I will tell you a story. It happened just a few weeks ago. One of my daughter's friends is a new chayal, soldier, serving in the elite paratroopers unit of the Israeli army. One day he and a few of his buddies walked into the kitchen on the base and noticed a woman sitting by a table with her 8 year old son. Surprised, they asked her what she was doing in the kitchen. Clearly neither she nor her son belonged in that space. She pointed to her son and told them, "My son has not long to live. His only request was that he get to be a chayal in the tzanchanim. paratroopers before he dies. We are here to fulfill his dream".
There is much to reflect on in that story. The idea of The Make a Wish Foundation is to do similar things for children dying in the United States. If chidren in America who tragically are dying are given a wish, they will wish to go to Disney World or sit on the sidelines with their favorite football team or spend a day with a celebrity. And why not, these are the typical dreams of the young. Here in Israel too, like in America, this boy wished to be with his heroes. Only difference is that the heroes of this Israeli boy are not the glamorous and the accomplished, the idols of the sports world and the media. No, his heroes are boys, perhaps just 10 years older than him, most who just graduated high school, who serve in the Israeli army and protect his country from harm.
I suspect the troops who encountered that dying boy will never feel the same way again about their military service. If ever they saw their service as routine and their work as common, no more. More than the gift the unit gave the dying boy did the boy give these soldiers. Through him they realized just what a privelege it is to serve as a soldier in the army of Israel.
We are approaching the holiday of Pesach. If your home is in any way like mine its a 'balagan' at this time. Cleaning, cooking, shopping, the home is full of frenzy. It's good to pause, if just for a moment and take perspective. What's it all about? Why Pesach? Yes, I know we were slaves in Egypt and we were made free. But that's a long time ago. So much has happened since, much of it pretty horrific.
My mother is 86 and alone for Pesach. She will not have a seder. It's not that no one offered to invite her or even make a seder for her in her home. But she says its too difficult to sit through a seder at her age. And besides, in her words, "I had enough seders in my life". If that's true for my mother at 86 how much more true is it for the Jewish People. How many seders do we have to sit through? We get it! We know the story. We know; we appreciate; isn't it enough already?
I think the story we told above provides us with a much needed perspective. Yes, we know the story. Yes, we know we were liberated from a slavery that seemed interminable. But knowing something, knowing a truth, does not in and of itself lead us to appreciate it. The soldiers in the Israeli army, in the story above, knew they were serving their country. They needed no one to remind them. And they knew their work was important. But it took the presence of this terminally ill child to bring them to a full appreciation of the unique privelege that is theirs, after some 2000 years, to serve in an army defending the Jewish State.
Each year as we come to Pesach and relive the story of the Exodus in word and symbol we re-enter the national experience and bring it to life. Our freedom, the gift of our ability to become who we need to become and to realize our potential as a a nation and as persons is no longer just a fact for which we express token gratitude. In celebrating each year the time of our liberation we affirm that freedom is not an expectation. It is not something to be taken for granted. No, freedom our freedom was a gift from G-d that might well not have been at all. We are priveleged to be free. And no matter how long ago it was, nor what has transpired in between, we are fortunate and priveleged to be free men and women able to serve G-d and live our lives with choice and opportunity.
I am sure that the paratroopers of whom we wrote earlier did not grumble the next morning after meeting the boy and his mother in the kitchen when they were woken at 6:00am for morning duty. Nor did they complain about the 20 kilometer hike they took the day after. At least for a few days these soldiers were so full of gratitude for the gift of being able to serve that they got past the petty complaints that might otherwise weigh them down. That is what Pesach is about for us. In re-entering the story we already know so well we
put our lives in perspective. All of a sudden all the disappointments and frustrations that bring us down seem less significant. We no longer dwell on what might have been in our lives that wasn't or what should not have been that was. Instead we take stock of the miracle of our freedom. We experience full appreciation for the basic rights that we have that were in no way certain. We feel the full measure of gratitude for G-d's gift , without which we would have remained slaves, never becoming a nation, compromised forever!
So Pesach is nearly here. We will soon complete all the preparations. Our homes will be made kosher for the chag. The rituals, and there are many, will be observed. We will wish each other a "chag smayach" a "joyous holiday". But let's not forget the opportunity before us. Let's use the holiday as intended, to re-experience our slavery and our liberation. If we can feel the fullness of our suffering in the long years of our enslavement in Egypt and sense the thrill of the liberation, if we can truly taste the bitter and the sweet and take nothing for granted, then this Yom Tov we can make joyous much more than the week of Pesach. We can actually put into perspective all the days of our lives with their attendant encumbrances. Through a proper experience of Pesach we can know happiness!
We live a miracle each day. We were slaves! We are free! How can we not be happy!
Shabbat Shalom
Chag Smayach
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Of Guilt and Grace
In many ways it is much easier to be a Christian than to be a Jew. It's not only the practical side of the matter, that our faith places so many more expectations upon us to observe a discipline and a lifestyle. Even in theology Judaism seems a much harder faith to live with. For Christians there is a seminal concept virtually absent in Judaism. They believe in Grace. What is Grace? Well as best as I can understand it, Grace is the idea that even though we may be flawed in some fundemental ways and mired in sin G-d gives us a pass...a free ticket as it were. Through Divine Grace, they believe, in the eyes of G-d we are o'kay with our defeciencies and failings. For us as Jews there are no free passes. When we do wrong we are held accountable. We are always said to choose and held liable for our choices.
In truth so much of the allure Christianity holds for Jews who sadly and tragically leave our faith and embrace theirs is the relief they seek from the guilt that haunts them. I have seen over and over the young Jewish person, who is indeed soulful yet feels him/herself lacking, be enticed by Christianity for its invitation to Grace and liberation from guilt. The appeal of Christianity is not to our brothers and sisters who have no interest in G-d. On the contrary, those attracted are very much seeking a spiritual connection. Their problem with Judaism is that they feel it never lets them feel good enough about themselves. With all the expectations of Jewish life and tradition they feel doomed to Divine rejection. Recently I had a conversation with someone I regularly study with. He is a businessman. He is successful. He could choose to pursue any lifestyle he desired. Yet he keeps Shabbat. He davens each day. He commits to a set time for learning daily. He gives considerable tzedaka. In short, despite the opportunity to sin, he is faithful to the a Torah way of life. Yet my friend expresses concern over whether he is "good enough" and entitled to the "world-to-come". He is not sure if G-d will find him worthy. How can that lacking, so evident in the hearts of so many of us, not cause us a sense of sadness and angst even when we adhere to our faith and tradition?
When I open the book of Vayikra and read the seemingly endless portions that speak of sin and atonement I am reminded of the heaviness of our faith. Sin and sacrifice, atonement and punsihment, Judaism never seems to let up with admonishment. Do we ever get a break?
Is it any wonder that "Jewish guilt" is entrenched in our psyche?
So having painted the dark side of this canvas of our faith what is the bright side? How do we understand the lack of Grace in our tradition? Do we need to endlessly beat ourselves up?
On reflection I think there is indeed another side to the story. Do you remember many years ago there was a self-help, psychology book written titled "I'm Okay, You're Okay". It was very popular in its day. The author pointed out that all our patterns of communication reflect a sense of where we see ourselves vis a vis the other. Sometimes we speak to others out of a perspective that we are okay and they are not. Parents often speak that way to their children, but even adults to adults often take that superior position.
Then at time we communicate from the vantage point that "I am not okay but you are okay". Children often see themselves in that position relative to their parents. Yet even as adults we can feel ourselves as children and not okay relative to others who we give power to. In marriages women often feel that imbalance relative to their husbands. There are also times when we are in relationship with another where we feel neither of us is okay. All the above scenarios in the view of the author are mentally unhealthy. To be healthy and happy we need to live out of a framework where "I am okay and you are okay".
But what if we are not okay? What if we have sinned and are compromised as persons? In this model we need to be free of that which makes us not okay. Sin is a stain that makes us not okay and no being ok compromises our wellbeing.
Indeed for a Christian sin is not okay. If one sins, for Catholics, one goes to a private confession. Sin cannot be made public. Moreover one cannot take communion until one has confessed and been absolved of sin. One is essentially rendered unacceptable through sin, cast out from the community of faith. If one's sins are pervasive one needs Grace. Without Grace the person is doomed and forever without a place in the community of the G-dly. Indeed with that perspective, where sin cannot be mentioned and to sin is to be unacceptable of course Grace is vital and necessary. We need to be Okay and can never be Okay with the stain of sin.
Our faith is oh so different. True the Torah goes into great detail describing atonement and the consequences of sin. But sin for us is no shame. We bring sin offerings as a public event. The 'chahat', animal offerring for sin is brought to the Temple and publically sacrificed. Thousands bring the offering each day. It is not an exception to the norm. It is the norm. The Torah normalizes it in procedure and process. Everyone sins! Confession? sure we confess. But it's not private. On Yom Kippur we all confess our sins, and we do it in unison and in voice. And even as those bearing sin we are not cast out. We need no Grace to belong to the community of faith.
We enter the Temple as sinners. We are never cast out!
If there is a model that fits the Jewish concept of being okay it is "I am not Okay, You're not Okay, but that's Okay!"
Judaism does not whitewash sin or give us a free pass. It does need to pretend we have not sinned with a cheap grace.
Judaism indeed holds us accountable. We are liable for our misdeeds. But even with them we are acceptable. Not because we have no sin, but because sin is part of our being human. Our work is to strive to get better. But we will always have sin. Even the best of us!
Judiasm teaches us that while I need strive to excellence I am ok being flawed. In fact if I was not flawed there would be no purpose to my place in the world. In my flawedness all the good I do becomes that much more impressive and meaningful. Only because I am flawed does my life have meaning for both others and self.
G-d does not need to pretend we are better than we are to love us. G-d loves us and welcomes us into an intimacy with Him with our limitations. We do not need to be perfect to be acceptable to Him.
Our real challenge is to imitate G-d's ways and love and accept ourselves as we are.
Shabbat Shalom
In truth so much of the allure Christianity holds for Jews who sadly and tragically leave our faith and embrace theirs is the relief they seek from the guilt that haunts them. I have seen over and over the young Jewish person, who is indeed soulful yet feels him/herself lacking, be enticed by Christianity for its invitation to Grace and liberation from guilt. The appeal of Christianity is not to our brothers and sisters who have no interest in G-d. On the contrary, those attracted are very much seeking a spiritual connection. Their problem with Judaism is that they feel it never lets them feel good enough about themselves. With all the expectations of Jewish life and tradition they feel doomed to Divine rejection. Recently I had a conversation with someone I regularly study with. He is a businessman. He is successful. He could choose to pursue any lifestyle he desired. Yet he keeps Shabbat. He davens each day. He commits to a set time for learning daily. He gives considerable tzedaka. In short, despite the opportunity to sin, he is faithful to the a Torah way of life. Yet my friend expresses concern over whether he is "good enough" and entitled to the "world-to-come". He is not sure if G-d will find him worthy. How can that lacking, so evident in the hearts of so many of us, not cause us a sense of sadness and angst even when we adhere to our faith and tradition?
When I open the book of Vayikra and read the seemingly endless portions that speak of sin and atonement I am reminded of the heaviness of our faith. Sin and sacrifice, atonement and punsihment, Judaism never seems to let up with admonishment. Do we ever get a break?
Is it any wonder that "Jewish guilt" is entrenched in our psyche?
So having painted the dark side of this canvas of our faith what is the bright side? How do we understand the lack of Grace in our tradition? Do we need to endlessly beat ourselves up?
On reflection I think there is indeed another side to the story. Do you remember many years ago there was a self-help, psychology book written titled "I'm Okay, You're Okay". It was very popular in its day. The author pointed out that all our patterns of communication reflect a sense of where we see ourselves vis a vis the other. Sometimes we speak to others out of a perspective that we are okay and they are not. Parents often speak that way to their children, but even adults to adults often take that superior position.
Then at time we communicate from the vantage point that "I am not okay but you are okay". Children often see themselves in that position relative to their parents. Yet even as adults we can feel ourselves as children and not okay relative to others who we give power to. In marriages women often feel that imbalance relative to their husbands. There are also times when we are in relationship with another where we feel neither of us is okay. All the above scenarios in the view of the author are mentally unhealthy. To be healthy and happy we need to live out of a framework where "I am okay and you are okay".
But what if we are not okay? What if we have sinned and are compromised as persons? In this model we need to be free of that which makes us not okay. Sin is a stain that makes us not okay and no being ok compromises our wellbeing.
Indeed for a Christian sin is not okay. If one sins, for Catholics, one goes to a private confession. Sin cannot be made public. Moreover one cannot take communion until one has confessed and been absolved of sin. One is essentially rendered unacceptable through sin, cast out from the community of faith. If one's sins are pervasive one needs Grace. Without Grace the person is doomed and forever without a place in the community of the G-dly. Indeed with that perspective, where sin cannot be mentioned and to sin is to be unacceptable of course Grace is vital and necessary. We need to be Okay and can never be Okay with the stain of sin.
Our faith is oh so different. True the Torah goes into great detail describing atonement and the consequences of sin. But sin for us is no shame. We bring sin offerings as a public event. The 'chahat', animal offerring for sin is brought to the Temple and publically sacrificed. Thousands bring the offering each day. It is not an exception to the norm. It is the norm. The Torah normalizes it in procedure and process. Everyone sins! Confession? sure we confess. But it's not private. On Yom Kippur we all confess our sins, and we do it in unison and in voice. And even as those bearing sin we are not cast out. We need no Grace to belong to the community of faith.
We enter the Temple as sinners. We are never cast out!
If there is a model that fits the Jewish concept of being okay it is "I am not Okay, You're not Okay, but that's Okay!"
Judaism does not whitewash sin or give us a free pass. It does need to pretend we have not sinned with a cheap grace.
Judaism indeed holds us accountable. We are liable for our misdeeds. But even with them we are acceptable. Not because we have no sin, but because sin is part of our being human. Our work is to strive to get better. But we will always have sin. Even the best of us!
Judiasm teaches us that while I need strive to excellence I am ok being flawed. In fact if I was not flawed there would be no purpose to my place in the world. In my flawedness all the good I do becomes that much more impressive and meaningful. Only because I am flawed does my life have meaning for both others and self.
G-d does not need to pretend we are better than we are to love us. G-d loves us and welcomes us into an intimacy with Him with our limitations. We do not need to be perfect to be acceptable to Him.
Our real challenge is to imitate G-d's ways and love and accept ourselves as we are.
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Taking Notice
Do you know the color of the eyes of the person you work with every day? Can you tell me what color dress your wife wore yesterday or what shoes your husband wore? Truth is most of us will have no idea. To many of things things that stare us in the face, literally, we pay no mind.
And, we will argue, perhaps correctly, that we do right. We point out, the things we take no notice of are of little consequence. But the question is, if we do not take notice how do we know that which we miss is of little consequence?
This Shabbat we conclude the four special Sabbaths that surround Purim and precede Pesach with Parshat Ha'chodesh. The reading of the Torah speaks of the first mitzvah given to the People Of Israel in anticipation of the Exodus, that of sanctifying the month on the basis of the sighting of the new moon. What is the meaning of this mitzvah in the life of the nation? Why is it given priority, so much so as to precede the liberation from Egypt and the giving of the Torah? And what significance does this mitzvah have to us that we read it yearly on a special Sabbath, particularly in our times where we have no 'beit din' to sanctify the months on the basis of the new moon?
If we are to see the Torah as a mirror revealing to us what we need to know inorder to become whole as persons and as a people I think the truth we are being shown is that all becoming begins with taking notice! What is the mitzvah of the sanctifying of the month if not a call to take notice. We cannot have holidays, we cannot perform the rituals associated with the holidays, we can not have a national/religious life without taking notice, notice of the small sliver of the moon as it emerges from obscurity into rebirth each month. All Jewish living starts with taking notice of the change in the sky. Its not a big change, and its one we might otherwise not recognize, anymore than we notice the color of our friend's eyes. Yet it is important that we be aware, that we live life with eyes wide open, that we see what needs to be seen, so that we can become who we need to become. The mitzvah which is prerequisite for all others and upon which all national growth and becoming depends is the mitzvah to take notice. If we as a people are blind to the messages our times and circumstances reveal we will forever remain compromised and stuck in our mediocrity.
If taking notice is vital to us as a people, how much more so is it essential for us as persons. Rav Wolbe in his sefer Aleh Shor, challenges us to learn at least three lessons each day from experience, from encounters we have in the world and with people. He emphasizes that living is meant to teach us. We receive regular invitations to insight, if only we will take notice.
How many people go through life singing loud never realizing they are off-key. And if we think of the above metaphorically, how many live lives off key, hurting others with there words and deeds seemingly oblivious. They never take notice of the impact they make on others. When confronted, sometimes after many years of hurtful behaviors, they will say "No one ever told me." In fact they were told many times, if not explicitly then by the reactions of others. It's not that they were not 'told'. It's simply that they refused to take notice of all the signs before their eyes!
To be alive is to use the world and our brothers and sister as our teachers. They reveal to us truths about ourselves we cannot get anywhere else. But usually the lessons will not be given to us directly. We need to be observant and watch the impact we make as we navigate life.
Moreover taking notice of others and how they react to life with its challenges and opportunities will teach us much about our own possibilities both for the good and bad. Not only does the Torah mirror each of us as individuals. Each person we encounter is a mirror as well. True we are not all the same. But we are all made of the same ingredients. And if someone else behaves in a way unlike us, either for the good or the bad, it begs to be noticed. In noticing we can consider the differences between us, explore the reasons, learn and grow. Turning a blind eye to difference is almost as bad as rejecting those who are different. In each case we shun the message difference has to teach us. We need to take notice of how others are not the same as us and learn from them so as to improve our selves.
The Torah teaches us all this when it prioritizes the mitzvah of sanctifying the new month on the basis of the sighting of the first glimpse of the new moon. The imperative is clear. Everything begins with taking notice.
Is it any wonder then that Pesach, our first holiday, and celebration of our nation's birth, in it's major observance, challenges us to take notice even of the crumb of chametz. All change, all growth, all becoming begins with taking notice. Our first spiritual call is to open our eyes!
Shabbat Shalom
And, we will argue, perhaps correctly, that we do right. We point out, the things we take no notice of are of little consequence. But the question is, if we do not take notice how do we know that which we miss is of little consequence?
This Shabbat we conclude the four special Sabbaths that surround Purim and precede Pesach with Parshat Ha'chodesh. The reading of the Torah speaks of the first mitzvah given to the People Of Israel in anticipation of the Exodus, that of sanctifying the month on the basis of the sighting of the new moon. What is the meaning of this mitzvah in the life of the nation? Why is it given priority, so much so as to precede the liberation from Egypt and the giving of the Torah? And what significance does this mitzvah have to us that we read it yearly on a special Sabbath, particularly in our times where we have no 'beit din' to sanctify the months on the basis of the new moon?
If we are to see the Torah as a mirror revealing to us what we need to know inorder to become whole as persons and as a people I think the truth we are being shown is that all becoming begins with taking notice! What is the mitzvah of the sanctifying of the month if not a call to take notice. We cannot have holidays, we cannot perform the rituals associated with the holidays, we can not have a national/religious life without taking notice, notice of the small sliver of the moon as it emerges from obscurity into rebirth each month. All Jewish living starts with taking notice of the change in the sky. Its not a big change, and its one we might otherwise not recognize, anymore than we notice the color of our friend's eyes. Yet it is important that we be aware, that we live life with eyes wide open, that we see what needs to be seen, so that we can become who we need to become. The mitzvah which is prerequisite for all others and upon which all national growth and becoming depends is the mitzvah to take notice. If we as a people are blind to the messages our times and circumstances reveal we will forever remain compromised and stuck in our mediocrity.
If taking notice is vital to us as a people, how much more so is it essential for us as persons. Rav Wolbe in his sefer Aleh Shor, challenges us to learn at least three lessons each day from experience, from encounters we have in the world and with people. He emphasizes that living is meant to teach us. We receive regular invitations to insight, if only we will take notice.
How many people go through life singing loud never realizing they are off-key. And if we think of the above metaphorically, how many live lives off key, hurting others with there words and deeds seemingly oblivious. They never take notice of the impact they make on others. When confronted, sometimes after many years of hurtful behaviors, they will say "No one ever told me." In fact they were told many times, if not explicitly then by the reactions of others. It's not that they were not 'told'. It's simply that they refused to take notice of all the signs before their eyes!
To be alive is to use the world and our brothers and sister as our teachers. They reveal to us truths about ourselves we cannot get anywhere else. But usually the lessons will not be given to us directly. We need to be observant and watch the impact we make as we navigate life.
Moreover taking notice of others and how they react to life with its challenges and opportunities will teach us much about our own possibilities both for the good and bad. Not only does the Torah mirror each of us as individuals. Each person we encounter is a mirror as well. True we are not all the same. But we are all made of the same ingredients. And if someone else behaves in a way unlike us, either for the good or the bad, it begs to be noticed. In noticing we can consider the differences between us, explore the reasons, learn and grow. Turning a blind eye to difference is almost as bad as rejecting those who are different. In each case we shun the message difference has to teach us. We need to take notice of how others are not the same as us and learn from them so as to improve our selves.
The Torah teaches us all this when it prioritizes the mitzvah of sanctifying the new month on the basis of the sighting of the first glimpse of the new moon. The imperative is clear. Everything begins with taking notice.
Is it any wonder then that Pesach, our first holiday, and celebration of our nation's birth, in it's major observance, challenges us to take notice even of the crumb of chametz. All change, all growth, all becoming begins with taking notice. Our first spiritual call is to open our eyes!
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, February 21, 2013
In Tribute to a Kohen
I must admit, sometimes the priveleges given to the kohen annoy me. As you are aware those who trace their lineage to Aharon the priest are given special status in the community of Israel. In ancient times they served as conduits between the people and G-d in the Bait Hamikdash, the Holy Temple. They lived a life committed to public service. Their role entitled them to distinction and respect. But that was near 2000 years ago. Since that time the Kohen's life is indistiguishable from every other Jew. He works a regular job and invests himself in the secular. Yet according to our tradition he still commands a unique station in the life of the community. He has priority when it comes to receiving an aliya to the Torah. He is first to lead the grace after meal. He claims the five shekel for the redemption of the first born. And he ascends to the front of the synagogue daily in Israel and on holidays in the galut to bestow the priestly blessings on the congregation.
I have often wondered why? Why should the kohen in our day be given special status.
Today the Kohen gets a privelege undeserved. He makes no sacrifice yet he is honored.
He may not be a mensch yet he has priority over a community of scholars. Of himself he may be a nobody yet by dint of 'ýichus' he becomes a star. We are a religion which emphasizes accomplishment not pedigree. How then does the Kohen in this context become so important?
I titled this blog, "In Tribute to a Kohen". And there is a specific Kohen I have in mind, Moshe Cohen, of blessed memory. Most of us probably know a Moshe Cohen. But the Moshe Cohen I have in mind few knew. He lived in Jerusalem for many years. He was a professor at the Technion. He was also one of the most humble men I have ever met. So humble that I hardly really knew him myself. He came to the 6:00am minyan every day where I have davened the past two years. He was the only Kohen. He blessed us each morning. And yes he received the opening aliya at the Torah reading as was his due on Monday and Thursdays. Yesterday, after a long battle with cancer, he passed away.
He died like he lived, quietly and with modesty. As is the traditon in Jerusalem he was buried the day of his death. Few even knew he had died. Few were at his nighttime burial.
Moshe was not a talkative man. He never shared about himself. Few knew he was a professor of note. He came to shule in the quiet and left the same. I do not know his life story. I know almost nothing about Moshe except what I witnessed. I saw each day in him a quiet dignity. Moshe made effort to reach out to an old compromised and friendless man in shule each morning, someone none of us could relate to. Moshe never mixed into shule politics or got caught up in controversy, and their was plenty of opportunity.
Most of all Moshe taught me something about the Kohen. He helped me understand why the kohen even in our days may well have a right to special status. For you see Moshe, our Kohen, battled cancer for several years. Though he never talked about it, it was clear that he suffered. Nonetheless even as his life was full of torment he ascended the platform in front of the synagogue each morning and in a strong and resonant voice blessed us. He did not let his own curse cause resentment. No, on the contrary, his own curse seemed only to make him more determined to bless others.
As the months wore on Moshe would be absent from minyan from time to time to take treatments. Gradually his once resonant voice became weaker. By the end he could barely be heard. He had lost his hair. He walked haltingly. Yet he would not surrender the opportunity to bless us. By the end it was almost sureal to see this terminally ill man, living on death's door, rise above his own hellish existence to bless us with the gifts included in the priestly blessings. Moshe may have been small of stature and weak of body, but he was a giant, a lion of a man.
From Moshe Cohen I came to respect all the kohanim of our post Temple days. It's true the kohen no longer devotes his life to the holy as was once the case and hopefully will soon be again. But the kohen, if he is to do his job well, even in our days makes a heroic effort. He must get past all the unfairness he is feeling in his own life and daily bestow blessings on us. The kohen must find a way to rise above the resentments and disappointments he lives with and be the vehicle through which G-d can show favor to us. The Kohen must love us even when he is hurting. I am not sure that there is any life work more difficult.
Moshe Cohen is gone. His voice is stilled. It is appropriate that he died on the week we read the parsha of Tzav, a parsha that speaks to us of the unique role of the kohen in the community of Israel. While he did not get to bring the sacrifices nor to wear the priestly garments, Moshe Cohen reflected the best of what being a kohen is all about.
He loved us even when it was hard to love another. He was a true child of Aharon.
We who davened with him will miss him. Thank G-d there remain kohanim like Moshe in our world who will bless us with a full heart even when they experience life as cursed.
Indeed they deserve our honor and respect.
Shabbat Shalom
Purim Samayach
I have often wondered why? Why should the kohen in our day be given special status.
Today the Kohen gets a privelege undeserved. He makes no sacrifice yet he is honored.
He may not be a mensch yet he has priority over a community of scholars. Of himself he may be a nobody yet by dint of 'ýichus' he becomes a star. We are a religion which emphasizes accomplishment not pedigree. How then does the Kohen in this context become so important?
I titled this blog, "In Tribute to a Kohen". And there is a specific Kohen I have in mind, Moshe Cohen, of blessed memory. Most of us probably know a Moshe Cohen. But the Moshe Cohen I have in mind few knew. He lived in Jerusalem for many years. He was a professor at the Technion. He was also one of the most humble men I have ever met. So humble that I hardly really knew him myself. He came to the 6:00am minyan every day where I have davened the past two years. He was the only Kohen. He blessed us each morning. And yes he received the opening aliya at the Torah reading as was his due on Monday and Thursdays. Yesterday, after a long battle with cancer, he passed away.
He died like he lived, quietly and with modesty. As is the traditon in Jerusalem he was buried the day of his death. Few even knew he had died. Few were at his nighttime burial.
Moshe was not a talkative man. He never shared about himself. Few knew he was a professor of note. He came to shule in the quiet and left the same. I do not know his life story. I know almost nothing about Moshe except what I witnessed. I saw each day in him a quiet dignity. Moshe made effort to reach out to an old compromised and friendless man in shule each morning, someone none of us could relate to. Moshe never mixed into shule politics or got caught up in controversy, and their was plenty of opportunity.
Most of all Moshe taught me something about the Kohen. He helped me understand why the kohen even in our days may well have a right to special status. For you see Moshe, our Kohen, battled cancer for several years. Though he never talked about it, it was clear that he suffered. Nonetheless even as his life was full of torment he ascended the platform in front of the synagogue each morning and in a strong and resonant voice blessed us. He did not let his own curse cause resentment. No, on the contrary, his own curse seemed only to make him more determined to bless others.
As the months wore on Moshe would be absent from minyan from time to time to take treatments. Gradually his once resonant voice became weaker. By the end he could barely be heard. He had lost his hair. He walked haltingly. Yet he would not surrender the opportunity to bless us. By the end it was almost sureal to see this terminally ill man, living on death's door, rise above his own hellish existence to bless us with the gifts included in the priestly blessings. Moshe may have been small of stature and weak of body, but he was a giant, a lion of a man.
From Moshe Cohen I came to respect all the kohanim of our post Temple days. It's true the kohen no longer devotes his life to the holy as was once the case and hopefully will soon be again. But the kohen, if he is to do his job well, even in our days makes a heroic effort. He must get past all the unfairness he is feeling in his own life and daily bestow blessings on us. The kohen must find a way to rise above the resentments and disappointments he lives with and be the vehicle through which G-d can show favor to us. The Kohen must love us even when he is hurting. I am not sure that there is any life work more difficult.
Moshe Cohen is gone. His voice is stilled. It is appropriate that he died on the week we read the parsha of Tzav, a parsha that speaks to us of the unique role of the kohen in the community of Israel. While he did not get to bring the sacrifices nor to wear the priestly garments, Moshe Cohen reflected the best of what being a kohen is all about.
He loved us even when it was hard to love another. He was a true child of Aharon.
We who davened with him will miss him. Thank G-d there remain kohanim like Moshe in our world who will bless us with a full heart even when they experience life as cursed.
Indeed they deserve our honor and respect.
Shabbat Shalom
Purim Samayach
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Give and Take
There is an in interesting tradition with reference to the slicing of the Challah at the festive Shabbat and holidays meal. Typically one person makes the blessing over the two loaves and dispenses pieces to the guests and family at the table. We are taught that the one who recites the blessing should not distribute the slices by placing them into the hands of the guests and family members. Rather he should place the challah slices on a platter and pass the platter along so that each person can take a piece for him/herself.
And why? The reason for not handing out the challah is because to hand someone food is to minimize them, that is, to enact a scene of dependency. Even at our own table with guests who know they are respected it is inappropriate to do something in a manner that is demeaning. Giving to another, while surely benifiting them, puts the recepient in the one-down position relative to the giver.
The process itself make the giver feel empowered and the recipient often feels belittled.
The Torah this week teaches us a similar truth. At the begining of the parsha of Teruma the Torah tells us that G-d told Moshe to take donations, in Hebrew a 'teruma', from the Children of Israel. In the words of the 'pasuk', "...from every man whose heart motivates him to give you shall take my 'teruma'." The language of the verse presents an obvious challenge. First Moshe is told to take the donations from every person who wants to voluntarily give. Then the verse goes on to say that from those people Moshe should "take" it.
What's going on? If the gift is voluntary it would make sense to say "from them you should receive it" not "take". If Moshe is taking the gift the implication is that it's coerced and not voluntary!
I believe the interpretation of the verse has everything to do with the lesson of the Challah we discussed above. The 'teruma' was the first call to national giving in the experience of the People of Israel. It was tzedaka, in this case designated for the then being constructed Temple. Moshe was told not only that he should collect. He was being told how he should collect. G-d was teaching Moshe and through him to all of us the proper way to give. It is wonderful to help another in need. A generous and emapathic heart is a good thing. Moshe was told to indeed honor those who want to make a difference and contribute to the worthy cause at hand. But, and this is a big but, Moshe was told that the donor needs to contribute in such a way that s/he does not lord over the recipient. The benifactor should extend his/her hand with his/her gift, make it available. Then, it is for the one benifiting to take it from him/her, thereby assuming initiative in the process and moving from a dependent to an agent in his/her behalf.
We spend much of our lives giving. And I am not talking here about bestowing monetary gifts and acts of tzedaka. I mean giving in our role as parents and as spouses and in the workplace. We give all the time. Those of us who have matured understand that the need to give is a powerful piece of the quality of our lives. In truth, at times our need to give is even greater than the need of others to receive.
In giving we feel ourselves purposeful and yes powerful. We are somebody when we help another in ways both small and big.
This past week, one morning I was standing outside a Bais Medrash waiting for it to open. As it turned out the man with the key never showed up. I noticed a woman walking up and down the block seemingly searching for something. I had no idea what. Finally, a moment or two before I was off to another Bais Medrash I knew would be open, the woman said to me "Excuse me, can you help me a moment?"
To be honest, I was a bit concerned with what I might be committing myself to and to whom, but I said "sure". She then led me to her apartment half way down the block. We enterred and sitting in a chair was a man I took to be her husband. He was clearly paralyzed.
The woman asked if I would be so kind as to help lift him into his wheelchair so she might take him outside. I did. Then I helped her move the wheeolchair out the door and down the steps into the street. She expressed thanks and my kindness was done. But not before I told her she did me the favor in allowing me to help. And indeed she did.
We all look for these kind of pure and simple opportunities to give. They make us feel good about ourselves. We need them. But it's important that we be careful as possible to not minimize the other even in providing them the help they need. True the poor person will be all too glad to take our tzedaka no matter how we perform the act of giving. In the end, for them, its about the money and meeting their desparate needs. Yet we need to be careful to not rob them of their dignity in the process. We need to give a smile as much as a dollar. We would do well to stand up and show respect when we give. Sometimes I think it important we read the letter they bring with them in their efforts to collect, if only to show interest in their story. And perhaps, taking the lesson from the portion, we would do well to try not to put our money in their hand directly so as not to highlight their sense of dependency. Their are many imaginative ways to give, which allow us to feel good about ourselves, without evidencing an attendent superiority.
This concept is true in all the 'giving' situations in our life. When we help another our real task is to lay out before them the opportunity we are providing. We offer the other a path and a direction. We may be willing to walk by their side. But we must resist the impulse to do it for the other. In the end the initiative must come from the other. In giving we do with someone else, not for someone else, if it's at all possible for them to do it themselves.
In a true act of giving both the giver and the recepient feel good. The giver feels s/he has made a difference in another's life. The recepient feels good because s/he has used an opportunity presented him/her to help him/herself. The giver makes it possible for the recipient to move past feeling like a victim. Through the donor's gift s/he can be an agent in his/her own behalf.
If only one or the other feels good the act of giving is inherently flawed!
Shabbat Shalom
I
And why? The reason for not handing out the challah is because to hand someone food is to minimize them, that is, to enact a scene of dependency. Even at our own table with guests who know they are respected it is inappropriate to do something in a manner that is demeaning. Giving to another, while surely benifiting them, puts the recepient in the one-down position relative to the giver.
The process itself make the giver feel empowered and the recipient often feels belittled.
The Torah this week teaches us a similar truth. At the begining of the parsha of Teruma the Torah tells us that G-d told Moshe to take donations, in Hebrew a 'teruma', from the Children of Israel. In the words of the 'pasuk', "...from every man whose heart motivates him to give you shall take my 'teruma'." The language of the verse presents an obvious challenge. First Moshe is told to take the donations from every person who wants to voluntarily give. Then the verse goes on to say that from those people Moshe should "take" it.
What's going on? If the gift is voluntary it would make sense to say "from them you should receive it" not "take". If Moshe is taking the gift the implication is that it's coerced and not voluntary!
I believe the interpretation of the verse has everything to do with the lesson of the Challah we discussed above. The 'teruma' was the first call to national giving in the experience of the People of Israel. It was tzedaka, in this case designated for the then being constructed Temple. Moshe was told not only that he should collect. He was being told how he should collect. G-d was teaching Moshe and through him to all of us the proper way to give. It is wonderful to help another in need. A generous and emapathic heart is a good thing. Moshe was told to indeed honor those who want to make a difference and contribute to the worthy cause at hand. But, and this is a big but, Moshe was told that the donor needs to contribute in such a way that s/he does not lord over the recipient. The benifactor should extend his/her hand with his/her gift, make it available. Then, it is for the one benifiting to take it from him/her, thereby assuming initiative in the process and moving from a dependent to an agent in his/her behalf.
We spend much of our lives giving. And I am not talking here about bestowing monetary gifts and acts of tzedaka. I mean giving in our role as parents and as spouses and in the workplace. We give all the time. Those of us who have matured understand that the need to give is a powerful piece of the quality of our lives. In truth, at times our need to give is even greater than the need of others to receive.
In giving we feel ourselves purposeful and yes powerful. We are somebody when we help another in ways both small and big.
This past week, one morning I was standing outside a Bais Medrash waiting for it to open. As it turned out the man with the key never showed up. I noticed a woman walking up and down the block seemingly searching for something. I had no idea what. Finally, a moment or two before I was off to another Bais Medrash I knew would be open, the woman said to me "Excuse me, can you help me a moment?"
To be honest, I was a bit concerned with what I might be committing myself to and to whom, but I said "sure". She then led me to her apartment half way down the block. We enterred and sitting in a chair was a man I took to be her husband. He was clearly paralyzed.
The woman asked if I would be so kind as to help lift him into his wheelchair so she might take him outside. I did. Then I helped her move the wheeolchair out the door and down the steps into the street. She expressed thanks and my kindness was done. But not before I told her she did me the favor in allowing me to help. And indeed she did.
We all look for these kind of pure and simple opportunities to give. They make us feel good about ourselves. We need them. But it's important that we be careful as possible to not minimize the other even in providing them the help they need. True the poor person will be all too glad to take our tzedaka no matter how we perform the act of giving. In the end, for them, its about the money and meeting their desparate needs. Yet we need to be careful to not rob them of their dignity in the process. We need to give a smile as much as a dollar. We would do well to stand up and show respect when we give. Sometimes I think it important we read the letter they bring with them in their efforts to collect, if only to show interest in their story. And perhaps, taking the lesson from the portion, we would do well to try not to put our money in their hand directly so as not to highlight their sense of dependency. Their are many imaginative ways to give, which allow us to feel good about ourselves, without evidencing an attendent superiority.
This concept is true in all the 'giving' situations in our life. When we help another our real task is to lay out before them the opportunity we are providing. We offer the other a path and a direction. We may be willing to walk by their side. But we must resist the impulse to do it for the other. In the end the initiative must come from the other. In giving we do with someone else, not for someone else, if it's at all possible for them to do it themselves.
In a true act of giving both the giver and the recepient feel good. The giver feels s/he has made a difference in another's life. The recepient feels good because s/he has used an opportunity presented him/her to help him/herself. The giver makes it possible for the recipient to move past feeling like a victim. Through the donor's gift s/he can be an agent in his/her own behalf.
If only one or the other feels good the act of giving is inherently flawed!
Shabbat Shalom
I
Thursday, February 7, 2013
The Spirit and the Flesh
"And to the princes of the Children of Israel He laid not his hand.And they beheld G-d and they ate and drank."
The close of this week's parsha of Mishpatim speaks to the events at Sinai. According to some commentaries it adds to already talked about events prior to the giving of the Ten Commandments. According to others it refers to what happened directly after. In either case the verse quoted above is intriguing. Who are these "princes" and why did G-d have reason to "lay his hand"?
Rashi in his commentary says the verse is referring to Nadav and Avihu, the two chidlren of Aharon, who later died in the Temple.
Their sin here was one of arrogance. They experienced the prophetic at Sinai while still immersed in the mundane of their lives.
G-d spared the consequence of their 'chutzpa' here, not to compromise the festivities of the Giving of the Law.
Other commentaries see no sin here at all. And do not agree that the subject of the verse is Nadav and Avihu.
The Or Ha'Chayim presents a compelling interpretation. He explains, the literal meaning of the words is "And G-d did not send out His hand." The Or Ha'Chayim explains that means G-d did not hold back the fullness of his revelation, as He did when Moshe asked to see His face and G-d, in response, revealed Himself but covered His face with His palm. Here at Sinai the princes saw G-d without filters. G-d did not "send out His hand" to cover Himself. According to the Or Ha'Chayim the verse is speaking of the blessing of Sinai. G-d here revealed Himself without obfuscation. What does it mean then that "they ate and drank"? The Or Ha'Chayim explained that it means the spiritual satisfied them as if they ate and drank.
I found the interpretation of the Or Ha'Chayim convincing, at least in so far as understanding that the verse is referring to the quality of G-d's revelation. However I see something different with reference to verse's close. For me, when the 'pasuk' concludes "and they saw G-d and they ate and drank", it is telling us something not about them and then but rather about us and now!
Most of us live our lives influenced by the idea that the spirit and the flesh are antithetical to each other. We assume that if we are to be spiritual people we must surrender physical pleasure and indulgence in the world. And we assume, that the contrary is equally true, to embrace the pleasures of the world means to forswear the spiritual. The message at Sinai is very much the opposite. The princes saw G-d in the most compelling revelation. Yet they did not have to become angels, withdraw from the world. On the contrary they could have the best of this world and its pleasure too, they could "eat and drink".
Immediately after the events at Sinai, the most holy of encounters the Torah gives us the 'mishpatim' the civil laws of damages and property.
In tradition these laws were taught to the Israelites the day after the revelation. If one reviews the details here one is struck by how earthy these statutes are. They are about the material and physical aspirations. Yet they are not only not in antithetical to the spirit of Sinai, they are in concert with it. They belong here in the shadow of the mountain and the revelation.
Indeed Judaism encourages us to experience the gifts of G-d's world. Our sages tell us we will be held accountable in the after-life for any pleasure permitted us and available in the world that we did not partake of. G-d loves us. He created this world for us to enjoy, albeit with conditions. It is a sin to abstain. True, our primary yearning should be for G-d and the attachment to Him. Yet we do that not only through spiritual acts like prayer and Torah study, but through experiencing G-d through the magnificence of His creation. Oneg Shabbat, having material pleasure on the Sabbath, is a mitzvah. We cannot fulfill the mitzvah without having pleasure! The blessings to G-d we make on eating and on experiencing sensual pleasure we cannot make unless we feel the pleasure! And the more the pleasure we experience in the physical act the more true will be our appreciation and the more real the blessing!
Those who separate themselves from the world thinking this is the Divine intent miss the mark. G-d wants us to enter His world, and with gusto. He provides the mitzvot to show us how we can enter and enjoy safely. Withdrawal is not the ideal. Moreover those who make abstanence the goal surrender the opportunity to perfect G-d's world, preferring instead to perfect themselves. How can one truly love Eretz Yisrael and Am Yisrael, foundations of our work in this world, if one is bent on withdrawal from the material.
No, we are not meant to vilify the flesh so as to embrace the spirit. This is not a situation of either or. We are challenged to live full
lives engaged in both the spirit and the flesh meaningfully. It is not spirit or flesh, but rather spirit and flesh. We need to be able to enjoy both and deeply! Both are gateways to the Divine!
Shabbat Shalom
The close of this week's parsha of Mishpatim speaks to the events at Sinai. According to some commentaries it adds to already talked about events prior to the giving of the Ten Commandments. According to others it refers to what happened directly after. In either case the verse quoted above is intriguing. Who are these "princes" and why did G-d have reason to "lay his hand"?
Rashi in his commentary says the verse is referring to Nadav and Avihu, the two chidlren of Aharon, who later died in the Temple.
Their sin here was one of arrogance. They experienced the prophetic at Sinai while still immersed in the mundane of their lives.
G-d spared the consequence of their 'chutzpa' here, not to compromise the festivities of the Giving of the Law.
Other commentaries see no sin here at all. And do not agree that the subject of the verse is Nadav and Avihu.
The Or Ha'Chayim presents a compelling interpretation. He explains, the literal meaning of the words is "And G-d did not send out His hand." The Or Ha'Chayim explains that means G-d did not hold back the fullness of his revelation, as He did when Moshe asked to see His face and G-d, in response, revealed Himself but covered His face with His palm. Here at Sinai the princes saw G-d without filters. G-d did not "send out His hand" to cover Himself. According to the Or Ha'Chayim the verse is speaking of the blessing of Sinai. G-d here revealed Himself without obfuscation. What does it mean then that "they ate and drank"? The Or Ha'Chayim explained that it means the spiritual satisfied them as if they ate and drank.
I found the interpretation of the Or Ha'Chayim convincing, at least in so far as understanding that the verse is referring to the quality of G-d's revelation. However I see something different with reference to verse's close. For me, when the 'pasuk' concludes "and they saw G-d and they ate and drank", it is telling us something not about them and then but rather about us and now!
Most of us live our lives influenced by the idea that the spirit and the flesh are antithetical to each other. We assume that if we are to be spiritual people we must surrender physical pleasure and indulgence in the world. And we assume, that the contrary is equally true, to embrace the pleasures of the world means to forswear the spiritual. The message at Sinai is very much the opposite. The princes saw G-d in the most compelling revelation. Yet they did not have to become angels, withdraw from the world. On the contrary they could have the best of this world and its pleasure too, they could "eat and drink".
Immediately after the events at Sinai, the most holy of encounters the Torah gives us the 'mishpatim' the civil laws of damages and property.
In tradition these laws were taught to the Israelites the day after the revelation. If one reviews the details here one is struck by how earthy these statutes are. They are about the material and physical aspirations. Yet they are not only not in antithetical to the spirit of Sinai, they are in concert with it. They belong here in the shadow of the mountain and the revelation.
Indeed Judaism encourages us to experience the gifts of G-d's world. Our sages tell us we will be held accountable in the after-life for any pleasure permitted us and available in the world that we did not partake of. G-d loves us. He created this world for us to enjoy, albeit with conditions. It is a sin to abstain. True, our primary yearning should be for G-d and the attachment to Him. Yet we do that not only through spiritual acts like prayer and Torah study, but through experiencing G-d through the magnificence of His creation. Oneg Shabbat, having material pleasure on the Sabbath, is a mitzvah. We cannot fulfill the mitzvah without having pleasure! The blessings to G-d we make on eating and on experiencing sensual pleasure we cannot make unless we feel the pleasure! And the more the pleasure we experience in the physical act the more true will be our appreciation and the more real the blessing!
Those who separate themselves from the world thinking this is the Divine intent miss the mark. G-d wants us to enter His world, and with gusto. He provides the mitzvot to show us how we can enter and enjoy safely. Withdrawal is not the ideal. Moreover those who make abstanence the goal surrender the opportunity to perfect G-d's world, preferring instead to perfect themselves. How can one truly love Eretz Yisrael and Am Yisrael, foundations of our work in this world, if one is bent on withdrawal from the material.
No, we are not meant to vilify the flesh so as to embrace the spirit. This is not a situation of either or. We are challenged to live full
lives engaged in both the spirit and the flesh meaningfully. It is not spirit or flesh, but rather spirit and flesh. We need to be able to enjoy both and deeply! Both are gateways to the Divine!
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Hierarchy or Collaboration?
When the Feminist Movement began to argue that society was structured on the basis of male dominated values they pointed to the hierarchical model of organization as a prime example. They argued that the assumption that things need to run on the basis of a top-down
scheme with the power at the top of the pyramid to be effective is evil. It emerges from a male focus that esteems authority and enjoys accruing power.They claimed hierarchy invites competitiveness and all too often leads to abuse.
The better approach, and the one more in synch with the feminine in their view is an operational model based on collaboration. In a collaborative model no member of the organization is above the other, none assumes the place of authority. Rather each member shares equally in the organizational agenda albeit with separate functions.
The upshot of this thinking was to cause many of us in positions of authority to question our role and practice. We began to wonder if we were perhaps participating in a social structure that was inherently evil. The history of the world seemed to support much of the feminist position. So much of the evil we know both in the macro and micro setting, from the story of nations to the life of families, has its roots in an abuse of power. We came to question if indeed we need a new world order, one that eschews authority and blesses equality.
What does our faith tradition have to say about these issues? Where does Judaism stand on the issue of hierarchy or collaboration?
The issue came up for me as I explored the parsha of this week that of Yitro. Yitro has two distinct sections. In the first part of the reading, from which the portion gets its name, we read where Yitro the father-in-law of Moshe came from Midian to visit him in the wilderness. The Torah story includes the fact that Yitro saw Moshe judging the people all day long as the sole dispenser of justice and teaching. Yitro challenged Moshe to set up a more workable system where there would be judges appointed in a layered system, judges over the 10, the 50s, and over the 100s, and over the 1000s, in ascending competency. The judicial system would allow the more complex cases to go to the higher courts with the final say being Moshe himself. Yitro's approach gains the approval of G-d and indeed is implemented.
The second half of the reading tells the story of the giving of the Decalogue on Sinai as Israel accpepted their role as the Chosen
People.
The question that begs asking is what does the first half of the reading have to do with the second? How are they connected? Yitro? the giving of the law? they seem totally unrelated.
I believe the connection of these two stories is meant to tell us something very important. The initial part of the reading, the story of Yitro, validates hierarchy as the model for cognitive learning. The whole gist of what Yitro suggested to Moshe and that which was later confirmed by G-d is that the giving over of the content of Torah is to be done top-down. The judges of the 10, the 50, the 100, and the 1000, were meant to teach and pass on the tradition assuring its purity and safeguarding its message. There can be no learning in the Torah ideal without authority. We are mandated to revere our teachers and learn from what they do as much as from what they say.
Parents and teachers are akin in Judaism, one gets you into this world the other into the next. Both cannot play down their roles as authorities if proper formation is to occur.
The later half of the reading teaches us something other. There, at Sinai, as Israel experienced the Divine and entered into the Covenant there was no room for authority. Each person needed to have the experience for him/herself.The experience of an rendezvous with G-d was the essence of Sinai. The content of the Decalogue was subordinate to the context of our wedding with our G-d. When it comes to experience we are arbitors for ourselves. Collaboration of equals yes, hierarchy and authority no! Moshe was told by Hashem exactly what to say to the Israelites. He could add nothing nor subtract from G-d's invitation to intimacy. It was not for Moshe to define, frame, or limit the experience of each Jew's encounter. He could not sell the package or make it more enticing. The experience was between Israel and G-d. Moshe was an agent but nothing more. The experience each Israelite had was immediate and personal. At Sinai we were all equal and unique.
The message here in poingant. Yes we need to have authorities and be authorities even if it feel at times uncomfortable. Parents need to have a hierarchical relationship with their children. That is true even if the parent grew up in the 60's and was a flower child disdaining authority. Our teachers cannot be one of us. They need the respect that comes from their elevated place in the social order.
But when it comes to experience we need to get out of the way. We need to let those we feel responsible for have their own encounter with its own meaning and uniqueness for them. We need to trust the other that what they need to experience they will and resist trying to control what others feel through our manipulation and handling. Too often the media not only reports on an event. They make the event. By dint of how they report and what they share they attempt to mold our experience to fit their agenda. We too, at times in wanting to influence others, attempt to shape their experience. We tell them what they should feel instead of letting them have the encounter for themselves. We have no business being an authority when we deal with the experiential. Every person needs to feel autonomous and validated in his/her sense of what transpires. We can't draft the meaning of an event for another. In the world of experience we are all equal and every experience counts. A community consists of a collaboration of people each with his or her sense of experience coming together to share and grow.
Hierarchy or collaboration? It's not either or, but rather both and. It depends on the context. There is no absolute good or bad here.
We need authority to teach us right from wrong. We need collaboration to build living communities based on experience and trust.
Shabbat Shalom
scheme with the power at the top of the pyramid to be effective is evil. It emerges from a male focus that esteems authority and enjoys accruing power.They claimed hierarchy invites competitiveness and all too often leads to abuse.
The better approach, and the one more in synch with the feminine in their view is an operational model based on collaboration. In a collaborative model no member of the organization is above the other, none assumes the place of authority. Rather each member shares equally in the organizational agenda albeit with separate functions.
The upshot of this thinking was to cause many of us in positions of authority to question our role and practice. We began to wonder if we were perhaps participating in a social structure that was inherently evil. The history of the world seemed to support much of the feminist position. So much of the evil we know both in the macro and micro setting, from the story of nations to the life of families, has its roots in an abuse of power. We came to question if indeed we need a new world order, one that eschews authority and blesses equality.
What does our faith tradition have to say about these issues? Where does Judaism stand on the issue of hierarchy or collaboration?
The issue came up for me as I explored the parsha of this week that of Yitro. Yitro has two distinct sections. In the first part of the reading, from which the portion gets its name, we read where Yitro the father-in-law of Moshe came from Midian to visit him in the wilderness. The Torah story includes the fact that Yitro saw Moshe judging the people all day long as the sole dispenser of justice and teaching. Yitro challenged Moshe to set up a more workable system where there would be judges appointed in a layered system, judges over the 10, the 50s, and over the 100s, and over the 1000s, in ascending competency. The judicial system would allow the more complex cases to go to the higher courts with the final say being Moshe himself. Yitro's approach gains the approval of G-d and indeed is implemented.
The second half of the reading tells the story of the giving of the Decalogue on Sinai as Israel accpepted their role as the Chosen
People.
The question that begs asking is what does the first half of the reading have to do with the second? How are they connected? Yitro? the giving of the law? they seem totally unrelated.
I believe the connection of these two stories is meant to tell us something very important. The initial part of the reading, the story of Yitro, validates hierarchy as the model for cognitive learning. The whole gist of what Yitro suggested to Moshe and that which was later confirmed by G-d is that the giving over of the content of Torah is to be done top-down. The judges of the 10, the 50, the 100, and the 1000, were meant to teach and pass on the tradition assuring its purity and safeguarding its message. There can be no learning in the Torah ideal without authority. We are mandated to revere our teachers and learn from what they do as much as from what they say.
Parents and teachers are akin in Judaism, one gets you into this world the other into the next. Both cannot play down their roles as authorities if proper formation is to occur.
The later half of the reading teaches us something other. There, at Sinai, as Israel experienced the Divine and entered into the Covenant there was no room for authority. Each person needed to have the experience for him/herself.The experience of an rendezvous with G-d was the essence of Sinai. The content of the Decalogue was subordinate to the context of our wedding with our G-d. When it comes to experience we are arbitors for ourselves. Collaboration of equals yes, hierarchy and authority no! Moshe was told by Hashem exactly what to say to the Israelites. He could add nothing nor subtract from G-d's invitation to intimacy. It was not for Moshe to define, frame, or limit the experience of each Jew's encounter. He could not sell the package or make it more enticing. The experience was between Israel and G-d. Moshe was an agent but nothing more. The experience each Israelite had was immediate and personal. At Sinai we were all equal and unique.
The message here in poingant. Yes we need to have authorities and be authorities even if it feel at times uncomfortable. Parents need to have a hierarchical relationship with their children. That is true even if the parent grew up in the 60's and was a flower child disdaining authority. Our teachers cannot be one of us. They need the respect that comes from their elevated place in the social order.
But when it comes to experience we need to get out of the way. We need to let those we feel responsible for have their own encounter with its own meaning and uniqueness for them. We need to trust the other that what they need to experience they will and resist trying to control what others feel through our manipulation and handling. Too often the media not only reports on an event. They make the event. By dint of how they report and what they share they attempt to mold our experience to fit their agenda. We too, at times in wanting to influence others, attempt to shape their experience. We tell them what they should feel instead of letting them have the encounter for themselves. We have no business being an authority when we deal with the experiential. Every person needs to feel autonomous and validated in his/her sense of what transpires. We can't draft the meaning of an event for another. In the world of experience we are all equal and every experience counts. A community consists of a collaboration of people each with his or her sense of experience coming together to share and grow.
Hierarchy or collaboration? It's not either or, but rather both and. It depends on the context. There is no absolute good or bad here.
We need authority to teach us right from wrong. We need collaboration to build living communities based on experience and trust.
Shabbat Shalom
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