Getting Back on Your Feet, Without a Leg to Stand On

Determination is inspirational, but true optimism is holy.

An example of both is Thomas Garber, who tells his own story in Newsweek:

I felt fine until I got home around 10:30, when my back began to ache. Neither a hot shower nor pain reliever brought any relief. By 11:15 the pain was so bad that my wife called 911. When the ambulance arrived, I stood up and walked over to the gurney. I have not been able to stand or walk since.

Five weeks later I returned to my home as a 48-year-old paraplegic.

Garber considered giving up. But with determination, he learns how to do everything again, including:

… You first learn how to sit up without passing out or falling over, because your center of gravity is so high and your blood pressure is so low (without any muscles contracting below the level of injury, there is nothing to pump the blood back to the heart). You discover how to use the restroom in ways that you never thought possible. You learn how to shave, shower, dress, and transfer to a wheelchair. You learn that negotiating curbs, sidewalks, and ramps is best in a wheelie position. You learn to drive a car using hand controls and spinner knobs, and bristle at the countless numbers of able-bodied individuals who insist on using handicapped parking spaces….

Garber’s story inspired me, and frankly, I can’t ever get enough of inspirational stories. Determination, courage and inner strength are qualities we all need to overcome obstacles. Life is tough, and the road to happiness requires true inner strength.

But what touches me the most about Garber’s story is his authentic optimism. Instead of cursing his shortcomings, Garber finds hope in appreciating what he has:

You remember the things you used to do and wonder if you'll ever be able to do them again. And just about the time that you're ready to give up, you look around and consider the needs of others who are even less fortunate. And you think to yourself, "You know, it could be worse."

I have learned that every day is a blessing, and an opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others.

Optimism is not founded on denial. It is not founded on naivete. It is rather founded on simple appreciation, the ability to be grateful for everything one has. True optimism is the ability to count one’s blessings.

And counting one’s blessings is of course a religious responsibility. The Talmud (Berachot 60b) reminds us how every moment we have to appreciate even the smallest aspects of our daily routine. The Talmud tells us how we are obliged to make a series of blessings in the morning, thanking God for all we are endowed with:

When he hears the cock crowing he should say: 'Blessed is He who has given to the cock understanding to distinguish between day and night'.

When he opens his eyes he should say: 'Blessed is He who opens the eyes of the blind'.

When he stretches himself and sits up he should say: 'Blessed is He who looseneth the bound'.

When he dresses he should say: 'Blessed is He who clothes the naked'.

When he draws himself up he should say: 'Blessed is He who raises the bowed'.

When he steps on to the ground he should say: 'Blessed is He who spread the earth on the waters'.

When he commences to walk he should say: Blessed is He who makes firm the steps of man'.

When he ties his shoes he should say: 'Blessed is He who has supplied all my wants'.

When he fastens his girdle, he should say: 'Blessed is He who girds Israel with might'.

When he spreads a kerchief over his head he should say: 'Blessed is He who crowns Israel with glory'.

But it’s not always easy to count one’s blessings. It is a battle to keep up an optimistic face, when all of a sudden, your list of blessings is a lot shorter. Under such circumstances, optimism is an act of faith, the ability to find the good in God’s creation.

Or, as someone once explained to Garber:

“Sorrow looks behind. Worry looks around. Faith looks up."

Don’t Sell People Short

You can encapsulate Judaism’s teachings on disabilities into one simple commandment:

Don’t sell people short.

This idea is expressed most directly in the first chapter of the Bible, which declares:

“And God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him”. (Gen. 1:2)

The Bible doesn’t hold back when describing humanity; it says that every person is a reflection of God. Like God, we are all endowed with creativity and spirituality. It is therefore our religious responsibility to appreciate the infinite in every human being, no matter what their physical limitations may be.

It is our religious responsibility not to sell people short.

It is easy to sell people short. The dangerous phrase “quality of life” is now misused to rationalize pulling the plug on the elderly and infirm, because their care has become too complicated. Even worse, the idea that one must have a certain “quality of life” has led to the romanticization of suicide, seducing people with serious illnesses to give up hope and “die with dignity”.

We repeat the mantra of ‘quality of life’ until we are confronted with evidence of the infinite soul that lurks behind physical limitations. The recently released movie “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”, tells the true story of Jean-Dominique Bauby, a French journalist. Bauby is afflicted with Locked-In Syndrome, a condition that leaves him totally immobilized, with only the slightest control over his left eyelid. Yet even in this condition, he writes a powerful and inspirational book, by blinking his eye to an assistant. (It took an average of 2 minutes to blink each word).

While Bauby’s story is exceptional, it teaches a universal lesson: life is sacred. It is easy to consider Bauby, a young man who suddenly finds himself completely paralyzed, a pitiful being who is better off dead. Yet Bauby’s memoir reminds us of the infinite value of life, and that a being created in the image of God should never be underestimated.

For too long, we have sold people with disabilities short. Generations of people with disabilities were marginalized and ignored. For hundreds of years, the deaf were assumed to be ineducable, until Charles-Michel de l'Épée systematized sign language and opened a school for the deaf in 1755. His innovation allowed the deaf to receive proper educations, to succeed and excel. Similar innovations such as braille, prosthetics and special education strategies have transformed lives, and allowed people to more fully express their image of God.

I am extremely hurt when religious communities fail the disabled. Schools and institutions, more interested in avoiding inconvenience than in embracing challenges, give the disabled the run around. I understand why parents and advocates feel so let down when this happens; it’s forbidden for us to sell people short.

Yet at the same time, I can see inspiration everywhere. I am inspired by the parents and teachers who devote their lives to helping disabled children reach their potential. With patience, effort and creativity, they refuse to sell people short. Their efforts truly embrace the imperative of respecting everyone as beings created in the image of God.

I am even more inspired by the disabled themselves. They have to keep trying, in the face of profound challenges. They have to deal with prejudice and discrimination. But even more significantly, the spirit they bring to the world inspires us to remember the soul we all have inside. Love is the language of the soul. No matter what a person’s disabilities may be, their image of God shines through every time they give us a caring glance, a simple hug or a beaming smile.

And it’s in those moments we remember how important it is to appreciate every human being, and to never, ever sell people short.

(The previous article is set to appear in Exceptional Family, a magazine for parents of exceptional children, which is edited by a member of our synagogue, Aviva Engel.)

Hedgehogs, Heroism, and Foxes

Are you a hedgehog, or are you a fox?

The philosopher Isaiah Berlin divides thinkers into two categories: hedgehogs and foxes. A hedgehog only knows one dramatic way of engaging its enemies: rolling into a ball and pointing its barbs outwards. Similarly, “hedgehog” thinkers have one central idea or vision, around which all of their thought is structured. “Fox” thinkers, on the other hand, employ multiple approaches in a less than unified fashion. (Which resembles the fox, who employs a variety of strategies to hunt his prey.) This is an excellent metaphor for world of ideas; there are thinkers with one big idea, and big thinkers with lots of small ideas.

I’d like to extend this metaphor to the world of action as well.

There are hedgehog accomplishments, and fox accomplishments. In the Bible, many of the figures are hedgehogs. People such as Abraham and Moses transform world history through their remarkable faith and leadership. History books focus primarily on the activities of “hedgehogs”, including state builders like George Washington and David Ben Gurion.

However, most of us won’t be hedgehogs. For the rest of us, there is still the possibility of heroism, albeit, of a different sort: the heroism of “foxes”.

A fox doesn’t desire glory and grandeur. Indeed, he is content to know he doesn’t have to transform history by himself. Rabbi Tarphon’s statement in Pirkei Avot, that “It is not incumbent upon you to finish the task”, is the fox’s creed. The fox, aware of his limitations, humbly accepts that he cannot solve the world’s problems single-handedly.

At the same time, the “fox” has much to do. Rabbi Tarphon also reminds us that “but neither are you free to absolve yourself from the task”. The fox is not a quitter; he simply manages his expectations. In fact, because the fox does not desire an immediate triumph, he does not despair in the face of overwhelming odds. Instead of grand gestures, the fox slowly works at changing the world, one good deed at a time.

Indeed, the Torah is made for the heroism of foxes. With a scheme of 613 duties, the Torah is telling us that foxes make a difference. One small act of goodness may seem insignificant; however, an army of foxes, doing hundreds of small mitzvot, can perform the truly heroic.

All of us have been transformed by the deeds of foxes. I can recall how my seventh grade teacher complimented me on a good question; this gave me the confidence to pursue new intellectual vistas. Or how I enjoyed my grandfather’s jovial nature, and how he taught me to always interact with others in a cheerful manner. Usually, it is the foxes, the people who do little things like cook us chicken soup or teach us Talmud, that transform our lives.

Foxes can’t change the world overnight. But they don’t quit either. By changing one life at a time, foxes also accomplish the truly heroic, without fanfare and grandeur.

That's why I'm proud to be a fox.

You Can’t Believe Everything You Read in the Newspaper: The SY Empire, Part II

You can’t always believe what you read in the newspaper. An Anonymous commenter who has a fair amount of experience with the Syrian community took exception with my previous post, and wrote:

First of all, I wouldn't jump to conclusions about the prevalence of the "tribal" attitude based on Jakie Kassin's comments. The author of the article clearly had an axe to grind, and perhaps the comment was not understood properly in context. And in any event, your piece basically accuses the entire Syrian community of a racial attitude as reflected by the edict, and this is simply not fair. Also, I don't know if it's true that this community "emphasizes the exclusion of converts." This exclusion is practiced, but I wouldn't say it is emphasized, it is not a central part of their attitude and lifestyle. I have heard literally dozens - perhaps hundreds - of derashos (sermons –c.s.) from Syrian rabbanim, and read lots of their literature, and the only time I heard the edict mentioned was in the precise opposite context - a prominent Syrian rabbi made the point of how Judaism recognizes the potential of every human being for greatness notwithstanding the Syrian minhag (c.s. – custom) not to marry converts.I generally like your blog very much, but in this instance I believe you are wrongly condemning a large community and disparaging their talmidei chachamim based on one clearly-biased article. I think you should get to know some Syrian Jews more closely before casting such harsh judgment and calling them racist.

In another post, s-he continues:

Just to clarify a bit more my complaint against this post:The Syrian takana (edict –c.s.) was made as a "migdar milsa" (to fix a problem – c.s.) in response to what was perceived as a wave of pseudo-conversions for marriage purposes. The takana is NOT what you make it out to be - a reflection of a fundamentally different attitude towards the Jewish people whereby we are Jewish by blood and race rather than conduct and so on. Personally I'm not comfortable with the takana, but I am honest enough to see it what is, and not turn it into an expression of racism…….

I would add to the commenter’s remarks that s-he is correct, that on the issue of intermarriage the reporter, Zev Chafets, does have a personal axe to grind.

I also agree that I have limited first hand knowledge of the Syrian Jewish community. And I apologize if my own piece was perceived as imputing racist thoughts to the entire Syrian community. (Indeed, I avoided the explosive term “racist” because I didn’t think it was fair.) That was not my intent.

However…….

Let’s be serious about this. Jakie Kassin’s remarks were not made in a vacuum. And here, I’m not talking about Syrian Jews. I’m talking about all Jews. There is way too much tribal thinking in Jewish life. I have heard different versions of it from different people – from a stray remark from a chassid about whether or not non-Jews have the same souls as us, to the nearly secular Jew who has no interest in religion, but can’t imagine his child marrying a non-Jew because “they’re not the same”. Yes, tribalism is a philosophy that a smallish minority of Jews still maintain – but it is still a serious problem, whether you live in Flatbush or Montreal or Israel. I was simply using the Times’ article to highlight an issue that is significant for all Jews.

And to reiterate, tribalism is dangerous for the Jewish community. Aside from the fact that tribalism will at times morph in racism, tribalism is a philosophy that will eventually fail. Jews need to know why they’re Jewish. If we decide to base our identity on being part of tribe, we will forget exactly what it is that made us Jewish in the first place. And a tribe without a higher purpose simply cannot survive.

What Makes a Jew Jewish? (A Response to "The SY Empire")
It is now the most famous Rabbinic proclamation in New York. An 1935 edict issued by the Rabbinate of the Syrian Jewish community was the focus of an article in the New York Times last week. As the article explains:

Most American Jewish communities in those days (and many today) viewed intermarriage as a taboo. Conversion, however, was a loophole. The Edict intended to close that loophole. It proclaimed, ''No male or female member of our community has the right to intermarry with non-Jews; this law covers conversion, which we consider to be fictitious and valueless.''

A 1946 clarification added specifics: ''The rabbi will not perform Religious Ceremonies'' for such unkosher couples. ''The Congregation's premises will be banned to them for use of any religious or social nature. . . . After death of said person, he or she is not to be buried on the Cemetery of our community . . . regardless of financial considerations.''

With these words, Chief Rabbi Jacob Kassin effectively excommunicated any member of his flock who married a partner with gentile blood….
I mean no disrespect to any of the 225 rabbis who have signed onto this edict. But this edict is absolutely wrong, period.

I’m sure a hundred sermons have noted the proper Jewish attitude towards conversion. Included in the responses will be references to multiple sources, such as Rashi’s statement that says that Abraham and Sarah our ancestors were missionaries and that “Abraham would convert the men, and Sarah would convert the women… (Gen. Rabbah 39:14)”. Or Maimonides’ explanation, in a letter to Obadiah the Convert, that the pedigree of converts is greater than that of a natural born Jews:

Let not your ancestry be insignificant in your eyes. Because if we trace our ancestry to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, then you trace yours to the Lord Himself.
And of course, any discussion of conversion must cite the Mishna that says it is a sin to discriminate against a proselyte on the basis of their origin (Bava Metzia 58b).

But forget questions of human dignity and/or political correctness for a moment. This edict gets to the heart of a fundamental question: What makes a Jew Jewish?

This edict, (as it is now percieved by some*), defines Jewish identity as having Jewish blood. As Jakie Kassin, the grandson of the edict’s author explains:

''Never accept a convert or a child born of a convert,''…. ''Push them away with strong hands from our community. Why? Because we don't want gentile characteristics.''
Here you have a simple, chauvinistic explanation of Jewish identity; Jews are Jewish because they have Jewish blood. Jews are a tribe apart, genetically destined to be different than everyone else. Surprisingly, this tribal vision is often subscribed to by marginally involved Jews; they turn their nose up at anything related to Torah, but still expect their children to marry a member of the tribe.

I believe tribalism is one of the greatest threats to the future of the Jewish people**. A Jewish identity that is fixated on tribalism must marginalize spirituality. The tribal consciousness worries about one thing: keeping the tribe together. So, instead of focusing on the Jewish mission to transform the world, tribal Jews seek to build walls to hold others out.

But authentic Judaism was never about genetics. What makes a Jew Jewish is a unique spiritual outlook. Central to this outlook is the desire to transform the world. Ido Hevroni explains the covenantal sign of circumcision this way:

…we find a position represented throughout the Hebraic tradition, from Genesis to the prophets to the rabbinic tradition. This position is unwilling to accept the world as it is, and is therefore characterized by a restless, uncompromising desire for improvement. This view takes on symbolic application with the severance of the foreskin, the marking of the most impulsive organ of the human body with an open and blunt statement: Man is not an animal. Man shares with God the ability to stand outside of and apart from nature. Man is a creation whose horizon of aspirations lies far beyond the satisfaction of his natural impulses. Man wants to change, even to create, the world.
Circumcision, like the rest of the Torah, is about transformation. We can change nature, we can change history, we can change the world. Indeed, the greatest Rabbi of the Talmudic era, Rabbi Akiva, transformed himself from ignorant shepherd into insightful teacher. It is no surprise that according to one tradition, {R. Nissim Gaon, Berachot 27b}, R. Akiva is the descendent of converts. Akiva, like Abraham, reinvents himself and refuses to accept the status quo. Akiva is such an effective teacher of Torah because he embodies spiritual transformation, the very attribute the Torah is founded on.

The best rejoinder to the philosophy of tribal Judaism is the fact that tribalists could never have accepted or appreciated a Rabbi Akiva. But today, tribal philosophies of Judaism may be facing a greater challenge: America.

21st century North America is the graveyard of tribes. Various groups, from the Greeks to the Italians to the Armenians, have tried valiantly to hang on to their culture. But the allure of being assimilated into the mainstream has been too strong a force to hold off assimilation.

Jewish tribalists may try to build walls to hold everyone else out. They may find short term success in doing so. But in the end these walls are fated to crumble; no wall is strong enough to stop the onslaught of the American melting pot.

Jewish continuity will only succeed if we can inspire our fellow Jews and all of humanity to embrace the values of the Torah. Each of us must light a fire within that will spread to those around us, transforming ourselves and the rest of the world.

Which is exactly what Abraham envisioned, right at the beginning of the Jewish people.

**(Please note I am not arguing whether or not the Syrian community has been successful in holding off intermarriage. But this community, with a deeply religious, tight knit and committed base, probably could have been equally successful without ostracizing converts or embracing chauvinistic misunderstandings of Jewish identity.)

* (please see the next post)

What’s on Your List?

You need to make a new list. In fact, your soul depends on it.

Human beings are listmakers; it’s what distinguishes us from the animals. (No, that’s not a joke!!).

We make lists for:

Meetings
Phone numbers
Plans
Finances
Tasks
Phone calls
Shopping
Proposals
Sermon ideas (I’m a Rabbi, ok!!)

Sometimes we need a list to keep track of all the lists.

There’s one list I’m working on now. And it’s the most important list anyone can make.

There is a story told about a Chassidic Rebbe and a beloved disciple. Chassidic practice is that the disciples of the Rebbe bring him a kvitl, a note. On this note is a list of things the disciple wants his Rabbi to pray for. One day the loyal disciple visits the rabbi with a kvitl that contains a long list of requests, for every possible wish.

The Rebbe took a long look at the list, and pushed the kvitl back. He looked at the disciple, and said: “you’ve thought a lot about what you need. But have you thought about why you are needed?”

Despite the apparent rejection, the disciple was ecstatic. His friends were puzzled; why was the disciple so happy? After all didn’t the rabbi just reject him?

The disciple explained that from his perspective, the Rebbe had taught him something precious. The Rebbe had implied that he, the simple disciple, was needed in this world.

The disciple got it right. To be needed is the greatest joy. And to find out why we are needed is our greatest obligation.

The 18th century Italian Rabbi, Moshe Chaim Luzzato, begins his classic work, the Path of the Just, by saying that the most fundamental idea in Judaism is to know what our obligation in this world is. To live a meaningful life requires a different type of list, one that lists all the reasons why the world needs us.

In our consumer driven culture, people work hard, and shop hard. Yuppie life has become a well oiled machine, where lists organize our time around commerce and consumption. But there’s barely a moment for the soul, and the most important list remains empty: an answer to the question “why am I needed?”.

I am making this list for the first time. It’s a frightening but exciting process. Why are we needed? To call Mom? To hug the wife and kids? And to accomplish this….or is it to accomplish…that? Or maybe something else…..hmm…I’ve got to figure that out.

You are needed – that’s why God put you on this earth. So make the list. You’ll find it intimidating, exhilarating and confusing.

It will be the only list you ever really need.

Christmas, Salmon, and Jewish Continuity

I’ve been annoyed since Christmas.

Cindy Chupack, the executive producer of “Sex in the City”, is Jewish. And last Christmas, in an article in the New York Times, she declared that she was celebrating Christmas.

Chupack blames the Pottery Barn holiday catalog for her heterodoxy. Overwhelmed by a desire for Christmas Decorations, Stocking Stuffers and Gingerbread Houses, Chupack surrendered to the temptations of kitsch.

Now, I have nothing against gingerbread houses. What disturbed me deeply about the article was the assumption that being Jewish was about having fun.

Chupack repeats the mantra of her childhood: “eight nights is better than one.” Child after child was urged to observe Chanukah instead of Christmas, because Chanukah has more nights, and more gifts. In other words, Chanukah, and Judaism, is more fun.

Actually, the “fun theory” of Judaism is quite widespread. It can be found in multiple books, touting Jewish practice as a multi-purpose tonic, useful for family dysfunction, financial success, and even sexual prowess.

The “fun theory” of Judaism also has deep roots. Maimonides explains the kosher laws as health regulations, topping off his discussion by noting that that Jews don’t eat pigs, because they are unhealthy, dirty animals.

But Maimonides and the “fun theory” are wrong. In fact, Chupack’s article unintentionally unravels the fun theory of Judaism. What if pig is healthy? What if Christmas is more fun? Isn’t Judaism about the fun?

No, it isn’t. Anyone with a passing acquaintance with Jewish History knows that Jews didn’t always have fun being Jewish. Yet we remained Jews because it was, and is, the right thing to do. Indeed, the Torah explains that God chose Abraham in order “that he may command his children…after him, that they may keep the way of the LORD, and do righteousness and justice”.

Too often, we employ “fun theory” types of projects in the service of Jewish continuity. A fashionable and fun event for young Jews is organized without a shred of authentic Judaic content. As laudable as the intent behind these projects is, we need to realize that good fashion will not sustain Judaism. No matter how fashionable a Jewish project may be, there’s always a Pottery Barn catalogue about to arrive with even more fashionable Christmas decorations.

With materialism eroding our spiritual values, and assimilation pressuring a minority community like ours, fun theory is futile. I believe that the answer to Jewish continuity is found in the salmon.

Yes, I said salmon. Why? Because salmon instinctively swim upstream. We need to learn from the salmon that continuity is a difficult, upstream battle. And we need recognize that only an authentic Jewish instinct for justice and spirituality will sustain the Jewish people.

We don’t need better Chanukah decorations to ensure Jewish continuity. Rather, what our community really needs is a greater emphasis on Jewish content and practice, and a few good salmon, willing to swim upstream.