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Behar-Behukotai: Seeking Crowns

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The majority of this Torah reading focuses on the rewards granted for observance of the Torah, and the punishments ordained for failure to observe. One might ask: When a person has internalized the self-transcendence of Bechukosai, of what interest is reward? As the Alter Rebbe would say: “I don’t want Your World to Come. I don’t want Your Gan Eden. All I want is You alone.” (As quoted in Derech Mitzvosecho, Shoresh Mitzvos HaTefillah, ch. 40. See also Rambam, Hilchos Teshuvah, ch. 10.)

In truth, however, only a person who genuinely “wants You alone” can appreciate the full measure of reward G-d has associated with the Torah and its mitzvos. As long as a person is concerned with his individual wants and desires, he will interpret the reward received for observance in that light. When, by contrast, a person has transcended his individual will, instead of these petty material concerns, he will appreciate the essential good and kindness which G-d conveys. (See Likkutei Sichos, Vol. XV, p. 312)

This will create a self-reinforcing pattern, for the purpose of the rewards granted by the Torah is to enable an individual to further his study and observance. (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Teshuvah 9:1.)

As this pattern spreads among mankind, we will merit the full measure of blessings mentioned in the Torah reading, with the return of our people to our land, led by Mashiach. Then “Your threshing season will last until your grape harvest…. You shall eat your bread with satisfaction…. I will grant peace in the land, and none shall make you afraid.” (Leviticus 26:5-6.)

-Rabbi Eli Touger
In the Garden of the Torah
“Real Growth”
Commentary on Torah Portion Behukotai
Leviticus 26:3-27:34
Chabad.org

“Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you. –Matthew 5:11-12 (ESV)

What we get out of our relationship with God is a matter of perspective. As Rabbi Touger illustrates, how we perceive our “reward” depends on how we perceive ourselves. I’ve written a number of commentaries on Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik’s book The Lonely Man of Faith including my most recent missive, Burning the Plow. Soloveitchik presents “two Adams” using the two depictions of the creation of the first man in Genesis to show us two sides of the person of faith, the material and the spiritual. How we function in relation to God is how we see what God can do for us.

That probably sounds selfish, and it’s meant to be, at least in part.

The material man sees his relationship with God in terms of the world of here and now. He prays for success in business, good weather for planting crops, health for his family, and so on. There’s nothing wrong with this of course, but it is the general limit of the material man’s vision of his relationship with God. Man is the majestic steward of the world God created, and in return, he desires that God reward him with the benefits related to that creation.

It is written in Pirkei Avot Chapter 4, Mishna 2, that “the reward of a mitzvah is a mitzvah” (quoting Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld). Thus the continued cycle I have described in the previous paragraph is self-perpetuating as long as the perspective of the material man does not change.

And for many people of faith, it never does.

However, Rabbi Touger’s commentary, quoting the Alter Rebbe, shows us a different path:

“I don’t want Your World to Come. I don’t want Your Gan Eden. All I want is You alone.”

On an emotional level, most of us can more or less understand this desire. We want to “feel” closer to God, to love Him with great zeal and to pour our heart and our life into pools of mystic wonder where only God exists. However, such a desire is difficult to grasp for very long for most of us, and we tend to believe that only saints or holy men or mystics who live in caves or monasteries can truly exist in a sustained state of “All I want is You alone.”

It’s hard for most Christians to imagine that Jews might express such a desire to want to walk with God alone, since Judaism is seen as a largely “behavioral” religion. An observant Jew tends to be defined by the mitzvot, by Torah study and obedience to the commandments. By contrast, Christians see their faith as more metaphysical, residing in the realm of belief and pure faith and grace, than in the raw mechanics of feeding a hungry person or donning tallit and tefillin before prayer.

But what about the Jews who first came to the realization that Jesus was and is the Messiah? Where is the meeting point between classic Judaism and traditional Christianity? Where did it all begin before man artificially split the two faiths (or was that split all part of God’s plan as Paul describes in Romans 11:25)?

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing. –2 Timothy 4:6-8 (ESV)

What is this “crown of righteousness” of which Paul speaks? Is it a literal crown he wears in the Heavenly court? Is it the sheer experience of bliss and wonder in God’s “Gan Eden” (Garden of Eden or Paradise)? Or could it be “God and God alone?”

Around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones were twenty-four elders, clothed in white garments, with golden crowns on their heads. –Revelation 4:4 (ESV)

And whenever the living creatures give glory and honor and thanks to him who is seated on the throne, who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before him who is seated on the throne and worship him who lives forever and ever. They cast their crowns before the throne… –Revelation 4:9-10 (ESV)

The passages from Revelation 4 certainly seem to indicate real, physical crowns as the rewards, but this could be deceptive, since John’s vision of the Heavenly court and the events he witnessed is highly mystical and may not represent actual, literal actions. But look at what the twenty-four elders do with their crowns when they “give glory and honor and thanks to him who is seated on the throne.” They “cast their crowns before the throne” and say:

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they existed and were created.”

In addressing “the Lord God Almighty” (v 8), what does it mean to cast your crowns before His throne?

I’m no theologian so it’s impossible for me to say with any authority what John was really witnessing in this act of supreme worship of the Ein Sof God Almighty, “who was and is and is to come.” But let’s pretend what they were/are all doing was/is fulfilling this desire:

“I don’t want Your World to Come. I don’t want Your Gan Eden. All I want is You alone.”

When I was a child and I tried to imagine Heaven, I thought it sounded pretty boring. There was nothing to do there except constantly worship God. I thought it sounded like one, infinitely long church service where you had to sit in a hot sanctuary in sticky, itchy clothes, and be quiet, and listen to organ music, and pray and recite stuff, and endlessly say:

“Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty,
who was and is and is to come!”

Didn’t anybody ever have fun in Heaven? What kind of reward was all this “holy, holy, holy” stuff anyway?

Most children tend to be “material man,” lacking the ability to see beyond their immediate, temporal needs and desires. Many adults, even in the community of faith are like this, too.

Beyond majestic, material man is the person seeking to simply walk with God; who perceives his path as illuminated by an ineffable light. When we desire “God alone” there is no way we can truly understand what we are asking for. Who could possibly imagine what the crowns of Paul or the elders in John’s vision actually were, and if they existed materially or not? I choose to believe that there is so much more to the rewards awaiting covenantal, spiritual man and that, attempting to imagine them from the viewpoint of the material human being, we miss the point completely.

Pray not for Heaven or for Paradise or for crowns of gold. Let your only desire for reward be God Himself.

Then let awe and wonder in every corner of your existence take hold and realize that He is already here. Life is a miracle and your soul is the soul of your Creator. Once you know this, the mitzvot will take care of themselves for they will be inseparable from the ineffable light of God.

He could have made a world where the nature of each thing may be deduced from its parts. A predictable, orderly world. A world devoid of wonder. And then we would say, “Things are this way because they must be this way.” G-d would be a stranger in His own world.

Instead, at each step a whole new world emerges, one we could never have predicted from anything we knew before. Until we must conclude that our finite world somehow contains infinite possibilities, that both nothing and everything is possible, that things are the way they are only because He desires they be that way.

He has made our world wondrous, so that it has room for Him.

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

Good Shabbos.

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Singing the Monkey House Blues, Part 2

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Frequently, we may look at other people, and feel jealousy. We wonder why this person was born wealthy, this one with a brilliant mind, this one with great beauty. Others may also look at the Torah, and wonder why this group is different from that group, or why the Rabbis gave certain responsibilities to one group and not another.

The truth behind the distinctions of the Kohanim should teach us. Jewish thought does not tell us to seek fame and glory. Our lives are not about power and privilege. The Torah tells us that we are here to seek and to serve our G-d, through performance of Mitzvos and good deeds.

-Rabbi Yaakov Menken
“Privileged People”
Commentary on Parshas Emor
Torah.org

Disclaimer: As I mentioned in part 1 of this two-part series, I am expressing my viewpoint on Jewish uniqueness and distinctiveness in the community of Messianic believers and suggesting that Jews and non-Jews embody different, or at least, overlapping sets of responsibilities and duties to God while remaining absolutely equal in God’s love and in His salvation. Chances are, some of you reading this will not be happy with me and will disagree with my perspectives. I understood that when I started writing “Monkey House.” Now let’s continue and see how the various parts of the Bible and the perspective of the sages can illuminate this issue.

I know I’m probably going to make some people reading this unhappy, but it’s important to understand that if groups of Jews in the Messianic movement need to preserve their distinctiveness relative to the Torah and God, it isn’t an attempt to “cut out the Gentiles” or to make themselves more exalted. It’s a response to the Torah and the covenant of Sinai. The specific distinctions between Jews and non-Jews in modern Messianism is just as valid and legitimate as the distinctions between the Kohenim class and the larger body of Israel in ancient (and arguably modern) times.

Rabbi Menken said something very important that most Christians should pick up on:

Jewish thought does not tell us to seek fame and glory.

Compare that to this parable of the Master:

Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” –Luke 14:7-11 (ESV)

The reason the Torah is a story about God’s interaction with humanity and not just about God’s interaction with Israel, is because the Bible is a tapestry woven with the very threads of human nature. It’s human nature to want what we can’t have. It’s human nature to desire what another person possesses by right or ability and to think it’s unfair if we can’t be exactly like them. It’s human nature to sometimes want to be someone we’re not.

Perhaps this is the human dynamic that lead the Levites to be jealous of the Kohenim as well that what’s going on in the Messianic community these days. It may even be the original root of early supersessionism in the church.

I once read a short story in Kurt Vonnegut Jr’s anthology Welcome to the Monkey House where no one was allowed to be better at anything than anybody else. For example, using the slowest runner in society as a baseline, anyone who could run faster was made to wear weights to slow them down to the same speed as the slowest runner. That way the slowest runner wouldn’t have to feel bad knowing that other people could run faster. The entire society was organized this way so that even the perception of greater or lesser ability and privilege was eliminated for the sake of absolute uniformity.

I’m sometimes reminded of Vonnegut’s story when I encounter the desire for uniformity by non-Jews in the Messianic movement.

But God didn’t make us uniform. He didn’t make the Kohenim uniform with the rest of the tribe of Levi or with the Israelites in general. God also didn’t make Jews in the Messianic movement uniform with the larger Gentile Messianic, Hebrew Roots, and mainstream Christian community.

I know that if the lessons in the Bible cannot overcome human nature in the body of faith, my one little blog has no hope of doing so. Nevertheless, since Rabbi Menken’s Torah commentary speaks to this theme, I thought it appropriate to adapt it for a somewhat different audience. We need to understand that different doesn’t mean “better” or “worse,” it just means different. If someone else has a job as a writer because that is their special skill set, it doesn’t make them better than you, it just makes them different based on natural ability. The same goes for people who are skilled musicians, artists, and computer programmers.

Rabbi Menken ended his commentary with the following words, and I suppose I should do the same:

G-d gave us the Torah to assist us in our search. We need not wonder why some of us are Kohanim, some Levites, some Israelites, and why our tasks and responsibilities are different – because just as each individual is different, what will help one person to grow could be harmful to another. And when we perform our tasks correctly, and succeed in our mission, then these outside distinctions do not determine who is considered truly worthy: “An ill-begotten scholar is preferable to an ignoramus priest.” It is not how we were born that makes us – it is how we die.

We can either try to learn from these lessons or be stuck in the “monkey house” singing the blues.

There is no one for whom to pride oneself. We must toil strenuously. With patience and friendliness we can prevail in all things, with G-d’s help. With a denigrating attitude toward others and inflating our own importance we lose everything, G-d forbid.

Hayom Yom: Iyar 20, 35th day of the omer
Compiled by the Lubavitcher Rebbe
Translated by Yitschak Meir Kagan
Chabad.org

NOTE: Oh, neither the title of this blog post nor my choice of comparing the Korah rebellion with some of the conflicts in the Messianic movement are intended to be disrespectful. As I said, the dynamics between the Kohenim and the Levites is very similar to that of Jews and Gentiles in Messianism. And having recalled the name of Vonnegut’s anthology, I had to figure out a way to weave it into my little missive. I just liked the imagery.

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Singing the Monkey House Blues, Part 1

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“They shall be holy before their L-rd, and they shall not desecrate the name of their L-rd, for the sacrifices of G-d, the bread of their L-rd do they bring, and they shall be holy.” –Leviticus 21:6

Given only a shallow understanding of the laws of Kohanim, the priests, we might consider them a higher class, “creatures of privilege.” When we had our Land and our Temple, all Jews gave the Kohanim a portion of their crops. Even the children of Levi (the tribe of the Kohanim), who also were given special portions, gave the Kohanim part of what they received. Only Kohanim could enter many parts of the Temple; only they could offer sacrifices; only they could aspire to the position of High Priest, he who performed the special service of Yom Kippur.

A closer examination reveals a far more complex distinction.

-Rabbi Yaakov Menken
“Privileged People”
Commentary on Parshas Emor
Torah.org

The world of Messianic Judaism is undergoing something of a crisis and ironically, it’s something that Rabbi Menken was trying to address.

Let me explain.

Disclaimer: Before I continue, I want to let you know that I am expressing my viewpoint on Jewish uniqueness and distinctiveness in the community of Messianic believers and suggesting that Jews and non-Jews embody different, or at least, overlapping sets of responsibilities and duties to God while remaining absolutely equal in God’s love and in His salvation. Chances are, some of you reading this will not be happy with me and will disagree with my perspectives. I understood that when I started writing this blog post. Now let’s continue and see how the various parts of the Bible and the perspective of the sages can illuminate this issue.

OK, Rabbi Menken wasn’t discussing Messianic Judaism at all, but he was illustrating that the perceived “privilege” of the Priestly class in ancient Judaism was somewhat deceptive. As you may recall from Numbers 16, a number of Levites, lead by Korah, tried to rebel against the authority of Moses and Aaron because the Kohenim (Priests) were seen as seizing rights and privileges that they didn’t deserve and that were desired by all of the Levites (see Torah Portion Korah). As a result of their jealousy, things didn’t work out so well. 250 men died by fire (Numbers 16:35), 14,700 people died in a plague (Numbers 17:14) and the following happened to Korah, as well as Dathan, and Abiram, their possessions and any family who stood with them:

Scarcely had he finished speaking all these words when the ground under them burst asunder, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up with their households, all Korah’s people and all their possessions. They went down alive into Sheol, with all that belonged to them; the earth closed over them and they vanished from the midst of the congregation. –Numbers 16:31-33 (JPS Tanakh)

So what’s all this got to do with Messianic Judaism?

This is an oversimplification, but imagine that the Messianic movement is made up of roughly two different groups: a group who believes that all Jews and non-Jews in the movement are equal and uniform in their practice and obligation to Torah and to God, and a group who believes that Jewish Messianics (and all Jews for that matter) exist under additional obligations and have a unique relationship with God that isn’t absolutely mirrored for non-Jewish believers. The perception of some non-Jews of the Jews in the second group, is that they are seizing rights and privileges that should belong to everyone who has been “grafted in” by the blood of the Messiah.

Wait! Sound familiar?

No, I’m not suggesting any fires or plagues or earthquakes are about to come along, but the human emotions and dynamics involved in the Korah rebellion and the current state of the Messianic movement (or in certain areas, anyway) are very much alike. The response of Aaron and Moses to the Levites is pretty much the same response of the Jews to the Gentiles in the Messianic movement, and is actually how Jews see themselves in relation to non-Jews in general.

Kohenim relative to the Levites and other Jews are not more privileged but rather, are assigned higher levels of responsibility. Rabbi Menken’s commentary continues:

A closer examination reveals a far more complex distinction. The Kohanim received their designated presents, but they did not receive a portion of land. Perhaps they were assured they would have a basic income, but the opportunity to amass individual wealth was greatly reduced. They were prohibited from numerous actions permitted to others. To be a Kohen is not simply to enjoy privileges the rest of us do not.

To shift our focus upon the Jewish people relative to Gentiles, Jews (this is a generalization and doesn’t speak to how any specific Jewish individual may feel) don’t consider themselves better or more privileged than non-Jews, but rather, they see that they have been assigned a higher level of obligation to God and to humanity than the other people groups of the earth. A great deal is permitted for the Gentile, including the Gentile Christian that is not permitted to a Jew.

Crucial to the Jewish notion of chosenness is that it creates obligations exclusive to Jews, while non-Jews receive from God other covenants and other responsibilities. Generally, it does not entail exclusive rewards for Jews. Classical rabbinic literature in the Mishnah Avot 3:14 has this teaching:

Rabbi Akiva used to say, “Beloved is man, for he was created in God’s image; and the fact that God made it known that man was created in His image is indicative of an even greater love. As the verse states [Genesis 9:6], ‘In the image of God, man was created.’)” The mishna goes on to say, “Beloved are the people Israel, for they are called children of God; it is even a greater love that it was made known to them that they are called children of God, as it said, ‘You are the children of the Lord, your God. Beloved are the people Israel, for a precious article [the Torah] was given to them …

Most Jewish texts do not state that “God chose the Jews” by itself. Rather, this is usually linked with a mission or purpose, such as proclaiming God’s message among all the nations, even though Jews cannot become “unchosen” if they shirk their mission. This implies a special duty, which evolves from the belief that Jews have been pledged by the covenant which God concluded with the biblical patriarch Abraham, their ancestor, and again with the entire Jewish nation at Mount Sinai. In this view, Jews are charged with living a holy life as God’s priest-people.

-from Rabbinic Jewish views of chosenness
Wikipedia.org

In part 2 of this “meditation,” I’ll quote a portion of Rabbi Menken’s commentary on Emor that crystallizes the core dynamics of what is occurring between some Jews and Gentiles in 21st century western Messianism.

As for the title of today’s meditation, it’s taken from an anthology of stories written by Kurt Vonnegut called Welcome to the Monkey House. You’ll find out what all that has to do with what I’ve been saying in the next part of my blog post.

Torah Portion

Emor: Favorable Light

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The Rambam writes: (Mishneh Torah, Hilchos De’os 5:1.) “Just as a wise man can be recognized through his wisdom and his character traits, for in these he stands apart from the rest of the people, so too, he should be recognized in his conduct.”

The Rambam’s intent is that the Jewish approach to knowledge must be more than theoretical. Instead, a person’s knowledge must shape his character, and more importantly, influence his behavior. This is what distinguishes him as wise.

Among the types of conduct mentioned by the Rambam as appropriate for a wise man is refined speech, as he continues: (Ibid.: 7) “A Torah scholar should not shout or shriek while speaking…. Instead, he should speak gently to all people…. He should judge all men in a favorable light, speaking his colleague’s praise, and never mentioning anything that is shameful to him.”

The wording employed by the Rambam “judging… in a favorable light” and “never mentioning anything that is shameful” imply that a Torah scholar may recognize faults within a colleague’s character. Even so, he will “speak his colleague’s praise.” When speaking to his colleague privately, he may patiently and gently rebuke him for his conduct. (See ibid., 6:7.) But when speaking to others and when viewing his colleague in his own mind he will think and speak favorably of him.

-Rabbi Eli Touger
“Inspiring Light”
from In the Garden of Torah
Commentary on Emor
Chabad.org

I doubt I could be classified as a “wise man” and certainly not a “Torah scholar,” but it seems as if the Rambam (Rabbi Mosheh Ben Maimon) is offering advice that should be attended to by any reasonable and prudent person. Unfortunately, the Rambam didn’t anticipate the Internet and blogging and I’m sure if he could have access to the web today and review some of the religious commentaries present (including mine), he’d be appalled.

Recently, my friend Gene Shlomovich posted a blog article called Crisis? A Jewish husband believes that Jesus is the Messiah but not G-d (oh, and if you decide to visit his blog and join the debate, please be polite and considerate). The basic issue is that a woman sent an email (I’m not sure if it was originally to Gene or not) saying that her Jewish husband has come to faith in Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, but he does not accept the traditional Christian teaching that Jesus is one part of the Godhead and is God himself in living flesh.

Naturally for a Christian woman, this is of some concern (and probably most Christians reading this will be equally upset). Here;s the question: is the Jewish man who believes Jesus is Messiah but not God “saved?”

Gene asks this question (which is by definition, emotionally charged within the community of believers) as dispassionately as possible, and his interactions with people responding to his question have been measured, calm, and thoughtful. Most people responding have been pretty reasonable too, given the nature of the conversation. It hasn’t been absolutely smooth sailing, though:

Commentor 1: Did you know that the ancient Jewish followers of Yeshua Did not believe that Yeshua was G-d in the flesh?

Commentor 2 in response to 1: The original followers of Yeshua, his disciples, bowed down and worshiped him. Matthew 14. Either that’s idolatry, or Yeshua is God.

There were later groups like the Ebionites who rejected Messiah’s divinity. They also rejected Paul’s writings, and some of the gospels. Your case is weak, and not a few who have taken that path have ended up as apostates.

Gene in response to Commentor 2: You don’t have to constantly, over and over, threaten people with a boogie man of apostasy just to make your point. Over its history, Christendom has excommunicated (or worse) countless followers of Yeshua and branded them as apostates over slightest doctrinal differences. That’s why we have over 43K Christian denominations today, many condemning each other to hell. Some, perhaps many of them, would no doubt consider your Gentiles-must-observe-Mosaic-Torah beliefs as some sort of neo-Galatian heresy and would consider you as a hell-bound grace-forfeited apostate.

OK, no one is being terribly rude, but as I was reading the above-quoted commentary on this week’s Torah portion, I was wondering what Rambam would think of the transaction (the tone, not necessarily the content). Can we judge each other in “a favorable light” and still disagree, particularly on important points of theology and doctrine? Gene says the failure to treat each other favorably within the body of the Messiah has resulted in that body being fractured into over 43,000 different denominations. That’s a lot of different pieces. Imagine taking a rock and throwing it as hard as you can at a large, beautiful, pristine pane of glass. Imagine what will be left over after the rock has done its job and you’ve gone scurrying off to elude the police.

Christianity is fractured and I stand with the myriad pieces scattered around my feet declaring a “Humpty Dumpty-esque” message about the impossibility of the church’s reconstruction.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses
And all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again!

And speaking of Kings:

I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” –Luke 18:8 (ESV)

Will the King be able to put our “humpty dumpty” church back together again? It’s assumed that he can and he will and after all, that’s his main job: to perform tikkun olam in a broken world and for a broken church.

To continue Rabbi Touger’s commentary:

The above concepts relate to our Torah reading, which is called Emor. Emor is a command, telling one to speak. In the context of the Torah reading, this command has an immediate application: to communicate laws pertaining to the priesthood. Nevertheless, the fact that this term is used as the name of the reading indicates a wider significance: A person must speak.

And yet, we find our Sages counseling: “Say little,” (Pirkei Avos 1:16.) and “I… did not find anything better for one’s person than silence,” (Ibid.: 17.) implying that excessive speech is not desirable. Nor can we say that the charge emor refers to the commandment to speak words of Torah, for there is an explicit command, (Deuteronomy 6:7.) “And you shall speak of them,” encouraging us to proliferate the Torah’s words. Instead, emor refers to speaking about a colleague’s virtues, as explained above.

If speaking little is the mark of a wise man and scholar, then the blogosphere is contains an immense lack of wisdom and knowledge. Yet, in the view of Rambam, when we speak, we are to speak words of Torah (Christians can mentally translate that into “the Bible”) and to illuminate the Word of God by telling it. We have two ways to use our tongues:

And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. –James 3:6-9 (ESV)

Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. –1 Thessalonians 5:11-15 (ESV)

The latter sounds a lot like the advice of Rambam for wise men and Torah scholars. It also sounds a lot like good advice for us. Yet we tend toward the former, more’s the pity.

Woman in fireI’m not saying we shouldn’t speak out when we disagree on important matters, but that when doing so, we should also “judge all men in a favorable light, speaking his colleague’s praise, and never mentioning anything that is shameful to him.” That’s a tall order for many religious people who feel they have a right to be confrontational, harsh, rude, and even condemning based on the outspokenness of Jesus and Paul in the Bible, as if any of us can approach the merit of Paul, let alone that of Jesus (perhaps another example of paying attention to one small piece of scripture to the exclusion of the rest of the Bible).

The tongue is fire and it is poison. We use it to bless God and to curse our neighbor and fellow believers. We are called to truth and to shun lies, but can we do so without “personalizing conflict?” I believe it’s possible, though not particularly common. But if we intend to obey the new commandment of the Master to love one another (John 13:34), then we have to start somewhere. This is particularly difficult for anyone who blogs because of the temptation to respond when someone is wrong on the Internet. Nevertheless, the purpose of studying the Word of God is not to “lord it over” those who we disagree with, but to encourage others and to share the blessings of God.

In the holy Zohar it is written that through the study of the secret wisdom, the final liberation will come with compassion. Not with judgment alone.

Now the wisdom is no longer secret. Sages and masters have found ways to make it accessible to all. Those who learn it and spread it, they are bringing divine compassion and redemption to the world.

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

Good Shabbos.

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Acharei-Kedoshim: Impossible Love and Holiness

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Following the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, G‑d warns against unauthorized entry “into the holy.” Only one person, the kohen gadol (“high priest”), may, but once a year, on Yom Kippur, enter the innermost chamber in the Sanctuary to offer the sacred ketoret to G‑d.

Another feature of the Day of Atonement service is the casting of lots over two goats, to determine which should be offered to G‑d and which should be dispatched to carry off the sins of Israel to the wilderness.

The Parshah of Acharei also warns against bringing korbanot (animal or meal offerings) anywhere but in the Holy Temple, forbids the consumption of blood, and details the laws prohibiting incest and other deviant sexual relations.

The Parshah of Kedoshim begins with the statement: “You shall be holy, for I, the L‑rd your G‑d, am holy.” This is followed by dozens of mitzvot (divine commandments) through which the Jew sanctifies him- or herself and relates to the holiness of G‑d.

These include: the prohibition against idolatry, the mitzvah of charity, the principle of equality before the law, Shabbat, sexual morality, honesty in business, honor and awe of one’s parents, and the sacredness of life.

Also in Kedoshim is the dictum which the great sage Rabbi Akiva called a cardinal principle of Torah, and of which Hillel said, “This is the entire Torah, the rest is commentary”—“Love your fellow as yourself.”

Parshah in a Nutshell
Commentary on Acharei–Kedoshim
Leviticus 16:1–20:27
Chabad.org

Okay, here’s the problem: I’m supposed to love my fellow man. Which means that I should accept my fellow human beings as they are. (That’s what love means, right?) But can I—indeed, should I—accept my fellow human beings as they are?

Should I accept a malnourished child as she is? Should I accept a drug-addicted teenager, a suicidal spouse or a bigoted friend as he is? If a person I love suffers from a lack of something—whether that something is food, money, knowledge, health, moral integrity or peace of mind—and whether that person wants to be helped or not, should I not do everything in my power to fill that lack?

-Rabbi Yanki Tauber
“Love Yourself”
Commentary on Acharei–Kedoshim
Leviticus 16:1–20:27
Chabad.org

Love your fellow as yourself: I am the Lord.

–Leviticus 19:10 (JPS Tanakh)

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m beating a dead horse as far as this “love” stuff in the Bible is concerned. I’ve been writing about love, or our woeful lack of it, all this week now and I can’t even stop long enough to write a commentary on this week’s Torah Portion. And yet the Bible speaks to both the Jews and the Christians (and everyone else) about the need; the absolute requirement for love.

It also speaks about the absolute need for holiness and perfection, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

Christians should be very familiar with the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves.

And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. –Matthew 22:39 (ESV)

That’s the second of the two greatest commandments issued by the Master and as I’m sure you can tell, this week’s Torah Portion was Christ’s “source material.”

But what does it mean to love someone else as you love yourself? Rabbi Tauber’s commentary is very eye opening.

Love is an oxymoron. To truly love someone, I have to do two contradictory things: I have to respect him, and I have to care for him. If I do not accept him as he is, that means that I do not respect him. It means that I don’t really love him—I love only what I wish to make of him. But to love someone also means that I care for him and desire the best for him. And since very, very few people are the best that they can be, caring for someone means not accepting him as he is, but believing in his potential to be better, and doing everything I can to reveal that potential.

I can respect someone. I can care for someone. I can accept a person as she is. I can not accept a person as he is. But I can’t do both at the same time. Love sounds great in principle. In practice, it’s impossible.

But I love myself. I’m not unaware of my deficiencies; indeed, in a certain sense, I am more aware of them than anyone else. I want to improve myself, but I don’t think less of myself because I haven’t yet done so. I respect myself and I care for myself; I accept myself as I am, while incessantly striving to make myself better than I am. I love myself—truly, fully, in every sense of the word.

Two and OneOften, husbands complain that their wives are always trying to change them, and usually in ways the husband doesn’t want to change. Here we see a little bit about why wives are motivated in this direction. If a wife loves her husband “as herself,” then she sees the faults in him and wants to help him be a better person. But what about the part of love that requires respecting the other? Is it respectful to try and change a person when they don’t want to be changed? Is it possible for a wife to love her husband enough to help him realize his greater potential and still respect him for who he is today?

If a person were trying to kill himself and you could stop him, would you stop him or respect his wish to die?

That’s a tough one, since some people feel that they should, under certain circumstances, respect another individual’s “right to die.” But what about an alcoholic drinking herself to death? What about a drug addict shooting chemicals into her arm while ignoring her baby crying in his crib? If you love someone and they are on a path toward self-destruction in any way, shape or form, could you stand idly by and allow it to happen? Won’t that self-destruction hurt or even destroy others around the person you love? Is allowing a person to “crash and burn” loving and respectful?

I don’t think there’s an easy answer to that one, but I do think that’s why both the Torah of Moses and the commandment of Christ specifically teaches us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Love isn’t easy.

But how does holiness figure into all of this?

Indeed, a Jew’s sanctity can be so lofty that it bears some comparison with G-d’s, as the verse states: “You shall… be holy, for I… am holy.”

But how is it possible for corporeal man to reach such heights? The verse addresses itself to this question when it states “for I, the L-rd your G-d, am holy.” Since G-d is holy, each and every Jew can and must be holy as well, for all Jews “are truly part of G-d above.”

The measure of sanctity which each and every Jew is capable of achieving may best be appreciated when one realizes that the sanctity we are told to aspire to in Kedoshim follows that previously achieved in Acharei. In that portion, the passing of Nadav and Avihu is described as the result of their souls’ extreme longing for G-d. So great was their love that their bodies could no longer contain their souls, which literally expired.

The portion of Kedoshim informs every Jew that he is capable of even greater heights. For the pursuit of holiness is never-ending, one level always following another, the reason being that holiness emanates from G-d, who is truly infinite — “for I am holy.”

-from the Chassidic Dimension
“Holy and Holier”
Chabad.org

Now recall the first of the two greatest commandments given by Jesus as quoted from the Torah:

And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment.” –Matthew 22:37-38 (ESV)

Marry all of that to what the Torah says about being holy and what the Master said about being perfect.

You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. –Matthew 5:48 (ESV)

The idea mixed in all of that is we can somehow be holy and perfect as God is, or at least shoot for that as a life-long goal; a series of levels that we’re continually climbing toward. But if that also has to do with how we love, then we are being commanded to continually love just like God loves.

How does God love? Unconditionally?

I’m tempted to say He loves us as He loves Himself, but trying to understand how God conceptualizes His own Being is beyond my limited human ability to imagine. But I do know that He loves us enough to have our welfare and what’s best for us at heart.

OK, I know what some of you are thinking. You’re thinking, “Good grief! How can you say that!” If God really loved us and had our best interests at heart, how come children are beaten, women are raped, people are maimed and killed in wars, car accidents, and plane crashes, and how come so many people suffer lingering and horrible deaths from cancer and other miserable diseases?

I don’t know.

I only know that, even in the midst of hideous, nightmarish suffering such as was found in the camps of Dachau, Treblinka, and Auschwitz-Birkenau, God was there. He’s there when your doctor diagnoses you with cancer. He’s there when you have been assaulted by thugs and left for dead. He’s there when your spouse tells you he want a divorce. He’s there when you feel you haven’t the strength to go on and suicide seems the only way out.

He’s there when someone else needs His love and you are the only conduit available to provide that love. That’s the connection between love, holiness, and perfection. God’s love isn’t just some supernatural event or experience. If you are a Jew or a Christian and someone around you is suffering, you are God’s opportunity to love that person. When you are suffering, God has made it possible for someone near you to love you and comfort you in a way that is only possible for God.

Loving someone enough to perceive their faults and loving them enough to respect their wishes seems like trying to travel both east and west at the same time. It’s impossible. But that’s what God asks of us: the impossible. It’s impossible for us to be perfect like God is perfect. It’s impossible for us to be holy like God is holy. It’s impossible for us to love people like God loves people; to love our neighbor just as we love ourselves.

And yet, that’s what God requires of you and me with each waking moment of each passing day of our lives.

To love someone just as they are and still want to help them be the best they can be is to be holy and perfect. Love, holiness, and perfection are not destinations, they’re part of the journey we travel as we walk with God. When Jesus said to the righteous, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me,’ as found in Matthew 25:40, he was talking about this kind of love.

When we feed a hungry person, visit someone in the hospital, or comfort a recent widow in her grief, we aren’t just giving them our love, we are giving them God’s love. It’s what makes it possible for us to be perfect and holy. It’s what makes it possible for a weak and frail human being mired in the abyss of despair to experience God’s infinite love and strength on earth. It’s what makes it possible for us to do the impossible; to rise above the pain and suffering of life and to experience the glorious, majestic holiness of God.

Be holy. Be perfect. Give love.

Good Shabbos.

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The Sign on the Bus

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“You shall stand up before the gray head and honor the face of an old man, and you shall fear your God: I am the LORD.”

–Leviticus 19:32 (ESV)

The Torah (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 244:1) tells us to rise before old people aged seventy or older, even if they are not Torah-scholars, out of respect “for the trials and tribulations they have undergone” ( Talmud Kiddushin 33a)

-quoted from sichosinenglish.org

On the bus you will find a sign saying, “Mipnei Sevah Takum” … The sign on the bus confronts the bus rider with the command, “Stand up for the elderly!”

-by Lawrence Grossman
“Jewish Ethics, from Ancient Bible to Modern Bus”
Jewish Ideas Daily

My wife read to me from one of the email newsletters she gets periodically, probably from Chabad, about the signs you see on Israeli buses to “stand for the elderly.” The signs are used to indicate certain seats that are set aside for older people or anyone else who would have trouble with mobility or standing for long periods of time. The irony, as pointed out in Grossman’s article, is the “collision” between the holy and the secular. Even though the majority of Israel’s Jewish population isn’t religious, the Torah and the intent of God cannot be so easily removed from being Jewish.

In quoting Leviticus 19:32, my wife made the same sort of remark as Grossman did in his news story. Then she said an interesting thing. She said that, for a Jew, it is impossible to separate loving and obeying God with being good to other human beings. She quoted from a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov (which I don’t have immediately available to me) to support this point.

I agreed with her and remarked that I often say the same thing, however I declined to mention that my source is from a different teacher:

“Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” –Matthew 22:36-40 (ESV)

As far as I can tell, Jesus is saying the same thing: Loving God means loving human beings. You can’t separate the two. If you say you love God and you hate people, something is wrong with your love for God.

But it’s not easy to love other people, at least not all other people. After all, who gets along with everyone all of the time? I don’t. And yet Paul added some commentary (midrash on Torah, perhaps) that speaks to this very issue.

Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. –Romans 12:17-18 (ESV)

Oh snap! Really?

Going to verses 20 and 21, Paul adds, “…if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. It almost sounds like Paul is connecting his message to the Romans back to what the Master said in Matthew 25:31-46. If so, then giving food and drink to our “enemies” and not just our friends, is the same as feeding a hungry and thirsty Jesus. Does that mean we will be rewarded for serving our enemies as if we were serving Christ?

That’s a startling thought.

So doing good to others, even if you don’t want to, and even if they’re your “enemy” (in this context, it means a person you don’t like, not someone who is trying to kill you in war) is a very Christian value. And yet we see it is also very Jewish.

But more importantly, it just isn’t Christians being good to Christians and Jews being good to Jews:

“They said of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai that no man ever greeted him first, even idol worshippers in the market” [i.e., Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai was the first to greet every person, even idol worshippers] (Berachot 17). At the same location the sage Abaye advocated soft speech and words of peace to everyone, especially including idol worshippers.

“[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)

I “borrowed” those quotes from an older blog post of mine called What the Talmud Says About Gentiles, Revisited as a reminder of who is the root and who is the branch.

Lately, I’ve been writing about why loving isn’t easy and why we should love even a person who leaves the faith and becomes an atheist. Quite the opposite of what you’d expect, religious people have the toughest time loving each other and especially loving people who are different in their religious orientation than they are. In spite of the supposed similarities between Christians and Jews (Judaism being the foundation of Christianity), we have a very hard time being civil with each other on certain occasions.

The conversation going on right now at Gene Shlomovich’s blog Daily Minyan is one minor example. Actually, the transactions are pretty civil for the most part, especially when I recall the verbal “blood bathes” I’ve witnessed in the past. However, even between Gentiles and Jews who are all disciples of the Jewish Messiah, we have a long way to go.

And yet God tells us that if we love Him, we must love other people, even if we don’t always like them. The next time you are tempted to think of yourself as especially holy and righteous, recall the last time when you had thoughts and feelings of disrespect and hostility for your fellow human being.

Maybe we can rescue some feelings of humility from this experience.