Tag Archives: Judaism

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Tradition!

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Because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years. Here in Anatevka, we have traditions for everything… How to sleep, how to eat… how to work… how to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered, and always wear a little prayer shawl that shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask, “How did this tradition get started?” I’ll tell you! I don’t know.

But it’s a tradition… and because of our traditions… Every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do.

-Tevye
Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach answered, “Although there is no source in the poskim, this is the custom and it has been the custom for quite a while.”

Mishna Berufa Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“A Sign of Mourning”
Rema Siman 131 Seif 2

Powerful and moving as study can be, Judaism has to do more than challenge us intellectually. If it is to help us search for spirituality and quest for a sense of God’s closeness, Jewish life has to give us opportunities to express hope and fear, joy and grief. It has to connect us not only to tradition and to our history, but to family and community. It has to create moments in which we touch the innermost parts of who we are, when we can appreciate the miracles of everyday living and when we can reconnect to the dreams we have for ourselves, our families, and the world. Judaism, if it is to provide Jews with something that will truly shape their lives, has to make room for the soul no less than for the mind. That is why in addition to the world of words and text, Jewish life also revolves around ritual.

-Rabbi Daniel Gordis
“Ritual – Creating Space for Spirituality” (pp 102-3)
God Was Not In The Fire

As I make my way through Rabbi Gordis’ book, I find myself falling in love with Judaism all over again. I know people can stab and poke at Jews and Judaism and find fault, but I suppose that’s because Jews are human and not perfect and the rest of us are human and not perfect. But there’s something so beautiful and calming about the traditions in Judaism. There’s an order and a “centeredness” about a devout life, from saying the Modei Ani upon awaking to reciting the Bedtime Shema before retiring. People, whether secular or religious, who do not have a tradition from which to draw and add meaning to their lives, must experience existence in such a colorless dimension. It seems rather sad when religious people disdain tradition, because it’s part of what gives context and meaning to a life lived for God. Tradition and ritual also provides direction and form to trust and faith because without them, the Bible does not say in precise detail how we are to even worship.

Shabbat is not the only ritual in Jewish life that fosters relationship and connection. While each life-cycle ritual (the bris, naming ceremonies for girls, weddings, funerals, and the like) has its own symbolism and its own message, and each holiday on the annual calendar cycle (Rosh Ha-shanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Passover, Shavuot, and the others) celebrates a different value or event, what ultimately makes them powerful is the sense of community that they provide. Sharing many of these holidays and life-altering moments together somehow creates the connectedness that many modern Jews desperately want but have not found elsewhere. When they finally find that connection, they find spiritual richness, a sense of intimacy. They find meaning (Gordis, pg 108).

I think this is part of what makes Judaism so attractive for some non-Jews. I know it’s what attracts me but I recognize the inherent limits as well. Ritual does not a community make, at least not right away. It’s not as if I could simply enter a synagogue on Erev Shabbat and gain an immediate sense of belonging. I would have to stay, perhaps for many years, and allow my life to be molded by the rituals and ceremonies of the community. I would have to allow myself to become connected and the community would have to be willing to allow that connection. Rabbi Gordis wrote this book primarily for a Jewish audience longing to return to or to discover the spiritual meaning in their Judaism. I think Goyim like me just get hooked and taken along for the ride without the author’s full intention.

After all, it’s not like other religions don’t have traditions and rituals, even if they don’t recognize their behaviors by those names. Consider the rituals and traditions of the church. We’ve just finished the Christmas season and many believers in the church find deep meaning, both personal and as families, in celebrating the birth of Christ. It’s not important to them that Jesus was probably born no where near December 25th or that the origins of the modern celebration are attached to ancient, pagan festival practices. The meaning is found in tradition, not the history books. This is true for the other important Christian calendar events and rituals such as Easter, but also includes marriages, funerals, the ritual of communion, baptisms, and a myriad of other activities that define Christian living and life. People outside those traditions may not agree with how the church constructs its rituals and some folks are even vehemently opposed to Christian traditions, but traditions are the structure and the building blocks from which we construct our faith and relationship with God and our fellows.

But there are so many traditions, both within the church and the synagogue. I remember, many years ago, sitting in the local Reform shul when a woman asked the Rabbi (I’m paraphrasing, since I can’t remember what she said word-for-word), “Why do we have so many traditions? It’s like every country we were kicked out of, we took their traditions with us. We have so many. I can’t remember them all.”

It was kind of humorous, and kind of frustrating, and kind of sad the way she asked (you had to have been there…her vocal inflections and pacing gave a wealth of meaning). All of those traditions and rituals are what makes Jewish living uniquely “Jewish”. Not that there’s just one way of being “traditionally” Jewish, as Rabbi Gordis relates (pg 104):

As we examine the world of Jewish ritual, we should not anticipate one authoritative reason for each ceremony or custom. Just as each Jew who studies classical Jewish text reaches different conclusions about its meaning and is touched in profoundly personal ways, so, too, each person drawn to Jewish ritual is drawn by something slightly different. The wisdom of Jewish ritual is that it works on many different levels. Often, it functions in different ways for even the same person.

Particularly for a Jew, ritual and tradition connects them to the study of the sacred texts (Talmud torah), to other individual Jews, to the larger Jewish community, and to the wonder of God. It also connects the Jew to himself and his own personal identity as a Jew beyond an ethnic definition. When a Jewish man davens in the morning wearing a kippah, talit gadol and laying tefillin, feeling the siddur in his hands, singing prayers that are hundreds and even thousands of years old, how can he not feel inside of his soul that he is a Jew?

I, of course, am looking in from the outside, but even to me, this is abundantly apparent. It is no wonder that those who chose to try and destroy Jewish life over the long march of time have burned thousands of copies of the Talmud and siddurim, and forbidden Jewish families from lighting Shabbos candles or praying in synagogue. Even with the threat of certain death, under the most horrible conditions possible, Jews have refused to give up the rituals that say to the world that they are Jewish.

Consider the testimonies of Jews who survived the Nazi death machine and who told of Shabbat in the camps. They spoke of inmates who violated the Nazis’ law, risking immediate death by hoarding their bread from Thursday so that they could have two pieces on Friday (symbolic of the two loaves of challah that tradition requires on Friday evening and Shabbat afternoon). Why would people on the verge of starvation, in which Shabbat could scarcely be celebrated, take this risk? What was to be gained?

What they stood to gain was a chance to reassert their denial of Nazi Europe as an ultimate reality. Honoring Shabbat, even in a murder camp, was their way of saying, “I believe in the possibility of a better world. I deny that you are the real ruler. Despite you, I insist that I am human, that I am created in God’s image, and that one day, a world will arise when good will triumph over evil, when God will triumph over you.” (Gordis pg 120)

I know of no other religion or religious people, not even those Christians who have suffered terribly for their faith, who have something so powerful in their lives that they could be inspired to defy death for the sake of honoring the Shabbat and God.

Some non-Jews are so turned toward the delight of Judaism in their hearts that they convert and make being Jewish their life, adopting the rituals and traditions as their own. There are others who do not convert but who attempt to integrate at least some of what they see as precious in the Jewish life into their own as a form of worshiping Jesus or Yeshua as Savior and Messiah. This gets a little dicey when you start making decisions about which traditions you want to keep and which you want to discard, and the Gentile Christian (who may not even believe he still is a Christian) finds himself in the uncomfortable position of actually re-defining Judaism to suit his personal and religious requirements. It’s sort of like a person who has lived in Los Angeles all his life deciding to move to a small rural town in Colorado because he is attracted to the beauty of the Rocky Mountains, clean air, and simple living. Then, upon his arrival, he rebuilds Los Angeles all around him, brick for brick, car for car, freeway for freeway, because it makes him feel more “comfortable” with “country living”.

If you are going to change your lifestyle, you must come to the realization that you are the one who must change, not traditions and rituals. You accept them and change, or you reject them and admit that you do not want to live as a Jew (the latter being the wiser course of action for most non-Jews).

There is one “Jewish” ritual Rabbi Gordis describes that I think belongs to all human beings, though. There’s a blessing a Jew says upon seeing a rainbow in the sky.

Blessed are you O’ Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who remembers the Covenant, is trustworthy in His Covenant, and fulfills His promise.

Praying with TefillinHowever, this covenant was made with Noah who fathered not only Shem (the Semitic people including Jews) but all of humanity after the flood. The covenant spoken here is with mankind and all human beings can bless the heart of God in this gentle tradition.

But the vast majority of Jewish traditions are…well, Jewish. If you are going to adopt any of them for whatever reason (and keep in mind, some Jewish people might take exception if you end up imitating or “characterturing” Jews), please try to understand what you are doing and why you are doing it. Lighting the Shabbat candles honors God as Creator but it doesn’t make you a “spiritual Jew” nor does it say that you are now co-owner of Judaism because you are grafted in (Romans 11). It also doesn’t mean that you can declare yourself “Messianic” as if you are totally divorced from Christianity, and redefine the Torah, Talmud, halachah, and ritual, throwing into the trash whatever doesn’t suit you, and believe that you are in a “Judaism”. You may be doing something, but it probably isn’t very “Jewish”.

One of the “Thou shalt not covets” should be not to covet thy neighbor’s religious practices or his covenants unless you convert to your neighbor’s religion or have another compelling reason to take some on them on board, such as being intermarried. I previously wrote another meditation called Dayenu with that in mind.

Tradition is what gives our faith experience a structure and meaning but what attracts us to a certain tradition may defy logic. Most people love their traditions because it’s what they grew up with and their traditions provide a reminder of childhood comfort, safety, and simplicity. However there are those of us who are drawn to traditions completely alien to our parents for reasons only God knows. Where ever your heart goes and whatever traditions you find yourself practicing, if they belong to someone else, be polite, try to ask permission to join in, and treat the rituals and blessings gently. They may be new to you, but they’ve been precious to others for a hundred lifetimes.

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The Last Bobsled

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Afterlife is a very rational, natural consequence of the order of things.
After all, nothing is ever lost—even the body only transforms into earth. But nothing is lost.

The person you are is also never lost. It only returns to its source.

If your soul became attached to the material world during its stay here, then it must painfully rip itself away to make the journey back.

But if it was only a traveler, connected to its source all along, then its ride home is heavenly.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“The Journey Home”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

When one “falls on his face” the custom is to lean on his left arm.

-Shulchan Aruch Siman 131 Seif 1

No I’m not going to talk about the “life in the World to Come,” known to Christians as “Heaven,” though I suppose my meditation this morning is related. I’m talking about who we are and where we belong in the here and now. That seems to be my theme this week, since I started things out a few days ago with God is in the Backyard and yesterday posted The Sufficient Summit. It’s always kind of bothered me that Christians are so focused on “going to Heaven” when we die, and yet in Judaism, Heaven is not just somewhere you go, it is something you carry with you. Why worry about the future when there’s so much to do here in the present? Interestingly enough, in the film Cool Runnings (1993), the character Irv, played by the late John Candy, has the defining line of dialog for the movie and perhaps, for life as well.

Derice, a gold medal is a wonderful thing. But if you’re not enough without one, you’ll never be enough with one.

If you take out the “Olympic” imagery, you can easily see that Irv could be talking about anything in life we consider important; anything we think defines us as human beings.

What makes our lives worthwhile? What makes us good servants of God? How do we know we’re “enough?” In the aforementioned film, Derice asks his coach Irv how he’ll know if he’s enough. Irv answers, “When you cross that finish line tomorrow, you’ll know.” Notice Irv didn’t say “when you cross that finish line first.” You just have to cross it. You just have to keep going. You can’t give up. That’s the only failure.

In the film, our intrepid Jamaican bobsled team (the film is very, very loosely based on fact) finishes dead last after their four-person bobsled malfunctions during their final race. In fiction (though not in fact), Derice and his teammates pick up the sled and walk across the finish line to thundering applause. They didn’t finish first. They didn’t win a gold medal. They didn’t win anything. Or did they?

Shift the metaphor over to your life as a person of faith. Take a moment to consider what you think you have to do to be worthy of that faith. Now think of your failures. If you’re Jewish, think of the ramp up to the Days of Awe, with Yom Kippur looming on the horizon. Think of reciting the Vidui which is an extremely humbling public experience. Think about how much you have let God down.

Does that mean you failed? Only if you didn’t get up, pick up your sled, uh…cross (Luke 9:23), and keep on going; following him…you know, Jesus…following him toward the finish line. Paul himself said “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7). It’s easy to translate a film about sports to the Apostle’s “sports metaphor” written to the Greek speaking Jews and Gentiles in the diaspora…and to us nearly 2,000 years later.

The one thing Christians want to avoid more than anything else in the universe is Hell. Once a person is saved, regardless of whatever other hardships they may face, fear of Hell is supposed to be a thing of the past. Pastor and author Rob Bell in this book Love Wins (which I have yet to read) challenges the traditional Christian teaching about Hell and he took plenty of “heat” because of it. As it turns out. Bell’s view of Hell isn’t exactly his own.

Everything about the Rebbe was pure kindness. Even his idea of “hell” was as kind and generous as could be:

People have a misconception of Hell. Let me tell you what Hell really is.

Hell is a spiritual place where everything that exists in our world exists, but in an infinite way. So, whatever you chased after in this world, there you do it ad infinitum.

And that’s Hell.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Hell”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

I’m not making any sort of commentary about what Hell is or isn’t or what happens to us exactly when we die, but just ponder the Rabbi’s words for a moment. Some of us live a kind of “hell on earth” depending on what we have attached ourselves to in our lives. In yesterday’s meditation, I quoted a parable about Rav Raphael of Barshad who could never find peace in serving God, no matter how many duties he took upon himself. His anxious desire to serve Hashem in perfect purity was ironically what prevented him from achieving his goal. He had created his own “hell on earth” in his desire to touch Heaven. Fortunately, he continued to “run the race” and finally reached the place he needed to be, just by surrendering his anxiety.

Shulchan Aruch Siman 131 Seif 1 states, When one “falls on his face” the custom is to lean on his left arm. This recalls the custom to recite tachanun while leaning on the left arm because Mishnah Berurah explains that when a person davens, the Divine Presence is on his right. When a person leans on his left arm, he is facing toward the Divine Presence. After a person “falls on his face” (fails God or hides his face from God), he lifts his head and supplicates while sitting, in his place according custom, and shows respect for God. When one falls on his face, he lifts himself up, faces God again in supplication, rises, and continues in “the race.”

Supposedly, Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” After failing God, we sometimes feel as if the failure is indeed fatal, at least to our spiritual life, and there is a strong temptation to consider ourselves “damaged goods” and unworthy to continue the pursuit of holiness. We feel soiled and desecrated. Yet the Sages have something to say about this, too.

The Gemara in Avoda Zara (52b) cites a discussion regarding the status of the stones of the Altar which were contaminated by the Greeks when they occupied Eretz Yisroel and Yerushalayim during the era of the Second Beis HaMikdash. Rav Sheishes says that the Greeks did not have the ability to desecrate that which did not belong to them. The stones of the Altar which were defiled were declared to be ruined only from a rabbinic perspective, but Torah law considered the stones as remaining holy. Rav Pappa holds that the verse from Yechezkel which we cited proves that the invaders who defiled the stones of the Altar also succeeded in causing the stones to lose their sanctity. Rav Pappa understands that the ones who “came into it” refers to our enemies who entered into the Sanctuary of the Mikdash.

Daf Yomi Digest
Distinctive Insight
“They entered the holy and profaned it”
Bechoros 50

Rising SparksWe cannot be defiled by something we are not truly a part of and that is not a part of us. Only if we attach ourselves to something in this life does it become our “hell on earth” (and perhaps beyond). No one success in our lives means we will never face failure again, but no one failure defines us as perpetually unworthy to serve God, unless we stop running, sit down, and give up. If we fall down into the mud, as long as we can raise ourselves up again to face God, stand on our own two feet, and keep on going, we haven’t failed. We were merely delayed. Nothing is ever lost unless we decide it is, including us. Even death cannot destroy us if we are attached to our Source. Our body may burn to ashes or return to the dirt, but who we really are soars like an eagle and rises like a fiery spark returning to Him who has created everything.

There are no gold medals for being the first spark, or bobsled, to reach God. The only reward is for finishing…even if you’re dead last.

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The Sufficient Summit

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Today’s amud discusses one who saw a dream and was unsure what it means.

When Rav Raphael of Barshad first began to search for the ideal way to serve Hashem, he heard that learning the Zohar Hakadosh was a great segulah for attaining fear of heaven. He began learning a great deal of Zohar but when he reached towards the end of the Zohar Chadash, he was dismayed. The Zohar warns there against being like Bilaam, who was a complete fool despite his great knowledge of serving Hashem.

Rav Raphael said to himself, “If one can know so much and still be a fool, perhaps I should focus instead on the Shulchan Aruch so that my study will bring me to action.”

He started learning the Shulchan Aruch in depth, but when he got to Orach Chaim #231, “All of one’s acts should be for the sake of heaven,” he again felt that something was missing.

“Are all of my actions really l’shem shomayim? Perhaps I should spend more time on mussar?” Rav Rafael therefore added study of the Shelah HaKadosh to his schedule.

He was so immersed in the Shelah that he would learn it at every opportunity. But after a while he again felt as if something was missing. So he traveled to the famous Rav Pinchas of Koretz for advice.

Rav Rafael poured out his heart. “I want to serve Hashem in truth, but everything I have tried has been insufficient!” He was so distressed that he actually fainted.

When he came to, Rav Pinchas said, “If you stay with me, you will come to truth.”

Three years later, Rav Rafael dreamed that he was playing cards. Although his hand started out with black cards, they all turned white in the end. When he shared his dream with Rav Pinchas, he was given a positive interpretation.

“When you first came to me, you were blackened with worry and chumros, and this prevented you from serving Hashem in truth. But now you are white with virtue and purity!”

Mishnah Berura Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“Magnificient Dream”
Siman 130 Seif 1

This sequence of events reminds me of Joseph’s gift of dream interpretation which we’ve recently read about in Genesis 40:5-23 and particularly in Genesis 41:1-32. In both instances, the interpretation of dreams changed the course of people’s lives. When Joseph interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh, King of Egypt, the ultimate result was that Joseph was transformed from prisoner to ruler, the civilized world was saved from starvation, and the Children of Israel were gathered to Goshen in Egypt to sojourn in peace…and after Joseph’s death, to become slaves.

But what does the dream of Rav Raphael of Barshad tell us? Even the interpretation of Rav Pinchas of Koretz does not reveal exactly why Rav Raphael went from being “blackened” to “white with virtue and purity”. Was there something wrong with what he was studying or was he just studying too much? Some Christians might use this parable to say that the Jews in general study too much outside the realm of the Bible and that all we need is the Holy Spirit and the Gospels to guide us. However, if that’s true, then why do Christians study the Bible at all? If true, then why is there such a vast body of Christian Biblical scholarship available? Maybe it’s not the studying at all, as we’re about to discover.

Yesterday, I wrote a very short and simple meditation called God is in the Backyard. Not that God is literally hanging out beside the flower bed or the swing set, but that He is near at hand to all who call upon him.

The LORD is near to all who call on him,
to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him;
he hears their cry and saves them. –Psalm 145:18-19

By using the quotes above, I’m not disdaining serious study. Quite the opposite. I advocate a life of peering into the Word as well as the wisdom of the Sages in order to gain a clearer glimpse of the glory of God. In a sense, that was the goal of Moses as well. Moses, more than anything, wanted a greater understanding of God (according to the Sages, he didn’t literally want to see God’s face) and God granted Moses as much as a human being could comprehend.

Then Moses said, “Now show me your glory.”

And the LORD said, “I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the LORD, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”

Then the LORD said, “There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.” –Exodus 33:18-23

Studying is one way we get to know God better. It’s not a perfect way, as Rav Raphael discovered. Sometimes study can take on a life of its own and is unknowingly substituted for the target at which we are aiming. Rav Raphael was afraid he was missing out. He tried to create a comprehensive lifestyle of study that would “cover all the bases” but he was never satisfied. Rav Pinchas showed him that there is more to our desire to know God than can be found in study (though the parable does not say exactly what transpired between Rav Raphael and Rav Pinchas during the three years described). Perhaps it wasn’t the course of study at all but Rav Raphael’s worry and anxiety over not being sufficient. Maybe his course of study never changed, but his attitude toward it (and toward God) did.

We are all insufficient in our relationship to God. Not that we shouldn’t continue striving for greater closeness, but we must come to accept that our own efforts will never be enough to close the gap. For some, this is an excuse to stop trying and to let God do all the work. For others, it is the motivation to try and obey God “just right”, as if the commandments in the Bible were some sort of checklist, but that may be what caused Rav Raphael’s problem in the first place (and if so, Rav Raphael had the wisdom to realize this wasn’t working). Neither approach is the true answer. The answer I believe Rav Raphael discovered was to let his effort be his effort and to let God be God. Release the anxiety surrounding whether or not you are doing enough or doing it just right, and just do what you can do. How can we feel the joy of a relationship with God if we are constantly fretting over all the tiny details? I believe in seeking His joy, we will sail to ever greater heights, though I doubt we’ll recognize it until after we’ve arrived.

We all struggle as we climb a difficult trail but the reward of reaching the summit, as we will someday, is worth the cost. However during the effort of the journey, there are rewards enough as well if we take the time to look for them. Let every day be the summit and the reward in reaching the final destination will take care of itself. Another way of saying it is Dayenu.

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God is in the Backyard

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We don’t say a person “will be going to heaven.”
We say this person is “a child of the world to come.”
Heaven is not just somewhere you go.
It is something you carry with you.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Heaven”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

Well, I – I think that it – it wasn’t enough to just want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em – and it’s that – if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?

-Dorothy
The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Sometimes I don’t think we know what we want as people or faith. Sometimes I don’t think we know what we have. We are always looking off to the horizon, off to the brightest star in the sky or at the furthest cloud on the wind. We look for God in Heaven and long for the return of Jesus but we forget that we are right here and that God is with us. We forget that we have a job to do here. We forget that God expects us to be His junior partners in repairing a broken world and paving the way for the Messiah’s coming.

Earlier this month, I wrote a blog post called The New Testament is Not in Heaven, the title of which, is a play on the words of the Torah in Deuteronomy 30:12. Here we see Moses giving the Children of Israel his final, impassioned speech before he proceeds to his own death and sends the nation of Israel across the Jordan and into war without his leadership.

The Torah is not in Heaven. What does this mean except that what we need from God is not far from us at all. What we have, as Rabbi Freeman tells us, is what we carry with us. Dorothy too tells us that if we think we are missing something, it isn’t missing at all. It’s as close as our “own back yard.” Why do we pretend that God is distant and His will is far away?

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” –Matthew 22:36-40

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? –Micah 6:8

I’ve written about all this before, using the same scriptures and perhaps even repeating some of what I’ve written for today. Yet those who claim the cause of Christ still look far away for God, still think He can be captured in a list of “dos” and “don’ts”, still think it is pagan to want to feed the hungry rather than condemn a fir tree decorated with lights. Perhaps for those who pursue a spirit of disdain, God is far away. How can we ever share the good news of Christ while we’re spilling out the darkness in our hearts and calling it light?

Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? –Matthew 7:3

Take the plank out of your eye and start looking for God. I think he’s in the backyard near the flower bed.

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When Your Soul Seeks Peace with God

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There is no fight as bitter as a family fight. The bitterness and scars remain long after the incident that may have originally sparked it is long since gone and sometimes even forgotten. Many times the bitterness and hard feelings remain even in generations of descendants of the original antagonists, as though somehow genetically transmitted.

Yosef and his brothers reconcile in this week’s parsha. But the divisions within the Jewish people then and now are apparently never really healed and forgotten. The commentators point out that the rebellions against Moshe in the desert, that of Korach of the tribe of Levi and Zimri of the tribe of Shimon and Datan and Aviram of the tribe of Reuven, are all part of the residue – of the fallout of the tragedy of the disagreement of Yosef and his brothers.

-Rabbi Berel Wein
“Right and Wrong”
Commentary on Torah Portion Vayigash
Torah.org

“But Judaism, more than any other major religious tradition, does not see skeptics as second-class citizens. It would be difficult to imagine a committed Christian” (or in my thinking, many “Messianic Gentiles”) “for whom some faith statement about Jesus was not a central religious tenet, or a Muslim openly skeptical about Allah. In that regard, Judaism does not require faith statements as a sign of legitimacy. Judaism does not ask Jews to give up their questions or to deny their doubt. In Jewish spiritual life, faith is not the starting point of the journey. Uncertainty is not the enemy of religious and spiritual growth. Doubt is what fuels the journey.”

-Rabbi Daniel Gordis
“Judaism and Belief in God — Can the Skeptic Embark on the Journey” (pg 44)
God Was Not in the Fire

Sometimes I think I say the same things over and over, or at least periodically recycle various themes in my blogging. The chapter I’m quoting from in Rabbi Gordis’ book talks about the uncertainty we can experience in exploring our faith and Rabbi Wein talks about how family fights can cause the deepest wounds. If you include the “family of faith” and the “body of believers” in that group, then we who profess our faith in Jesus Christ and our trust in God also have the greatest capacity to injure and harm each other. No wonder it is said in Christianity that “the church is the only Army that shoots its own wounded.” In the “wounded” category, I include those individuals and groups who are judged to be involved in pagan idolatry…such as decorating pine trees at Christmas (oh the horror).

Yes, I thought this topic was a long dead horse we were all getting tired of beating but alas, it came up again on a recent blog of Derek Leman’s so once again, it’s “off to the races” of who’s right and who’s wrong in the religious blogosphere.

What kills me about all of this is the drop-dead certainty displayed by the religious pundits who are weighing in on the blog comments. I guess that shouldn’t surprise me because the nature of human beings is to pigeon hole and to index information, then to draw some sort of conclusions from what they’ve gathered, and finally to set those conclusions in cement. Once an opinion puts on the cloak of “absolute truth”, it starts being not just truth but fact.

That’s particularly true in Christianity and Islam, but not quite so in Judaism, according to the aforementioned book by Rabbi Gordis. For a Jew, it’s not required to come to absolute terms with faith and truth. Judaism doesn’t seek a solidified code carved in granite but rather the experience of touching the hem of the garment of God.

In focusing more on “relationship with God” than on “belief in God,” Judaism differs from other Western religious traditions. While some Christian communities urge their followers, “Believe, and you will be saved,” Judaism’s rough equivalent is “Search, and you will find meaning.” Jewish life certainly does not consider God unimportant; God is central to Jewish spirituality. But most of Jewish tradition decided long ago to focus not on essence, but on God’s presence; Judaism seeks not God’s truth, but His closeness. (pg 55)

Rabbi Gordis cites the beautiful poem Yedid Nefesh (Beloved of the Soul) written by Rabbi Eleazar Azikri in the 16th century. This poem can still be found in many Siddurim today and is sung to illustrate the desperate longing of a Jew to draw nearer to his God.

Beloved of the soul, Compassionate Father,
draw Your servant to Your Will;
then Your servant will hurry like a hart
to bow before Your majesty;
to him Your friendship will be sweeter
than the dripping of the honeycomb and any taste.

This, more than anything, is the goal and the passion of the observant Jew and where many non-Jews in the “Messianic” movement fail to grasp even the faintest glimmer of what it is to worship as a Jew. The passion for many of these non-Jewish “Messianics” as in the church, is to establish an absolute right and wrong between men, as if God were of secondary concern in the matter. As long as all of the “rules” are pounded out, then we let our relationship with God take care of itself.

For many Gentiles who have chosen to adhere themselves to the commandments, it’s as if the mitzvot have taken on a life of their own, independent of a relationship with God. Yedid Nefesh sings to the heart of God and beckons him as a lover beckons her companion, and love is the thread that binds them and their universe together. The mitzvot are the beginning of the relationship, allowing the construction of an “interface” that lets us meet with God, our beloved, on a common ground and permits us to give Him the “gifts” of our heart, not mere obedience to sterile and lifeless rules. Those commandments are not the relationship itself, and yet for the many who have come to “Torah awareness” but failed at “Torah understanding”, the rules are all they have.

I admit, there are some who never get past obeying God’s “checklist” as their only means of showing faith and devotion, but if the checklist becomes a god unto itself in their lives, is that not also idolatry? If you fail to show your fellow love and respect as God shows us love and respect, what have you learned and what is your “obedience” worth? The Talmud speaks of Jews who showed idol worshipers far more respect than what some believers show their brothers and sisters in Christ. I’ll offer a summary of what I previously chronicled to paint this picture.

“[it is proper to] support the idol worshippers during the sabbatical year… and to inquire after their welfare [commentators: even on the days of the holidays of their idols, even if they do not keep the seven Noahide commandments] because of the ways of peace.” (Shevi’it 4,3)

The rabbis taught: ‘We support poor Gentiles with the poor people of Israel, and we visit sick Gentiles as well as the sick of Israel and we bury the dead of the Gentiles as well as the dead of Israel, because of the ways of peace.” (Gitin 61a)

Kidushin 32 contains descriptions of the manner in which our sages honored and respected the elderly. The passage specifically refers to elderly gentiles who were honored in various fashions by the sages.

In TY Baba Metzia there are a number of descriptions of sages going out of their way to return lost objects to gentiles (Elu Metziot).

Tosefta BK 10,8: “.. it is more grievous to steal from a gentile because of the desecration of G-d’s name ..”

Tosefta BM 2,11: “.. one who sees a lost donkey of an idol worshipper must take care of it exactly the way he takes care of the lost donkey of an Israelite ..”

At Avoda Zara 18a the Talmud relates the remarkable story of how a Roman guard of one of the sages who was brutally murdered by the Romans repented. It was made known to the sages that the guard and the sage were welcomed to the World to Come together.

At Hullin 7a there is a report of how the sage Pinchas ben Yair miraculously split a river in order to speed his way to carry out the commandment to redeem captives. He went out of his way to split the river again in order to allow a gentile who was accompanying his group to also cross the river to speed his way.

None of this says to emulate the ways of the idol worshiper, but to show him the compassion that God shows anyone made in His image. Would some of the “righteous” among those who speak against the practice of Christmas treat a neighbor who goes to church and puts up Christmas lights even half as graciously as the sages say a Jew must treat a pagan Gentile?

The lesson thus far shows that we cannot be absolutely sure of our understanding of God and His ways, though we do our best, and further, that even if we feel sure, this does not give us a license to batter those with whom we disagree. Nevertheless, referring back to some of the comments on Derek’s blog (and many other places in the blogosphere, including the latest commentary on Judah Himango’s blog), we see some very “non-Judaism” responses to the dread spectre of “paganoia”.

Rabbi Dixler’s commentary on Vayigash at Project Genesis further establishes my point.

Rather, concludes the Midrash, Joseph’s overriding concern was for his brother’s dignity. When they discovered that they had severely erred in their judgment of Joseph and his dreams, that they had put their father through 22 torturous years of mourning for naught, they would certainly not want to be in the public eye. Joseph selflessly risked his life for the sake of his brothers’ dignity.

It’s a powerful message to us. Our culture glorifies the embarrassment of others; recorded gaffes and insults to those in the public eye go viral on youtube, and biting one-line remarks make up a good portion of today’s humor. Magazines whose sole purpose is gossip — usually of the least complimentary kind — abound. Where has the respect for human dignity gone?

How many times have I tried to make this point in the last few weeks? How many blog posts have I written about a religious world with unbalanced priorities where we have all but forgotten about God in our zeal to expose people who put pine wreaths on their front doors (how dare they)? There is so much more I could say, but what would be the point. It’s as if my pleas for sanity and compassion are falling on deaf ears. If only those who profess faith and trust in the One God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and who claim to revere the teachings of the Messiah, the Son of God, Jesus Christ, would actually behave as God would want them to behave. If only they actually did the things they were taught to do by the Master. If you want to impress anyone (though not me, because I am but dust and ashes), particularly God, feed the hungry, visit the sick, show compassion to the widow and the orphan. If you cherish those mitzvot above all else, you will be doing the will of God and serving the spirit of the companion of your soul.

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Vayigash: Descent and Ascent

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Judah approaches Joseph to plead for the release of Benjamin, offering himself as a slave to the Egyptian ruler in Benjamin’s stead. Upon witnessing his brothers’ loyalty to one another, Joseph reveals his identity to them. “I am Joseph,” he declares. “Is my father still alive?”

The brothers are overcome by shame and remorse, but Joseph comforts them. “It was not you who sent me here,” he says to them, “but G-d. It has all been ordained from Above to save us, and the entire region, from famine.”

The brothers rush back to Canaan with the news. Jacob comes to Egypt with his sons and their families—seventy souls in all—and is reunited with his beloved son after 22 years. On his way to Egypt he receives the divine promise: “Fear not to go down to Egypt; for I will there make of you a great nation. I will go down with you into Egypt, and I will also surely bring you up again.”

Joseph gathers the wealth of Egypt by selling food and seed during the famine. Pharaoh gives Jacob’s family the fertile county of Goshen to settle, and the children of Israel prosper in their Egyptian exile.

Parashah in a Nutshell
Commentary on Torah Portion Vayigash
Chabad.org

Most of the time, when we study this Torah portion, we focus on the positive events that are depicted, such as Joseph finally revealing his identity to his brothers, the forgiveness and grace he shows them, in spite of their past cruelty to him, and especially the long-awaited reunion of Joseph with his grieving father Jacob. The Children of Israel are conducted to Goshen in Egypt and given the fat of the land, prosperity, and safety.

But what about all of the suffering?

As joyous as the reunion between Joseph and Jacob is (Genesis 46:28-30), there were the decades of grieving and terrible sorrow that Jacob suffered. He believed all this time that Joseph, his most beloved and cherished son, was dead. Once made Viceroy of Egypt, at any time, Joseph could have ordered that a message be sent to his father to comfort and reassure him. But no message was sent. Jacob remained in anguish, even as Joseph ruled.

While God reassured Jacob that He will go down into Egypt with him (Genesis 46:1-4) and we read that Israel is given “the choicest part of the land of Egypt” (Genesis 47:11), what about the harsh and horrible centuries to come, after the death of Joseph, when a “new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8) and Pharaoh oppressed Israel with burdensome labor and slavery (Exodus 1:13-14)? What about the murder of all of the male Israelite newborns (Exodus 1:22)? What of the cries of their mothers?

There is a saying in Kabbalistic circles that “for every descent there is an ascent.” We can certainly apply this to every time we have experienced disappointment and even tragedy that ultimately has resulted in a great benefit to us. The first thing that I think of is the “descent” the disciples of Jesus felt at his crucifixion and how all hope was lost to them (Luke 24:11). Even though Jesus had told them that he would be “handed over” and killed (Matthew 26:2, Mark 10:33, Luke 24:7), their faith melted like a snow cone in an Arizona heat wave. There are times in all our lives when only the barest shred of faith separates us from abject despair and the longing for death.

In 1798, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi was imprisoned by the czarist government on charges fabricated against him and the chasssidic movement.

When he was brought before his interrogators, the first question they asked him was: “Are you of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov’s people?” Rabbi Schneur Zalman later related that he knew that if answered “no” he would be immediately released; nevertheless, he refused to disassociate himself from the Baal Shem Tov.

His 52 days of imprisonement in the Peter-Paul fortress in Petersburg were the most agonizing days of his life. He was forced to explain the basic tenents of Judaism and chassidism to the coarse Cossack minds of his questioners. He wept when he was asked “What is a Jew?”, “What is G-d?”, “What is the relationship of a Jew to G-d? Of G-d to a Jew?” – to hear these questions issuing from their vulgar mouths tore his heart to shreds.

One question in particular caused him great pain. It was Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s custom to interject the expression “af” in his prayers, as did the Baal Shem Tov. His enemies misconstrued this to mean that he was beseeching the Almighty to pour His wrath (‘af’ in Hebrew) upon the czar and his government. To explain to the Russian officials the Baal Shem Tov’s customs and his lofty reflections during prayer was torture to Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s soul.

Here too, Rabbi Schneur Zalman could have satisfied their queries with all sorts of answers. But his connection with the Baal Shem Tov, whom he called his ‘grandfather in spirit’, was so dear to him, that he refused to disclaim it in even the slightest detail, even if only for appearances sake.

-Rabbi Yanki Tauber
“Inseparable Souls”
Once Upon a Chassid
Chabad.org

This Chassidic tale illustrates the faith of a holy man but it also addresses his descent and his non-apparent ascent. While Rabbi Zalman was released after 52 days, Rabbi Tauber does not reveal the ultimate fate of this tzaddik. We can infer however that he was not elevated to a high ranking position in Czarist Russia as Joseph was in Egypt. Though he was finally freed from incarceration, where was his ascent?

During his journey to Egypt, Yaakov had a vision in which G-d reassured him: (Genesis 46:3-4) “Do not fear to descend to Egypt,” and promised “I will descend to Egypt with you and I will surely have you ascend.” Although Yaakov realized what he could achieve in Egypt, he was reluctant to descend there. For prosperity in exile even prosperity that is used to create a model of spiritually oriented existence is not the goal of a Jew’s life.

A Jew’s true life is in Eretz Yisrael and more particularly, Eretz Yisrael as it will exist in the Era of the Redemption. This is the promise Yaakov received from G-d that his descendants would be redeemed from Egypt and live in Eretz Yisrael together with Mashiach.

Why then did Yaakov descend to Egypt? Because he appreciated that the Redemption must be brought about by the Divine service of man. The establishment of a spiritually oriented society amidst material prosperity provides man with a foretaste of the Redemption, and prepares the world for the time when redemption will become manifest. Yaakov’s life in Egypt was dedicated to this purpose.

The theme of redemption is underscored by the Haftorah, which speaks about the ultimate union of Yosef and Yehudah: (Ezekiel 37:21-22) “I will take the children of Israel from among the nations… and bring them to their own land. I will make them one nation in the land…. No longer will they be two nations, no longer divided into two kingdoms.” And it promises: “And My servant David will be their prince forever,” for it is in the Era of the Redemption that the selfless striving for unity will receive the prominence it deserves.

-Rabbi Eli Touger
“Inspiring Change”
In the Garden of Torah
Commentary on Torah Portion Vayigash
Chabad.org

The ascent for Rabbi Zalman and indeed the ascent for Joseph and Jacob and for the grieving and heartbroken Apostles and for us is the same. To one day live in peace under the wings of the Maschiach; the Messiah. We Christians have that promise as well through faith in him who is our light. Though we descend with no ascent in sight, perhaps no ascent even within our mortal lifespan, we will ultimately dwell with our King and our Lord and eat at the feast of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Matthew 8:11).

He shall judge between many peoples,
and shall decide for strong nations far away;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore;
but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree,
and no one shall make them afraid,
for the mouth of the LORD of hosts has spoken. –Micah 4:3-4

Amen and Good Shabbos.