped anywhere around there. ‘I told him, “Look, Jesus was a Jew,”’ recalled Ben-Dov. ‘These are the steps that lead to the Temple, so he must have walked here many times.’</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Armstrong then asked if these were the original steps, and Ben-Dov confirmed that they were.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">‘So Jesus stepped right here?’ asked Armstrong.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">‘That’s right,’ answered Ben-Dov.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">‘I have to tell you,’ Armstrong said to the Israeli archaeologist, ‘I am more excited stepping on these stones than I was stepping on the moon.’”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px;">If you ask a historian what is special about Jerusalem, they will tell you: It is a place that has changed the world. Wherever you go, you are walking in the footsteps of some of the greatest figures in history.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The student of Halakha stands in awe of Jerusalem, a place replete with unique <span style="font-style: italic;">mitzvot</span> (commandments). One-third of the Talmud deals with religious laws connected to Jerusalem, including the Temple service and the rules of ritual purity. Jerusalem was once central to the religious practice of Judaism.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">While it is forgotten now, the picture found in the Tanakh and Rabbinic literature is dramatic. The thrice-yearly holiday pilgrimage of <span style="font-style: italic;">aliyah leregel</span> brought millions of Jews to Jerusalem for the holidays; Josephus, the first-century historian, writes of a year when 256,500 Passover sacrifices were brought. He estimates that at least 10 people shared each sacrifice, which works out to over 2.5 million cramming into Jerusalem for Passover! These holidays were a time when people of all classes, countries and observances came together. The Jewish philosopher, Philo of Alexandria, described how “countless multitudes from countless cities come, some over land, others over sea, from east and west and north and south at every feast.”<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>A network of highways facilitated the trip to Jerusalem; these are now being discovered by archeologists, all around Jerusalem.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Religious visits to Jerusalem extended beyond the holidays. There is another law called Maaser Sheni, where four out of every seven years the farmer would bring 10% of the value of his produce to Jerusalem, either in fruit or in cash, and use them to enjoy meals in the holy city.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Mystics have a more dramatic vision. For them, Jerusalem is the center of the universe. The Midrash Tanchuma (Kedoshim 10) writes that Jerusalem is where the creation of the world began, or what is sometimes called <span style="font-style: italic;">Umbilicus Mundi</span>, the navel of the world. Inside the Temple is “the foundation stone from which the world was founded.” The Spanish Kabbalist Yoseph Gikatilla takes this a step further and explains that:<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>“From the Temple, all the channels of divine influence spread out to the world … the divine presence sends blessing to the entire world through the Temple.”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">When it comes to Jerusalem, most people are mystics. They visit the Kotel and put in a <span style="font-style: italic;">kvitl</span>, a small note of prayers. Everyone does this: Presidents, Prime Ministers, actors and rock stars.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The mystical view is well-traveled. There is an old joke, that was retold by Prime Minister Menachem Begin to President Reagan at a White House State dinner, that reflects this view. Begin’s joke goes like this:</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">“The President brought me into the Oval Office, and he showed me on the table three phones— one red, one white and one blue. And he explained to me: ‘The white is the direct line to Mrs. Thatcher; the blue to President Mitterrand.'’ And then I asked him, ‘What is the red phone?’ ‘That is a direct line to God.'’ So, I asked the President, ‘Mr. President, do you use it often?’ And the President said, ‘Oh, no, very rarely. It's very expensive. Long distance—so long a distance. And I cannot afford it. I have to cut the budget and…’ [Laughter]</p><p style="margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px;">So, then the President visited Jerusalem, and I showed him my office, and there are three phones. One was white, one was blue. And I said, ‘The white is a direct line to President Sadat.’ By the by, I have such a line, and he has such a line. ‘And the other, well, to Mrs. Thatcher.’ And there is a red phone. And the President asked, ‘What is the red phone for?’ And I said, ‘This is a direct line to God.’ So, the President asked me, ‘Do you use it often?’ I say, ‘Every day.’ ‘How can you afford it?’ And I said, ‘Here, in Jerusalem, it is being considered a local call.’</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">(Begin continued on another note and said: ‘Now, Mr. President, neither of us has direct lines to God. I only believe that God listens to the prayer of a Jew and a Christian and of a Moslem—of every human being. But, if I have to continue with the story, then I will say that when you come, as I do believe, to Jerusalem, I will immediately put at your disposal the red phone. [Laughter] On the house. [Laughter] A local call.’)”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">To the mystic, Jerusalem is different because a call to God from Jerusalem is a local call.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">I appreciate the perspectives of the Halakhist, the mystic and the historian, but I believe there is one perspective that exceeds them all: that of the simple Jew.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The simple Jew never left Jerusalem. Shmuel Yosef Agnon spoke for them when he said this in his 1966 Nobel Prize Speech: “As a result of the historic catastrophe in which Titus of Rome destroyed Jerusalem and Israel was exiled from its land, I was born in one of the cities of the Exile. But always I regarded myself as one who was born in Jerusalem.”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">And in 1967, the simple Jew came home.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The first time I visited Israel was when I was 7. My grandfather, who was 71 at the time, came with us; it was his first trip to Israel. The look he had on his face when visiting the Kotel was the look of a man transformed, a Jew achieving his dream.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">My grandfather’s dream is an ancient dream. Jews have dreamed of Jerusalem from the moment they went into exile. As they were driven out of their homeland in 587 B.C.E., they declared: “If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not keep Jerusalem in mind even at my happiest hour (Psalm 137).”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Jews never forgot Jerusalem. We pray about Jerusalem every day, we pray toward Jerusalem every day, and at every wedding, we break a glass to remember Jerusalem. At the Passover Seder we sing “next year in Jerusalem.” In Ethiopia, Jewish children would look at the storks migrating northward toward Israel and sing a song:</p><p style="margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px;">“Stork, stork, how is our land?</p><p style="margin: 0px;">Stork, stork, how is Jerusalem?</p><p style="margin: 0px;">Stork, stork, give us the word!”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">The simple Jew always dreamed of Jerusalem.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">It is the love of the simple Jew that makes Yom Yerushalayim special. Moshe Amirav, one of the first soldiers to reach the Kotel on June 7, 1967, said this:</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">“I can't help from smiling today when I recall how we searched for the Kotel. There we ran, a bunch of panting soldiers, wandering around the Temple Mount, looking for a huge stone wall … We pass the Mograbim gate, pushing, hurrying, and all of a sudden we are stopped, as if hit by lightning. In front of our eyes stands, grey and large, quiet and sad—the Kotel. … Little by little I started getting closer to the Kotel. Slowly … I came closer, an emissary of dad, grandpa, greatgrandpa, and all the generations from all the diasporas that didn't make it here, and so they sent me here. Someone said the Shehechiyanu prayer, and I couldn't say amen. All I could do was put my hand on the rock. The tears flowing out of my eyes were not mine … they were the tears of all the People of Israel, tears of hope and prayer.”</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">This is what the Jerusalem mystique means to me. It is not about history, Halakha or Kabbalah; it is about the simple Jew, and the dreams of the Jewish People.</p><p style="margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="margin: 0px;">Fifty-six years ago the simple Jew could finally go home again. And that is what I celebrate on Yom Yerushalayim.</p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></blockquote>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-48042267408343207452023-05-12T13:28:00.005-04:002023-05-12T13:28:55.300-04:00When Bad Things Happen to Good People<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385image--mobile-scale m_2769215738733297385image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle23 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEizYcMYI8-Y9YFs1QfQGOJRdmCzdPNC27_-3E7GLeYAd1KdFSfQyJN4ybNm99RSJIi-6JTVlJjLP_uHs0io850Mj6vjtDW4oAIFCshY92MRH1npG2ncrZI89KsLxi1R2HjQZqrIcXp4yvQ5_WRI6_SfT3kBftUvSPfYnhc-RETh=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2769215738733297385text_content-cell m_2769215738733297385content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">The Blessings of Peace the Curses of War, James Gillray, 2 January 1795</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2769215738733297385text_content-cell m_2769215738733297385content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2769215738733297385column m_2769215738733297385scale m_2769215738733297385stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2769215738733297385text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2769215738733297385text_content-cell m_2769215738733297385content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Rabbi Harold Kushner passed away two weeks ago. When he was a young congregational rabbi, tragedy struck his family. His 3-year-old son Aaron was diagnosed with progeria syndrome, a disease that leads to premature aging. This diagnosis condemned Aaron to an early death, and he passed away in 1977 at age 14.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In his grief, Kushner wrestled with the question of how God lets the righteous suffer. For generations, theologians and philosophers have searched for what is called </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">theodicy</span><span style="color: black;">, a vindication of divine justice in this world. Four years after Aaron’s death, Kushner published his own response to this question; the book, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">When Bad Things Happen to Good People</span><span style="color: black;">, became an international bestseller. Kushner went on to become an author and lecturer whose wisdom touched millions of people around the world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Kushner’s response to this question was heterodox. He argued that God actually didn’t have the power to prevent catastrophes. As a result, Kushner had to reinterpret many Jewish concepts, including prayer, which he explained as an exercise in virtue, an act of self-transformation. Because of this, his writings were roundly criticized in Orthodox circles.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Whether or not one agrees with Kushner’s views, his book was popular precisely because it dealt with a question that arises frequently but is rarely discussed. For this reason alone, Rabbi Harold Kushner is owed a debt of gratitude.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Suffering is a traumatic topic, and the difficulties it raises are often repressed. Many who have profound faith worry that asking questions might erode their faith, or even worse, think the questions themselves are a betrayal of faith. But this question is an existential one; even atheists will find it profoundly disturbing to live in a world where evil can brazenly take place, with innocents dying by the thousands because of the whims of a depraved madman. The escapism of Hollywood, where the good guy always triumphs, is popular because it is instinctive; we are born expecting justice. Sadly, life isn’t like that.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">In the Babylonian Talmud, there is an acceptance of the reality of senseless suffering. In one passage, it relates how Elisha Ben Avuyah, a colleague of Rabbi Akiva, lost his faith during the horrific Roman persecutions of his time. He saw his colleagues, great saints, murdered. The Talmud (Kiddushin 39b) says:</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> What caused Elisha (to leave the faith)? …he saw the tongue of Ḥutzpit the interpreter dragged along by a pig. Elisha said: Shall a mouth that produced pearls of wisdom now lap up dirt? </span><span style="color: black;">Elisha Ben Avuyah loses his faith because he cannot understand how God could let bad things happen to good people.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Two generations later, Elisha Ben Abuya's grandson, Rabbi Yaakov, offers an explanation to this question: </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">There is no reward in this world for good deeds</span><span style="color: black;">. Justice is only possible in the world to come. There, the righteous will be rewarded and the wicked will be punished. It is only in the afterlife that the soul can receive its just desserts.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Parshat Bechukotai (Leviticus Chapter 26) offers a dramatically different view of this topic: in it, reward and punishment are meted out, right here, in this world. </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, </span><span style="color: black;">blessings will follow; there will be abundant rain and produce, and there will be peace and tranquility in the land. </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">if you reject My laws and spurn My rules</span><span style="color: black;"> you will be cursed; and there will be famine, war, and disease.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Many commentaries, including Ibn Ezra, Rambam, and Abrabanel, are troubled by the fact that the Torah focuses solely on earthly rewards and completely ignores the afterlife. But, there is a second aspect of the question; as Rabbi Shmuel Eidels, the Maharsha, wonders, how does Rabbi Yaakov, who rejects the possibility of earthly rewards, understand our Torah reading?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the black-and-white approach of this Torah reading is attractive to those who want to find a sin for every calamity. Even today, it is not uncommon for Rabbis to make confident proclamations after every disaster, and to declare with certainty which sin caused it.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">These finger-pointing explanations are not only deeply flawed, they are also deeply insensitive. The Talmud (Baba Metzia 58b) says that anyone who tells a grieving person that their suffering is due to their own sins has violated the Biblical prohibition of verbal abuse.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Early on in my own rabbinical career, I invited a scholar-in-residence who had written a book about why bad things happen to good people; it was intended as a response to Kushner's book. At the Shabbat luncheon, the scholar-in-residence stood up to make her presentation. After presenting some of her ideas, one of the members of the synagogue, a Holocaust survivor, got up and made a comment. She responded quickly to him and continued to speak. But then he continued to offer one comment after the other, each one with more and more emotion, until it became a full-blown outburst. He shouted: How can you tell me that the people in the Holocaust deserved to die? How can you say that about my parents?</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">At the time, I felt bad for the scholar in residence, who had her presentation ruined. As I got older, I realize that it was the Holocaust survivor who I should have felt bad for. He had to listen to someone tell him that his family members who were murdered deserved their fate.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Some contemporary theologians offer a more realistic defense of God’s justice, which is called soul-making theodicy; it is best articulated by John Hick in his classic work, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Evil and the God of Love</span><span style="color: black;">. The premise is that humanity only achieves greatness in a world that contains evil and confusion, because then it chooses to do so on its own. Free will can only arise when there are no clear consequences to one's actions; religious doubt is part of the design. Hick explains:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">….this world must be a place of soul-making. And its value is to be judged, not primarily by the quantity of pleasure and pain occurring in it at any particular moment, but by its fitness for its primary purpose, the purpose of soul-making.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Without evil there is no free will. And without free will, human beings will fail to flourish. Suffering, tragedy, and evil are necessary for the greater good, because they allow humanity to independently choose goodness.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Similar ideas are offered by Jewish philosophers. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the Hebrew word for a trial of faith, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">nisayon</span><span style="color: black;">, is the same as the Hebrew word for raising up (</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">nissa,</span><span style="color: black;">) because a test builds one’s character; the bitterness of suffering is itself the silver lining that carries untold blessings. And Hick's soul-making theodicy also bears an uncanny resemblance to the Kabbalistic concept of "the bread of shame," one which was popularized by Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Despite its realism, even soul-making theodicy is unsatisfactory, because any explanation one can offer will seem meaningless to those who suffer. Abstract justifications for evil can’t alleviate their anguish, and they remain tortured by the fact that God had inflicted such agony on them.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Kushner himself said it best. During an interview in 2012, he was asked to imagine what might have been had his son not gotten sick. (He actually had commented on this at the end of his book as well.) Kushner rephrased the question:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Would I have rather had a normal child, and ended up being a mediocre rabbi who never had a book published in his life?.... Yes, I would go for that in a moment.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Theodicy is fated to always fall short, and perhaps is best not to attempt it at all. From the outset, the entire project of defending God’s goodness is suspect. God does not need a defense attorney; He can make the case for himself. And God continues to do so in every sunrise, every leaf, and every breath we take.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">More importantly, one can love God while questioning God at the very same time. Because it is cited so frequently, the story of Abraham at the </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Akeidah</span><span style="color: black;"> has become our model of faith; here is the courageous hero, never flinching, never losing faith, despite enormous emotional turmoil.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the Bible offers a second model of faith, one which is very different than Abraham: Job. He asks bitter, difficult questions of God; and it is those questions themselves that connect Job to God. Job reminds us that whether we embrace God or wrestle with God, we continue to maintain an intimate relationship with God. Even if we cannot answer our questions for God, that is not a lack of faith; this is why in Pirkei Avot (4:15) we are told: </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">We do not have the ability to explain the success of the wicked or the suffering of the righteous.</span><span style="color: black;"> There simply is no answer to the question of why bad things happen to good people.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But we must go beyond asking questions. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik offers a very different view of a Jewish response to suffering. He says the question itself,</span><span style="color: #315fc3;"> </span><span style="color: #161d26;">“</span><span style="color: black;">Why do bad things happen to good people?”, implies that if we find an answer, we should passively accept our fate and assume that God did everything for the best. Rabbi Soloveitchik points out that on the contrary, Judaism actually refuses to make peace with death and tragedy. When someone dies, Jewish law requires that their relatives mourn bitterly and tear their clothes. Judaism demands that one should be enraged by tragedy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Instead, the real question that has to be asked is: How do I respond to tragedy? Our obligation in the face of a catastrophe is to act: to comfort and aid those who have suffered, and to use human creativity to prevent future catastrophes. The only Jewish response to tragedy is to restore human dignity and rebuild the world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">How then does one read the curses and blessings in Parshat Bechukotai? Perhaps as a challenge, a reminder that the world we yearn for, in which the wicked are punished and the righteous rewarded, is far from reality. We continue to dream of a perfect world; but dreams alone are not enough. We must go into battle against evil, and do as much good as possible. And with every act of kindness, we start to turn that dream into reality.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5627667.post-21723419463524577032023-05-05T11:02:00.001-04:002023-05-05T11:02:07.390-04:00Consensus Isn't Just Nice<p> </p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492image--mobile-scale m_2562021323971039492image--mobile-center" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492image_container" style="margin: 0px;" valign="top"><img alt="rcsblogarticle22 image" class="CToWUd a6T" data-bit="iit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgWS04oaXAhq6CyLIPeTwk0qaqWGCP10Jg6Gc5BvObAEAhAgzwh0O7OP0_Glyl2YehJbpa3hE5D0wdS2v5yfcFQemWtA1QsyTLh9UTfyf_CwcrjzuBecVvHjOFx2UfTKiJTv-nrulAbloGQKNgd5_Tm_-s0jQYihZtMDkYvItTf=s0-d-e1-ft" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: auto; max-width: 100%; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0" width="600" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2562021323971039492text_content-cell m_2562021323971039492content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">Worshippers at the Western Wall in Jerusalem hear the reciting of the priestly blessing</span></p><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;">during the Succot holiday, October 11, 1995</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2562021323971039492text_content-cell m_2562021323971039492content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" style="margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="100%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="height: 1px; table-layout: fixed; width: 558px;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="#E5DFD0" height="1" style="background-color: #e5dfd0; border-bottom-width: 0px; height: 1px; line-height: 1px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" class="CToWUd" data-bit="iit" height="1" hspace="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEhb3tOAXPZSOdRgKx7sCCJsNFYAfY0NhIwVuwD8noea1Is0R_M7qUSMoEYdQVa9yr0jE07Ent2tzsVeAFDRZnq2HqI29-8yKcri_8ChqD50nNblQ7Kzfda3RvupV2JcuJ4MEoXZcUCsaXluLWxW1s_yu2SZ0bTsuPyh1FfVpJ-oOQ=s0-d-e1-ft" style="display: block; height: 1px; width: 5px;" vspace="0" width="5" /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492layout" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="center" class="m_2562021323971039492column m_2562021323971039492scale m_2562021323971039492stack" style="margin: 0px; width: 600px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="m_2562021323971039492text" style="table-layout: fixed; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td align="left" class="m_2562021323971039492text_content-cell m_2562021323971039492content-padding-horizontal" style="color: #403f42; display: block; font-family: Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.2; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 10px 20px;" valign="top"><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jews have a lot of holidays. The Talmud claims that Haman, when libeling the Jews to Ahasuerus, argued that the Jews constantly missed work with the excuse that “today is Shabbat, today is Passover.” Since then, many other employers have had similar complaints. The current Supreme Court case of </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">Groff v. DeJoy </span><span style="color: black;">is the culmination of a half-century-plus of litigation regarding the right to observe the Sabbath and religious holidays.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Jewish holidays move around the calendar. Like the old joke, they are never on time, only too early or too late. Constantly moving dates are confusing enough for Jews, but can be bewildering for non-Jews. A work colleague of a friend of mine wanted to ensure that her Jewish friends could make it to her wedding. This bride knew that the holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur could pose a conflict, so she consulted a Jewish calendar, found the dates, and planned her wedding for another day. The problem was that the bride used the current year's Jewish calendar, not the following year’s; she assumed the dates for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur never moved. As luck would have it, she booked her wedding for the following Yom Kippur!</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The never-ending movement of the holidays magnifies their presence; everyone is constantly checking their agendas to see exactly when the next holiday is going to arrive. The Jewish calendar leaves one with the distinct feeling that every day is potentially a holiday; and that is by design.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The full list of Biblical holidays is found in the Torah reading of Emor (Lev. 23), and each has its own purpose. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur foster spiritual growth and seek divine forgiveness. Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot, the three pilgrimage festivals, celebrate both Jewish history and the agricultural season. Shabbat commemorates the creation of the world.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">But the holidays are not just a random collection of individual celebrations; together, they have a unified purpose. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that the holidays and Shabbat are the counterparts to the Temple. The Temple creates a center of holiness in space where one can find spiritual connection; the holidays create holiness in time, with multiple opportunities for spiritual renewal. To borrow a phrase from Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Shabbat and the Holidays are “a cathedral in time”; and that cathedral is always in plain sight, with the next Shabbat or holiday just around the corner.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Talmud describes the holidays as being “half of for God, and half of for you,” a mix of celebration and spirituality. As one would expect, most commentaries emphasize the spiritual aspects. Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno says the holidays are intended for learning, days when the community should gather to listen to wise teachers. The Kuzari (3:5) sees the holidays as a form of “spiritual nourishment,” and part of a larger cycle that includes the daily prayers. The three daily prayers rejuvenate the soul. After that, the Shabbat repairs what the prayers cannot, and the holidays repair what Shabbat cannot.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Maimonides takes a very different view, and emphasizes rejoicing as the central purpose of holidays. He explains (Moreh Nevukhim 3:43) that "the festivals are all for rejoicing and pleasurable gatherings, which is generally indispensable for humanity; they are also useful in the establishment of friendship, which must exist among people living in communal societies." In a later passage, he talks about the holiday pilgrimage as reinforcing the sense of “fraternity of one to the other.” Joy brings psychological benefits to everyone; but it serves a critical communal purpose, in bringing people closer to each other.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The holidays are not merely conduits to the divine; they are meant to bring people closer together. That friendship is what makes the holidays holy.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">It may seem surprising that Maimonides, who is usually depicted as an extreme rationalist, attaches such importance to friendship. The philosophic quest is of such importance that he advises that “every excellent man stays frequently in solitude, and does not meet anyone unless it is necessary.” (3:51.) But, as Don Seeman argues in his article "Maimonides and Friendship", that represents a very incomplete picture. Maimonides emphasizes over and again that friendship is critical to human flourishing. At one point he declares, </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">I say then: It is well known that friends are something that is necessary for man throughout his whole life. …. When he is healthy and happy he will delight in them, in times of adversity he will turn to them, and in times of old age and weakness he will seek help from them. A single tribe that is united …. and because of this, love and help one another, and have pity on one another; the attainment of this is the most important of the purposes of the Law. (3:49.)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">This is not just a rhetorical flourish; it is how Maimonides lived his life. This great philosopher did not live in a garret, alone. Even at a young age he devoted himself to the community, and he was a dedicated doctor who spent endless hours with his patients.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Contemporary Jewish philosophers take this idea a step further, and see friendship as opening the door to otherworldly inspiration; one can see a reflection of the divine in the shared love of two human beings. And, as Maimonides wrote, the emphasis on friendship is not a secondary goal of Judaism; it may actually be its most important goal.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Unity requires that no person be left behind. The joy of the holiday is meant to include everyone, which, Maimonides reminds us, requires a person to have an open door policy for people from very different social strata:</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">When a person eats and drinks [in celebration of a holiday], he is obligated to feed converts, orphans, widows, and others who are destitute and poor. In contrast, a person who locks the gates of his courtyard and eats and drinks with his children and his wife, without feeding the poor and the embittered, is [not indulging in] rejoicing associated with a mitzvah, but rather the rejoicing of his gut. </span><span style="color: black;">(Holidays 6:18)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">The Talmud also says that the ordinary rules regarding the </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;">am haaretz</span><span style="color: black;">, the ignorant, whom one cannot trust to keep Torah law meticulously, are suspended on the holidays. Now, they are trusted regarding tithes and ritual purity, which allows everyone to eat from each others’ meals. In support of this ruling, the Talmud quotes a verse that says, “and all the men of Israel gathered to the city, like one man, united as friends.” (Judges 20:11. In Hebrew,</span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic;"> kol Yisrael chaverim</span><span style="color: black;">.) On holidays, when the community gathers, everyone must be united as one.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Bringing people together is the challenge of the 21st century; Social isolation is the order of the day. Overwork, combined with an at the fingertips availability of endless food and entertainment, has led to cocooning, where people wrap themselves up in their own little bubbles. Email and social media have replaced in-person connections, and as a consequence we have lost the ability to bridge social gaps. Politics has become so toxic that people break off relationships with friends and family.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">So, rabbis and communal leaders make speeches about fostering community and building consensus. Everyone agrees it is a serious subject; but it is also seriously ignored. And that’s because consensus is perceived as something that is nice but not something important.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Consensus has an image problem; it is soft and sweet, like a young child’s Mother’s Day card. On the other hand, politics is powerful. The language we bring to debate is filled with military metaphors. Opinions are strong. Arguments are strong. To bring people together is what kindergarten teachers do; but to launch into battle is what generals do, to be competitive is what CEOs do. That’s why we don't respect consensus.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Yet consensus is the very goal of the holidays. They are meant to bring together the wealthy and the poor, and connect comfortable families with widows and orphans. They are meant to unite the ignorant with the learned, the less observant with the pious. They are days of solidarity and connection, because that is the very purpose of the law itself.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;">Consensus isn't just nice. Without it, we will have failed as a community and as individuals. And as Jewish history has taught us time and again, the end of solidarity is the beginning of exile.</span></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>Rabbi Chaim Steinmetzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00927664495724913102noreply@blogger.com0