This was a really good Rosh Hashanah. It had a slow start but I really hit my stride and feel like I connected with the day and its various messages, so I'm feeling pretty good about that. During the last few days, I developed a couple of ideas that I wanted to commit to virtual paper.
The first was inspired by the speech the rabbi gave in shul yesterday. He started off with a story and as I listened to it, I thought to myself, "that's nice but it could be so much more powerful if only it went like this..." So I am writing this up as "Inspired by a true speech which included a probably apocryphal story which I will make more apocryphal by inventing half of it."
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There was a tradition that, after the end of the sabbath, people in the small community of New Square would line up to wish the Rebbe a good week and receive a blessing from him. The practice was so popular that the lines grew and grew. Even past 2 AM the line still snaked outside of the Rebbe's office as people waited nervously to shake the great sage's hand. On the line was a young man, new to the community who was looking forward to his first meeting with the Rebbe. He was scared. He had run home after services and cleaned himself up. He put on a freshly laundered shirt, straightened his hat and sharpened the crease on his spotless, black pants. And he waited. As he waited, he heard stories of the piety of the Rebbe and his works. He heard about the miracles which seemed to have been inspired by the Rebbe's wishes and the intuition and intellect which the man exhibited, presenting insight into character and understanding into text which amazed Jews everywhere.
As his turn approached he began to sweat. The sweat was not so much that there would be any stains, but enough to make the young man self conscious. He wanted to present himself as a paradigm of youthful idealism and religiosity. He had studied and was prepared to discuss topics if asked by the Rebbe. He had learned in yeshiva for many years and had also secured himself a job which would make him a good shidduch possibility and a provider, willing to give charity back to the community. But he was scared. He had prepared what he would say, down to the comma, practicing for hours at home. He wanted it to be perfect.
Slowly, each person in front of him entered the Rebbe's presence and the young man moved forward. Finally, at 3:30 AM, it was his turn. He was tired and scared, visibly shaking as the door opened. The Rebbe sat across the room, radiant and full of life. He beckoned for the young man to come forward. As he did, the man saw himself in the mirror.
He stopped and stared at himself. Slowly, he began to cry. Small tears, leading to uncontrolled sobs as he broke down in front of that mirror. The Rebbe was (and this does not happen often) speechless. He rose, and crossed over to the young man who was sitting on the floor, weeping. He held the man for a few moments and calmed him. He joined the man on the floor and stayed with him while the tears passed and he said, "My son -- please, don't be frightened. I want you to feel welcome and comfortable asking of me. What can I do for you and how can I help ease whatever pain you are in?" The young man, on the verge of tears at the magnanimity of the Rebbe finally caught his breath and said, "Rebbe, I came in here to ask your blessing, I wanted to ask you for success, a wife, health; I wanted you to be happy with who I am and who I can become. I wanted to ask your for your support so that I can be somebody." The Rebbe paused (a bit humbled maybe by the faith the young man had in him), and slowly said, "OK, so nu? Why all the crying?"
The Young man said, "Rebbe, I saw myself in the mirror -- I recognized all the effort I made just for this one meeting and I feel ashamed! I realize that there is only one thing I should be asking you for...one blessing which is the only one that matters because it is the only one I now understand I really need. And I feel like a fool for wanting any other!"
There was a silence as the young man worked up the strength to ask.
"Rebbe, please give me the ability to care as much and to work as hard to perfect my look, my manner, and my speech before I approach the King of Kings, God himself, during my daily prayers, as I have before meeting another human being to ask for a favor!"
And now it was the Rebbe's turn to cry.
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The second one is a more traditional Torah thought but with a similar theme:
We spend much of our time looking for a way to connect with Hashem. Back in the olden days, the path was laid out for us. Grab an animal, deliver it to the temple authority, and you can please God, find some absolution, feed the poor, celebrate a holiday...what have you. Agricultural tithes or animal sacrifice (or a meal offering, depending on your net worth) was the prescribed method of fulfilling the obligation to serve Hashem. It wasn't easy, but hey, it was sacrifice. You took the best of what you had, what you had paid for, worked for and striven to achieve, and you gave it over to show that what is yours really isn't yours. The message was good and the means was relevant and powerful.
But all that changed when the temple was destroyed. Since the beit hamikdash's destruction almost 2000 years ago, this avenue for religious fulfillment has been closed to us. So how can we now achieve the kind of connection? The prophet Hoshea says (14:3) Uneshalma parim sefateinu -- the bulls (sacrifices) will be completed by our lips. The avodah, the sacrificial service, is to be replaced by the avodah shebalev, the "work of the heart" which is prayer.
Huh? How is this supposed to work? Do I have to read the portions related to sacrifice so my relating them is as if I completed them? Some say yes, which is why we have the section of korbanot in our daily morning and musaf prayers. But I don't think that this is what it means (at least not exclusively).
The word "korban" (sacrifice) actually has 2 identities. As it is usually translated, it means "sacrifice," the loss of something of value for a greater purpose. Its other meaning though, stems from its root k-r-v, coming closer. The sacrifice is designed to foster an approaching to God, a nearness with the divine. Does just saying the words of the sacrificial service do that?
I teach in a high school. Watching most high school students daven is maddening. They don't always seem to value to opportunity to petition, recognize, and thank Hashem for what is all around us. We speak of daily miracles but they simply don;t see things that are miraculous. And most of all, they would rather be doing something else. We live in an amazing time -- we have technology, we have cuisine, we have entertainment. We have all sorts of things that vie for our attention and reward us.
What do we have of value that we can sacrifice in order to bring about closeness? Money? We give charity and this does help to some degree. But when we throw our pocket change into a box, what are we sacrificing? If I really wanted that slice of pizza, would I be dropping the quarters in the pushke? Probably not. But I have one thing that I can never get back and that I value incredibly highly: time.
This is the commodity of daily life. This is what I value and I demand others value: my time. I live by the school bell and the schedule. My TV shows are scheduled. My football team races the clock to get down field. My microwave has me stare at it while the timer counts down to zero because the three minutes and 32 seconds that it takes to reheat that potato must be abided by to the second. Time.
Davening requires that I stop what I am doing and give up my time. It requires that I put other things on hold and take the one precious commodity that I can't bank and simply hand it over to God. It isn't a cow, or a bird, or corn, or money. It isn't replenishable. And in the middle of a busy day, it isn't convenient. On Rosh Hashanah, it isn't easy to sit around for hours in shul. On Yom Kippur, this means sacrificing an entire day -- I can go to work and not eat, but that's not what this is about. Hashem wants me to lose the only thing that I have a finite amount of with no hope of extending.
And when I realize that this is the sacrifice that I have to be willing to make -- that my tefillah is SUPPOSED to take time because it isn't just the words I say, but the fact that I am willing to make the gesture of losing my place in the rat race that is the world to set aside minutes to say those words, any words, which allows me to become closer to the divine. The avodah shebalev is SUPPOSED to be work, not easy and not simple. The heart has to be in it and has to ache at the missing minutes which could be spent elsewhere. The loss should lead to a gain, but if I avoid the loss by zooming through the prayers or not spending the time it should take to say them with thought, then how can I expect to earn the gain of connection with Hashem?
I hope that as we enter any prayer situation, we take an extra moment or two to realize that we are making an important sacrifice, and that we should value our decision to give of ourselves so that our prayers can be that same sacrificial loss as those bulls were in the temple, and they can lead to the same resting of the shechina in our mikdash me'at.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
What in God's Name
A Torah thought inspired by the upcoming high holiday season.
Throughout the text of the Torah, we are confronted with two major aspects of God's "personality" -- the trait of justice and the trait of mercy. The former is signaled by the use of the Hebrew word often transliterated 'elohim.' Mercy is brought out through the 4 letter name, the tetragrammaton. I see the "attributes" as more significant than this divide, and the names' uses as pointing to an additional dimension to our interaction with the divine.
During the account of the creation, the name "elohim" is used (I am writing the complete name, and not substituting the K for the H for a couple of reasons -- one will be apparent soon and the other is that I see the discussion of Torah a valid place in which to use a name of God). Creation, the rabbis say, was done under the aegis of justice and the intent was for all of creation to be judged according to its deservings. Only in chapter 2, when man becomes a vocal part of the world does the notion of mercy become introduced through the use of the 4 letter name. Man, it seems, needs a merciful God for if man is judged strictly according to his actions, he will always be found wanting. And the name "needs" (if we can say such a thing about God or a name) man's proper intentions and study for it to become fully part of this world. God's mercy only has a place because man needs it (in the same way that it wasn't called for until man was created), and the mercy-name only has power if man says it properly at the proper time.
The word "elohim," as described by the Ramban, does much more than just point to justice. It denotes power. The word means "Master of all forces." Using the word then is a recognition of God's might, and creation is an exercise of power. God wills the world into existence and it comes into existence. God the all-powerful can make anything so we use a word which points to that strength. In fact, the text often uses the word to call forth other claimants to power. It is used to refer to a judge when applied to Moses, the one who has power over all of Egypt, including Pharaoh. It is used to refer to idols and other things placed as gods which man confuses for the one God because he misattributes the power to a pawn. Man might worship the sun because the sun brings the heat and light and life to plants in the day -- but Abraham sees past that and understands that the sun is not the source of that power, God is. So the word often is used when people misunderstand how power operates and label something as the divine because they are stuck on one level of perception, that of simple strength.
But man must move beyond that one characteristic of God if wants to know the one God. So God gives us a name to use which adds not power but God's relationship to man, something which a false God like the sun cannot have, into the mix. The 4 letter name only has value when it is pronounced properly. Pronunciation is an area unique to mankind. Man can call the idea into existence through recognizing the divine correctly! Anyone can say the word "elohim" and mean any number of different things by it, but the 4 letter name is special in that it is only and can only be a name of God. It points to mercy because it points to the possibility of a connection between man and God, if man is able to "read God's name properly" (which would include our use of the replacement word "ado-shem" which shows that we are appealing to the merciful one but don't want to pronounce the special name either incorrectly or when we are not empowered to appeal on that level). We have to call to him in his name, which we cannot do unless we study and connect and learn about this name.
The name is given to man so that he has access not to a nebulous notion of power, but to a God who listens and cares. In our blessing we say "blessed are you, 4 letter name" at the start -- our prayer has to recognize that a powerful and just God would not be swayed by human prayer -- if the person deserves punishment, then so be it. We appeal to the mercy-name and say "you gave me this name to use and I'm trying to use it properly." Only then do we, in some blessings, say that the same merciful God figure is also the powerful one who rules the whole world. And on Yom Kippur, back in temple days, the high priest would say the 4 letter word explicitly when asking for forgiveness. He would invoke the precise name to make that connection to God even more explicit.
The 4 letter name is therefore a representative of the facet, a sign of God's mercy and the method that the mercy works through. It is both the signifier and the signified, calling the merciful one and being the medium through which mercy can be delivered.
When we pray during this high holiday season, we should pay careful attention to the names of God we invoke and recognize the amount of mercy being afforded us simply by our having access to this particular name. I wish for everyone to see the presence of mercy which leads to availability for repentance and the hope for atonement.
Happy new year!
Throughout the text of the Torah, we are confronted with two major aspects of God's "personality" -- the trait of justice and the trait of mercy. The former is signaled by the use of the Hebrew word often transliterated 'elohim.' Mercy is brought out through the 4 letter name, the tetragrammaton. I see the "attributes" as more significant than this divide, and the names' uses as pointing to an additional dimension to our interaction with the divine.
During the account of the creation, the name "elohim" is used (I am writing the complete name, and not substituting the K for the H for a couple of reasons -- one will be apparent soon and the other is that I see the discussion of Torah a valid place in which to use a name of God). Creation, the rabbis say, was done under the aegis of justice and the intent was for all of creation to be judged according to its deservings. Only in chapter 2, when man becomes a vocal part of the world does the notion of mercy become introduced through the use of the 4 letter name. Man, it seems, needs a merciful God for if man is judged strictly according to his actions, he will always be found wanting. And the name "needs" (if we can say such a thing about God or a name) man's proper intentions and study for it to become fully part of this world. God's mercy only has a place because man needs it (in the same way that it wasn't called for until man was created), and the mercy-name only has power if man says it properly at the proper time.
The word "elohim," as described by the Ramban, does much more than just point to justice. It denotes power. The word means "Master of all forces." Using the word then is a recognition of God's might, and creation is an exercise of power. God wills the world into existence and it comes into existence. God the all-powerful can make anything so we use a word which points to that strength. In fact, the text often uses the word to call forth other claimants to power. It is used to refer to a judge when applied to Moses, the one who has power over all of Egypt, including Pharaoh. It is used to refer to idols and other things placed as gods which man confuses for the one God because he misattributes the power to a pawn. Man might worship the sun because the sun brings the heat and light and life to plants in the day -- but Abraham sees past that and understands that the sun is not the source of that power, God is. So the word often is used when people misunderstand how power operates and label something as the divine because they are stuck on one level of perception, that of simple strength.
But man must move beyond that one characteristic of God if wants to know the one God. So God gives us a name to use which adds not power but God's relationship to man, something which a false God like the sun cannot have, into the mix. The 4 letter name only has value when it is pronounced properly. Pronunciation is an area unique to mankind. Man can call the idea into existence through recognizing the divine correctly! Anyone can say the word "elohim" and mean any number of different things by it, but the 4 letter name is special in that it is only and can only be a name of God. It points to mercy because it points to the possibility of a connection between man and God, if man is able to "read God's name properly" (which would include our use of the replacement word "ado-shem" which shows that we are appealing to the merciful one but don't want to pronounce the special name either incorrectly or when we are not empowered to appeal on that level). We have to call to him in his name, which we cannot do unless we study and connect and learn about this name.
The name is given to man so that he has access not to a nebulous notion of power, but to a God who listens and cares. In our blessing we say "blessed are you, 4 letter name" at the start -- our prayer has to recognize that a powerful and just God would not be swayed by human prayer -- if the person deserves punishment, then so be it. We appeal to the mercy-name and say "you gave me this name to use and I'm trying to use it properly." Only then do we, in some blessings, say that the same merciful God figure is also the powerful one who rules the whole world. And on Yom Kippur, back in temple days, the high priest would say the 4 letter word explicitly when asking for forgiveness. He would invoke the precise name to make that connection to God even more explicit.
The 4 letter name is therefore a representative of the facet, a sign of God's mercy and the method that the mercy works through. It is both the signifier and the signified, calling the merciful one and being the medium through which mercy can be delivered.
When we pray during this high holiday season, we should pay careful attention to the names of God we invoke and recognize the amount of mercy being afforded us simply by our having access to this particular name. I wish for everyone to see the presence of mercy which leads to availability for repentance and the hope for atonement.
Happy new year!
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Don't change
I have never been good at physics. No physician nor physicist, I. I trust that if I drop something, it will hit the floor. If I pull something, it might move. If I change the batteries, the remote will do some magic and allow me to stop watching Dance Moms.
But I do know inertia. Inertia is the single most powerful force in the universe. I find it in all areas of my life and I know that there is a temptation to criticize it. Inertia prevents change, people complain. And you know what? I think that that is often true. But here's the kicker -- change isn't always good. Sometimes inertia protects us from the kinds of changes that we just don't need.
Change is useful when there is either a demonstrated problem with the way things are, or a demonstrated advantage to the newer way for things to be. Bottom line, if it isn't broken, one need not fix it unless it can be shown that the fix will improve an working system and make it more efficient or successful. It just rolls off the tongue.
However, I have found that in many contexts, there is a drive to change. We must, the pundits say, keep moving forward or else we die. Like the shark. (Based on movies and media coverage I think that maybe some dead sharks would be a good thing...) I disagree, sort of. We are always moving forward, but often doing so without changing. We are always growing and constantly have the opportunity to learn from mistakes and improve but we can usually keep the baby and even some of the bathwater.
I feel this way about technology. It is a fun toy most of the time. Occasionally, it fixes a problem and becomes a vital way of operating: the new status quo. But often it provides a new way of doing things which is not much better than the old way. If might be markedly different but that doesn't make it good, nor make the old way bad. Feel free to apply this philosophy to any institutional, professional or other context in which you think it works. It does.
I'm not advocating stagnancy, or even claiming that stagnancy is a word. I am a believer in caution and measured response, plus incremental change. I am usually risk averse (not Risk averse though) but not because I don't like to try something new. I just need to be shown why the old way is demonstrably wrong before I jump towards the devil I don't know. I am no Luddite, nor a Luddlite (more technology, fewer calories), just someone who thinks that we can, in many milieus become better, sharper and more efficient without abandoning anything or making foolhardy leaps simply as "change gratis change."
I embrace change. As long as it doesn't require that I get up to do so. There was nothing wrong with sitting.
But I do know inertia. Inertia is the single most powerful force in the universe. I find it in all areas of my life and I know that there is a temptation to criticize it. Inertia prevents change, people complain. And you know what? I think that that is often true. But here's the kicker -- change isn't always good. Sometimes inertia protects us from the kinds of changes that we just don't need.
Change is useful when there is either a demonstrated problem with the way things are, or a demonstrated advantage to the newer way for things to be. Bottom line, if it isn't broken, one need not fix it unless it can be shown that the fix will improve an working system and make it more efficient or successful. It just rolls off the tongue.
However, I have found that in many contexts, there is a drive to change. We must, the pundits say, keep moving forward or else we die. Like the shark. (Based on movies and media coverage I think that maybe some dead sharks would be a good thing...) I disagree, sort of. We are always moving forward, but often doing so without changing. We are always growing and constantly have the opportunity to learn from mistakes and improve but we can usually keep the baby and even some of the bathwater.
I feel this way about technology. It is a fun toy most of the time. Occasionally, it fixes a problem and becomes a vital way of operating: the new status quo. But often it provides a new way of doing things which is not much better than the old way. If might be markedly different but that doesn't make it good, nor make the old way bad. Feel free to apply this philosophy to any institutional, professional or other context in which you think it works. It does.
I'm not advocating stagnancy, or even claiming that stagnancy is a word. I am a believer in caution and measured response, plus incremental change. I am usually risk averse (not Risk averse though) but not because I don't like to try something new. I just need to be shown why the old way is demonstrably wrong before I jump towards the devil I don't know. I am no Luddite, nor a Luddlite (more technology, fewer calories), just someone who thinks that we can, in many milieus become better, sharper and more efficient without abandoning anything or making foolhardy leaps simply as "change gratis change."
I embrace change. As long as it doesn't require that I get up to do so. There was nothing wrong with sitting.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
September Whath?
Thirteen years ago a horrible tragedy occurred and every year at this time, those of us who care to take a moment to remember, do so. In many of the years since, the schools in which I have worked have, institutionally, set time aside to discuss the events of that day. This year, my school did not set time aside and I was asked how I felt about this. I responded that I understood the decision. The students did not like my answer. But I think that the question needs to be addressed.
What is the value of discussing the events of 9/11 in a high school? The seniors were 4 years old at the time of the attack. To them, this is a topic from history. Do they get something more than someone would when talking about Pearl Harbor because they, at least, were alive in 2001 (when I mentioned Pearl in class, a student, a 12th grader, actually said "What's Pearl Harbor?" I don't raise this to mock anyone, simply to say that some events, no matter how cataclysmic, eventually become facts, names and dates, not shared experiences) ? Is there something about being in relative proximity which makes it more reasonable for students in NY and NJ to review the events of the day moreso than someone in Texas?
Stuff has happened in this country. lots of it. Much of it really bad. The Twin Towers were bombed years before 9/11. Two space shuttles exploded. The federal building in Oklahoma City was bombed as was a marathon. The White House was burned down. Innumerable school shootings have taken scores of young lives. Presidents were assassinated, wars were fought. But we don't take time out of the school day to commemorate most of these events. Should we? When does something become a relic or a vestige of a past we no longer culturally share? Is it about the number of deaths? Is it about the symbolism of the event or the choice of villain? As for me? I'm an old man. I remember 9/11 like it was yesterday. Sights, sounds, feelings. It is all recent to me, part of what has shaped me. But to a teenager who was barely on the cusp of memory? Is there really any point beyond teaching America's past in 2001 in the same way that one might take time to commemorate the Boston Massacre?
But on the other hand, don't we believe in some form of "Never forget"? Don't we think that certain events need to stay fresh because the lessons are too important to be allowed to grow stale? Aren't we still in a political era over which 9/11's shadow is still cast, fighting the same war (itself a subject of argument)? Shouldn't students see what established the context which demands that we police the world in a particular way? Isn't 9/11 just too central to today's culture to be shunted aside or turned into a chapter in a text book? Isn't there some point to holding on to the pain and ensuring that a new generation feels the pain as acutely as we who lived through the event? Isn't it just too soon to turn this into trivia or the distant recollections of the senior set? And if so, when will it become acceptable to file this away?
Honestly, I don't know. I invite comment and we have 364 days to make a decision for next year.
What is the value of discussing the events of 9/11 in a high school? The seniors were 4 years old at the time of the attack. To them, this is a topic from history. Do they get something more than someone would when talking about Pearl Harbor because they, at least, were alive in 2001 (when I mentioned Pearl in class, a student, a 12th grader, actually said "What's Pearl Harbor?" I don't raise this to mock anyone, simply to say that some events, no matter how cataclysmic, eventually become facts, names and dates, not shared experiences) ? Is there something about being in relative proximity which makes it more reasonable for students in NY and NJ to review the events of the day moreso than someone in Texas?
Stuff has happened in this country. lots of it. Much of it really bad. The Twin Towers were bombed years before 9/11. Two space shuttles exploded. The federal building in Oklahoma City was bombed as was a marathon. The White House was burned down. Innumerable school shootings have taken scores of young lives. Presidents were assassinated, wars were fought. But we don't take time out of the school day to commemorate most of these events. Should we? When does something become a relic or a vestige of a past we no longer culturally share? Is it about the number of deaths? Is it about the symbolism of the event or the choice of villain? As for me? I'm an old man. I remember 9/11 like it was yesterday. Sights, sounds, feelings. It is all recent to me, part of what has shaped me. But to a teenager who was barely on the cusp of memory? Is there really any point beyond teaching America's past in 2001 in the same way that one might take time to commemorate the Boston Massacre?
But on the other hand, don't we believe in some form of "Never forget"? Don't we think that certain events need to stay fresh because the lessons are too important to be allowed to grow stale? Aren't we still in a political era over which 9/11's shadow is still cast, fighting the same war (itself a subject of argument)? Shouldn't students see what established the context which demands that we police the world in a particular way? Isn't 9/11 just too central to today's culture to be shunted aside or turned into a chapter in a text book? Isn't there some point to holding on to the pain and ensuring that a new generation feels the pain as acutely as we who lived through the event? Isn't it just too soon to turn this into trivia or the distant recollections of the senior set? And if so, when will it become acceptable to file this away?
Honestly, I don't know. I invite comment and we have 364 days to make a decision for next year.
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