Tuesday, October 8, 2013

It happened in the playground: Why religion matters

Hannah (my 4-yo daughter) was playing with her friend (we'll call her Sarah) and Sarah's brother, Michael, in the yard, when I heard their playful but innocently cruel voices: "Michael's not cute! Michael's not cute!" Sarah's dad, not entirely understanding what the girls had said, acknowledged that Michael was on all four acting like a dog and looking a bit funny.
I did hear what the girls had said, so I called Hannah over, and pointed out that this was lashon hara (hurtful speech). Hannah quickly ran over to Sarah to tell her to stop because it was lashon hara. Sarah's dad gave me a quizzical look--he is Jewish but not observant. I told him that I am pretty strict on lashon hara with my daughter. He said, "I guess if that's your thing, that's fine," which was followed by an awkward but accomodating pause.
Later, after changing the subject and taking the girls for a potty break, I asked him why he didn't use that category with his daughter. He didn't really believe in organized religion, he told me, or see it's necessity in transmitting values. He thought maybe I did all this because I am more spiritual, but I assured him i really haven't been feeling all that spiritual (with all the diapering, feeding, and snack preparation). I just think children need a strong ideological and cultural framework for values as well as specific examples of what it means to be a good person.
This is, I think, the crux of the issue. I don't have much use for "organized religion" as an abstract concept--it's pretty sterile, and who among us really prefers being organized rather than spontaneous? But I truly believe (and this more than anything else is why i stay in the rabbinate) that Judaism has a repository of wisdom and techniques designed to hone our ethical sensitivities. There is a wonderful story about the Chofetz Chayyim, that he once said how you can test a student's knowledge of tractate Nezikim, the incredibly difficult section of Talmud dealing with damages. He said that if someone is visiting your house, and a breeze is coming in the window, and you get up to close the window, then you've studied it properly. Regular Torah study, prayer, kashrut, and much of the regimen of halachah is designed to reinforce this sensitivity. Making us Rahamim, compassion, in the words of the 14th century commentator Nahmanides.
Sadly, it can be applied stupidly or even perversely. The Forward reports the inane prescriptions of fasting imposed on masturbators by Rabbi Batzri (see::) and his generous offer to replace the fast by a fee payable by credit card. Even worse are people who, in the name of religion, are hateful, racist, judgemental, etc. All of this is truly hillul hashem--a "desecration of God's name" which turns people away from religion through banality or even outright evil.
But organized religion (specifically Judaism) gives my daughter a developing sensitivity to how she speaks, which secular culture does not. How will Sarah's father train her not to speak lashon hara? Will he be able to reach the same level of sensitivity and care you get from studying the Hofetz Hayyim? Clearly our own society lacks this sensitivity to lashon hara, to saying anything negative about another person unless absolutely necessary. She gets it not by feeling Jewish, not by learning to chant Hebrew, but by being trained in the serious values at the core of our religion. I study Torah with her regularly (veshinantam levanecha), using especially the amazing childrens' books put out by Mesorah. Will all of this Torah study pay off in terms of her behavior? We will see...

Yom Kippur 5774: Seeing the Miraculous

NB: this essay is really a collage, incorporting sermons by Alfredo Borodowski, Gerald Zelizer, Ed Farber, & Shraga simmons, as well as some references I added in.

The fire and the altar were ready. The knife was touching Isaac’s throat when the angel of God shouted “Abraham, Abraham, stop!”

“Abraham looked up, [and] saw a ram caught in the thicket by its horns” At that moment, when Abraham needed a sacrifice to substitute for Isaac, the perfect replacement appeared before his eyes: a ram, ready for sacrifice.

So where did the ram come from? Did it just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time?

In typical rabbinic fashion there are two opposite opinions as to the pedigree of this ram.

1) One opinion, strongly maintained by Rabbi Eliezer, is that prior to getting caught in the bush the ram was just grazing nearby in the hills. The specific ram Abraham saw was no different from any other ram.

2) In the opposite corner, Rabbi Joshua, who often debated with Rabbi Eliezer, maintains that this ram was created on the sixth day of creation, on the eve of the first Shabbat, for the very purpose of being ready to replace Isaac. Where was the ram kept since the time of creation? The ram was suspended in time, grazing in the Garden of Eden under the tree of life



What a strange debate! What difference does it really make if the ram was grazing in the hills of Judea or in Paradise, or in a backyard in Brooklyn? What could bring these two distinguished sages to argue about such a seemingly irrelevant question? What really divided these two sages?

Rabbi Joshua’s and Rabbi Eliezer’s positions are diametrically opposed. Rabbi Joshua, who brings the ram all the way from paradise, actually does not believe in miracles. The ram had to be included as part of creation, embedded in the DNA of history, in order to be used at the precise moment that Isaac was saved. For him, there cannot be true spontaneous miracles, changing nature on the spot; only rare spectacular events programmed within the natural order.



On the other hand, Rabbi Eliezer, who believes that the ram was like any other, finds the miraculous in everything. For him God can work miracles at any time either through nature or by breaking the laws of nature.

Let me ask you a question. If I were to give you a choice, whose opinion would you follow? Would you follow Rabbi Eliezer who believes that miracles really exist and present themselves in our lives, sometimes in ordinary ways and other times in extraordinary ways? Or would you follow Rabbi Joshua who believes that God has only a very limited supply of spectacular events, which are programmed within nature?



Each one of us has a slight preference either for Rabbi Joshua or for Rabbi Eliezer. Some of us are more skeptical and see the world mostly through the prism of reason. Others are enchanted by the beauty and mystery of the world and see God’s hand in ordinary events. Some of us see life in a very natural and progressive way. Others wonder about events that seem to be more than mere coincidences. Most of us vacillate between the two schools. Some days we feel that our lives are engulfed in the extraordinary and other days we wake up feeling that all that is around us is ordinary. Sometimes we feel we are victims of chance and randomness, while other times we feel we can glimpse a mysterious force steadily moving us in a certain direction.



Was the ram a miracle, or a coincidence?



Do I see world as miraculous or not?



Last summer, I read the Life of pi, a book which also came out as a movie.

Early on, the main character arranges to meet a friend of his, Mr. Kumar, who is religious, at a zoo, and happens also to run into his teacher, who is also named Mr. Kumar. He takes them both around the zoo, which they experience completely differently. After they all admire the creature, the rolls-royce of equides, Mr Kumar the teacher declares “equus burchelli boehmi.” Mr kumar the baker, on the other hand, just praises God. Mr. Kumar and Mr. Kumar are two different ways of approaching reality.

The main plot of the movie is that Pi, the main character, somehow survives a shipwreck, and survives on a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger aboard until they float to mexico. When they arrive, and Pi explains how he got there, the people who found him can’t believe him, and come up with different explanations.

Pi’s argument in favor of his story is not that it’s more plausible than theirs, but that “it’s a better story.” Sometimes seeing a zebra as equus burchelli boehmi is a better story, if I am studying evolution, biology, or medicine. But seeing a zebra as an amazing creation by God is a better story in the way it enriches my life, enables me to lead a life of meaning.

I can see the world scientifically, what heschel called dry facts, or I can see it as a miracle, as divine creation. Heschel calls this radical amazement. I can try to explain reality, describe it with scientific laws, which is very useful, but sometimes it is important to just be amazed that it exists, to be awed by the mystery behind a zebra, behind the sun and moon and stars, behind my own existence.



Celts have term: “think and thin moments”

The idea is that there is a veil between this world and the other world

Thin moments—moments/places where veil lifted

Very thin moments: recognition of miraculous forces itself upon us

Eric Weiner writes travel pieces for the New York Times. Weiner talks of “thin places” in travel. He says “It is admittedly an odd term. One could be forgiven for thinking that thin places describe skinny nations, like Chile; or cities populated by thin people; Los Angeles. No, thin places are much deeper than that. They are locales where the distance between heaven and earth collapse and are able to catch glimpses of the divine or the transcendent or the inscendent whatever. We are jolted out of all the ways of seeing the world.”

Eric Weiner says that a “thin place” is not necessarily a tranquil place or a fun one. Weiner, Disney World is not a “thin place.” Nor is Cancun. Those places may relax us, but they do not transform us. Weiner writes: “In thin places time is not something we feel compelled to parse or hoard. There is plenty of it to go around.



My experience outside of santé fe—seemed like there was a spiritual opening there, among cliffs west of santa fe, bordering a vast open plain leading to the city. I could imagine if I were a native American, wanting to burn incense there to mark the sacredness of the spot. Not incidentally, this was a location which had an unusual number of pictographs. Apparently I was not the first human to notice this place.



I also had the experience of standing on top of mt adams—saw the world spread out under my feet like a carpet, experienced awe at the grandeur of creation



For our people, Jerusalem is that place, where the veil becomes transluscent. This is why creation started there, the energies of divine creativity entered the material world through that nexus. This is why we pray facing Jerusalem.



The Messianic era is a time when the veil will be lifted, the world will be full of knowledge of god. And Shabbat is such a time, me-ein olam haba, a taste of the world to come.

Are there historical events where the veil is lifted?

Are we living in miraculous times?

Most of us would say no, miracles are something from the bible,

Maybe we believe it, maybe not, but that kind of thing doesn’t happen now

In the events of the book of esther, which we commemorate with purim, god doesn’t appear

Just like our time: God’s role in universe is hidden

But we acknowledge that god was behind our success



Splitting Red sea—you could say rare coincidence of tides and winds, shifting sand bard

Many have said exactly this: rambam says a miracle is just a unique natural event—but he still says it’s a miracle.

Why? Because we choose to see the miraculous

Haggadah: increase number of miracles to 50 & beyond



What about the Yom kippur war?



This week marks the 40th anniversary of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, when Syrian dictator Hafez al-Assad launched a war of annihilation against Israel. The Jewish state prevailed, but for a time things were in real jeopardy; many northern Israeli towns were evacuated and then overrun by the Syrian army. This was a modern day miracle



Some other recent miracles:

1) The first Jewish State in 2000 years was established and the combined armies of 7 Arab countries were beaten back in the War for Independence.

2) 600,000 Israeli Jews went on to absorb 800,000 Jews from the Arab countries into the new tiny Jewish state of Israel – something no country has ever been able to accomplish in such a short period of time.

3) The Soviet Jewry movement supported by the American Presidents and the Congress of the United States managed to bring down the iron curtain and it culminated in 1 million Soviet Jews moving to Israel. and an interesting anecdote, not only the white house, but even the Kremlin has an annual Hanukkah party!

4) for the first time in human history - white men –went into Africa to take blacks out – not to be slaves – but to take them from persecution to freedom in the land of Israel. Over 90,000 Black Ethiopian Jews were rescued and transferred to Israel –Israelis flew planes into the Sudan to take out Ethiopian Jews and the American Government paid the ransom and the bribes.





What do we expect a miracle to look like?

Do we expect a very large hand, the hand of God, reaching down from heaven?

Lifeboat story: drowning man praying to be saved

Boats come, throw him a rope

Dies; god: “why didn’t you grab on to the rope?”

What do we expect god’s hand to look like?



Look at Israel. Look at our survival. Look at your own life.

This is what a miracle looks like.



Living in the miracle is a choice

A choice to notice

A choice to be amazed by life, to live in awe & wonder

Not that it’s a different explanation, rejecting science

A choice to see the universe through the eyes of amazement



Contemporary debate over Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut:

We can choose to see Israel as a miracle, say Hallel,

Or we can choose to see it as just another fact

Heschel calls: a dry fact



If we choose to view life through the eyes of miracle, it transforms my approach to life.



Yehuda halevi: live a richer life—experience the spiritual side of everyday experience. Nourishes me, elads to a richer experience of life.



Realizing divine love inspires us to practice divine love

Today marks the 100 year anniversary Franz Rosenzweig’s non-conversion:

What happened? He was considering converting to Christianity, but he went to shul on yom kippur, and then announced it was unnecessary to convert. He subsequently wrote his magnum opus, the Star of Redemption, a theology defending Judaism.

In that work, Rosenzweig says there is a basic experience of god’s love & God’s command, in which god says: ‘love me’



Choosing to sense the miraculous, choosing to experiencing divine love in the world, inspires us to practice divine love.



We become each others angels,

each others miracles

the answer to each others prayers


As we begin a new year, I invite all of us to strive to fill the world with so many good actions that we will naturally increase the chances for the extraordinary. Like throwing a bottle into the sea of life, we never know the potential far reaching effects of a good simple action. Spread as many acts of goodness as you can, large or small, create moments of holiness, and use your wealth to help those in need. You never know how what is ordinary to you may be miraculous for somebody else.

May this be a year in which each one of us becomes a miracle for somebody else, perhaps without even knowing it.

Kol Nidre: Taking Back the Past

I want to start tonight with a very odd idea which we find in the megillah of Esther. King Ahashuerous, who has no idea of his own but is led by his advisors to approve wild acts of violence, sends out an order to kill the Jews. When Esther reveals that she is Jewish, the king does not revoke his decree, because the word of the king cannot be revoked, so he instead authorizes the Jews to fight back.

It’s an interesting idea: the decree of the king cannot be taken back. Once the king issues a statement, he can’t back down, he can’t change his mind.

What a terrible policy! How can you run a kingdom if you can never revoke a decree?

It is a problem we also face in our own relationships. We say harsh words which are hard to take back. We take strong positions, and paint ourselves into a corner. How do I take back, “I will never do that,” or “you’d better do this”, “don’t you dare do that?”? How do I take back, “you disgust me?” or “I hate you”? Or “I’m not going to talk to you again.”

Once I have spoken a harsh word, it is hard to take it back, so how do I continue? If I say I absolutely will not go, how can I then compromise without appearing weak? If I say, “I hate it when you do …,” how can I then back down to, “I really love and appreciate you”? How do I kiss and make up when the past is still real.

I want to share some Jewish wisdom on this issue. The three teachings that I am bringing are about peace, flexibility, and the importance of forgetting.

1. Peace

To move on from a fight, we also need to remember that peace, according to Judaism, is valued above everything else. In the Sotah ritual, when a suspected adulteress is put to trial, as part of the ritual a cohen dissolves a parchment with the divine name in a bowl of water. The Talmud tells us, that peace is so valuable that God lets his own name be erased for the sake of peace. Domestic harmony is more important than God’s honor, and certainly more important than my own.

We often forget that peace is so much more important than the content of whatever we’re fighting about. I met a man this summer who was going through a divorce, because (according to him) his wife wouldn’t agree to abide by a household budget. I am sure there was a second side of the story, but the story shocked me: Is getting divorced really better than hammering out a budget? And so many of our arguments are far more trivial: who was supposed to wash the dishes? Did I or didn’t I ask you to put the salt shaker away? We can argue about things that are truly trivial, and ruin our relationship with the argument. We need to remember that our relationship—our marriage, our community—is so much more valuable than the trivial thing we’re arguing over.

So putting my honor aside, putting aside the fact that I may have been right and may still be right, and doing what it takes to create peace. If I have hurt someone’s feelings, even if they were oversensitive or just plain wrong, I dig up my humility and find something I can apologize for, even if just hurting their feelings. I admit they have a point, even if they don’t or even if it’s not a very good one. I place peace above all else.

2. Flexibility

The second way we defuse situations is with flexibility.

One piece of advice the Talmud teaches us is that we should be flexible like a reed and not stiff like a cedar. In fact, the Talmud tells us, the reed is used for writing Torahs because of this feature. Torah observance is not about maintaining an absolute position, being right and making no space for other opinions. It is about flexibility, creating a respectful dialogue with people I disagree with.

Being flexible means when I first say what I think, I should build some flexibility into it. I should never issue ultimatims, draw lines in the sand that I then obligate myself to act on.

Being flexible also means that even if I did issue an ultimatum, I should find a way to back down, to de-escalate.

Baba Metzia starts out: 2 people (they are anonymous, but let’s call them Hymie and Shlomy) are holding on to a tallis, this says “I found it,” and so does the other, this one says “it’s all mine,” and so does the other. So what do they do? They both take an oath “that I own no less than half of it,” and split it.

Interesting oath: each one really believes he owns the whole thing, so the oath is worded very precisely, “I own at least half.” It creates a framework where they can split it, respecting each of their viewpoints. When Hymie says “I own at least half,” he isn’t saying anything he doesn’t believe, but he also isn’t speaking his full truth. He is backing down a little bit, to make room for Shloimy’s claim.

When Hymie backs down, it makes space for Shloimy to say what he believes, at least a little bit. Both of them start to speak their truth.

Like Hymie with his tallis, to get my way a little bit, and also make room for the other person’s position.

We have a lot of compromises here at FJC; some people would say it makes us schizophrenic, like we can’t make up our mind. One day we have a mehitza, one day we don’t; one day women are opening the Torah, the next they are not.

To some people, compromise looks weak, wishy washy. Some people think you shouldn’t back down from your word, once a threat has been made they have to carry it through. And in fact, the Torah talks about vows, and the obligation to carry them through.

There is a horrible episode in the Bible (Judges 11:4-5):

Jepthath is fighting a war against the Ammonites, and he needs God’s help to win it.
So Jepthath makes a bargain with God.

He says, “hey God, if you give me this victory...then I’ll sacrifice to you the first thing that comes out of my house.”

Jepthath wins the victory, goes home to celebrate...and low and behold his daughter comes running out of his house first to greet him.

Jepthath is horrified, but he knows what he has to do...so he sacrifices her to God just like he promised.

Really, this is an example of the terrible consequences of always following your word, even for the bad, of strictly holding the course, of never backing down.

Judaism says the opposite: it says that flexibility is the only way to be a holy vessel.

backing down shows that we can accommodate different people, and keep peace between them. The beauty of the Talmud is that rabbis disagreed, and they never killed each other over their disagreement. By allowing space for other opinions, they opened the door for a different voices, and for dialogue, which only happens when you have more than one voice.

3. Forgetting

Finally, we defuse situations with the human power of forgetting.

The midrash teaches that every human capacity was given to us for us to sanctify it, for us to use for a holy purpose. The feel-good emotions are easy to understand: We can sanctify our love by loving God, loving our spouses and our neighbors. We can sanctify our anger by being angry at evil, and at our own capacity for evil. We can sanctify jealousy by being jealous of other peoples’ learning and mitzvot.

So why do we have the capacity to forget? How can that serve a holy purpose? So we can forget the wrongs done to us by others. Just as God forgets our own sins, we need to forget the things others have done which upset us, in order to continue our relationships.

In fact, this is one meaning of the term kapparah, as in Yom Kippur. Kapporet was the curtain that covered the Holy of Holies, sealing it from any possible contamination. We pray for God to cover and pass over our sins.

There is an interesting mitzvah in the Torah from the time of the camp in the desert. The Jews are told, when they need to attend to their personal needs, they should go outside the camp and dig a hole with a spade. Doing this they keep filth out of the camp, they keep the camp holy.

Jorge Luis Borges tells the story of Funes the Memorius, a man who could remember every single detail of his outer and inner life. “He was able to reconstruct every dream, every daydream he had ever had. Two or three times he reconstructed an entire day…but each reconstruction had itself taken an entire day. ‘I, myself, alone, have more memories than all mankind since the world began’…and also…’my memory, sir, is like a garbage heap.” Funes was crippled by a horseback accident, but metaphorically, he was crippled by his perfect memory, by his inability to forget. Memory is a blessing and a curse. It defines us, helps us understand who we are, where we come from. But it also can paralyze us, make us unable to go forward into the future, to be open to the present. Relationships can survive only if we forget, cover up, move on.

There is value in covering over history, in forgetting and moving on. In fact, this is what we ask God to do today with our own sins, forget, move on, so we can have a fresh new year. And this is what we need to do in our relationships, too: forget what was said, forget what was done, move on, start a fresh new year.



Conclusion



The High Holiday season is about remembering our past year, our mistakes, trying to undo and fix those things we have done wrong.

In the book of jeremiah, God says “I remember the mercy of your youth.” May we remember with mercy, may we forgive, forget, move on, move forward with compassion, love & understanding.