Tag: Torah Tidbits

Maintaining the Bible as Inspiration, and Science as… Science

Rabbis across the country are joining with Christian and other clergy to “affirm our commitment ot the teaching of the science of evolution.” In a world where various fundamentalists want to mix religious teachings (so-called “creationist theories”) with bone fide scientific theory in science classes, we raise our voices to challenge this religious indoctrination. Our Union for Reform Judaism passed a policy statement on “The Politicization of Science in the US“. I signed onto the Rabbis Letter today. Read about the project here.

An Open Letter Concerning Religion and Science From American Rabbis As rabbis from various branches of Judaism, we the undersigned, urge public school boards to affirm their commitment to the teaching of the science of evolution. Fundamentalists of various traditions, who perceive the science of evolution to be in conflict with their personal religious beliefs, are seeking to influence public school boards to authorize the teaching of creationism. We see this as a breach in the separation of church and state. Those who believe in a literal interpretation of the Biblical account of creation are free to teach their perspective in their homes, religious institutions and private schools. To teach it in the public schools would be to assert a particular religious perspective in an environment which is supposed to be free of such indoctrination. The Bible is the primary source of spiritual inspiration and of values for us and for many others, though not everyone, in our society. It is, however, open to interpretation, with some taking the creation account and other content literally and some preferring a figurative understanding. It is possible to be inspired by the religious teachings of the Bible while not taking a literalist approach and while accepting the validity of science including the foundational concept of evolution. It is not the role of public schools to indoctrinate students with specific religious beliefs but rather to educate them in the established principles of science and in other subjects of general knowledge.

Ein Avdat and Midbar Torah Study: Desert Spirituality

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Torah came alive in the Negev. Leaving our Dead Sea hotel early in the morning, we traveled down to Ein Avdat, a natural park/hiking reserve, encompassed within the vast Wilderness of Zin.

Alexandra read from Ezekiel, about God being found in the kol d’mama daqa, the still small voice. She recounted for us the challenges of faith. About how the Biblical Israelites drank water from the wells which followed Miriam around (or, which through her special skills, they always found), until Miriam suddenly died. Here – in the Wilderness of Zin – the Israelites kvetched from lack of water. Here, God told Moses to take his staff, touch the rock and speak to it, asking it to bring forth water. What happened next is the focus of much midrashic discussion: Moses yells at the people (calling them rebels), asks the people if “we” shall bring forth water from the rock, strikes the rock twice, and is famously excluded from the privilege of leading the people into the Promised Land.

Alexandra, our tour guide, invited us to consider what happened and why Moses was punished. Some said he lost his temper; a leader needs to set an example for the people. Others said that he claimed responsibility for the miracle (saying “shall we…” instead of “God will…”). Still others argued that Moses lost faith however temporarily and therefore could no longer lead.

Here we were, huddled together against the cold, standing within a wadi surrounded by awesome walls of rock, contemplating the most famous rock in all of Torah (rivaled only by the rock that served as Jacob’s pillow in the Ladder from Heaven dream). Far from the classrooms of our youth or the sermons of the synagogue. We were contemplating a anonymous rock and timeless teachings. Somehow, standing in the wilderness, this Torah story became real. The Torah study came alive through us. The discussion seemed to transform us from tourists to Torah scholars.

Someone asked to sing Shema and Listen. We gathered in a circle protected from the winds and intermittent drizzle, that the high walls of the wadi still let in. Eyes closed, interrupted only by a quiet whisper of the words preceding each sung verse so those new to the community could sing along, we sang about faith. We acknowledged the oneness we call YHVH, the Holy One. It was awesome; mystical even.

Like the prayer “Open Up Our Eyes”, this experience opened up our hearts to the awesomeness of Torah study and the poignancy of learning in the land of our ancestors. After a moment of quiet, we did open up our eyes to the sight of an Ibex sauntering across the mini-ledges of the wadi walls. There’s another. And another. It was like a gift from God. “Study My Torah,” says the Eternal, “And I will reveal to you all sorts of blessings.”

Hearts warmed, coats beginning to soak up the new rain, we hightailed it back to the bus before the rain way back there somewhere could translate into a flash flood here.

We did not make it back to the bulrushes and open lake in the middle of the trail as we had hoped. Which so many recalled as being among the most poignant sites on the 2006 December trip. Yet still, this year’s Ein Avdat experience had its own power – different but equivalent – to last year’s trek. About Torah we teach “Ben Bag Bag said, Hafach ba v’hafach ba, d’chola va (?) – Turn it over and over, everything is in it.” Perhaps the same can be said for the land of Israel. Each visit to each site evokes new emotions and new connections, each deeply meaningful.

[Historical Note: I’m writing this at 5:45 am on Wednesday, January 30th, the next morning. Out my window, the light begins to shine off the green-blue waters of the Dead Sea. No one is awake – at least in my hotel room and on the streets and walkways below. Peaceful. I’m wrapped in a bathrobe, contemplating putting on a sweatshirt. The breeze is just cooler than comfortable. I’m hoping that the generally good weather will allow us to venture up to Masada today, instead of bypassing it to rush to Jerusalem before the roads close from the expected snow.]

We visited David (and Paula) Ben-Gurion’s home in Kibbutz Sde Boker. Here is the father of modern Israel, its first Prime Minister, who left government early, of his own accord, and, though significantly older than the young founders, joined a kibbutz in the middle of nowhere. Believing that in the Negev Israel’s future would be found, that a people born in the wilderness needed to return regularly to the wilderness, Ben-Gurion “practiced what he preached.” We toured the archives, viewed his pictures, entered his modest home. I found myself profoundly overwhelmed by how much he inspired me (and millions of others). To make decisions not on what is possible but what could/should be. To live out a dream against hardships. To choose simplicity over opulence. To live with humility in the face of public celebrity. Juxtapose Ben Gurion with our leaders today: Olmert, Netanyahu, Bush, McCain (in his current incarnation)… Who inspires? Who is real? Ben Gurion seems so very real in contrast to them all. This could be the intentional manipulation of a “presidential library.” Or it could be just the way it was. Whichever, I thirst for leaders of this caliber.

Looking out over the graves of David and Paula BG, one sees the awesome stretches of the Negev. Too inspiring to put into words, this incredible view drudges up a vague memory that the Old Man chose this site himself, to ensure that his visitors left not with a memory of a gravestone, but with a picture postcard perspective of his great love of the desert.

[Wednesday morning note, 6:44 am: The sun is breaking through the clouds. A small pink patch among the blue-grey. A hopeful sign.]

Midbar Torah Study – there is a pluralistic, secular Torah study institution that brings together adults of all religious backgrounds for learning. They juxtapose Jewish texts (which, of course, even secular Israelis can read and have experience from High School reading), with modern Jewish thinkers like Rosenzweig, with psychologists like Maslow, with modern Israeli poets. The result is a redirection of understanding about what is Jewish learning and the opening of a pluralistic discussion about many issues. We talked about Why Was Torah Given in the Wilderness, which opened a great discussion about the how Torah is the property of all peoples, not just the Jews, yet it is also the property of all kinds of Jews, not just one tribe or one denomination. There was more, but too late to write now. Suffice it to say that the process was akin to a Reform Jewish pluralistic study. Perhaps through this secular organization, Progressive (Reform) Judaism can then find roots. Our people were very excited about the Torah study; some had never participated in this kind of deep study before.

Dinner in Yerocham happened in the home of one of the residents. A nice meal, the home hospitality sweet. Unfortunately, their ability to share their stories was not strong and the story we did hear – about someone who chose to move to a development town, was not what we expected to hear.

Incidentally, a lesson from a previous year’s Sefirah Study about contemplation in Torah Study.

Consider a coal that is not burning and the flame is hidden and closed inside. When someone blows upon it, then it spreads and flares and it continues to expand. Within this flame there are many different colors, which were not apparent initially; nevertheless, everything is coming from the coal.

So too with this Torah that is before us. Every one of her words and letters are like coal. When one sets them out as they are, they appear like coals, somewhat dim. If an individual endeavors to study her, then from each letter a great flame bursts forth, filled with many colors. These are the data that are hidden in each letter….as is explained in the Zohar…supernal lights shine on the letters. [From (KL’’CH Putchei Hochma 3) Moshe Hayyim Luzatti; From the introduction to Doorways to Wisdom cited in Marc Verman, History and Varieties of Jewish Meditation, 167.]

[My teacher Linda Thal once wrote: Torah is not studied with the mind alone. Contemplative forms of study help us encounter the text with a listening heart and a receptive soul. The goal is to enter the text and to dwell within its words, to be open and receptive to whatever sacred wisdom may come to you through the text or to the possibility of sensing God’s immediate presence within and between the words of Torah.]

What does it mean to make Aliyat Hanefesh? Why do I bring my people to Israel every year? This teaching from Hayyim Luzatti makes it clear: Just as the study of Torah allows the light to come forth from the coal of Torah, so too will every inch of Israel bring forth the passionate flame of the love of Israel from the heart of every Jew.

Wordless Dina: The Dark & Light of Torah

By Rabbi Phyllis Berman & Rabbi Arthur Waskow (of The Shalom Center) The same mystical Hassidim who teach that the Torah is Divine Light also teach that there is no way to light except through darkness: “There was evening, there was morning: one day.” Creation begins in the dark of night; only then can it dawn, and finally both dark and light become one whole. Streaks of dark remain forever in the One Day.
There are streaks of darkness in the weave of Torah light.
The two of us fell into one such darkness as we were leading a class on sexuality in Torah.. We asked people to read as overnight homework the brief story of Dina (Genesis 34:1-31, which is part of the traditional Torah reading of this week).
Dina, the one daughter of Jacob who is named alongside his twelve sons, goes out to “see the daughters of the land.” There she is raped by Sh’chem, one of the local Canaanite notables. He falls in love with her and asks to marry her. Jacob sons insist that he and all his clansmen be circumcised before they can be permitted to marry an Israelite woman. They agree, and on the third day, when they are in most pain from the cutting, two of Jacob’s three oldest sons fall upon them and kill them all. Jacob accuses these two sons of making him odious to the nearby folk, endangering his life and household. Many years later he calls them murderers and denies them the rank due them in birth order.
In the entire story, Dina says not a word.
We asked the class to be prepared next day to speak in Dina’s name. Next day, as we began, a man’s hand shot up to speak for her. “That’s fine,” said Arthur “but before you give your voice to Dina, let’s have two women say her words.”
There was a silence. Then one of the women in the room raised her hand. She stood, closed her eyes, then looked around the circle of our faces:
“Raped,” she said. “I have been raped three times. “Once by Sh’chem. “Once by my brothers, who did not come to ask me what I thought before they did this killing. “And once by the Torah which will not let me speak. By the Torah, which is still raping me.”
She began to cry, and then sat down. There was a long, long silence. Finally we said, “We asked for two women to speak in Dina’s voice. Is another woman ready to speak now?” There was a longer, longer silence.
Then Phyllis said, “Is no one coming forward because you other women feel that Dina has truly spoken — that what we have already heard is really Dina voice?”
All the women nodded. And Phyllis said, “Me too.”
Raped by the Torah. Silenced by the Torah. What can anyone say? What can any man say? Can we keep that moment of darkness alight whenever we wrestle with the Torah?
There was a light that sprang from the darkness of that moment, just as the Hassidim said it would. For in the very same breath that our Dina said that the Torah rapes her, she was saying it by doing midrash on that very Torah. She was drawing on that same sacred text of sacred rapist Torah, in order to weave a new tale into that sacred rapist text.
A radical midrash. Perhaps the most radical imaginable midrash, for it negated the Torah in the moment of affirming it. Affirmed it by negating it. Negated it by affirming it. The light could not be separated from the darkness. Smile away the dark discovery, and enlightenment would also vanish with it.
Like running headlong into a Black Hole of seeming emptiness and utter possibility, the Holy Hole that may nurture an entire universe abirthing, a billion galaxies of light and dark that we can never see — from outside.
Is there another Torah hidden within the one we read, to be found only by plunging deep into its darkness?
Sometimes we pretend that the Torah is made of Light alone. Sometimes we
want to skip the passages written in dark and darkening flame, the flame of furnaces. But perhaps only from plunging into these Black Holes, these dark and bloody passages — silenced women, murdered men — can we birth the Torah that will give voice to Dina and give life to Sh’chem. Not by imitating the passages, not by making them our guide to action. But like the woman in our class, drawing on this darkness to see a new way forward.

Our Intern Grew Up: Installation of Rabbi Alissa Forrest

Installation of Rabbi Alissa Forrest
As a Rabbi at Temple Isaiah of Lafayette, CA By Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes, Congregation Or Ami, Calabasas, CA October 11, 2007 * 1 Cheshvan 5768

It is an honor to be here tonight, to stand on the bimah of four esteemed colleagues, Rabbis Roberto Graetz and Judy Shanks, Cantor Leigh Korn and Educator Debbie Enelow, each one beloved and respected throughout the world of Jewish professionals for their wisdom, their warmth, their humility. Each possesses a gutta neshama, a good soul. Because of their leadership, and the partnership between them and your lay leaders, Temple Isaiah is highly regarded all over for your top notch religious school, your active youth group(the largest in the region), your incredible leadership development curriculum, for your strong adult learning programs, and for your openness to exploring new ways of being and doing Jewish. It is an honor to visit a synagogue about which I have heard so many outstanding stories.
It is also a pleasure to welcome Rabbi Forrest’s parents Linda and Richard. Spend some time getting to know them and you will understand quickly why Rabbi Forrest is so warm and approachable. You can tell a lot about how wonderful a person is from the wonderful friends they keep. So please welcome Rabbi Jocee Hudson, Rabbi Forrest’s classmate and friend, now Director of Religious Education at Temple Beth Sholom in Santa Ana. I transmit to you a heartfelt mazel tov from our Cantor Doug Cotler, whose father Ted Cotler was cantor here at Temple Isaiah (your library is named after Ted Cotler). Cantor Doug Cotler cut his cantorial teeth – or better, tuned his cantorial vocals – in this very community. Finally, I bring you greetings from Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, CA for you and for Rabbi Forrest. Know that these greetings are bittersweet, because our congregation deeply admires your Alissa Forrest. In her three short years with us, they came to view our Intern Alissa Forrest as one of their rabbis. We all miss her. A story. A week before he travels up north to install a former intern as rabbi in her new congregation, a rabbi is talking with his son. The child, being inquisitive and exceedingly bright, peppers his father with questions. “Daddy, what is an installation?” The rabbi answers, “Remember when we redecorated the house and put down new floors? We say we installed the floors. Get it?” The son thinks it over and says, “Oh, an installation is when people get to put something down and they get to walk all over it.” Rabbi responds, “Well, yes, but no. We hope that by installing this new rabbi, people won’t be putting her down, but that she will lift them up spiritually. And we pray they won’t walk all over her either. Hmmm, try this. Remember when we bought that new computer program you love? First, we took the computer CD and put it in the disk drive. Then the program installed itself on the computer so you could play with it. Understand?” The son nods his head, “I remember that. It took you four tries to get it to work right, and you kept blaming the program. Is that what’s going to happen at this synagogue when you try to install her?” The rabbi, with a wry smile, answers, “Gosh I hope they won’t blame her every time something goes wrong. But this new rabbi is very intuitive and she’s really a team player. When things do go wrong, we hope they will turn to her in partnership so she can help figure out how to address the challenges.” Confused, the son asks, “Then Daddy, what is an installation?” The rabbi takes a deep breath and tries again. “Remember when we visited that new art exhibit at the Museum? In the weeks before the exhibit opened, the Museum workers installed the artwork.” The son smiles, “Oh, now I get it. An installation is when you make everything look nice so people can look at it but they don’t necessarily have to buy it.” Rabbi, exhausted now, responds, “Well, we hope that they will buy what the new rabbi has to say. She is very bright and thoughtful and her new congregation would do well to listen to her guidance.” “Then Daddy, I don’t get it.” begins the son. At which point the rabbi, having had enough, interrupts his son and telling him, “Go into the living room and install that new light bulb.” As the son walks out of the room, you could hear him whispering, “Ohhhhh, I get it now. To install the intern, turn clockwise.” In the three wonderful years I shared with your rabbi as our intern, I rarely turned her clockwise or counterclockwise. Rabbi Forrest, however, turned around so many programs at Congregation Or Ami. Creative beyond her years, particularly in the areas of community building, formal and informal Jewish education, and youth work, then Rabbinic Intern Alissa Forrest partnered with us to transform Or Ami in abiding ways. Our once tired post-B’nai Mitzvah program was reinvigorated by Rabbi Forrest who, in partnership with our educator, created the Temple Teen Night, an evening of socializing and study that has succeeded in ensuring that 85% of our B’nai Mitzvah students now continue to be involved in the congregation. Simultaneously, Rabbi Forrest created ex nihilo, out of nothingness, a new Saturday morning minyan and Torah study which, in partnership with our tutor, now involves B’nai mitzvah families, is developing committed lay readers, and infusing our congregation with even more Jewish spirituality, learning and warmth. There’s another memorable story in Torah this week: about Noah, the great flood, a multilayered ark, and a bunch of animals wandering around. One day God decides to transform the world and elects Noah to do it. God was investing in this person so much trust and such responsibility. Why did God choose Noah? About this, the Torah only hints. We read nothing about an executive search committee conducting interviews of potential leadership candidates. But we do find clues about what kind of leader we should turn to for guidance and direction. Torah refers to Noah as an ish tzadik, a righteous person. The Torah teaches us tamim hayah bedorotav – that Noah was “blameless in his generation” (Genesis 6:9). When we look for people to guide us, our standards should be equally high. As Rabbi Jonathan Blake writes: Who is Noah? Noah is every man and woman who will swim against the tide when the waves crest high. He is the kid who won’t bully the small boy at recess even when all his buddies are doing it; the shareholder who won’t take the insider tip even when everyone’s sharing. She is the prison guard in a faraway place who won’t join in the humiliation of the captives (and might even hold accountable those who do). He is testimony that God desires not perfection, but the will to strive for excellence. She is the hope that even when it looks like everyone is becoming corrupted, some are not. Some will not. Noah is you and I at our best, when we remember that the power to tarnish the soul, or to polish it, lies deep within every human being. He is, most of all, proof that Hillel’s advice is always timely: “In a place where there are no menschen (ethical people) strive to be a mensch (ethical person)”. You have chosen to welcome into your community Alissa Forrest – a leader, teacher, nurturer, programmer, spiritual being – a rabbi who like Noah lives ethically, strives toward excellence, and will guide you all – adults, teens, individuals, couples and families all – to attain the wholeness and greatness toward which God calls you. You, like God, made a wise choice. Now remember, at the time God installed him, Noah was a relative youngster, a mere 600 years old in a world where people lived to be more than 900. (Alas, we all were like that once. I remember fondly when my beard was black not white, when hair was, well, present.) Like Noah, Rabbi Forrest will fool you with her relative youthfulness. Those of you wise enough to look beyond her age, will turn to her for guidance and support, and will find a depth of wisdom and compassion borne out of experience counseling Jews recovering from addictions and supporting adults lying alone in their hospital beds. You will soon kvell as young families flock toward her enthusiasm for Judaism; teens seek out her genuineness; as each of you come to appreciate her as your teacher and confidante. You see, your rabbi is an isha tama, a righteous person, humble, thoughtful, spiritual. So learn from her. Treat her well. Give her time off to learn Torah. Make sure she has enough time to nurture a personal life. Send her off to Israel and study retreats to nurture her soul. Let her guide you with her innovative ideas. And enjoy. For she is truly amazing! A final story, which I learned from Rabbi Janet Marder. Back in the late 19th century, Rabbi Nathan Finkel headed a yeshiva in Slobodka, a small town in Lithuania. On cold, dark winter mornings, the rabbi used to get up early, cross over the bridge and go into town. He would stop off in all the shtibelech, all the little prayer houses and places of study, one after another. And in each small, dark room, he would light a fire in the oven and stoke the flames before continuing on his rounds. “Why did he do it” his closest friends would ask? And he would respond: “If all the prayer houses and places of study are warm early in the morning, then coachmen, porters and all kinds of people will come in to get warm – and then they will find themselves in a sacred place.” What does a good rabbi do? She helps make the synagogue a warm place — a refuge from the chilly indifference of the streets, the brutal competition of the marketplace, the casual cruelty of the playground – places where people are judged by how they look and how they perform and what they earn and who they know. A good rabbi makes the synagogue a sanctuary – a holy place, a safe and protected space, where people come in out of the cold. “They’ll come in to get warm,” said Rabbi Nathan, “and then they will find themselves in a sacred place.” It is warmth that brings people in – the comfort of finding friends and feeling at home; the knowledge that within these walls, within this place of Torah, a different ethic prevails; here we behave like a mensch: we treat one another with compassion and respect. Your new Rabbi, Alissa Forrest, radiates deep caring and kindness that lie at the core of her being. She understands the power of Rabbi Nathan’s lesson: Let people first get warm – and then they will turn to study, and begin to understand the meaning of a holy place. Remember that little boy in that first story said “to install intern as rabbi, turn clockwise.” I counsel something different. I invite you to turn, to turn your hearts toward Rabbi Forrest, as you do to Rabbis Shanks and Graetz, to Cantor Korn, to educator Enelow and to the rest of the staff. You see, your Rabbi Alissa Forrest is one of the up and coming bright young stars of our Reform movement. And you, Temple Isaiah, are making her one of your own. You should feel very, very proud. Mazel Tov.

Just Two Weeks After Yom Kippur and I’m Already Sinning Again

I confess. It has only been two weeks since Yom Kippur and, oops, I did it again. I sinned. And I feel bad. It happened here in Calabasas around the corner from A.C. Stelle Middle School on Friday, October 5th, at about 3:15 pm.

I was making my way home when I turned off the main road. I immediately found myself negotiating my way through a narrow passage between SUVs lining both sides of the street as they waited to pick up carpools. I watched the steady stream of cars driving down one street veering left and right to avoid the children crossing mid-street.

There in the street stood a woman, leaning toward the window of a big SUV, having a conversation. After observing a few cars swerve around her, I came to believe that she was endangering herself and others by standing in the road. I opened my window and called out, “Could you move to the other side of the car? By standing there you are making it unsafe for our kids.” She and the woman in the driver’s seat of the SUV looked strangely at me and said, “What?” I repeated my concern, “Standing in the street, you are making it unsafe for our kids and yourself. The cars are swerving…” She looked at me again, pondered what I said, and called out, “Shut Up!”

With cars now lining up behind me, I continued forward. I was irritated. My first impulse was to pull off to the side, park and walk back to talk to her. What kind of a response was “Shut Up!”? I wanted to rebuke her for her crassness. Our Torah teaches us (Leviticus 19:18), “Tochecha – You shall surely rebuke your neighbor, and not bear sin because of her.” I only wanted to protect the kids and to ensure that we were all safe. I wanted to protect her too. I didn’t want anyone to be killed by a swerving car.

“Shut Up!” She Called Out

Was that civil conversation? Is this the kind of response one would want their kids overhearing?

The impulse to shake it off won out over the impulse to talk it through. I had two boys at home, waiting (im)patiently for dad to arrive home for a game of catch. Nothing good could come out of a conversation between a do-gooder (as I thought I was) and a woman who responded with “Shut Up”. It is just as the Talmud explains: Rabbi Tarfon said, I wonder if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to accept reproof, for if one says to another: Remove the chip of wood from between your eyes, he would answer: [No, you] remove the beam from between your eyes! (Arakhin 16b) So off I drove, home to my kids.

My Heart Wasn’t Fully into Playing Catch

I kept returning to the concluding line of the Talmud passage, Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah said: I wonder if there is anyone in this generation who knows how to give reproof. Had I been inappropriate with my comments? Regardless of intent, had I somehow transgressed the bounds of appropriate critique? After all, didn’t Rashi, the 11th century commentator, warn us, Though rebuking him, you should not publicly embarrass him, in which case you will bear sin on account of him. Had I embarrassed her by calling out my critique in front of her conversation partner and the other people – kids included – who were standing around on the sidewalk? I was so lost in thought that I missed a few perfectly thrown balls. When one throw narrowly missed bonking me in the noggin, I realized that I had to get my head back in the game.

But I stewed. Why had she reacted so strongly? I remembered a line from 12th century Maimonides, One who rebukes another, whether for [personal] offenses or for sins against God, should administer the rebuke in private, speak to the offender gently and tenderly and point out that he is only speaking for the wrongdoer’s own good… (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot De’ot 6:7). Was there enough gentleness or tenderness in my voice? Or had I been frustrated by this continual back-up on the road home? Did I smile as I shared my concerns or did I have a scowl on my face? Did I say “please”? I was beginning to believe that in my attempt to help others I had somehow harmed this anonymous woman.

Drive-By Criticism

My friend Rabbi Alan Henkin reminds us regularly of the Talmudic caution (Yevamot 65b), Rabbi Ilea said in the name of R. Eleazar son of R. Shimon: Just as one is commanded to say that which will be heard, so one is commanded not to say that which will not be heard. As it is written, “Do not rebuke a scoffer, for he will hate you; reprove a wise man and he will love you.” (Proverbs 9:8). Was this woman just a “scoffer”, one who expresses disdain about everything? I really didn’t know anything about her. Perhaps her child was struggling in school and she was asking advice about how to handle the situation. Perhaps she spent a horrible morning in the hospital, caring for a family member, and now, emotionally exhausted from trying to “hold it together,” she inadvertently lashed out. Was her marriage in trouble and just at that moment, she was sharing her fears for the first time with a friend? I know that if I were in emotional turmoil, I would not react kindly to any kind of rebuke. Especially from someone shouting drive-by criticism.

With this new perspective, I started feeling a little guilty for being so public about my rebuke, wishing I had taken the time to address the problem privately. Yet, at the same time, I am still stinging from her two word response: “Shut Up!” And I know that she was making it unsafe for her, for other drivers and for the students.

Talkback

As I grapple with this issue, I would love to hear you weigh in:

  • What is your reaction to my critique and to her response?
  • Are these issues “black and white”? If not, where is the grey?
  • Do you agree with Maimonides’ instructions that we should “administer the rebuke in private, speak to the offender gently and tenderly, and point out that [we are] only speaking for the wrongdoer’s own good”?
  • How do you react to Rabbi Ilea’s caution that “one is commanded not to say that which will not be heard”?

As always, I invite your insights and comments.

Abraham Failed God’s Test! But God Loved Him Anyway

Each Rosh Hashanah, we read the horrid tale of the Akedah (Genesis 22), the almost sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. Commentators throughout the ages characterize this story as an example of the heights of faith. Abraham loved God so much he was willing to give up the child he waited so long to bear.

But in as much as this might have been a test of Abraham, I read the story as a clear indication that Abraham failed the test.

Consider this: Did God really command Abraham to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering? Read closely. According to one commentary, Midrash Tanhuma, it all hinges on one word – olah. In the Torah, God said to Abraham v’haaleihu sham l’olah, bring up Isaac as an olah. The Hebrew word olah, comes from the root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning, “to rise up.” Must olah here mean, “sacrifice,” as in the smoke of the sacrifice rises up? Or might it be connected rather to a more familiar word aliyah, also from the Hebrew root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning “spiritual uplift?” In this reading, God only said, “raise up your son with an appreciation of your devotion to Me.” Perhaps Abraham was so dazzled to be speaking to God that he became confused. What if he misunderstood God’s intended purpose?

Rashi, the greatest Biblical commentator of all time, also hangs his interpretation on the same word. He explains (on Genesis 22:2), perhaps God was saying, “When I said to you ‘Take your son’… I did not say to you, sh’chateihu, ‘slaughter him,’ but only ha’aleihu, ‘bring him up.’ Now that you have brought him up, introduce him to Me, and then take him back down.” Instead of wanting Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, God really only wanted him to spend some spiritual “quality time” with his son. Had Abraham only paid close attention, he might have spared himself, Isaac, and Sarah a significant amount of stress and pain.

But in a strange twist, the angel of God who stopped Abraham from killing his son responds with love, not rebuke. God praised Abraham. Why would God praise him if Abraham misunderstood the command? Perhaps God, through the angel, reaffirms to Abraham how much God loves him, but also signals that Abraham and his followers should no longer employ cruel or intimidating means to ¬¬show their love for God.

This need not, however, be understood as condoning Abraham’s actions. Rather, the angel’s words remind me of that parent who walked into his freshly painted house. Dad is greeted at the door by his young son who, with a big smile on his face, says, “Daddy, come see how much I love you.” The boy brings his father into the next room and proceeds to proudly show him a picture drawn in magic marker on the living room wall. It was a red heart, inside of which were the words, “Daddy, I love you.” How does a parent respond to such a display of love, especially after spending thousands of dollars to paint the house just right? Most of us would yell, and yell loudly. But if we stopped first to think about it, we might say, with tears in our eyes, “I love you too, my son. Try to use paper next time. And you may not write on the walls. But, I love you too!” Similarly, through the words of the angel, God, the patient One, who cherishes Abraham, teaches love and forgiveness as an example for future generations.

Now consider this… Prior to the Akedah, each encounter between God and Abraham occurs in direct one-on-one conversations. But from this point on, God never again speaks to Abraham directly. All further communication is passed through an angel. Why? Because Abraham simultaneously passed and failed the test. He showed his love of God, yes, but he employed violent means to pursue that love. The use of an intermediary – the angel – proclaims a message for future generations: Abraham really didn’t listen to God’s teachings of compassion, did he? [For footnotes and citations on this reading, see What Does God Want from Us?]

Interested in the implications of this reading of the story? Check out:

Shavuot: Seeking the Light of Torah

We gathered at Karen and Bill Harris’ home for Shavuot. It was an evening of talking Torah, chowing on cheesecake and receiving the gift of the light of Torah.

Greeted by Karen’s delicious homemade cheesecake, we recounted the tradition of eating dairy on Shavuot. Some explain that Jews were given the laws of kashrut (kosher dietary laws) when we were given the Torah on Mount Sinai. Before the Israelites received the Torah, we did not keep kosher. After we received the Torah, we began to keep kosher but we did not have the utensils needed to prepare kosher meat. Thus, we initially ate dairy food. Others argue that Shavuot is linked to the Exodus and the journey to the Promised Land. It is written in the Bible, “From the misery of Egypt to a country flowing with milk and honey…” (Exodus 3:8-17) Still others drash (interpret) that eating dairy food, rather than meat, shows restraint. When the Jewish People accepted the Torah and committed ourselves to follow the commandments from God in it, we committed ourselves to leading lives with restraints. However, my favorite explanation is that of the not-so-sage-like RiPiK (that’s me: Rabbi Paul Kipnes) who teaches, based on the insights of his father Kenny: “You need an excuse to eat great cheesecake?!?”

We learned Torah. The Sefat Emet – 19th century Polish chassidic Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib of Ger – taught: The light of the Torah is garbed in the enactment of the mitzvot as they are in this world… It is within the power of a Jew – when one engages in Torah and mitzvot – to arouse the inwardness of Torah… For when people do not engage in Torah, then the light (hidden within) is not revealed, and it remains concealed within the outer garment… Similarly, the person who engages in Torah is a ben-horin (a free person)…

What a discussion ensued! Hidden within each person is a light – of understanding, of full comprehension, of truth. It is the same light from that first day of creation, when one would have been able to see everything, everywhere. It is the light of Torah with which existence came into being. And it is there, hidden within each one of us, awaiting those moments when we peel away the layers that hide our reality.

We received Torah again in a ceremony Kabbalat Matanat Torah (Receiving the Gift of Torah). Standing in a circle, listening to the shofar sound more and more loudly, we passed Torah from arm to arm. Holding Torah, often like a baby, sometimes with tears flowing, each participant spoke poignantly about how Torah is/was/will be a light for them. And then, na’aseh v’nishmah (we will do and we will learn), we put arms around each other, singing Shehecheyanu, thanking the Holy One for the unique sacred opportunity to again take the light of Torah into our arms and hearts and minds.

Chag Shavuot Sameiach!

Can We Eat Beans, Rice, Corn and Peas on Passover?

Jewish Tradition on Kitniyot and Chametz

Every year, we struggle to recall and understand the Jewish tradition regarding what to eat and not to eat on Passover. With the help of our former Rabbinic Intern Eric Berk, we are pleased to offer this article to clarify the difference between chametz (we don’t eat!) and kitniyot (you may eat).

Simply put, it is okay to eat beans, rice, corn and peas on Passover. Why? Read on.

Have You Ever Experienced Holiness?

I am captivated by our Biblical ancestor Jacob’s sudden connection with holiness. In the middle of nowhere, he experienced the Holy One. At a moment when he least expected it, he touched the Sacred. What was this all about? Where was this place?
My friend, Rabbi Martin S. Lawson, in a Torah commentary, Our Place And God’s Place, wrote:
One of the recurring words in the portion provides a clue to Jacob’s life and to ours. That word is makom, meaning “place,” and it occurs seven times in the first ten verses. On this perilous journey fleeing from his past, Jacob comes bamakom, “upon the place,” and decides to spend the night there. The text itself does not tell us where this was.… It is to this very spot that Jacob flees from his brother Esau’s anger. It is the spot from which Jacob takes a stone to form a pillow and where he lies down. In this place, Jacob dreams of the stairway linking earth and heaven. He awakens, transformed by the night vision. Now he is able to see, to sense Hamakom, a euphemism for the Divine Presence. Just as his grandfather before him came to understand what God asked of him, so now Jacob enters into a relationship with Hamakom–with the ultimate “Place,” with God. Suddenly Jacob is more aware of the task that lies before him. But he still wants to negotiate, to bargain for his way of doing things. Do we bargain like a Jacob? He still is not fully transformed, despite his awareness of the Divine. Are we able to remain in full contact with our highest spiritual self at every moment? Like Jacob, each of us must shake ourselves awake and search for the sense of wonder that he experienced in that lonely place. Jacob cries out, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven” (Genesis 28:17).
Have you ever had a sudden experience of holiness? Of being connected with something greater than yourself? Have you ever experienced God’s presence in your life? Do tell…

Can There Be Holiness (and a Reason for Thankfulness) in the Midst of Suffering?

It’s so moving in this week’s parasha (Torah portion) Toledot, when Rebecca, in the midst of her pregnancy, cries out to God. We read in Torah: But the children struggled in her womb, and Rebecca cried out, ‘Im ken lama zeh anokhi – If so, why do I exist?’ She went to inquire of the Eternal and the Eternal answered her: ‘Two nations are in your womb, two separate peoples shall issue from your body; one people shall be mightier than the other, And the older shall serve the younger’ (Gen. 25:22-23). We ask, is she complaining? Is she just in pain? Does she wonder if God is punishing her? My teacher Rabbi Jonathan Slater of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality reminds us that Rebecca, as our Sages and teachers hold, is a tzadkanit, a fully righteous woman. It would be unbecoming for her to complain about her lot, to exhibit any sort of doubt of God’s righteous judgment and perfect providence. Her outburst of pain and exasperation does not befit her character. So what is happening here? I ASK: Have you ever found yourself wondering why you suffer in a particular manner? How did you work through your pain? What answers did you find? How did you arrive at them? How did you get through your suffering? Our ancient teacher, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev (1740-1810) illuminates the contradictory emotions welling up inside of a suffering Rebecca – she simultaneously wonders if she is being punished for her sinfulness by God (the Ar”i says that righteous women suffer no pain in childbirth – yeah, right!). Rabbi Jonathan Slater interprets Kedushat Levi’s insights: We can understand it in this way. All people experience suffering, and perhaps women – through childbearing – even more so. That generates the fundamental human inquiry: why do I suffer? We probe and inquire, we analyze and assess, all in the effort of coming to an answer. We try to plumb the nature of suffering and to know its source and meaning. Rebecca did just that, and found herself boxed in a corner. She had two theories to explain her suffering, but they turned out to be contradictory in her own experience. She was stymied, almost to the point of despair, of giving up on life. Levi Yitzhak, through this lesson, offers a response: suffering arises from misunderstanding the nature of existence. It comes from seeing a world divided between holiness and impurity, between good and evil, between nation and nation. Suffering arises from participating in the generation of further conflict and opposition, in setting what is in contention with what we want, expect, fear. The way out of suffering is not through reasoning, through dissecting, through analysis; is not through seeking explanations. Rather, it is indeed through turning to God, where oppositions do not exist, where only good prevails.What do you think?

[Some pre-Shabbat Learning, adapted from SELECTIONS FROM KEDUSHAT LEVI, by Rabbi Jonathan Slater of the Ongoing Text Study Program, of The Institute for Jewish Spirituality]