A Disappointing Thanksgiving, and Giving Thanks When Disappointed

Siyum to Shabbat: When Work is Play

 

The conclusion of Shabbat, much like the conclusion of many other Mesechtot, contains a contextualizing and corrective message.

The text reads:

עוּלָּא אִיקְּלַע לְבֵי רֵישׁ גָּלוּתָא. חַזְיֵיהּ לְרַבָּה בַּר רַב הוּנָא דְּיָתֵיב בְּאַוּוֹנָא דְמַיָּא וְקָא מָשַׁח לֵיהּ. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: אֵימַר דְּאָמְרִי רַבָּנַן מְדִידָה דְמִצְוָה, דְּלָאו מִצְוָה מִי אֲמוּר? אֲמַר לֵיהּ: מִתְעַסֵּק בְּעָלְמָא אֲנָא.

 “Ulla happened to come to the house of the Exilarch. He saw Rabba bar Rav Huna sitting in a tub [avna] of water and measuring it. He said to Rabba bar Rav Huna: Say that the Sages said that it is permitted to measure on Shabbat only a measurement for a mitzva. However, with regard to a measurement like this one, which is not for a mitzva, did they say that it is permitted? Rabba bar Rav Huna said to him: I am merely acting unawares and am not at all interested in the measurements. Therefore, it is not prohibited.”

Rabba bar Rav Huna is spending his Shabbat bathing in the house of the Exilarch. This itself is unusual for several reasons. The Exilarch’s house is a place where Shabbat observance was lax (see Shabbat 48a, 55a). In addition he is sitting in a tub of water, which Rabbi Meir has prohibited one to do on Shabbat. And the commentary of Ben Yehoyada points out, onlookers might think the water was hot, which would be impermissible according to all opinions. And then he is measuring, which in ordinary circumstances is prohibited because of its secular or business like nature.

Ulla is surprised by his colleague's actions. But the answer Rabba bar Rav Huna offers opens a window of understanding into what Shabbat ultimately is about. He says that he is merely מִתְעַסֵּק, having some absent minded fun. However, the language of מִתְעַסֵּק is usually a technical term, a category that exempts a person from an action which is completely unintentional; and it hints a much larger perspective.

The meaning of this answer, is that what is considered labor on Shabbat is to a large extent defined by intent rather than by action. After an entire Mesechet which discusses what actions are prohibited, we must again reflect on the mental aspect of Shabbat. The Talmud has emphasized that beyond the technical Halakhic rules of melacha/work, there are categories of weekday-like labors that are restricted as well. But this second type of labor is certainly in the eye of the beholder. Running around the field with a trash picker picking up garbage is labor; running around the same field with a golf club hitting a ball is leisure. Play can resemble work, and may even require some work; but we don’t want to squelch moments of relaxation, even if they seem "not Shabbat-like". Too harsh a halakhic regime would undermine the enjoyment of Shabbat; and those moments of Shabbat enjoyment allow us to celebrate God’s creation and man’s inherent freedom. Because the experience of Shabbat is in many ways subjective, we must find a way for Shabbat to engage hearts and minds. The laws of Shabbat have to find a careful balance, to avoid weekday type labor on one hand, without preventing one's ability to enjoy the day; and Rabba bar Rav Huna sits right at the fault-line between these two values, and reminds us that even a rabbi can celebrate Shabbat by sitting in the bath.

Where Are The Jewish Susan Boyles?

On April 11th, a star was born.

On that day, a frumpy looking 47 year old woman named Susan Boyle, (who was single and unemployed), auditioned for the TV show “Britain’s Got Talent”. She took the stage to condescending glances and derisive smirks; however, by the time she finished singing, she got a standing ovation. Within hours Susan was a YouTube sensation, with the video of her performance totaling a hundred million hits in just a few days. This unknown Scottish woman was actually an exceptional singer whose talent had been overlooked for decades.

The Susan Boyle story reminds us how often we let talent get wasted. All too often, jobs and opportunities are awarded to people based on appearances, connections and relationships. A Harvard degree is now valued not for it’s superior education, but rather because it allows students to comfortably network with the corporate and political elite. All too often talented outsiders find it difficult to pursue their dreams, and the Susan Boyle’s of the world are often left in the cold.

The question the Jewish community has to ask itself is this: where are the Jewish Susan Boyles? How many Jews have been frozen out of our community because they have neither the connections nor resources to be welcomed in?

The culture of Torah scholarship was once profoundly anti-elitist; indeed, the Mishnah exhorts Rabbis to “raise up many students”. The Talmud is filled with tales of outsiders who become significant Rabbis. Shemaya and Avtalyon, the teachers of Hillel and Shamai, were converts. Rabbi Akiva was an ignorant shepherd. Most dramatically, Reish Lakish was a common criminal who got invited into the world of Torah study by the greatest Rabbi of his time, Rabbi Yochanan. The rabbis of the Talmud saw enormous potential in every human being, and insisted on opening the door to “non-traditional students”.

In one passage in the Talmud there is a cautionary tale about the dangers of elitism. The great scholar Hillel was a poor woodchopper who would save his last pennies to pay admission into the study hall. One cold winter day, he simply didn’t have the money to pay the admission fee, and Hillel was turned away by the guard at the door. Hillel decided to listen to the lecture though a window, and in the process nearly froze to death. Luckily, the Rabbis inside spied his image through the window, and saved his life.

This passage has a simple message: if you barricade the doors to the study hall, you’ll leave great Rabbis like Hillel out in the cold. Hillel, a poor, unknown woodchopper, ended up being the leader of the Jewish people.

Today unknown Jews without status or connections are often left out in the cold as well. They remain at the periphery, alienated by a country club atmosphere that pervades the Jewish community. Some are excluded because of money, finding it difficult to pay for day school tuitions and synagogue memberships while struggling to pay mortgages. Others feel excluded by Jewish institutions that are insular and unwelcoming. When an outsider wanders in, they are made to feel like an intruder, as both the layman and professionals show little interest in greeting new faces.

Sadly, our community pays dearly. Years ago, a friend (“Donna”) told me of an experience she had in a synagogue. “Donna” had gotten curious about Judaism, and decided one day to enter her local synagogue. There, she was completely ignored by the congregants, as if she were invisible. “Donna” left the synagogue alienated, and refused to go back to synagogue for years.

It’s important that we take Donna’s experience to heart. “Donna” is an outsider, a Jewish Susan Boyle. And as task force after task force ponders how to fix the problems of Jewish continuity, we need to think about the Jewish Susan Boyles. Oftentimes, these task forces issue exotic and expensive recommendations. In actuality, a critical element in solving the problem of Jewish continuity is free: we simply need to make our institutions more welcoming. We need to say hello to visitors, and include them in our community. We need to invite in the Susan Boyles of our community, and make them feel at home. Who know? Maybe we’ll be welcoming in the next generation’s Hillel.

If we want to find the Jewish Susan Boyles, the answer is simple: they are at the entrance of every Jewish institution, waiting for someone to smile and open the door.