The Talmud tells a fascinating if troubling story of the great Amora, Rav. It was his practice to visit the cemetery there to converse with the dead. He often asked them of what did they die. In nine out of ten cases they answered "we died because of the ayin hara, the evil eye".
One of the renowned commentaries on the Talmud explained that the ayin hara that causes our death does not refer to the evil eye cast on us, but rather the ayin hara with which we look at others. It is our crtical gaze on others, questioning whether they deserve what they have that brings G-d's judgement on us. G-d says, as it were, "if you think others should only get what they deserve and no more, then I will judge you by the same standards". When we are judged exclusively on our merits inevitably we fall short.
This week in the parsha we meet our father Avraham. Avraham was the exemplar of doing hesed, acts of loving-kindness. His whole life was devoted to teaching the way to Hashem by outreach in the form of hospitality and care.
It is interesting to note that though Avraham extended himself to care for others and showed them love he was not naive about the evils of human nature. Avraham was no Pollyanna. He knew people were flawed and flawed severely. Just look at the stories and this becomes clear. Early on we read of his travels to Egypt and later to Gerar. In each case he saw the citizens as likely to kill him so as to claim his beautiful wife Sarah. When his shepards fight with those of his nephew Lot, Avraham does not say "lets work this out". On the contrary he sees the feud likely to escalate unless action is taken. He tells Lot "separate from me". Rather than mediate the confrontation he chooses to end the relationship. And still later after he saves Lot, the king of Sodom offers to let Avraham keep the booty he has won in his war on their behalf. Avraham refuses saying I suspect if I keep it you will go on to say "I enriched Avraham".
No, Avraham knows people can do terrible things. They are not necessarily good at all. He doesn't invest in hesed because he thinks the people are entitled to it. He does hesed because he realizes the way to tikun olam, repairing the world is by engaging in doing kindness to others.
Avraham recognizes that acts of kindness create a force for the good in the world, a force that enhances all of life and moves it to greater shlaimut. Avraham does hesed because hesed is what the world needs. And all humanity is blessed and sustained when a person does kindness to another.
I remember a few decades ago when much was written about the power of random acts of kindness. When I write of random acts of kindness I mean doing something kind for someone you do not know or may never know simply for the blessing it brings to the world. It may mean walking over to the man working hard on the train tracks in mercaz ha'ir and giving him a bottle of lemonade or ice cafe. It may mean putting money in a parking meter that's expiring, or it may mean giving 20 shekel to the woman who asks for a donation and would be grateful for 1.
Random acts of kindness don't ask whether the person is deserving of the gift I am giving. They are powerful precisely because we do not make a judgement. We simply see an opportunity to do a kindness and we do.
That's the hesed of Avraham, the hesed that made him the great benefactor of all, both Jew and non-Jew. When someone asked him for a favor he did not ask himself whether they warranted his effort. He did not do good for others on the basis of their deserts. He did for other because hesed is always good. Hashem built His world on hesed and so Avraham emulated His ways.
Can there be a more important lesson for us to learn. How often does the man collecting ask us for a donation and we start to question whether he deserves or really needs our help. We judge before we give. We judge before we do. That attitude is sadly the kind that brings the kitrug, the judgement down on us from above. As we judge others so we are judged.
Would we not be better if we simply did the act of hesed for no other reason than the person asked for it, without judgement or critique. Then we would be walking in the footsteps of Avraham. Then we would be doing hesed in the way that sustains the world. Then we would be doing the random act of kindness that makes both us and others better.
I take the lesson this week to heart and on a personal level. Bli neder, without taking a vow I pledge to do 5 acts of random hesed a day. It can be a kind word spoken to someone who does not expect it and maybe has not earned it, or it can be letting the person behind me go in front of me in line at the makolet. It need not be money. It simply need be hesed for the sake of hesed. I hope you will join me in such a pledge. The results will make another happy, create a positive energy in the world, and earn us the kindness from Hakadosh Baruch Hu that we bestow on others.
Let us walk in the way of our father Avraham. Let us do hesed without the judgement!
Can their be anything more worthwhile!
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Consequences of Success
"Nothing ruins a man quite like success". So goes the adage that gets validated over and over in the course of human drama. From Bill Clinton's absurd fling with Monica Lewinsky to Bernie Madoff's ponzi scam the stories of men and women who achieve prominence and then self-destruct is legion.
And we first encounter such a story in this week's parsha, the portion of Noach. At the outset of the reading Noach is referred to as the ish tzaddik. A person can receive no greater personal validation, and this from the Torah no less. He is the real survivor, chosen to stay on the island of the world not by scheming peers as in the television series but by G-d Himself. All of life is indebted to Noach for its existence. Can there be any greater success than to have literally saved the world?
Yet a short time later in the parsha after leaving the ark Noach is referred to in quite different terms. As he begins to enter the normalcy of life he is called the ish ha'adama, " the man of earth". His first real labors are to plant a vineyard. We are told he goes on to get drunk from its harvest, so drunk that he rolls around naked in his tent and becomes the object of ridicule (and some say much worse) for one of his children and grandson.
How can it be? How can Noach who was so strong and so moral as to stand alone againt a whole world of corruption become so compromised and self-destructive. What happened?
We can ask that very question of so many who seem to have fallen from grace. Are they hypocrites? Were they really never as good as they pretended to be. Does the lapse indicate that the person we thought them to be was never really them?
Its easy to say that. And in some cases it may be that they were never really who they claimed to be.
But the story of Noach says that's not always true. After all the Torah calls Noach a tzaddik and affirms him in glowing terms. Clearly he was not a pretender. Yet tzaddik though he was, he had a mapala, a fall in stature. Great as he was, he compromised himself.
What happens to people when they seem to self-destruct is mysterious and the reasons may be as varied as the people themselves. We can speculate about Noach. We can say that he lost purpose. He had no social evil to fight, all his adversaries were dead. The new world belonged to his children to settle. With no heroic agenda before him what was left to him? Planting a vineyard is a pale substitute for saving the world.
I suspect that many a seemingly great person self-destructs precisely when their battle is won.
They no longer have a mission to motivate them. The history of revolutionaries from those who fought the Czar to Castro shows that once in power idealism gets lost and the new become as corrupt as the social system it was meant to replace.
I believe Bill Clinton is a good person. And Bernie Madoff was not always evil, after all he earned the trust of many people. Call me naive, but even Fidel Castro at one time was concerned with the masses and willing to make heroic personal sacrifices on their behalf. For Bill, Bernie and Fidel their successes compromised, and in the later two cases,
corrupted them. Success has that effect.
And you and I are vulnerable too. Until we accomplish our goals we can be so generous with others striving like we are. We identify with those marginalized and struggling. Yet once we succeed we so often show a kind of arrogance and deal with others in a condescending manner. How many might say of us "He used to be such a nice guy. Now he thinks himself a big shot". In our successes,when no longer driven by a purpose larger than us, we lose our humility. In losing our humility we self destruct. We lose our souls.
So whats the answer. Surely it cannot be to wish for failure.
While the world may not have an answer, we as Jews do. And the answer is learning Torah.
Our sages long taught "barati yetzer hara barati Torah tavlin", G-d says as it were " I have created the evil inclination. And I have created its remedy through the study of Torah".
The study of Torah forever provides us with a purpose. We never complete our learning and we never know enough. Torah study is the antidote to gaava, the arrogance that causes our demise. It is always larger than us. It always presents us with a challenge. What do we call the one learned in Torah... a talmid chacham, a wise student !
If Noach had a Torah to study he would never have been identified as the ish ha'adma. If he had a Torah to study planting a vineyard would not have been his work. Sure he would have finished his task as savior of the world but the daf yomi would have been waiting.
We can have success. Indeed G-d wants us to succeed...as long as we are learning Torah. To separate from Torah study is to become vulnerable to compromise and corruption. We risk self destruction precisely when we have most achieved. We need Torah to keep us focused and filled with mission.
With Torah our work is never done. Before her we can never think ourselves
greater than others.
Torah is the sam hachayim, the elixir of life. How fortunate we are that we can learn !
Shabbat Shalom
And we first encounter such a story in this week's parsha, the portion of Noach. At the outset of the reading Noach is referred to as the ish tzaddik. A person can receive no greater personal validation, and this from the Torah no less. He is the real survivor, chosen to stay on the island of the world not by scheming peers as in the television series but by G-d Himself. All of life is indebted to Noach for its existence. Can there be any greater success than to have literally saved the world?
Yet a short time later in the parsha after leaving the ark Noach is referred to in quite different terms. As he begins to enter the normalcy of life he is called the ish ha'adama, " the man of earth". His first real labors are to plant a vineyard. We are told he goes on to get drunk from its harvest, so drunk that he rolls around naked in his tent and becomes the object of ridicule (and some say much worse) for one of his children and grandson.
How can it be? How can Noach who was so strong and so moral as to stand alone againt a whole world of corruption become so compromised and self-destructive. What happened?
We can ask that very question of so many who seem to have fallen from grace. Are they hypocrites? Were they really never as good as they pretended to be. Does the lapse indicate that the person we thought them to be was never really them?
Its easy to say that. And in some cases it may be that they were never really who they claimed to be.
But the story of Noach says that's not always true. After all the Torah calls Noach a tzaddik and affirms him in glowing terms. Clearly he was not a pretender. Yet tzaddik though he was, he had a mapala, a fall in stature. Great as he was, he compromised himself.
What happens to people when they seem to self-destruct is mysterious and the reasons may be as varied as the people themselves. We can speculate about Noach. We can say that he lost purpose. He had no social evil to fight, all his adversaries were dead. The new world belonged to his children to settle. With no heroic agenda before him what was left to him? Planting a vineyard is a pale substitute for saving the world.
I suspect that many a seemingly great person self-destructs precisely when their battle is won.
They no longer have a mission to motivate them. The history of revolutionaries from those who fought the Czar to Castro shows that once in power idealism gets lost and the new become as corrupt as the social system it was meant to replace.
I believe Bill Clinton is a good person. And Bernie Madoff was not always evil, after all he earned the trust of many people. Call me naive, but even Fidel Castro at one time was concerned with the masses and willing to make heroic personal sacrifices on their behalf. For Bill, Bernie and Fidel their successes compromised, and in the later two cases,
corrupted them. Success has that effect.
And you and I are vulnerable too. Until we accomplish our goals we can be so generous with others striving like we are. We identify with those marginalized and struggling. Yet once we succeed we so often show a kind of arrogance and deal with others in a condescending manner. How many might say of us "He used to be such a nice guy. Now he thinks himself a big shot". In our successes,when no longer driven by a purpose larger than us, we lose our humility. In losing our humility we self destruct. We lose our souls.
So whats the answer. Surely it cannot be to wish for failure.
While the world may not have an answer, we as Jews do. And the answer is learning Torah.
Our sages long taught "barati yetzer hara barati Torah tavlin", G-d says as it were " I have created the evil inclination. And I have created its remedy through the study of Torah".
The study of Torah forever provides us with a purpose. We never complete our learning and we never know enough. Torah study is the antidote to gaava, the arrogance that causes our demise. It is always larger than us. It always presents us with a challenge. What do we call the one learned in Torah... a talmid chacham, a wise student !
If Noach had a Torah to study he would never have been identified as the ish ha'adma. If he had a Torah to study planting a vineyard would not have been his work. Sure he would have finished his task as savior of the world but the daf yomi would have been waiting.
We can have success. Indeed G-d wants us to succeed...as long as we are learning Torah. To separate from Torah study is to become vulnerable to compromise and corruption. We risk self destruction precisely when we have most achieved. We need Torah to keep us focused and filled with mission.
With Torah our work is never done. Before her we can never think ourselves
greater than others.
Torah is the sam hachayim, the elixir of life. How fortunate we are that we can learn !
Shabbat Shalom
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Pure Hesed
Do you have a favorite pasuk ? I will admit I do. And its found in this week's parsha. My favorite is " vayas Hashem Elokim l'adom u'lishto katnot or vayalbeshem"...." And Hashem made for Adam and his wife clothes of skin and He dressed them".
The verse is found after Adam and Eve sinned in the garden. Confronted and punished by G-d they stand now fearful and ashamed. G-d in His love for them recognizes their terrible circumstances. Yes they have sinned and sinned badly. Yet they are His children. They are the future parents of humanity.He feels their suffering. He makes for them beautiful clothes. Still more, G-d Himself serves as their valet and put these beautiful clothes on them. Through His love they are restored.
The Talmud teaches in the name of Rabbi Simlai " Great are the acts of loving-kindness such that the Torah begins with loving-kindness and ends with loving-kindness." It begins with loving-kindness when it tells us how Hashem clothes Adam and Eve after the sin. And it ends with loving-kindness when we are told Hashem buries Moshe after he ascends the mountain of Nebo to die.
Beautiful indeed. Yet one could wonder, why does Rabbi Simlai claim the first kindness of the Torah is the one reflected in the verse I referred to as my favorite. Were there not prior kindnesses to the clothing of Adam and Eve. After all creation itself was a hesed. And so was giving Eve to Adam a hesed when he was alone in the Garden without a help-mate.
And there is another curious dynamic here. The sages of the Talmud wondered where did these skins Hashem used to clothe them come from. There was no death in the Garden, neither animal nor human. Rabbi Elazar gives an unusual answer. He says the skins were from the snake, the very same snake that tempted them into sin. The snake shed his skin and from it Hashem made their clothes.
We already learned this was an incredible act of hesed. What kindness would it be to wear the clothes from the skins of the snake that was the source of their demise?
In order to better understand what real hesed is we would do well to understand human need.
Many of us are familiar with the quote "You can't love someone else unless you love your self".
It makes sense. Real love comes from a sense of fullness. It does not come from a void. (We have already discussed some on this in the blog "Mature and Immature Love".) If I do not love myself inevitably my love for you will be tainted. Loving you will, at a deeper level, be part of my struggle to find love for myself rather than be about you. If I do not love myself I have no (pure) love to give another.
But while that's a familiar idea, even if sophisticated, there is another part to the quote not as well known. " I cannot love myself unless someone else loves me". And why is that true. Well think about it. I know I have many shortcomings. There is much about myself that I do not like.
With all my flaws how can I love myself. On the contrary it may be more reasonable to hate myself for all I lack. Indeed people who do not experience the love of another often have very ambivalent feelings towards themselves.
When someone else loves me, with my flaws, knowing that I am compromised, they show me that I am lovable. Their love for me helps me to love myself. Of course that only works to the extent the other knows me. If I hide my shortcoming from them, if s/he loves me because they think I am better than I am and don't know my flaws, their love for me has no real power to cause me to love myself. Sure they provide a nice feeling, but deep inside I think they only love me because they think I am better than I am. If they really knew me they would reject me.
It is only when we risk letting ourselves be known, and yes rejected, that the love we receive can bring us to feel the elusive gift of genuine self-love. And it is only when we have been vulnerable and received that love in return that we can come to bestow true love on another.
Hashem did many kindnesses for Adam and Chava prior to the sin. But in each case the hesed, while a gift, provided for a physical need or comfort, but did not touch the core of their being.
It was only after the sin, when Adam and Chava were painfully aware of their inadequacies and struggled to love themselves that the gift of Hakadosh Baruch Hu became an ultimate manifestation of hesed, one that actually was experienced as an expression of love. Here in the midst of their shame and fear Hashem cared for them not only to make beautiful clothes for them but to dress them, Himself. He said thereby "I love you", in deeds so powerful, not because He did not know their flaw but with their flaw.
That's the message Rabbi Elazar wanted to impart when he said Hashem made the clothes from the skins of the very snake that brought about their sin. When Hashem gave them clothes from that snake its as if He said " I am not loving you because I am pretending you did not sin, that you are better than you are. No, I know you, I know your sin. The clothes I am making say loud and clear you indeed have failed. And yet I love you, with your failings!"
Truth be told the story of Hashem's hesed with Moshe was similar. Moshe was informed he had to die. He was not to enter the Holy Land. Little doubt he too felt the weight of his inadequacy when he left the camp alone to climb Mt Nebo there to await his death. Did he feel the shame of that failure? Did he ache for what might have been? It could not have been easy. Yet precisely here, in his time of feeling inadequate, Hashem shows Moshe a special love. It is when Moshe feels least good about himself Hashem says "I will bury you...not leave it to others...for indeed I love you".
In loving Adam and Chava, they could come to love themselves, with their limitations, even after their terrible sin. And indeed they could go on, as we read in the next verses to bear children and become the parents to humanity. They could love their children because indeed they had been loved and loved themselves.
The lessons we can glean from the story are personal to each of us. For some of us, is it not time we risked letting ourselves be known so we might yet know real love from another...and in turn come to love ourselves. For others of us, is it not time we loved the ones who matter to us in the image of the love of The Holy One Blessed Be He, love them not by trying to pretend they are better than they are or by trying to delete their shortcomings, but by accepting them as they are?
Real hesed is not about giving money or doing a favor, though that too is very important. Real hesed is making someone who feels inadequate and lacking feel loved. The particular gift is but a manifestation of that love. And its that love which provides the deepest healing and yeshua.
May all the days of our lives be full of hesed in its most beautiful expression. Indeed as the Psalmist says "Olam Hesed Yebane" "The world is founded on loving-kindness."
I would greatly appreciate if you would include in your tefilot a prayer for Odena bat Laya who will have serious surgery on her spine next week. Thank you for your hesed to me, Odena and her family.
Shabbat Shalom
The verse is found after Adam and Eve sinned in the garden. Confronted and punished by G-d they stand now fearful and ashamed. G-d in His love for them recognizes their terrible circumstances. Yes they have sinned and sinned badly. Yet they are His children. They are the future parents of humanity.He feels their suffering. He makes for them beautiful clothes. Still more, G-d Himself serves as their valet and put these beautiful clothes on them. Through His love they are restored.
The Talmud teaches in the name of Rabbi Simlai " Great are the acts of loving-kindness such that the Torah begins with loving-kindness and ends with loving-kindness." It begins with loving-kindness when it tells us how Hashem clothes Adam and Eve after the sin. And it ends with loving-kindness when we are told Hashem buries Moshe after he ascends the mountain of Nebo to die.
Beautiful indeed. Yet one could wonder, why does Rabbi Simlai claim the first kindness of the Torah is the one reflected in the verse I referred to as my favorite. Were there not prior kindnesses to the clothing of Adam and Eve. After all creation itself was a hesed. And so was giving Eve to Adam a hesed when he was alone in the Garden without a help-mate.
And there is another curious dynamic here. The sages of the Talmud wondered where did these skins Hashem used to clothe them come from. There was no death in the Garden, neither animal nor human. Rabbi Elazar gives an unusual answer. He says the skins were from the snake, the very same snake that tempted them into sin. The snake shed his skin and from it Hashem made their clothes.
We already learned this was an incredible act of hesed. What kindness would it be to wear the clothes from the skins of the snake that was the source of their demise?
In order to better understand what real hesed is we would do well to understand human need.
Many of us are familiar with the quote "You can't love someone else unless you love your self".
It makes sense. Real love comes from a sense of fullness. It does not come from a void. (We have already discussed some on this in the blog "Mature and Immature Love".) If I do not love myself inevitably my love for you will be tainted. Loving you will, at a deeper level, be part of my struggle to find love for myself rather than be about you. If I do not love myself I have no (pure) love to give another.
But while that's a familiar idea, even if sophisticated, there is another part to the quote not as well known. " I cannot love myself unless someone else loves me". And why is that true. Well think about it. I know I have many shortcomings. There is much about myself that I do not like.
With all my flaws how can I love myself. On the contrary it may be more reasonable to hate myself for all I lack. Indeed people who do not experience the love of another often have very ambivalent feelings towards themselves.
When someone else loves me, with my flaws, knowing that I am compromised, they show me that I am lovable. Their love for me helps me to love myself. Of course that only works to the extent the other knows me. If I hide my shortcoming from them, if s/he loves me because they think I am better than I am and don't know my flaws, their love for me has no real power to cause me to love myself. Sure they provide a nice feeling, but deep inside I think they only love me because they think I am better than I am. If they really knew me they would reject me.
It is only when we risk letting ourselves be known, and yes rejected, that the love we receive can bring us to feel the elusive gift of genuine self-love. And it is only when we have been vulnerable and received that love in return that we can come to bestow true love on another.
Hashem did many kindnesses for Adam and Chava prior to the sin. But in each case the hesed, while a gift, provided for a physical need or comfort, but did not touch the core of their being.
It was only after the sin, when Adam and Chava were painfully aware of their inadequacies and struggled to love themselves that the gift of Hakadosh Baruch Hu became an ultimate manifestation of hesed, one that actually was experienced as an expression of love. Here in the midst of their shame and fear Hashem cared for them not only to make beautiful clothes for them but to dress them, Himself. He said thereby "I love you", in deeds so powerful, not because He did not know their flaw but with their flaw.
That's the message Rabbi Elazar wanted to impart when he said Hashem made the clothes from the skins of the very snake that brought about their sin. When Hashem gave them clothes from that snake its as if He said " I am not loving you because I am pretending you did not sin, that you are better than you are. No, I know you, I know your sin. The clothes I am making say loud and clear you indeed have failed. And yet I love you, with your failings!"
Truth be told the story of Hashem's hesed with Moshe was similar. Moshe was informed he had to die. He was not to enter the Holy Land. Little doubt he too felt the weight of his inadequacy when he left the camp alone to climb Mt Nebo there to await his death. Did he feel the shame of that failure? Did he ache for what might have been? It could not have been easy. Yet precisely here, in his time of feeling inadequate, Hashem shows Moshe a special love. It is when Moshe feels least good about himself Hashem says "I will bury you...not leave it to others...for indeed I love you".
In loving Adam and Chava, they could come to love themselves, with their limitations, even after their terrible sin. And indeed they could go on, as we read in the next verses to bear children and become the parents to humanity. They could love their children because indeed they had been loved and loved themselves.
The lessons we can glean from the story are personal to each of us. For some of us, is it not time we risked letting ourselves be known so we might yet know real love from another...and in turn come to love ourselves. For others of us, is it not time we loved the ones who matter to us in the image of the love of The Holy One Blessed Be He, love them not by trying to pretend they are better than they are or by trying to delete their shortcomings, but by accepting them as they are?
Real hesed is not about giving money or doing a favor, though that too is very important. Real hesed is making someone who feels inadequate and lacking feel loved. The particular gift is but a manifestation of that love. And its that love which provides the deepest healing and yeshua.
May all the days of our lives be full of hesed in its most beautiful expression. Indeed as the Psalmist says "Olam Hesed Yebane" "The world is founded on loving-kindness."
I would greatly appreciate if you would include in your tefilot a prayer for Odena bat Laya who will have serious surgery on her spine next week. Thank you for your hesed to me, Odena and her family.
Shabbat Shalom
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Fear and Joy
"Trust in G-d and do the good". So says the verse in Tehilim. We might ask, what's the connection between the two? Why do we need to trust in Hashem in order to do the good?
Truth is that if we knew how vulnerable we are, how precarious our existence, we might never find the motivation to do anything of consequence. Its not surprising that braveness typically belongs to the young. Its the young who feel invincible. Its the young who feel no real harm can befall them. They are the ones who are typically ready to be the heroes. The older we get the more we are cognizant of our mortality and the more we are afraid.
Most of us live our lives as if we are never going to die. How else can we explain the fact that we smoke, eat the unhealthy, grow fat, without hardly a protest. And if that's true of the way we engage matters that affect us physically, how much more so the matters that affect our soul. We sin as if we will never have to face a judgement.
Intellectually, of course we know that we will die. We know that we are frail creatures only a moment away from cancer, G-d forbid, or a stroke or sudden debacle. We know that while we are not Job, his story could just as well be ours. But we also know that being fully conscious of the fear of our vulnerability and at all times will paralyze us. We know the fear of our mortality can be overwhelming. In an act of self-preservation we put it out of our minds. It is putting the awareness of our vulnerability out of our minds that makes living possible. It gives us the ability to invest in life, to marry, to raise children, to strive to make a difference.
And yet at the same time that escaping the reality of our mortality makes living possible it also compromises that life. In our unconscious state we can commit self and other destructive acts. We can cause ourselves the greatest of harm, commit the most serious of sins, all because we live as if we will not die.
And so we are left with a conundrum. To submerge the awareness of our frailty seems necessary in order to invest in the act of living. Yet to fail to be at all times conscious that we indeed can die or be rendered useless and at any moment, leaves us open to sin caused by the illusion of our invincibility. How indeed to live?
It is the Yom Tov of Sukkot that provides us with the answer to this powerful life paradox. At one level Sukkot is the holiday of joy. It stands premier of all the festivals in that we are mandated to be "only happy". The simchat bait hashoaiva, the joyous celebration of the water drawing in the Temple of old continues to be lived out symbolically during all the days of the chag. Its the harvest time. Yet Sukkot, this holiday of confidence and joy, asks us to leave our homes and go for seven days to live in the sukkah, the frail hut like structure that leaves us vulnerable to the elements. On the very holiday that invites us to celebrate the bounty of life and all its promise we are also mandated to fully engage the truth of how precarious our existence. We are called to face the fact that no resources in the world make us any more safe than we are in the sukkah.
The sukkah for seven days is our home. We are called to live there in the fullest manner possible. We eat, sleep, and converse in the sukkah. We are called to bring out into the sukkah our nicest dishes and finest foods. This is not a camping experience. This is where we live. And we are meant to live in this temporary residence as if it was permanent.
Ah, there it is. The mitzva of sukkah calls on us to live in a temporary residence as if it is permanent. The very challenge of our lives, to live in a temporary residence as if it were permanent.
We do not make believe the sukkah is a palace. When it rains we leave. It's a sukkah after all. And when we are compromised inside it we don't artificially make it stronger. We face the reality and adapt. And yet knowing full well it is indeed a sukkah we nonetheless invest in it. We live in it with permanence. And we do that not because the sukkah is not a sukkah but because we have trust in Hashem that He will do what He needs to even as we do what we need to.
"B'tach b'Hashem v'asai tov" "trust in Hashem and do the good".
Sukkot teaches us to neither deny the reality that life is incredibly fragile nor to flee from fear of investing in it because of that fragility. Sukkot teaches us that we can honestly confront the truth of existence and yet be happy. And the key is trust in Hashem. The trust doesn't mean that I know I will not face circumstances beyond my control. The trust allows me to surrender control and know I am safe no matter what occurs to me.
Anne Frank in her diary wrote "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and G-d. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that G-d wishes to see people happy".
In going out to the Sukkah we walk into our fears rather than flee from them. We say "yes" to all life's uncertainties...and with that we say "Yes" to life and living. All because as young Anne Frank, herself to be murdered by the Nazis, knew, "G-d wishes to see people happy".
Vsmachat b'chagecha, May we know the fullness of joy this wonderful holiday...not because we have escaped our realities but because we have entered them and with trust in and surrender to Hashem vanquished their power over us.
Chag Sameyach
Shabbat Shalom
Truth is that if we knew how vulnerable we are, how precarious our existence, we might never find the motivation to do anything of consequence. Its not surprising that braveness typically belongs to the young. Its the young who feel invincible. Its the young who feel no real harm can befall them. They are the ones who are typically ready to be the heroes. The older we get the more we are cognizant of our mortality and the more we are afraid.
Most of us live our lives as if we are never going to die. How else can we explain the fact that we smoke, eat the unhealthy, grow fat, without hardly a protest. And if that's true of the way we engage matters that affect us physically, how much more so the matters that affect our soul. We sin as if we will never have to face a judgement.
Intellectually, of course we know that we will die. We know that we are frail creatures only a moment away from cancer, G-d forbid, or a stroke or sudden debacle. We know that while we are not Job, his story could just as well be ours. But we also know that being fully conscious of the fear of our vulnerability and at all times will paralyze us. We know the fear of our mortality can be overwhelming. In an act of self-preservation we put it out of our minds. It is putting the awareness of our vulnerability out of our minds that makes living possible. It gives us the ability to invest in life, to marry, to raise children, to strive to make a difference.
And yet at the same time that escaping the reality of our mortality makes living possible it also compromises that life. In our unconscious state we can commit self and other destructive acts. We can cause ourselves the greatest of harm, commit the most serious of sins, all because we live as if we will not die.
And so we are left with a conundrum. To submerge the awareness of our frailty seems necessary in order to invest in the act of living. Yet to fail to be at all times conscious that we indeed can die or be rendered useless and at any moment, leaves us open to sin caused by the illusion of our invincibility. How indeed to live?
It is the Yom Tov of Sukkot that provides us with the answer to this powerful life paradox. At one level Sukkot is the holiday of joy. It stands premier of all the festivals in that we are mandated to be "only happy". The simchat bait hashoaiva, the joyous celebration of the water drawing in the Temple of old continues to be lived out symbolically during all the days of the chag. Its the harvest time. Yet Sukkot, this holiday of confidence and joy, asks us to leave our homes and go for seven days to live in the sukkah, the frail hut like structure that leaves us vulnerable to the elements. On the very holiday that invites us to celebrate the bounty of life and all its promise we are also mandated to fully engage the truth of how precarious our existence. We are called to face the fact that no resources in the world make us any more safe than we are in the sukkah.
The sukkah for seven days is our home. We are called to live there in the fullest manner possible. We eat, sleep, and converse in the sukkah. We are called to bring out into the sukkah our nicest dishes and finest foods. This is not a camping experience. This is where we live. And we are meant to live in this temporary residence as if it was permanent.
Ah, there it is. The mitzva of sukkah calls on us to live in a temporary residence as if it is permanent. The very challenge of our lives, to live in a temporary residence as if it were permanent.
We do not make believe the sukkah is a palace. When it rains we leave. It's a sukkah after all. And when we are compromised inside it we don't artificially make it stronger. We face the reality and adapt. And yet knowing full well it is indeed a sukkah we nonetheless invest in it. We live in it with permanence. And we do that not because the sukkah is not a sukkah but because we have trust in Hashem that He will do what He needs to even as we do what we need to.
"B'tach b'Hashem v'asai tov" "trust in Hashem and do the good".
Sukkot teaches us to neither deny the reality that life is incredibly fragile nor to flee from fear of investing in it because of that fragility. Sukkot teaches us that we can honestly confront the truth of existence and yet be happy. And the key is trust in Hashem. The trust doesn't mean that I know I will not face circumstances beyond my control. The trust allows me to surrender control and know I am safe no matter what occurs to me.
Anne Frank in her diary wrote "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and G-d. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that G-d wishes to see people happy".
In going out to the Sukkah we walk into our fears rather than flee from them. We say "yes" to all life's uncertainties...and with that we say "Yes" to life and living. All because as young Anne Frank, herself to be murdered by the Nazis, knew, "G-d wishes to see people happy".
Vsmachat b'chagecha, May we know the fullness of joy this wonderful holiday...not because we have escaped our realities but because we have entered them and with trust in and surrender to Hashem vanquished their power over us.
Chag Sameyach
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Holy Paradox
They say of the Apte Rebbe, also known as the Ohev Yisrael, that he disdained the idea of fasting. He felt that the medium through which we should serve G-d is joy. And fasting interferes with our ability to be joyous. He is reported to have said "If I could, I would do away with all the fasts in Israel save for two, Tisha B'Av and Yom Kippur.... Tisha B'Av because who wants to eat and Yom Kippur because who needs to eat".
Yom Kippur is nearly here. It is the one day a year where we feel indeed who needs to eat. We are as angels. It does not intimidate us to say the baruch shem, the praise reserved exclusively for the angels out loud. We belong in their company. We wear the kittel, the white clothes of purity. Some even stand all day, as if we like the malachim, have no need to sit.
And yet is it not ironic that the very same we who identify ourselves with the angels spend the very same time, the whole day of Yom Kippur beating our fists against our chests, listing sin after sin, and declaring in the most sobering terms "haray ani lefanecha kichli malay busha uchleema" "behold I am before You (G-d) as a vessel full of shame and disgrace".
We who dress in the clothes of the pure in those very clothes confess the sins of the worst kind. We who have no need to eat repeat over and over how we have been seduced by every desire. We who say the praise reserved for the angels in one breath in another speak of our unworthiness to claim our right to exist at all.
How do we reconcile this apparent contradiction? Are we hopeless sinners or angels? And if one is true how can the other be true and at the same time?
I think to understand Yom Kippur and its core message we need to distinguish between two similar sounding terms, shame and guilt. At first blush the terms seem almost synonymous.
We often use them interchangeably. Yet in reality they are very different. Someone wise once said "Guilt says "I have done bad" . Shame says "I am bad."
When a person feels guilty its a response to his/her actions. S/he feels s/he did something wrong. When a person feels shame s/he feels the problem is not with what s/he did but with who s/he is. For the guilty person there is always hope. S/he can amend his/her behavior, say "I am sorry" and get over it. To the person who feels what s/he did is a reflection of who s/he is there is no hope. If I did bad I can do better. If I am bad no matter what I do who I am remains the same. The problem is not my actions. If I feel shame the problem is me.
Pursuing this a bit further we might ask how does one know if one is essentially a good person who did bad or really a bad person? How do we know if shame or guilt is the appropriate feeling?
The answer is that to the extent one feels badly over what s/he did is the very measure of the level of goodness within him/her. I mean think about it. The person who is truly bad when s/he does something wrong has no sense of guilt or shame. S/he simply goes about his/her evil ways.
Bad people are measured by their lack of a sense of having done wrong. They have no conscience, no remorse, no hesitation to repeat the very same evil again.
Good people always feel remorse. They grieve over things they have done that have hurt others. They lament their selfishness and callous behaviors. They want to change even when that change does not occur. In that remorse is the sign of their intrinsic goodness. Their sense of having done wrong proves that they are indeed good people who did wrong. That they feel the wrongfulness of their actions proves that guilt is an appropriate feeling...but they have no need to feel shame...They are at their core good not bad!
And the deeper that one feels the regret, the more sensitive one is to the subtleties of his/her wrong-doing the more it reveals of the core goodness in that person. The better the person the more s/he is pained by the evil s/he has done.
That is the essence of Yom Kippur. On no other day are we as cognizant of our sins, both to G-d and to man. On no other day are we as full of regret over past actions and their consequences. On Yom Kippur even sins we often minimized during the year we acknowledge and tearfully confess. In those sincere and heartfelt confessions we reveal our essential goodness. The very sadness over our behaviors past paradoxically reveals the essence of the purity of our souls. In the intensity and depth of our remorse we gain a great gift. Even as we say unconditionally we did wrong, we affirm thereby that we are beautiful, good and yes within us inheres the purity of the angels.
Yom Kippur reveals to us who we really are. Our tears prove to us our goodness. Unless we believe that we are good no change is possible. Knowing we consist of the purity of the angels even if compromised by our actions opens the door to teshuva.
May this Yom Kippur bring us the gift of reconciliation with Our Father in Heaven and with all our brothers and sisters. Reconciliation is born in the integrity of our sorrow over our past misdeeds. The deeper the sense of our sorrow the more the hope for renewal.Their can be no real teshuva without a deep charata. For in that sorrow we affirm that we are indeed worthy and good. And out of that goodness we find the resolve to change.
G'mar chatima tova
Shabbat Shalom
Yom Kippur is nearly here. It is the one day a year where we feel indeed who needs to eat. We are as angels. It does not intimidate us to say the baruch shem, the praise reserved exclusively for the angels out loud. We belong in their company. We wear the kittel, the white clothes of purity. Some even stand all day, as if we like the malachim, have no need to sit.
And yet is it not ironic that the very same we who identify ourselves with the angels spend the very same time, the whole day of Yom Kippur beating our fists against our chests, listing sin after sin, and declaring in the most sobering terms "haray ani lefanecha kichli malay busha uchleema" "behold I am before You (G-d) as a vessel full of shame and disgrace".
We who dress in the clothes of the pure in those very clothes confess the sins of the worst kind. We who have no need to eat repeat over and over how we have been seduced by every desire. We who say the praise reserved for the angels in one breath in another speak of our unworthiness to claim our right to exist at all.
How do we reconcile this apparent contradiction? Are we hopeless sinners or angels? And if one is true how can the other be true and at the same time?
I think to understand Yom Kippur and its core message we need to distinguish between two similar sounding terms, shame and guilt. At first blush the terms seem almost synonymous.
We often use them interchangeably. Yet in reality they are very different. Someone wise once said "Guilt says "I have done bad" . Shame says "I am bad."
When a person feels guilty its a response to his/her actions. S/he feels s/he did something wrong. When a person feels shame s/he feels the problem is not with what s/he did but with who s/he is. For the guilty person there is always hope. S/he can amend his/her behavior, say "I am sorry" and get over it. To the person who feels what s/he did is a reflection of who s/he is there is no hope. If I did bad I can do better. If I am bad no matter what I do who I am remains the same. The problem is not my actions. If I feel shame the problem is me.
Pursuing this a bit further we might ask how does one know if one is essentially a good person who did bad or really a bad person? How do we know if shame or guilt is the appropriate feeling?
The answer is that to the extent one feels badly over what s/he did is the very measure of the level of goodness within him/her. I mean think about it. The person who is truly bad when s/he does something wrong has no sense of guilt or shame. S/he simply goes about his/her evil ways.
Bad people are measured by their lack of a sense of having done wrong. They have no conscience, no remorse, no hesitation to repeat the very same evil again.
Good people always feel remorse. They grieve over things they have done that have hurt others. They lament their selfishness and callous behaviors. They want to change even when that change does not occur. In that remorse is the sign of their intrinsic goodness. Their sense of having done wrong proves that they are indeed good people who did wrong. That they feel the wrongfulness of their actions proves that guilt is an appropriate feeling...but they have no need to feel shame...They are at their core good not bad!
And the deeper that one feels the regret, the more sensitive one is to the subtleties of his/her wrong-doing the more it reveals of the core goodness in that person. The better the person the more s/he is pained by the evil s/he has done.
That is the essence of Yom Kippur. On no other day are we as cognizant of our sins, both to G-d and to man. On no other day are we as full of regret over past actions and their consequences. On Yom Kippur even sins we often minimized during the year we acknowledge and tearfully confess. In those sincere and heartfelt confessions we reveal our essential goodness. The very sadness over our behaviors past paradoxically reveals the essence of the purity of our souls. In the intensity and depth of our remorse we gain a great gift. Even as we say unconditionally we did wrong, we affirm thereby that we are beautiful, good and yes within us inheres the purity of the angels.
Yom Kippur reveals to us who we really are. Our tears prove to us our goodness. Unless we believe that we are good no change is possible. Knowing we consist of the purity of the angels even if compromised by our actions opens the door to teshuva.
May this Yom Kippur bring us the gift of reconciliation with Our Father in Heaven and with all our brothers and sisters. Reconciliation is born in the integrity of our sorrow over our past misdeeds. The deeper the sense of our sorrow the more the hope for renewal.Their can be no real teshuva without a deep charata. For in that sorrow we affirm that we are indeed worthy and good. And out of that goodness we find the resolve to change.
G'mar chatima tova
Shabbat Shalom
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Personal Nisayon: Lessons from the Akeida
They tell a story of a hasid of Rebbe Shneur Zalaman of Liadi, the Baal Hatanya, who learned in the beit medrash all his life. He worked only enough to support the basic needs of his family. The rest of his day was devoted to Torah study. When he reached his seventieth birthday the hasid came to the Rebbe for a bracha. He expected the Rebbe to praise him for his life of dedication to learning Torah. The Rebbe said to him "A bracha I can give you...but praise for your learning is not in order. Would you praise a cow for giving milk?".
Rosh Hashanna is nearly here. While the tefilot of Day of Judgement, the Yom Hadin, speak to us loud and clear of the theme of Divine providence and G-d's rule over His world, the story we associate with the holiday carries a different message. Its the story of the binding of Isaac, the Akeida. The Akeida is in essence about humans, not about G-d. It tells how Avraham, in accord with Hashem's command of him was willing to offer his precious son Yitzchak as a sacrifice.
The test of Avraham according to our Sages was not simply a challenge to surrender his son, difficult as that would have been. It was more. Avraham's very excellence was in hesed, serving G-d through love and kindness. He was the one who invited strangers into his home to feed and offer hospitality. He was the one who prayed for the cities of Sodom and Amora that they be spared if possible. He was the one who pained over the sending away of his son Yishmael, the reading of the first day of Rosh Hashanna.
That same Avraham whose whole life radiated hesed, was called by Hashem to curtail his loving feelings and obey the will of the Divine by killing his son in submission of his will to that of G-d's.
Why do we read this story in synagogue on Rosh Hashanna. There are many reasons. But I would suggest that one might be to teach us about the nisyanot, tests in our own lives. We each have them. Often we do not recognize them. We live our lives doing what comes natural to us.
If we keep commandments more than likely its because we find shmerat hamitzvot consistant with the life we want for ourselves. If we do hesed, say in giving tzedaka or inviting guests its because we enjoy it. It feels true to who we want to be. If we invest in raising our children and serving the community it all fits with our sense of self.
These are all good things, excellent in fact. But they do not earn us praise. Doing most of what we do in life deserves no more praise than for the "cow giving milk". Like the hasid in the story above, we are doing what comes natural to us. His learning was a wonderful thing. But it was not his life's nisayon.
The tests that we have in life are the ones that challenge us to do something that is not in our nature. We may be called to confront when we are typically retiring. We may be called to lead when we feel ourselves followers. We may be called to say "no" when "yes" feels natural to us.
We may be called risk when we have always played it safe.
Its those moments, the ones that challenge our modus operandi that give us the opportunity to rise to greatness. If we say "I can't", "I won't" "Its for someone else, not me." We failed our test.
And we have missed our chance for personal becoming.
The reading of the Akaida on Rosh Hashanna is not about Avraham. Its about us. Its about realizing that we too have our nisyonot. And while they may not be as dramatic as the Binding of Isaac, they are just as important in our yearning for shlaimut, completeness in the service to Hashem.
As the shofar sounds we would do well to remember the Akaida. Not only to ask Hashem to show us mercy in the merit of our Patriarch's self sacrifice. But to pledge our own commitment to do what is outside our nature in fulfilling our purpose in this life.
Your tests are before you if only you pay them heed. Yes, they are for you, not for someone else more fitting. You can do it. I know its not natural for you. That's the point. If its before you its meant for you. You have the hero's journey, not the cows !
Be a child of Avraham. Reach beyond your comfort to create a life worthy of praise! That's the message I hear this Yom Hadin, and will do my best to take to heart.
L'shana tova tikateivu v'teichateimu. May the year ahead be full of meaning, growth and joy for you and all those you love.
Shabbat Shalom
Rosh Hashanna is nearly here. While the tefilot of Day of Judgement, the Yom Hadin, speak to us loud and clear of the theme of Divine providence and G-d's rule over His world, the story we associate with the holiday carries a different message. Its the story of the binding of Isaac, the Akeida. The Akeida is in essence about humans, not about G-d. It tells how Avraham, in accord with Hashem's command of him was willing to offer his precious son Yitzchak as a sacrifice.
The test of Avraham according to our Sages was not simply a challenge to surrender his son, difficult as that would have been. It was more. Avraham's very excellence was in hesed, serving G-d through love and kindness. He was the one who invited strangers into his home to feed and offer hospitality. He was the one who prayed for the cities of Sodom and Amora that they be spared if possible. He was the one who pained over the sending away of his son Yishmael, the reading of the first day of Rosh Hashanna.
That same Avraham whose whole life radiated hesed, was called by Hashem to curtail his loving feelings and obey the will of the Divine by killing his son in submission of his will to that of G-d's.
Why do we read this story in synagogue on Rosh Hashanna. There are many reasons. But I would suggest that one might be to teach us about the nisyanot, tests in our own lives. We each have them. Often we do not recognize them. We live our lives doing what comes natural to us.
If we keep commandments more than likely its because we find shmerat hamitzvot consistant with the life we want for ourselves. If we do hesed, say in giving tzedaka or inviting guests its because we enjoy it. It feels true to who we want to be. If we invest in raising our children and serving the community it all fits with our sense of self.
These are all good things, excellent in fact. But they do not earn us praise. Doing most of what we do in life deserves no more praise than for the "cow giving milk". Like the hasid in the story above, we are doing what comes natural to us. His learning was a wonderful thing. But it was not his life's nisayon.
The tests that we have in life are the ones that challenge us to do something that is not in our nature. We may be called to confront when we are typically retiring. We may be called to lead when we feel ourselves followers. We may be called to say "no" when "yes" feels natural to us.
We may be called risk when we have always played it safe.
Its those moments, the ones that challenge our modus operandi that give us the opportunity to rise to greatness. If we say "I can't", "I won't" "Its for someone else, not me." We failed our test.
And we have missed our chance for personal becoming.
The reading of the Akaida on Rosh Hashanna is not about Avraham. Its about us. Its about realizing that we too have our nisyonot. And while they may not be as dramatic as the Binding of Isaac, they are just as important in our yearning for shlaimut, completeness in the service to Hashem.
As the shofar sounds we would do well to remember the Akaida. Not only to ask Hashem to show us mercy in the merit of our Patriarch's self sacrifice. But to pledge our own commitment to do what is outside our nature in fulfilling our purpose in this life.
Your tests are before you if only you pay them heed. Yes, they are for you, not for someone else more fitting. You can do it. I know its not natural for you. That's the point. If its before you its meant for you. You have the hero's journey, not the cows !
Be a child of Avraham. Reach beyond your comfort to create a life worthy of praise! That's the message I hear this Yom Hadin, and will do my best to take to heart.
L'shana tova tikateivu v'teichateimu. May the year ahead be full of meaning, growth and joy for you and all those you love.
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The End
The end, no two words engender more anxiety and dread than those. Whether its the end of a relationship or the end of a good book, we all hate endings. No one likes to say "goodbye". It hurts. And most of us will go to great lengths to avoid having to experience it.
We pretend the sick are not actually dying so we won't have deal with the grief and fear of goodbyes. We often, at times unconsciously, create a fight when we know we need to end a relationship just so it won't be so hard to walk away. We say "see you soon" even when we know it will not be soon and often never, just so we don't have to deal with the finality of endings.
All the burial practices of the modern Western society seem to be focused on making the dead not really dead. They are made to look alive and sleeping. They are not buried but left at the cemetery. Just so we do not have to confront the end .
Paul Simon caught the idea in the unlikely pop song of so many years "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover". Not surprisingly none of the 50 included a meaningful sharing of goodbyes.
In that context its so fascinating to read Moshe's long goodbye to the People of Israel. He confronts his own death...and then, once accepting of his reality, gets on with the business of saying goodbye to his nation. All of Devarim, this fifth book of the Torah, we will soon conclude, is Moshe's farewell. It culminates when he tells them this week in the parsha of Vayelech, that his time is up, " ...I am one hundred and twenty years old today and I no longer can go and come...".
And Moshe is not the only one who said goodbye. Yaakov blessed his children on his deathbed, no pretense here that death was not imminent. David gave instructions to his son Shlomo as he lay dying.
Our tradition insists that we confront our ends...And not only the end of our life but all our meaningful ends. We end a marriage with a get. The husband must write in it you are free to marry any man. No illusions here about what the divorce means. And he must give his wife the get and she receive it (though it can be done via messenger).
We end the Shabbat with havdala, acknowledging the sadness of leaving the Shabbat's peace and joy for the week of toil and heartache. We end the amida, the silent prayer of presence with the Divine taking three steps back...as if to say a reluctant yet formal goodbye. We end a meal with the birkat hamazon. Non-Jews pray before they eat. We say our main prayers after, when we are painfully aware that the food is gone, the meal over, and we need to find the faith to believe there will be food again to sustain us. And when we confront a death we rent our clothes and makes a bracha. We participate in the kevura. We sit shiva, not to escape our loss but to engage it, to remember and grieve.
Judaism teaches us not to flee from goodbyes but to embrace them. They are ritualized. Often we make a blessing acknowledging the time of loss as sacred even if not happy. The question we might ask ourselves is why? Why put so much emphasis on facing closure. Why not do as we would prefer to do and just gloss over the loss, make believe it did not happen or that it isn't quite real?
Our faith's insistence that we confront our ends is one of its geniuses. Our G-d understood that there is an absolute correlation between goodbye and hello. If we are not able to say goodbye, then we will have as great a problem in saying hello. Life is temporal. The world is a world of flux. Things are always changing. As the expression goes "nothing lasts forever". If we are unable or unwilling to say goodbye we will, willy nilly, hold back on our commitment to the hellos in our life, because we know every hello must at some point lead to goodbye.
Many people are afraid of intimacy. They struggle to allow themselves to be known by others, even those closest to them. They struggle to fully love or fully commit to another. They remain outsiders in some important places in their lives. Truth be told, what these people fear is not the nearness. Actually, though they often do not recognize it, they fear the loss should the nearness come to an end. They are afraid of goodbye. And in order to not have to worry about experiencing goodbye they avoid the deep hello. To the extent you are intimidated by loss you will not commit. To the extent you need to avoid goodbyes you will be unwilling to say a meaningful hello.
It is for this reason that Judaism insists that we find the courage to say goodbye and, still more, ritualizes the goodbyes so we can find a way to cope with them. Our faith wants us to be able to face the end so we can begin with a fullness of commitment and a totality of self. It asks of us to not hold back, to love Hashem and each other without limitation. It demands of us that we live intensely, bchal levavcha uvchal nafshecha uvchal m'odecha "with all your heart and all your soul and all your might" as we are commanded to serve Hashem. Since all life is really service to Hashem thats how we are commanded to live. And we could not do that unless we overcame our fears of closure.
We are soon to end the year. Selichos begins motzai Shabbat (for Ashkenazim). In not much longer we will also conclude the Torah. Lots of endings. The End is hard to read, harder to say and still harder to experience. Yet we are called to confront it, to live our endings as much as we live the rest of our lives.
As we approach the Yom Hadin I would like to suggest an important piece of work for us is to look at our lives and determine those things that we need make closure on, whether they be relationships, activities, dreams, or ambitions. We need to say a formal goodbye to them, rather than let them just hang on for fear of confronting our personal reality that they are no longer relevant for us.
Saying the "goodbye " to that which belongs to our past is not a bad thing. On the contrary it is a good thing. It makes all the good that is awaiting us possible to be experienced. It may feel sad and we may need to grieve. But it is indeed yereeda ltzorech aliya, " a going down for the sake of going up".
May we find the courage that Moshe had to say "Goodbye" to those things we need to, close that which must and bring them to an end.
To embrace the gifts our G-d wants for us we need to be unburdened. Goodbye, closure, is the work of honest unburdening.
Is it any wonder shalom is both goodbye and hello. There cannot be one without the other!
Shabbat Shalom
We pretend the sick are not actually dying so we won't have deal with the grief and fear of goodbyes. We often, at times unconsciously, create a fight when we know we need to end a relationship just so it won't be so hard to walk away. We say "see you soon" even when we know it will not be soon and often never, just so we don't have to deal with the finality of endings.
All the burial practices of the modern Western society seem to be focused on making the dead not really dead. They are made to look alive and sleeping. They are not buried but left at the cemetery. Just so we do not have to confront the end .
Paul Simon caught the idea in the unlikely pop song of so many years "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover". Not surprisingly none of the 50 included a meaningful sharing of goodbyes.
In that context its so fascinating to read Moshe's long goodbye to the People of Israel. He confronts his own death...and then, once accepting of his reality, gets on with the business of saying goodbye to his nation. All of Devarim, this fifth book of the Torah, we will soon conclude, is Moshe's farewell. It culminates when he tells them this week in the parsha of Vayelech, that his time is up, " ...I am one hundred and twenty years old today and I no longer can go and come...".
And Moshe is not the only one who said goodbye. Yaakov blessed his children on his deathbed, no pretense here that death was not imminent. David gave instructions to his son Shlomo as he lay dying.
Our tradition insists that we confront our ends...And not only the end of our life but all our meaningful ends. We end a marriage with a get. The husband must write in it you are free to marry any man. No illusions here about what the divorce means. And he must give his wife the get and she receive it (though it can be done via messenger).
We end the Shabbat with havdala, acknowledging the sadness of leaving the Shabbat's peace and joy for the week of toil and heartache. We end the amida, the silent prayer of presence with the Divine taking three steps back...as if to say a reluctant yet formal goodbye. We end a meal with the birkat hamazon. Non-Jews pray before they eat. We say our main prayers after, when we are painfully aware that the food is gone, the meal over, and we need to find the faith to believe there will be food again to sustain us. And when we confront a death we rent our clothes and makes a bracha. We participate in the kevura. We sit shiva, not to escape our loss but to engage it, to remember and grieve.
Judaism teaches us not to flee from goodbyes but to embrace them. They are ritualized. Often we make a blessing acknowledging the time of loss as sacred even if not happy. The question we might ask ourselves is why? Why put so much emphasis on facing closure. Why not do as we would prefer to do and just gloss over the loss, make believe it did not happen or that it isn't quite real?
Our faith's insistence that we confront our ends is one of its geniuses. Our G-d understood that there is an absolute correlation between goodbye and hello. If we are not able to say goodbye, then we will have as great a problem in saying hello. Life is temporal. The world is a world of flux. Things are always changing. As the expression goes "nothing lasts forever". If we are unable or unwilling to say goodbye we will, willy nilly, hold back on our commitment to the hellos in our life, because we know every hello must at some point lead to goodbye.
Many people are afraid of intimacy. They struggle to allow themselves to be known by others, even those closest to them. They struggle to fully love or fully commit to another. They remain outsiders in some important places in their lives. Truth be told, what these people fear is not the nearness. Actually, though they often do not recognize it, they fear the loss should the nearness come to an end. They are afraid of goodbye. And in order to not have to worry about experiencing goodbye they avoid the deep hello. To the extent you are intimidated by loss you will not commit. To the extent you need to avoid goodbyes you will be unwilling to say a meaningful hello.
It is for this reason that Judaism insists that we find the courage to say goodbye and, still more, ritualizes the goodbyes so we can find a way to cope with them. Our faith wants us to be able to face the end so we can begin with a fullness of commitment and a totality of self. It asks of us to not hold back, to love Hashem and each other without limitation. It demands of us that we live intensely, bchal levavcha uvchal nafshecha uvchal m'odecha "with all your heart and all your soul and all your might" as we are commanded to serve Hashem. Since all life is really service to Hashem thats how we are commanded to live. And we could not do that unless we overcame our fears of closure.
We are soon to end the year. Selichos begins motzai Shabbat (for Ashkenazim). In not much longer we will also conclude the Torah. Lots of endings. The End is hard to read, harder to say and still harder to experience. Yet we are called to confront it, to live our endings as much as we live the rest of our lives.
As we approach the Yom Hadin I would like to suggest an important piece of work for us is to look at our lives and determine those things that we need make closure on, whether they be relationships, activities, dreams, or ambitions. We need to say a formal goodbye to them, rather than let them just hang on for fear of confronting our personal reality that they are no longer relevant for us.
Saying the "goodbye " to that which belongs to our past is not a bad thing. On the contrary it is a good thing. It makes all the good that is awaiting us possible to be experienced. It may feel sad and we may need to grieve. But it is indeed yereeda ltzorech aliya, " a going down for the sake of going up".
May we find the courage that Moshe had to say "Goodbye" to those things we need to, close that which must and bring them to an end.
To embrace the gifts our G-d wants for us we need to be unburdened. Goodbye, closure, is the work of honest unburdening.
Is it any wonder shalom is both goodbye and hello. There cannot be one without the other!
Shabbat Shalom
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