Jewish [dis]unity

Achdus.  Jewish Unity.  These days, it's all the rage in the Orthodox Jewish world.  Countless events, publications, and more, are all named with the goal of Jewish unity in mind.  Earlier this year, an Orthodox Union magazine was titled, "Jewish Unity - It Begins With You" and contained a mirror on the front cover.  I cite this merely as an example of the prominence of the movement.  It's become a catchphrase, a buzzword, in the Jewish world.  Since assuming a position as a pulpit Rabbi, people frequently ask me, "[a]re you for Jewish unity?", as if such a complex question and topic can be answered in one word.  What exactly does unity mean, I wonder.  Unity of opinion? Purpose? Dress?  That we can all get along on some level?  Does serious disagreement run counter to Jewish unity?   

My post this morning is not really about Jewish unity, but is tangentially related.  When people praise the ever sought after Jewish unity, the praise often goes as follows:  "There were so many people doing 'x' together; some were wearing knitted kippot, some velvet kippot, black hats, straw hats, streimelach, bare heads, all in the same room at the same time."  Invariably, the mark of unity is that people wearing different styles of clothes, now used to identify people with a specific stream or subculture within the Jewish world, have come together for a particular event or cause.  But why the focus on dress?

More and more, it seems that dress has become the marker of how identify, judge, and relate to others within our community.  Now, it's obviously true that the clothes a person chooses to wear reflect something about their choices and preferences.  Wearing the garb associated with a particular subgroup within the Jewish community no doubt does tell us something.  But increasingly, it seems we no longer allow for slight variance or individuality, but prefer the superficial prejudice of costume as a near absolute.  

When determining the religious preferences of individuals, the focus (for men and women) is almost entirely on dress.  "They look like a frumme yid (serious Jew in Yiddish)."  Rather than focusing primarily and mainly on the character of individuals as markers of quality, the focus is primarily on dress.  People can abuse, steal rob, etc., but as long as they dress in the costume, their status is affirmed.  If someone, for whatever reasons, chooses to forego the costume (think Mattisyahu, who recently shaved the beard and abandoned much of the classic Chassidic dress), they are likely no longer to be trusted.  People who choose not to wear kippot or yarmulkes, as they're popularly known, are not considered serious.  No matter the charity work they do, that they are always there for those in need, or that they pray and study with diligence on a daily basis.  

I myself have witnessed such things on multiple occasions in my short time in the Rabbinate.  Person 'x' will be specifically banned from performing certain functions (for example, a Kosher food supervisor or other role) merely because we "don't trust someone who dresses like that."  There's something toxic out there, and we're so deep in I'm afraid we're totally blinded.

It's now the month of Av, when we mourn the destruction of Jerusalem, the Temples that twice stood there, the idolatry that preceded the Babylonian invasion and communal discord and fracture that preceded the Roman version, and the resulting exiles.  Today, dress has become our idol, borne from superficiality, prejudice, and a desire to feel included and exclude the other.  Praising an event for its unity based on the variety of dress is paradoxical and perplexing.  Time for us all to engage in some serious reflection this year.   

George Washington's Letter . . .

Here in the United States, today is the Fourth of July, the day we celebrate our independence from Great Britain.  Really, though, it's the day we celebrate our freedoms, liberties, and the important principles of respect and tolerance that make those liberties a reality for all of us.  These were the bedrock principles of our great nation, and continue to remain alive and well today.  In fact, the scope of our allegiance to these principles has grown larger, in some sense, to include blacks, women, and other groups that couldn't fairly have joined in celebration back in 1776.  

In August of 1790, George Washington issued a brief yet profound letter to the Jews of Newport, Rhode Island, commenting on our great then-nascent nation and the promise of tolerance for all people, Jews included.  So simple and straightforward, yet this idea has been so elusive in the history of our people.  I'm proud to say that George Washington's promise has absolutely been fulfilled; there is indeed a historical example of a politician making grand promises and having those promises completely fulfilled.  Today, in commemoration of July 4th, the highly acclaimed National Museum of American Jewish History in Philadelphia is displaying the original copy of George Washington's letter for free from 10:00 am until 5:00 pm. In that spirit, I've decided to post the letter here, and urge everyone to read it carefully, and take some time today to reflect on the great accomplishments of the United States.  We owe our thanks to God, the founders, and all of the men and women who have fought,served, and sacrificed (militarily and otherwise) to preserve the liberty so precious to us all.  

George Washington's Letter

Gentlemen:

While I received with much satisfaction your address replete with expressions of esteem, I rejoice in the opportunity of assuring you that I shall always retain grateful remembrance of the cordial welcome I experienced on my visit to Newport from all classes of citizens.

The reflection on the days of difficulty and danger which are past is rendered the more sweet from a consciousness that they are succeeded by days of uncommon prosperity and security.

If we have wisdom to make the best use of the advantages with which we are now favored, we cannot fail, under the just administration of a good government, to become a great and happy people.

The citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy--a policy worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship.

It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights, for, happily, the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.

It would be inconsistent with the frankness of my character not to avow that I am pleased with your favorable opinion of my administration and fervent wishes for my felicity.

May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants--while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.

May the father of all mercies scatter light, and not darkness, upon our paths, and make us all in our several vocations useful here, and in His own due time and way everlastingly happy.

G. Washington       

(letter copied from teachingamericanhistory.org)

Happy 4th!!!

Bird's Eye View

It's been an exciting news day, given all of the hoopla around the much anticipated Supreme Court decision released this morning.  However, Shabbat is still approaching and I thought it would be worthwhile to publish some thoughts and musings on the weekly parsha (Torah selection).  The following is an essay I submitted to the International Rabbinic Fellowship (IRF) for their weekly d'var Torah; it was motivated in part by my honest concern about the overall direction of the public view of rabbinic leadership, and in part by some of the following questions: 

1) Why was the punishment of Moshe and Aharon seemingly so severe?

2) Why were both Moshe and Aharon punished when Moshe seems to be the only culpable party?

3) Why was Moshe specifically instructed to take his staff to the rock if he was only intended to speak to the rock but not to hit it?

And now, the text:

One of the central events in the entire Torah, the punishment of Moshe and Aharon, occurs in this week’s reading.  Moshe is commanded to take his staff, and Moshe and Aharon are commanded, “speak to the rock,” (Numbers 20:8) in an effort to bring forth water and provide faith to an increasingly impatient and unsatisfied people.  As we all know, things didn’t go as planned, and Moshe and Aharon are condemned to an early death before reaching the Promised Land.

There are many different explanations of this seemingly harsh punishment provided in the rishonim and later commentaries.  Rashi explains that the Moshe’s sin and the resulting punishment are the result of his striking the rock; God’s command was to speak to the rock, and “striking” was mentioned on this occasion.  Others explain that the primary error was Moshe’s statement, “[h]ear now you rebels, shall we fetch you water out of this rock?”  The use of the word “we” implied that Moshe and Aharon were performing the miracle of their own volition, robbing God of the credit he was owed.  Other alternative explanations abound.

In his excellent series Amittah shel Torah, Rabbi Yitzhak Twersky convincingly argues that there were many related elements to the sin.  A better understanding of the whole picture puts the sin and resulting punishment in the proper perspective.  The people of Israel had consistently made the mistake of denying the divinity of their mission, instead assuming that Moshe and Aharon were at the lead.  During the incident of the golden calf, the people referred to Moshe as “the man” who had brought them out of Egypt.  In fact, it was this initial characterization which necessitated a replacement for Moshe upon his supposed loss on the mountaintop in the first place.  Afterwards, it was Korach and his companions who questioned Moshe’s inability to lead the people to the land of Canaan.  “Is it a small thing that thou hast brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and honey, to kill us in the wilderness, and dost thou also make thyself a prince over us?  Moreover, thou hast not brought us to a land flowing with milk and honey, nor given us inheritance of the fields and vineyards: wilt thou put out the eyes of these men?  We will not come up” (Numbers 16: 13-14).  Here, Korach is criticizing Moshe for his failures, willfully ignorant of the fact that it is indeed God’s mission, with Moshe merely acting as messenger.

                In this week’s reading, the trend continues.  Explicitly identifying themselves as sympathizers with Korach’s complaint, the people proclaim, “[w]ould that we had died when our brethren died before the Lord!  And why have you brought up the congregation of the Lord into this wilderness, that we and our cattle should die there?  And why have you made us come up out of Mitzrayim, to bring us into this evil place?  It is no place of seed, or of figs, or of vines, or of pomegranates, nor is there any water to drink” (Numbers 20: 3-5).  The people express their regret at not having joined Korach’s rebellion, and then echo his complaints almost verbatim. 

It is in this context that a teachable moment presented itself.  Miriam had just passed away, and God wanted to reinforce the message that no mortal had taken the people out of Egypt, tasking them with a special historical mission and a land all their own.  The death of one of the members of the family of Moshe and Aharon was the perfect time to reinforce the notion of the mortality of the leadership and the pre-eminence of God in history.  This was especially necessary given the fevered pitch of the community’s complaints.  Therefore, God commanded Moshe to speak to the rock, as the miracle would be more obviously from God, and clearly not the product of Moshe’s own action.  It is in this context that Moshe’s use of the term “we,” combined with the more natural “striking” of the rock completely undermined God’s plan and served to reinforce the people’s erroneous beliefs.  Moshe’s staff was to be used as an agent of instruction, pointing to God as the author of miracles; instead, it suggested the opposite. 

                With this understanding, the “harsh punishment” meted out to Moshe and Aharon no longer seems as arbitrary, but rather a cogent response to the situation that was.  To enter the land of Israel, the people would need to clearly understand that it was God who had sent them on a divine mission, and that the observance of his commandments and fulfillment of his ideals was their raison d’être.  Having Moshe and Aharon die without entering the land was now necessary as the ultimate reinforcement of this point.  This would be the only way to demonstrate to the people that Moshe and Aharon had not decided individually to leave Egypt and enter Canaan, and that they possessed no special supernatural powers.  God was the driving force behind it all. 

                In our current religious climate, there is a fundamentally disturbing trend that is growing by the day.  Reverence for leadership has grown into something dangerous, and what started out as an upright respect for those who chose piety and study has become perverted at the core.  In the modern day, the trend to idolize Rabbis to an excessive degree has grown, and has even contaminated more moderate streams of Orthodox observance that would seem naturally averse to such pressures.  People regularly engage in conversations focused entirely on the merits of individual leaders, and leaders themselves often focus on their own “kavod” in ways that seem self-serving and disingenuous.  As religious leaders in positions of power, it is incumbent upon us to take to heart the central lesson of this week’s reading.  Our job is to point to God and explain why honor is His.  Idolizing a particular individual necessarily detracts from the honor due to God; the time is long past to swing the pendulum in the opposite direction.  To the extent that respect for the teachers of God’s law detracts from our focus on the divine, then respect has gone too far and its purpose entirely uprooted.  May we continue to advance a style of leadership that doesn’t disproportionately focus on the honor due ourselves, and remember that our primary mission is not to promote our own leadership but to promote the leadership of our Father in heaven.     

                   

Lessons of Leadership

When reviewing this past week's Torah reading, I was tortured by a horribly unpleasant thought.  The reading begins with God commissioning a scouting mission, whereby selected leaders from the the twelve tribes of Israel would go to scout out the land.  The Malbim, a precise and exacting later commentary, notes that one person was sent from each tribe because each tribe was being apportioned a separate piece of land; the scouting mission was something of an ancient pilot trip.  Each tribe's representative could report back about the economic and other advantages of the specific parcel of land allotted to that tribe.  It goes without saying that these scouts weren't supposed to question the ultimate mission, but either to plan for the upcoming arrival more properly, or else to assuage any fears that might exist among the public.

Fast forward, and the rest is history.  Despite direct promises from God that He (the same God who had taken these same leaders out of Egypt with just a few miraculous episodes would lead them into the promised land, and that this was their ultimate destiny, they revolted and tried to sabotage the entire mission. "We can't do it," they exclaimed.  "We're not strong enough, and defeat is all but certain," or so the complaint may have sounded.  But who were these "scouts" who ignored the simple and obvious plan of God?  Surely, they weren't the major leaders of the generation; a majority of a generation's righteous leaders would never commit such an error.

The Torah informs us otherwise.  "[T]hey were all men of stature, leaders of the children of Israel" (Numbers 13:3).  Somehow, ten of the twelve leaders of the people, reputed by our tradition to be wise, spiritually unique tribal heads erred by ignoring the simple and obvious charge of the divine call.  The people listened, and disastrous consequences ensued.

I can't help but painfully admit that we're in a shockingly similar situation in the modern day.  Many of our "leaders" remind us of the Jewish law principle that decisions go after majority rule.  This is emphasized by the Torah's command (אחרי רבים להטות), and the famous story of the "Tanur Shel Achnai."  Still, it now seems like a huge number of these same "leaders," I fear encroaching on a majority, have accepted norms directly opposed to God's given command.


Modern day self-proclaimed leaders now promote niche interests focused to an extreme and grossly distorted version of Jewish law.  Nowhere is this more true than in areas of child abuse.  I'll state in unequivocally; we have a major problem with abuse in our community.  Now, normative Jewish law demands that we turn in the abusers to protect the public, and because the laws of the United States are fair and just (for those halachists out there, no prohibition of Mesira applies in these cases).  Further, Jewish law demands that we protect innocent children and shield them from this kind of harm.


 Still, righteous leaders (many many big names included) of Agudath Israel proclaim, most recently in Misphacha magazine, that complaints must first be heard by Rabbis, untrained in these areas, who will determine if the complaints are credible.  This seems like a clear violation of mandatory reporting provisions in civil law.  This seems like a difficult reading of the halacha.  All of this combined with a culture that opposes stronger laws in these areas and a street culture that actively harasses victims and their supporters while holding rallies for and financially supporting criminals.  This is just one of many areas where the leadership, to follow the metaphor, is leading us to spiritual death in the wilderness and far away from the Holy land.  I'll say it as clearly as I can; we have a major problem with leaders totally and absolutely unfit to rule in our communities.  On this issue, leaders should be seen supporting the victims and leading the charge against abuse.  Instead, we are dragged kicking and screaming into the modern era. 


The Jewish people are supposed to be a light unto the nations.  For thousands of years, our religion has served as a shining example of morality, diligence, family values, commitment to community, education, social justice, and support for those who need it most.  We brought humanity monotheism and the Ten Commandments, and have left an indelible impression on the moral makeup of our society.  How sad that we no longer continue to lead, instead ignoring God's commands in favor of our own bizarre partisan protectionism (not just on the abuse issue, I just chose it as the most egregious), and the world repays us by teaching us about the very justice we once introduced.  Let's stand up and reclaim the mantle of Judaism from those who would assert they represent the tradition, when in fact, we must reluctantly but forcefully admit they are leading us far far away from the promised land.       

Yoga vs. Shul: Round 2 - ה' שפתי תפתח

Last post, I wrote about the externals of the synagogue experience and how that relates to prayer.  Plainly, the post wasn't about the specifics of prayer (why we pray, what we pray for, etc.), but rather the idea that whatever prayer is or ought to be, it will require a meditative type of atmosphere to allow for regular success.  Many posted useful comments on the blog and elsewhere, and I hope to address/discuss some of those comments in future posts.  If you are reading and feel that you have thoughts you'd like to contribute on the subject, I'd welcome guest posts (under my discretion) in this area.

Prayer is one of the most significant and common activities that occurs in Judaism, and we've got to do a better job at getting it right, discussing what it means, and fully examining all things prayer - this includes the atmosphere, text, purpose, methods, etc.  For many practicing Jews throughout the world, prayer forms one of the central religious experiences.  Wouldn't it be something if daily prayer was more of the transformative experience it was intended to be.  Of course, this isn't to say that prayer doesn't work now . . . just that I think we can do better collectively, to make prayer consistently more meaningful, the same way a good yoga instructor or meditation leader does everything possible to create a favorable experience.

Today, however, I wanted to focus on the opening lines of the Amidah, the recitation that forms the central text of our daily prayer.  The Talmud notes (Berachot 4b) that Rabbi Yochanan felt we should say the phrase,"ה' שפתי תפתח ופי יגיד תהלתך" before we say the amidah, the central prayer in each Jewish prayer service.  In translation, the phrase reads "My Lord, open my lips, so that my mouth will tell of your praise."  Initially, the Talmud asks why this doesn't represent an unauthorized interruption into the prayer.  After all, the paragraph immediately preceding (about being redeemed from Egypt) is required to be directly connected with the prayer itself.  The Talmud's answer is telling; namely, this phrase is indeed part of the prayer in some way, and is therefore not an interruption.  Based upon this answer in the Talmud, Rav Soloveitchik ruled that the prayer leader should recite this phrase out loud before his public repetition of the Amidah.

What is so essential about this phrase?  At its root, prayer is about a conversation with the divine, and a communion with God.  Whatever the reason behind prayer, it definitely assumes the form of a conversation between the petitioner and God.  Each time we pray, the temptation is to merely recite the words in the prayer book as if they are undirected words.  This, however, is not prayer, but a mere recitation of words from a book.  Proper prayer requires a God-consciousness, and is then followed by a meaningful statement directed to God.

In order to stress this, Rabbi Yochanan inserted a line that speaks straight to the point.  Even at the very moment we engage in the act of prayer, we do so only as creatures created and sustained by God, and the very posture of being means that we are engaged in a relationship with the Divine.  It is God who allows us to open up our mouths, and so it is God who indeed opens in some sense.  Before prayer, we are intended to meditate on our dependence on God, and establish in our hearts and minds the deep relationship that exists.  Then, prayer is a possibility.  This is the clear and obvious meaning of the phrase.

Sadly, I fear that the moving message upon which our prayer is predicated has been lost.  This phrase has been lost as it is mumbled out of habit and haste, and it certainly does not serve in any practical way as a preliminary meditation.  In any synagogue, one sees people bowing and moving onto the next words the instant the individual prayers begin.  This means that few are taking the time to first reflect on their relationship with God, and further demonstrates that the whole exercise of prayer has become broken to the extreme.  Let us all (myself included) re-examine Rabbi Yochanan's introduction; meditation upon our relationship with God is the necessary introduction to any dialogue with the Divine, and prayer absent this meditation is missing the foundation.        

Yoga vs. Shul: Round 1

Tonight, I went to a Yoga class at the local JCC.  Lasting for one (quick) hour, the class encouraged mindful consideration of body position, energy, relationship to the surrounding environment, and more.  The mood was peaceful, and highly conducive for contemplative and meditative types of experiences.  Lighting was set just so, and the instructor calmly talked us through in a way that helped aid our efforts. Feeling rejuvenated, energized, and more mindful, I left just in time to go to the daily mincha/maariv prayer service at my Synagogue.  

It was there that I was struck by the difference in atmosphere, and just how far we have to go to improve the nature of our services.  Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan certainly popularized the still unfamiliar notion that authentic Jewish prayer is a meditative experience.  Now, many in our synagogues are aware of the idea.  The Talmud in Berachot recounts how the early sages used to prepare for an hour, pray for an hour, and then spend an hour poised in post-prayer contemplation. 

Now, I'm not saying we have to spend three hours praying, but is the Synagogue environment conducive to a true prayer experience in its current iteration?  Even on a weekday afternoon prayer, when the text is not overly burdensome or lengthy, it is very difficult to be in the right frame of mind.  For one, few synagogues pay serious attention to whether the lighting is conducive for a meditative experience.  Further, the parts of the prayers that are said out loud are rushed.  The yoga instructor used calm tones and relaxed pacing to help create the right atmosphere; our baalei tefillah should be instructed to do the same.  Racing through ashrei and the kaddish before the silent devotion can ruin or constitute a serious setback to the prayer experience.  Lastly, sound and quiet whispering begins in almost all synagogues about 30 seconds to a minute into the silent devotion.  Even if everyone is silent, the clang of charity falling into the pushka (while well intentioned) is completely disruptive to the mood.  Charity is important, but should be given before or after the the silent devotion, not during!   

This isn't meant as an indictment of our synagogue or any other synagogue, but a call to action.  We should be seeking to create a peaceful prayer environment, in order to better help the mood.  Is it any wonder that calls for increased synagogue attendance are falling on deaf ears.  Let's make some serious changes, and when shul becomes a place conducive to spirituality and an authentic Jewish prayer experience, we'll have myriads of lost souls knocking at the doors . . . 

The Making of a Meaningful Passover Seder

Part I

For years, one of the arguments used as a justification for affirmative action has been "diversity."  Academic institutions have incorporated race and other such factors into their admission decisions, claiming that such practices are necessary to advance the cause of education.  

Truthfully, I've always felt that race was a rather shallow and imprecise way of ensuring diversity of viewpoint and robust classroom discussion.  Here is a description of the reasons for my discomfort: I very strongly agree with the assertion that diversity of opinion is vital to an educational environment.  Further, I agree that academic institutions are more than justified, perhaps obligated, to promulgate diversity of viewpoint and experience through their admissions processes.  Where I have trouble is in the use of race as a primary factor in establishing diversity of viewpoint.  If we are truly seeking to live in a society that is color-blind, as Martin Luther King Jr. so strongly and passionately articulated, why should we presume that people will have varied opinions on the basis of race.  While it is in fact true that racial identification does correlate with political, social, religious, and other beliefs, by using race as the indicator, we further the notion that there are inherent differences in human beings which can be fairly judged (or at least assumed for the purposes of admission) based on race. 

Rather, college admissions might be better off asking for candidates to describe their background, family, and upbringing, describing how it has shaped their political, religious, and social views.  Diversity of experience, background, and opinion are all incredibly important; why not ask about these things directly, rather than through the intermediary guise of race?  I truly believe that by using race as the overwhelming criteria, we continue to foster prejudices and do ourselves a disservice, however well-intentioned.  

Part II

I expect that many of you will voice various concerns or disagree with sections of what I wrote above.  That's expected, and the point of a blog.  This section is the main point I wanted to make; the above is just a related thought. 

This year, I was incredibly fortunate, and my wife and I were able to host incredible and meaningful sedarim at our house.  What made the nights special was largely the people who attended, their participation, sincerity, enthusiasm, and diversity.  While all of us were of one race (as best I could tell), there was tremendous diversity present.  Some were college students, some high school students, others children.  We had adults at various stages of their lives.  We had Republicans, Democrats, Independents, a variety of religious outlooks and denominations, and more.  What this led to was productive, meaningful, and inspiring dialogue all grounded in the text of the Haggadah and the Passover rituals we hold so dear.  

Many people approached me this year and inquired as to what they might do to have a more meaningful seder.  At the time, I wasn't sure.  Now, I'd say that the one of the most important things is to make a concerted effort to invite people from different walks of life.  It certainly enhanced my holiday, and made it one of the most meaningful in recent memory.