Tag Archives: mitzvot

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An Opinion of a Shabbos Goy

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grandma-wheelchairQuestion: My granddaughter is becoming bat mitzvah, and my 92-year-old mom is saying she will not be able to go because she cannot drive on Shabbat. But is it allowable—for this special occasion—for her to violate Shabbat just this once? The way I see it, this is a once-in-a-lifetime situation, making it quite okay to drive. This is her first great-granddaughter to reach bat mitzvah, and unfortunately she probably will not be around to celebrate this milestone with any of her other great-grandchildren.

Answer: This is an important question, for it leads us to a central theme in Judaism.

It’s easy to relate to a mitzvah as tradition or symbolism. Perhaps, taking it one step further, a mitzvah is divine advice on how to live the best life possible—the most meaningful, the most blessed.

If we would accept either of those definitions, we would have to agree that fulfilling mitzvot depends on the situation. We would say that yes, tradition is important, living a meaningful life is important, but in this situation there is something else more traditional and more meaningful—so we would use our judgment as to what takes precedence.

But that isn’t so. A mitzvah is precious not just because it is a tradition and has meaning to us. A mitzvah is G‑d’s own will and infinite wisdom. If so, a mitzvah’s incredible power and the blessing it brings is infinite in nature. It’s a connection to an infinite G‑d, way beyond our own understanding. It goes beyond the benefits and meaning we sense—though that’s important as well—for it is part of the divine. And a G‑dly formula for living is not subject to man deciding whether it is or isn’t relevant in a particular situation. (It is only when the Torah itself instructs us to put aside Shabbat, as in to save a life, that Shabbat laws should be disregarded.)

We might feel that a hike to the top of a mountain will be a more spiritual experience than a trip to the synagogue. Or that the pastrami from the new “kosher style” delicatessen will make the bat mitzvah a more joyous experience. Or, in a far more subtle manner, the situation here: that a great-grandmother being at the family celebration outweighs the prohibition of driving. And that’s when we remember that a G‑dly mitzvah is eternal, and extends far, far past the benefits we happen to sense . . .

Your grandmother should most certainly be at this bat mitzvah. It is only that you will need to find a way for this to happen in a permissible manner. Have you looked into her staying within walking distance from the synagogue? If this is not a possibility, you can speak to the rabbi about having a non-Jew wheel her to the synagogue (a subject beyond the scope of this e‑mail).

Mazel tov, and may you have much nachas from the entire family!

-Rabbi Yisroel Cotlar
“Can We Drive Grandma on Shabbat?”
Chabad.org

I suppose, even if I were currently tempted to convert to Judaism, this is one of the reasons I could never be a Jew. I understand, at least to a degree, the principle that Rabbi Cotlar is trying to communicate, but from my point of view, human compassion has to take a back seat to obedience to the mitzvot regarding not driving on Shabbos (maybe saying that makes me a bad person, I don’t know). Worse than that, I don’t understand the Rabbi’s advice about having a non-Jew wheel her to the synagogue (if it would help and if this were happening now in my community, I’d be more than willing…but there seems to be a problem).

It is forbidden for us to tell a gentile to perform work on the Sabbath on our behalf, although they are not commanded [to observe] the Sabbath. [This applies] even when the instructions were conveyed to them before the Sabbath and we do not require [the products of] their work until after the Sabbath.

The above is forbidden as a Rabbinical prohibition to prevent the people from regarding the Sabbath lightly, lest they perform [forbidden] labor themselves.

On the other hand…

[The following rules apply] when a gentile performs a [forbidden] labor on the Sabbath on his own accord: If he performed it on behalf of a Jew, it is forbidden to benefit from that labor until one waits the amount of time necessary to perform the labor on Saturday night.

[The latter leniency is granted] provided the matter is not public notice – i.e., everyone knows that a particular task is being performed for a person on the Sabbath.

If [the gentile] performed [the labor] for his own sake alone, it is permitted to benefit from it on the Sabbath.

Halacha 1 and Halacha 2 from
Chapter six of Mishnah Torah, Sefer Zemanim, Shabbos
Translated by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger
Chabad.org

Shabbat candlesLacking the educational background (as well as an ethnic, cultural, and lived Jewish experience), I admit that I can’t really interpret what is being said here and whether or not a non-Jew would really be permitted to “wheel grandma” to the synagogue on Shabbos if asked by her Jewish relatives. It seems a little dodgy to me, but then again, admittedly the nuances of interpreting Mishnah Torah escape me.

On the other hand, what should we say…that man was made for the Shabbat rather than the Shabbat being made for man?

One Sabbath he was going through the grainfields, and as they made their way, his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. And the Pharisees were saying to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?” And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did, when he was in need and was hungry, he and those who were with him: how he entered the house of God, in the time of Abiathar the high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and also gave it to those who were with him?” And he said to them, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.”

–Mark 2:23-27 (ESV)

I included the entire section of scripture relevant to this situation rather than just quoting verse 27 because I’m aware that the circumstances Jesus was describing may not be directly associated with “driving grandma to synagogue.”

If grandma could stay Friday night within walking distance of the synagogue (assuming she can walk adequately at age 92), then I understand that would be acceptable. If grandma could stay the night within walking distance of the synagogue but could not walk, while I am “unclear” of the legitimacy of asking a “Shabbos Goy” to wheel her to shul, I’d accept that as an alternative from my Christian perspective. But if no halachically acceptable alternative were available, and grandma really, really wanted to attend her great-granddaughter’s bat mitzvah (and/or great-granddaughter really, really wanted great-grandma to be there for this once-in-a-lifetime event), then I’d drive grandma to shul (I know…she would be violating Shabbos by even accepting the ride).

I know this isn’t a life or death situation but I can’t set aside the feelings of the great-grandmother in question or her great-granddaughter either. Besides, according to one person’s comment on the matter, there is precedent for an alternative:

I think of the Rev that chopped wood and made soup for a helpless woman in her bed on Yom Kippur -she had just given birth) Sometimes it is necessary to hurt ourselves spiritually in order that another rmay grow or even live. However, I am loving ths suggestion of staying with her family for the entirety of Shabbat or the motor home. How important will the young ladies’ Bat Mitzvah be to her without Grandma there? How will that affect her walk with Hashem? We will never know. Some souls are mighty sensitive. Will this suck out all of the girl’s joy, what a sin that would be. Have her expectations been considered?

-Emily

I remember reading of this “Chasidic tale” so I think there is a value in Judaism that would allow an individual to violate Shabbos for the sake of another, even when their life is not at risk.

Here are a few more comments:

I proposed some questions to Rabbi Manis Friedman years ago relating to the halachot of shabbos. His answer? Shabbos is shabbos. End of story.

-Anonymous

I wasn’t raised Orthodox and don’t have a full understanding of this. But my argument would be that just because rabbis declared that driving, or even riding in a car, violates the Sabbath, doesn’t make it so. I don’t know, but my guess is that at the time, there were probably arguments going both ways.

-R. Baron

i’m a committed but not orthodox Jew and am fascinated by the question and your response.

The alternatives you gave were good; you may want to consider a nearby hotel for Friday night also. But to the heart of the matter, you mentioned consideration of what is ‘most meaningful, etc.’

I believe keeping the great-grandmother away from attending and participating would be cruel. since the question comes up –and Chabad is consulted –it implies she has done a great job in raising a Jewish family.

shabbat_walkI do not believe the divine would want her to miss it and this is not a question of climbing a mountain on shabbat or going to a ‘kosher style deli.’

-Oppie

Apparently, this isn’t a clear-cut issue for at least some Jewish people, either. I know. I’m probably going to “catch heck” from my Jewish friends who read this blog and maybe a few “Judaically-aware” Christians as well. I know that if someone who is shomer Shabbos is lenient on a rare occasion, it may lead to greater lenience and finally to habitually “cheating” on the Shabbat, but on the other hand, isn’t it possible to be too rigid? If a “hedge” is placed around the mitzvot to prevent a Jew from even coming near to violating Shabbos, isn’t it possible the hedge can become too extreme?

My perspective can be easily dismissed with a “you aren’t Jewish and so you don’t understand,” but as I mentioned (and demonstrated) above, even other Jewish people have a hard time with this one. My response (and this is quite a counterpoint to my Shabbat commentary from the other day), all other reasonable alternatives failing, is that I’d find a way to get grandma to shul for the bat mitzvah. I don’t think God would really mind, but then again, how am I to tell?

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Be Perfect On Earth and in Heaven

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When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am El Shaddai. Walk in My ways and be blameless.”

–Genesis 17:1 (JPS Tanakh)

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

–Matthew 5:43-48 (ESV)

Another translation of “be blameless” from Genesis 17:1 is “be perfect,” such as we see the Master instructing his students (including us) in Matthew 5:48. But how is this possible, especially when Paul wrote:

…as it is written: “None is righteous, no, not one…

–Romans 3:10 (ESV)

What does it mean to “be perfect?” I used to think this was one of the great mysteries of the Bible, but perhaps there is an answer after all.

If a human being cannot be perfect, why did God demand perfection of Abraham?

The entire context of the verse indicates both the definition of this perfection and the way in which it can be achieved. It is obvious that no human being can aspire to equal God’s degree of perfection. What man can achieve is to live according to God’s teachings and thereby live up to his own human potential; more than man’s personal maximum is not possible or expected. Thus, God did not say simply, “Be perfect”; He said, “Walk before Me and thereby you will be perfect.” When a person tries to live according to the Divine teachings, that constitutes human perfection, although one is technically never perfect.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the Hebrew word for “walk” in the above verse is not telech but heshalech which implies, “Go your way in spite of opposition, not making your progress dependent on external circumstances, but being led from within yourself: Let your movement proceed from your own free-willed decisions.”

The picture is now complete; human perfection can be achieved by making a free-willed choice to live according to the Divine teaching.

Today I shall…

try to realize that although I cannot be absolutely without flaw, I can be perfect if I make free-will decisions to obey the Divine will.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Cheshvan 6”
Aish.com

We all make choices. Every day, we make choices. Sure, some of those choices involve making mistakes, but we continue to strive, like Jacob, struggling with God and with our lives, to do better; to be better today than we were the day before. Of course, observant Jews and Christians have different ideas of what one must do to please God and to stand before the Throne of the Almighty as “perfect.” For Jews, it is an adherence to the mitzvot of the Torah, the study of Torah, and prayer. For Christians, prayer is a large component, as is Bible study, but most importantly, is the belief in the person and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. None of this makes us “perfect” people, but it does represent a journey that we each take upon ourselves, to seek God, even as He is also our traveling companion.

Somewhere in-between the doing and the experiencing of God is where we are supposed to be walking.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the first rebbe of the Lubavitch dynasty, led the services for Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. He stood wrapped in his prayer shawl, profoundly entranced in the cleaving of the soul to its source. Every word of prayer he uttered was fire. His melody and fervor carried the entire community off to the highest and the deepest journey of the spirit.

And then he stopped. He turned, cast off his prayer shawl and left the synagogue. With a bewildered congregation chasing behind, he walked briskly to the outskirts of town, to a small dark house from where was heard the cry of a newborn infant. The rabbi entered the house, chopped some wood and lit a fire in the oven, boiled some soup and cared for the mother and child who lay helpless in bed.

Then he returned to the synagogue and to the ecstasy of his prayer.

The Rebbe added:

Note that the rabbi removed his prayer shawl. To help someone, you must leave your world, no matter how serene, to enter the place where that person lives.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“A Story”
A favorite story of the Rebbe, central to his activist view of life
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Aish.com

Whether you’re Christian or Jewish (or anyone else), the actions of Rabbi Zalman are bound to seem strange, but if you are aware of the extreme solemn devotion and majesty of the Yom Kippur service, certainly the most Holy Day on the Jewish calendar, then imagining the Rabbi abruptly throwing off his tallit in the middle of services, walking out of the synagogue, even in order to care for a newborn infant and his mother, probably seems startling and even shocking.

But what is it to be perfect? Is it entering into an ecstatic holy state of prayer, speaking in tongues, or other mystical or metaphysical experience that brings us closer to the Divine, or is it extending ourselves back outward, away from what we think we want or need, in order to serve someone who has greater needs than ours?

I suppose you could make the argument that it’s both, since after Rabbi Zalman finished his work at the new mother’s home, “he returned to the synagogue and to the ecstasy of his prayer.” On the other hand, he was willing to abandon, however temporarily, the “ecstasy of his prayer” in the middle of worship services on the Holiest day of the year, and perform a servile duty to the lowliest of God’s creatures in their helplessness. It would be as if a Christian Pastor, right in the middle of leading Easter services, were to suddenly stop, walk out of church, and perform the identical action for a new mother and her infant, then go back to church and pick up where he left off.

What would the parishioners think of what he did? Then again, what would God think?

Every person is a microcosm of the entire Creation. When a person brings harmony between his G‑dly soul and his material life, he brings harmony between the whole of heaven and earth.

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

What is it to be perfect? That’s not an easy question to answer. And yet we see that a significant portion of the answer is to strive to obey God and to bring harmony between our “G-dly soul” and our “material life.” The challenge is to find the balance between the two and to continually struggle to not let one overwhelm the other. We cannot serve Him in the material world without being attached to Him as He is in Heaven. But our service to Him in Heaven, so to speak, serves no one unless it is expressed here on Earth.

“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

–Matthew 6:9-10 (ESV)

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Ha’azinu: Between Heaven and Earth

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Why did Moshe address the earth as well as the heavens? And why did Yeshayahu address the heavens as well as the earth? Why did they not confine themselves to speaking to the realm closest to them?

The answer to these questions depends on a fundamental tenet of Judaism: we must relate to both earth and heaven. For material and spiritual reality are meant to be connected, instead of being left as skew lines. Judaism involves drawing down spiritual reality until it meshes with worldly experience (Moshe’s contribution), while elevating worldly experience until a bond with the spiritual is established (Yeshayahu’s contribution). (see Rambam, Commentary to the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 10:1), the seventh and eighth of the Thirteen Principles of Faith)

Indeed, the two initiatives can be seen as phases in a sequence. By revealing the Torah, Moshe endowed every individual with the potential to become “close to the heavens.” Yeshayahu developed the connection further, making it possible for a person to experience being “close to heavens” while “close to the earth” involved in the mundane details of material life.

-Rabbi Eli Touger
“Close To The Heavens”
From the “In the Garden of Torah” series
Commentary on Torah Portion Ha’azinu
Chabad.org

This is something like what I’ve been trying to say in my Jesus, Halakhah, and the Evolution of Judaism series. There is a dynamic tension in Judaism between Heaven and earth; between God and man, between the Spiritual ideal and the practicality of performing the mitzvot in the secular world. Heaven never changes, but the world in which we live in changes all the time. As we see from Rabbi Touger’s commentary on this week’s Torah portion, we might very well say that a Jew has one foot anchored in Heaven and the other planted firmly on earth.

The Master said it this way:

But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth. –John 17:13-19 (ESV)

Just as Jesus was, at that time, in the world but not of the world, this is how he characterized his disciples, who were set apart; sanctified for holy service to God. This is also a good understanding of what I see in Rabbi Touger’s commentary on what the Song of Moses was and is trying to teach the descendents of Jacob and the children of Israel.

And as Christians, this is a lesson we must learn as well.

But it isn’t easy. There’s a very delicate balance going on here. It would be very simple to slip too far one way or the other. If we go too far into the spiritual realm, we might have to leave the world altogether. More often than not though, we would probably just lose our way, walking off of the true path and into realms that involve excessive, arcane spiritual and mystic philosophies that are often mistaken for “mysterious truths” by people who are never satisfied with what God has given them. To go too far in the opposite direction (and this is the mistake most of us make) is to become too much of the world, bending our theologies and philosophies to the demands of a politically correct western culture, and believing that God has not prepared for us His enduring principles and values.

But how do you know if you’re biased too far in one direction or another? How can you tell if you’ve struck the right balance between adhering to eternal truths and adapting your religious practice to the needs of the current generation?

You almost never can tell until you, or someone around you, has gone to one extreme or the other, and then it becomes all too obvious.

How do you steady yourself on the path? That’s not easy, either. But it’s done by surrounding yourself with stable companions in the faith; men and women who are “grounded in the Word” and who have spent much time with God, men and women of prayer, grace, compassion, and acts of charity and kindness. Think of them as there to assist you in the occasional “course correction” that must be made during your journey between birth and God.

Unfortunately, there are always wrong communities that will support and encourage problems:

For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. –2 Timothy 4:3-5 (ESV)

This is a well used and well-abused set of verses because almost everyone in every type of Christian denomination, sect, and variant believes their group is the only one that possesses “sound teaching” and that everyone else who differs from them have “itching ears.” Indeed, the Messianic Jewish and Gentile Hebrew Roots movements are often characterized in the latter category by the mainstream Christian churches, since the focus on Hebraic and Jewish thought is contrary to what most churches teach.

So what do you do? How can you be so sure of yourself?

The scary answer is that, if you are at all honest with yourself and with God, you can’t be too sure. In fact, a little self-doubt is probably healthy. Taking other people’s criticisms to heart, at least temporarily, lets you look at yourself from a different point of view and ask the question, “what if I’m wrong?” I spent about a year on a different blog asking myself that question in many different ways, and my current perspective on this blog is the result. Just two weeks ago, I admitted I was wrong in response to a critic’s complaint, and I started a journey to investigate what the Bible really says about a Christian’s covenant connection to God.

If you assume that you’re never wrong, then you are almost certain to be walking away from God. I’ve met people like that, both in the blogosphere and face-to-face and believe me, they’re scary.

But what can we do when information overload hits, when the words and the texts and the spiritual pronouncements get to be too much? What do you do when you feel like you are about to fall off the tightrope, or that you are running on the edge of a razor blade, in imminent danger of being sliced to ribbons? As the saying goes, you need to “get back to basics.”

My soul thirsts for You; my flesh pines for You.

–Psalms 63:2

One Yom Kippur, after the Maariv (evening) services that ended the 25-hour fast, Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Berdichev exclaimed, “I am thirsty! I am thirsty!” Quickly someone brought him water, but the Rabbi said, “No! I am thirsty!” Hastily they boiled water and brought him coffee, but again he said, “No! No! I am thirsty!” His attendant then asked, “Just what is it you desire?”

“A tractate Succah (the volume of the Talmud dealing with the laws of the festival of Succos).” They brought the desired volume, and the Rabbi began to study the Talmud with great enthusiasm, ignoring the food and drink that were placed before him.

Only after several hours of intense study did the Rabbi breathe a sigh of relief and break his fast. The approaching festival of Succos with its many commandments – only five days after Yom Kippur – had aroused so intense a craving that it obscured the hunger and thirst of the fast.

It is also related that at the end of Succos and Pesach, festivals during which one does not put on tefillin, Rabbi Levi Yitzchok sat at the window, waiting for the first glimmer of dawn which would allow him to fulfill the mitzvah of tefillin after a respite of eight or nine days.

Today I shall…

try to realize that Torah and mitzvos are the nutrients of my life, so that I crave them just as I do food and water when I am hungry or thirsty.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Tishrei 11”
Aish.com

The “Torah and mitzvos;” Heaven and earth are the nutrients of life. We crave them like food and water. To extend the metaphor, we need a “balanced diet” to stay healthy. I adopted the name and philosophy for my blog from something written by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman that was based on the letters and talks of the Rebbe, Rabbi M. M. Schneerson:

When you get up in the morning, let the world wait. Defy it a little. First learn something to inspire you. Take a few moments to meditate upon it. And then you may plunge ahead into the darkness, full of light with which to illuminate it.

When you find yourself poised between Heaven and earth, try to balance yourself as much as possible, and then pick up a Bible or perhaps some text produced by a learned sage. Learn one thing that inspires you, that fills you with energy, and prompts you to seize the day…meditate upon it, question it, question your own understanding of it and of yourself for a time. Then start walking forward on your path toward the dawn and let yourself be the light that provides illumination.

I am gratified that this lesson has extended outward a little from my humble blog.

Good Shabbos.

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What’s Important Now?

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When you try to help others and they don’t listen to you, you have a choice. You can say “it’s impossible to help them” and blame them for not being more open. Or you can view the situation as your own lack of proficiency at influencing and motivating others.

A blame-free attitude is the best path to choose. This can motivate you to develop your skills and talents on how to persuade, influence, and motivate. It could be that what you said is exactly what this person needs. As you enhance your presentation skills, in the future you will influence others to follow your beneficial suggestions.

-Rabbi Zelig Pliskin
“Develop your Motivational Skills”
Daily Lift #570
Aish.com

Oh my! This could be applied to every blogger who has ever tried to convince (often in vain) an audience why their point of view is correct and why his/her audience should change their minds and adopt the blogger’s perspective/belief/faith/whatever.

Really, how many blogs and how many comments on those blogs are specifically dedicated to the blogger blaming the audience (or at least those people in the audience who disagree with him/her) for being blockheaded, stubborn, ignorant, and “impossible to help?”

More than I can count, I’m sure.

So what should we do with this piece of advice? Should we redouble our efforts as bloggers, assume that our presentation skills are lacking somehow, and focus on how better to “influence others to follow our beneficial suggestions” in future blog posts?

Is Rabbi Pliskin’s advice here the answer?

A person who feels joy when performing mitzvahs will forget all his suffering and misfortunes. In comparison to becoming closer to the Almighty, of what import is pettiness and trivialities?

A person who experiences joy in doing good deeds will feel greater joy than a person who finds a large sum of money. Why should a person expend his efforts trying to find happiness in areas where the basis is transient and ultimately meaningless, when he has a far better alternative?

I suspect it is the answer, if we were to take Rabbi Pliskin seriously and actually apply his suggestion to our lives in a consistent manner. Unfortunately, we who continue to participate in the blogosphere, either as active bloggers or the observers who don’t blog but who frequently comment on the blogs of others, take ourselves way too seriously (me included). This is true in spite of the fact that there are probably well over 181 million blogs in the world right now. As far as U.S. bloggers are concerned, our “right” to have our say and express our opinion seems to have reached crazy, chaotic, out-of-control proportions, thanks to cheap, high-speed Internet access and the ability to create a blog for absolutely no cost in just a few minutes.

So what’s the answer, what’s the answer, what’s the answer?

I’d like to say “turn it all off,” but I know how difficult that would be in my own case, so I can hardly make that suggestion to others. But Rabbi Noah Weinberg, of blessed memory, makes that exact suggestion, at least in part.

Imagine someone calling you an idiot. Or that you’re stuck in traffic. Or that the boss is hassling you.

When this happens, you can become angry and caught up in the pettiness of life.

The remedy? Take a moment to go outside and walk under the stars. When you witness the vastness of the universe, it puts things into perspective. When you come back inside, you won’t be starry-eyed. You’ll be energized. You’ll say, I’m sorry. Let’s forget it and move on.

Awe helps release you from the limits of the body. You are suddenly in a world of different dimensions, transported into the eternity of beauty, power, majesty. You’ve got an expanded perspective. It’s no longer me versus you. We’re all one. So why be aggravated?

Awe carries us beyond ourselves. In times of war and tragedy – as well as prosperity and joy – people get “bigger.” They treat each other nicer. Pettiness is forgotten.

Anytime you’re in a rut, blast yourself out. Take a walk under the stars. This will unleash the power. You cannot be bored or petty when you are in awe.

The ultimate source of awe is, of course, God. Since we often can’t directly experience God, we usually must “settle” for experiencing the reminders of Him that He has left for us; that is, His universe, His creation.

It’s ironic that when we compare ourselves to the vastness of God and His Glory, we feel very small, and humbled, and yet at the same time, grateful and even exhilarated. We don’t feel jealous that God is so big and we are so tiny. We don’t resent God for being omnipotent while we are so powerless.

And yet let another human being or another group of people claim some heritage, some experience, some relationship that we ourselves don’t have access to, and suddenly we’re deeply envious, hurt, and outraged. We feel victimized. We feel as if our “rights” have been violated. Why can’t we have the same access to what “those people” claim is uniquely theirs?

Yes, of course I’m talking about the current (and seemingly endless) debate between certain corners of Christianity which can be thought of as “Hebrew Roots” or more specifically “One Law” and the various Judaisms, including “Messianic Judaism.”  The struggle is fueled by those who find in the Bible the justification for “One Law” Christians to have the “right” to everything that God granted Israel as a perpetual gift at Sinai, which is the heritage of every Jew on earth today. Naturally, when Jewish people hear such rhetoric, they tend to “push back.”

I suppose this too is an “issue” that we people who were born and raised in the West and specifically in the U.S. have to deal with, since “our rights” are all we tend to think about (or is that “our entitlements?”) relative to what other people have that we want.

But what should we have learned by now as people of faith? What did Jesus teach? To claim our rights? To take what wasn’t given to us? What did he teach that we seem to be forgetting?

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ –Matthew 25:31-40 (ESV)

Did Jesus “teach Torah?” Absolutely! What else would a Second Temple period itinerant Rabbi teach to the “lost sheep of Israel?” Did he expect his disciples to take his teachings and pass them on through imitation and active “preaching?” Absolutely! That’s what disciples do. Do we see Jesus overtly teaching Jewish covenant signs and identity markers to his Jewish audience? Not as such, since each Jew in Roman-occupied “Palestine” would have been raised from birth to know all these things. In other words, for a Jew in that place at that time,  knowing how to tie tzitzit would have been a “no-brainer.”

So what did he teach and what did he expect his Jewish disciples to pass on to the disciples from the nations? (Matthew 28:18-20) What were his most important commandments?

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. –John 13:34 (ESV)

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 22:37-40 (ESV)

That takes us right back to what Rabbi Pliskin said earlier:

A person who feels joy when performing mitzvahs will forget all his suffering and misfortunes. In comparison to becoming closer to the Almighty, of what import is pettiness and trivialities?

It’s pointless to fuss and argue over God and His special relationship with the Jewish people. After all, God gave the nations of the world the most precious gift possible; the life of His one and only son, the unique one, the Messiah, who died so that our sins could be forgiven and who lived so that we could have eternal life with the Father as His own sons and daughters.

The next time someone says something outrageous about religion (or anything else) on the Internet and you want to fight back and stand up for your rights, step away from the keyboard. Go outside. Experience the awesomeness of a thunderstorm or the magnificence of the starry, starry night. Perform a mitzvah such as visiting a sick friend in the hospital or donating a few canned goods to your local food bank. Retire into a quiet place and pray, turning your heart away from your own small concerns or hurt feelings and turning your spirit toward God.

After you have done that, ask yourself, “What’s important now?”

Do I need to take my own advice? Yes. Fortunately, Shabbat is coming up. When sundown approaches, I can put away the Internet and return my heart and spirit more fully to the God of all creation, may His Name be blessed eternally and without end.

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What Do You Know?

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Man, like all creatures . . . possesses both a body and a soul. And just as there are those who are poor in body and bodily needs, so, too, are there paupers in spirit and spiritual needs. Thus, the mitzvah of charity includes both physical charity and spiritual charity. In the words of our sages: “[It is written:] ‘If you see a naked person, you should cover him.’ What is the meaning of this? If you see a person who is naked of the words of Torah, take him into your home, teach him to read the Shema and pray, teach him… and enjoin him regarding the mitzvot….”

Regarding material charity, the law is that the material pauper is also obligated [to give], for even the most impoverished person can find a way to help his fellow pauper. The same applies to spiritual charity. There is no man or woman in Israel who cannot, in some way, influence his or her fellow Jews and bring them closer to the fear of Heaven, the Torah and the mitzvot.

Freely translated excerpt from the very first “public letter” written by the Rebbe
dated Elul 18, 5710 (August 31, 1950)
Printed in Igrot Kodesh vol. 3, pg. 463-4.
As quoted from “A Poor Man’s Gift”
in the “What the Rebbe Taught Me” series
Chabad.org

When I attended my former One Law congregation, it used to bother me a little to teach. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved to teach. I used to craft a lesson the way I write blogs. I’d find inspiration everywhere. I couldn’t read the Bible without getting ideas for future lessons.

But there’s a problem.

I have absolutely no formal educational or vocational background in teaching on Biblical and religious topics. I’m kind of a blockhead that way. I tend to teach as I write; not so much on the nuts and bolts facts, translations, and Greek or Hebrew “wordplay” you see on so many other religious blogs, but on the themes raised by the text and the moral and ethical lessons we can glean from the Word.

It still bothers me to blog for pretty much the same reasons it bothered me to teach. At least now, I’m only representing myself and not a congregation or organization. I don’t have to be worried that what I say and my personal opinions will reflect poorly on others. Now, when I (virtually) shoot off my big mouth, it only reflects poorly (or otherwise) on me.

Well, that’s not absolutely true. As a disciple of Jesus and a worshiper of the God of Abraham, anything I say or do, for good or for ill, reflects upon my Creator. That’s hardly to be taken lightly, but on the other hand, with so many religious bloggers out there, one or two others are probably going to make a few mistakes, too. That’s no excuse of course, but I have to plead that I’m only human. My mistakes are my own, not God’s.

Just in case you were wondering, just how many blogs and bloggers are out there, (I can’t drill down to the specific number of religious blogs, alas) according to nielsen.com, at the end of 2011, there were “over 181 million blogs around the world, up from 36 million only five years earlier.”

Wow!

That’s pretty humbling.

If you’re one of those bloggers and you think your blog is really cool beans, just remember that no matter what you write and how important it is to you, there are almost 200 million other bloggers out there who feel the same way about their messages. Talk about a drop in a bucket.

HumbleThere are a lot of reasons why I continually entertain the thought that I should just quit. Especially after a “bad day” online, I brood a bit and figure I’ll set a date to stop blogging, delete my Facebook and twitter accounts, and let the rest of the world duke it out in cyberspace. I’m sure there are a lot of other things I could do with my time besides blogging a ridiculous amount in the Christian/Jewish/Messianic blogosphere. Besides, it’s not as if my one little online contribution could possibly make any sort of difference in the greater scheme of things.

But remember that I quoted from the Rebbe’s letter at the start of this particular missive.

Often, I use my blog as a platform to encourage and support giving tzedakah in a variety of forms, including material, emotional, and spiritual. But Rabbi Mendel Kalmenson in this commentary presents another idea:

What is often overlooked, however, is the fact that charity not only means feeding empty stomachs, but also includes the nourishing of needy hearts, ignorant minds, misguided spirits, and stagnant souls.

While a now-famous Jewish teaching states, “Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world,” according to one Talmudic master, “He who teaches Torah to his neighbor’s son is regarded by Scripture as though he created him.”

But wouldn’t that presuppose being a competent Torah teacher? I mean, it’s not like just anyone can teach Torah or, to put it in more “Christian” terms, it’s not like just anybody can be a Bible teacher.

According to our aforementioned commentary, the Rebbe was fond of quoting the following:

“If only you know aleph (the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet) – teach aleph!”

-Old Chassidic Proverb

I suppose that’s sort of like saying, “if you only know the ABCs, teach the ABCs.” But what does that have to do with teaching the Bible or blogging about religious topics, particularly if you are untrained and uneducated?

Herb Brin, a noted author and the editor of four newspapers, met with the Rebbe after becoming editor of the L.A.-based Jewish newspaper Heritage. The private audience lasted six hours. At some point, the following exchange took place:

“Rebbe, I recently became editor of a Jewish publication. The problem is, I know very little about my people and their heritage. Do I have the right to make sensitive editorial judgments as I do not understand Hebrew, my Jewish education was truncated, and I only know fragments of Yiddish?”

Looking him in the eye, the Rebbe said, “Do you have the right to withhold that which you do know?”

OK, that was only a longer and slightly more detailed commentary on what Rabbi Kalmenson said a moment earlier, so not much more was illuminated.

There are actually two problems here. The first is that you should teach only what you are competent to teach. That can be a tough one because human beings are notorious for grossly overestimating what they know and how far their skill sets can take them. The blogosphere is replete with self-appointed “experts” in their fields, particularly when the field is religion, so it would be easy for someone with limited qualifications, or even a reasonably well-educated person, but with a serious ax to grind, to use Rabbi Kalmenson’s lesson as tacit permission to rattle off whatever “teachings” they feel capable of presenting to a spiritually hungry and needy audience.

I can’t speak for all bloggers everywhere, but for my own part, I make every effort to teach and write within the boundaries of my knowledge. I also have a trusted friend or two who, behind the scenes, lets me know when I’ve gone a bit too far.

But what about the second problem?

Say that as a student, I have the right, even the obligation, to teach, to inform, to educate, to share information with those uninformed; but how dare I encourage others when it comes to Jewish observance? How can I promote the practice of a lifestyle that I myself continue to struggle with?

That is an absolutely excellent question, and one that we should all consider when consulting the various blogs out there (including mine) that suggest how to go about living a moral, ethical, and spiritual lifestyle. How can you know if the author is living up to the standards he or she is teaching to others?

The Rebbe had an answer for that one, too.

A college student once approached the Rebbe in the middle of a chassidic gathering to greet him with a l’chaim. The Rebbe turned and asked him if he was involved with encouraging and helping his fellow students to put on tefillin every day.”But Rebbe,” admitted the young man, “I myself don’t put on tefillin every day!”

“Why is that their fault…?” replied the Rebbe, with a smile.

In sum, Judaism teaches that you don’t have to be rich to give to the poor, you don’t have to be a scholar in order to teach the ignorant, and you don’t have to be perfect in order to help others perfect themselves.

That’s absolutely amazing and explains why the poor can give to the poorer or sometimes, even to the rich. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have a perfect religious or spiritual walk. Granted, I don’t think the Rebbe was suggesting that it’s OK to be a phony, a hypocrite, or a charlatan, but it is OK to be an honest and well-meaning person with a limited skill set and who struggles with their walk of faith and to still teach what they know and what you know to others. I guess on that basis, I’ll continue to blog for a bit longer. You never know what might happen as a result.

What can the poor man give? The answer is, whatever he has. Jesus talked about this too, but he used more concrete terms in his parable.

And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” –Mark 12:41-44 (ESV)

Now imagine that instead of material funds, the Master was talking about what you know, how you encourage, and your example of living out your faith.

What do you have to give? What do I?

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Orchards

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Now, O Israel, what does Hashem, your God, ask of you? Only to fear Hashem, your God, to go in all His ways and to love Him, and to serve Hashem, your God with all your heart and with all your soul, to observe the commandments of Hashem and His decrees, which I command you today, for your benefit. Behold! To Hashem, your God, are the heavens and higheset heavens, the earth and everything that is in it. Only your forefathers did Hashem cherish to love them, and He chose their offspring after them – you – from among all the peoples, as this day.

–Deuteronomy 10:12-15 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

If you love me, you will keep my mitzvot.

–John 14:15 (DHE Gospels)

For the Christian, it might seem strange to try to compare these two verses. Contextually, the passage from Deuteronomy is being addressed to the Children of Israel as they are preparing to cross the Jordan and take possession of the Land of Israel, as promised by God to the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. When Moses says to “observe the commandments of Hashem and His decrees, which I command you today,” we generally understand that he (and God) mean the Israelites are to observe and obey all of the Torah commandments given to them at Sinai. The majority of those commandments are not typically observed by the modern church, at least as we understand them in traditional Christian doctrine. But we do grasp the need to, as a holy people, obey our God.

Then we have the commandment of Christ to “keep my mitzvot.” What does that mean?

The NIV translation of this verse states, “If you love me, you will obey what I command,” while the ESV translation renders it similarly as “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Mitzvot (singular: “mitzvah”) is a series or collection of commandments typically associated with the Torah, but in a more expansive sense, “mitzvot” carries the meaning of a group of charitable acts performed for the benefit of others. For a modern observant Jew, even studying the Torah commandments fulfills a mitzvah, and the Jewish concept of mitzvot is far more involved than simply obeying a list of “dos” and “don’ts,” extending into an extremely rich and robust way of life referred to as halachah.

Jesus was and is a Jew and as translated by the DHE Gospels, the word he used that we normally read in English as “commandments” is rendered “mitzvot” in order to capture the truer meaning of his likely intent. Jesus was a Jewish teacher talking to his Jewish disciples and within the historical, national, and linguistic context, his audience would have had a perfect understanding of his meaning.

But do we? What were Christ’s mitzvot that he expected his disciples to obey as a sign of their love for him?

Before trying to answer that question, let me point out something. As Moses is speaking to the Israelites in Deuteronomy 10, he knows his time is short. This is the last time he will be able to speak to the people of Israel. Shortly after he finishes, he will pass his authority to Joshua, who will lead the Israelites across the Jordan, and then Moses will die, his mission completed, at least as deemed necessary by God if not Moses himself.

Jesus, in John 13 and beyond, is also speaking to his disciples as he is preparing to die. Gethsemane, Golgotha, and the cross were only hours away.

Now the son of man is glorified, and God is glorified in him. Yes, God is glorified in Him and God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him immediately. My sons, I will be with you for a little while longer. You will seek me, and what I have said to the Yehudim – “where I am going you will not be able to come.” –John 13:31-33 (DHE Gospels)

Moses and Jesus, both men on the cusp, both desperately in love with their people, knowing they will be leaving them soon, knowing that their last words are vital, knowing that everything is at stake, and everything will be lost should their followers not heed those words.

Moses and Jesus, both men who have commanded their followers to obey the mitzvot. We have a substantially established idea of the nature of the mitzvot that Moses expected the Israelites to obey. But what are the mitzvot of Jesus Christ?

I am giving you a new mitzvah: that you love one another. With this all will know that you are my disciples: if love dwells among you. –John 13:34-35 (DHE Gospels)

This is my mitzvah: that you love one another as I have loved you. There is no love greater than the love of one who gives his life on behalf of his companions. As for you, if you do what I command you, you are my companions because I have made known to you all that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me; rather, it is I who chose you. I have charged you to go and produce fruit, and your fruit will endure. All that you ask from my Father in my name he will give you. I command you these things so that you will love one another. –John 15:12-17 (DHE Gospels)

However else you choose to consider the commandments of Jesus and of God as they apply to your life as a Christian or a Jew, the mitzvah of the Master has been laid at our feet. We are to love one another as he has loved us. How has Jesus loved us? He gave his life for his companions; his friends. How do you become a companion of the King of the Jews? By obeying his mitzvah, to love. If you love as he has loved, you become his friend and you will produce fruit. What is this fruit?

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. –Galatians 5:22-23 (ESV)

No law, no mitzvah opposes such fruit.

I know what you’re thinking. Could it be that simple?

Probably not. I’m sure it’s far more complicated than I’m making it. After all, the blogosphere burns up with discussions of what Jesus meant when he said “such and thus” or how to apply the dynamic interactions of law and grace. But Jesus commanded his disciples to “go and produce fruit.” Paul in his letter to the Galatians gives us one definition of “fruit,” which is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” I can’t say that I’m such an expert at flawlessly producing this fruit, especially on a consistent basis, but it seems clear that I should.

It also seems clear that we all, as disciples of Jesus; as Christians, should produce this fruit as a consequence of him loving us and us loving him. Like latter-day Johnny Appleseeds, we should go about planting fruit trees, promoting kindness and generosity, and watching the fruits of our labors grow.

We should love. We must love. I know I struggle in this as much or more than most of you. It may seem strange for someone as flawed as I am to invoke and promote the love of Christ among Christians and everyone else. But if we don’t say it out loud, if we don’t declare the mitzvah in public, how will we, will I be able to take the next step and express such a love?

We must learn to bear fruit by loving; I must learn to bear such fruit. We must all plant orchards.