Rabbi's Corner

Taking a Chance On Love

Parashiot Behar/Bechukotai

“O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.” – the Rebbe of Stratford-on-Avon

Like many artists, my current state of mental health is largely determined by the elusive presence of “my muse”.

Although I have often quipped that my muse is a (hopefully lucrative) deadline, I am subject to the whims and fancy of my creative juices, which sometimes are just not flowing. Like a car with an unreliable battery, I never know if I will be able to get started with a simple turn of the key, or if I will have to spend my time looking for a jump.

When I am inspired, life unfolds smoothly, time passes quickly and productively, and my euphoric presence is a positive influence on my family, my friends, my congregants and my collaborators.

When my “muse” seems to have forgotten about me, time drags to a crawl, all of life’s little rough edges get increasingly sharper, and I find myself relying on my back catalogue of work to sustain me until that moment when my muse reappears, and I am able to forge ahead with abandon.

According to the ancient Greeks, there were originally three muses;  Aoidē, the muse of song or voice,Meletē, of practice, and Mnēmē, memory. The Rav HaNazir, Rabbi David Cohen , writes in his book “Kol Hanavua” that some early Greek philosophy actually comes out of traditional Jewish wisdom. Perhaps there is a traditional Jewish source to this mythological tradition?

In the secend half of  this week’s double parasha Torah reading, Parashat Bechukotai, in Chapter 26, beginning with verse 3, we read the fine print of the brit, the contract we accepted earlier at Sinai when we, as a nation, answered, ‘”Na’aseh v’N’shma, we will do and we will listen.” Upon our arrival at verse 14, we revisit the first of two very dark neighborhoods of the bible, the tochacha (words of rebuke) section, detailing the consequences of casting off our covenantal responsibilities. It is a shocking reminder of Jewish history, as many of the unfortunate and tragic experiences of our people are outlined here.

A careful reading of this tochecha reveals two distinct categories of national transgression.The first section refers to a defiant attitude towards the mitzvot. “And if you will not listen to Me, and if you will not fulfill all of these commandments; If you despise My statutes and your souls loath My laws, so as not to fulfill my commandments, thereby breaking my covenant, then, I will do the same with you. I will impose terror upon you, swelling and fever that consume the eyes and fill the soul with grief. You will plant your seeds in vain, because your enemies will consume your crops.” (Lev. 26:14-16)

Ouch! These are harsh words indeed! And, it gets worse… But, these consequences are reserved only for those who find the concept of a G-d repulsive, and who will most likely attribute their misfortune to worldly forces alone.

The Torah then goes on to describe those who choose to believe in G-d, but not commit themselves to the responsibilities of the covenant.

If you will walk with me KERI, and have no desire to listen to me, I will increase the consequences upon you sevenfold, as your transgressions”.   The word KERI is usually translated as “contrary”. Rashi explains that KERI means irregularly, or by chance. Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch goes even farther, describing those whose behavior may by chance conform to the Torah or not. They are not opposed on principle to the commandments, but the mitzvot are too much trouble to take seriously.

The consequence is that G-d will respond in kind. “ Then, I too, will walk B”KERI…”

G-d’s response is that obvious Divine intervention in the world for the sake of the Jewish people will be diminished, allowing human and natural forces to operate unimpeded.

Rabbi Yitzchak Arama (1420-1494), in his famous commentary Akeidat Yitzchak, writes that mankind can divided into three categories: The non believers, who attribute the world and their very existence completely to chance; those who believe in some kind of spiritual element, but who do not recognize G-d as the sole creator and authority in their lives, and those who believe in the true Creator, and accept the yoke of heaven.

We can say the same about our brethren, the Jewish people. Many have chosen to remove G-d, and matters of the soul from their lives, and the words of the Torah are completely irrelevant to them. G-d is not present in the lives of those who choose not to have a relationship.

A few have devoted themselves to serving the Creator in a strictly committed fashion, being as careful as possible to remove themselves from any situation that could distract them from their spiritual mission.

Most of us, however, believe that although ultimately we are under a divine stewardship, and there are spiritual, moral and absolute truths that shape our lives, we need to experience all that the world has to offer, and prefer to embrace the secular as well, and on our own terms. And as we are influenced by those for whom religion is irrelevant, and morality flexible, we continuously struggle with the competing urges to accept or break free from our spiritual servitude. Materialism replaces spirituality, and with it, an inability to feel satisfied in life. “You will eat but you will not be satiated…” (Lev.. 26:26).

We are content with b’keri, chance encounters with the divine. We will initiate the sacred relationship at our convenience, whenever we decide to turn the key. As a result, many of us often live in a confused, uncertain state, never sure of whether or not our spiritual engines will start up, or if we will have to wander around aimlessly in search of a jump. We never know when our next moment of inspiration will arrive, and whether we will be ready to act if and when it does.

But the tochecha ends on an up note. The Jewish people have the capacity to return, to reinitiate the relationship, to once again live an inspired life, with the presence of G-d obvious, powerful, and deeply satisfying.

…But, when the time finally comes that their stubborn spirit is humbled, I will forgive their transgressions. I will then remember My covenant with Jacob, and also my covenant with Isaac, and also my covenant with Abraham I will remember, and I will remember the land”. (Lev. 26:41-42)

We can choose to recapture our muse, even all three of them. When we choose to sing, and take the time to practice a bit, we are privileged to bask in the memory of the greatest moment in history, the creation of the human spirit.

This Sunday we will celebrate Lag B’omer, a turning point in the Jewish calendar, where we move from mourning the past to embracing the future. We begin to approach the holiday of Shavuot, when we celebrate the opportunity to rededicate ourselves to a life filled with deliberate encounters with the Divine, and the rewards of Torah. We can do our part to rekindle our spiritual memories, just as we ask our Creator to remember us on Rosh Hashanah.

Judaism does not require perfection, just dedication.

We have our muse, and if we can keep the relationship strong, we needn’t leave anything to chance.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Greg

Can I Get A Witness?

Parasha Emor

Many people have the custom of studying the popular mishnaic text, Pirkei Avot, The Ethics of the Fathers, during the weeks between Pesach and Shavuot. The first mishna in the second chapter quotes Rebbe (Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the redactor of the Mishna, born 135 C.E.)
והוי זהיר במצווה קלה כבחמורה, שאין אתה יודע מתן שכרן של מצוות. והוי מחשב הפסד מצווה כנגד שכרה, ושכר עבירה כנגד הפסדה
…..Be as careful with a “light” mitzvah as with a “heavy” one, for you do not know the rewards of the mitzvot. Consider the cost of a mitzvah against its rewards, and the rewards of a transgression against its cost…. (Avot 2:1)

To understand this, we must ask ourselves: is the mishna implying that there is a hierarchy among the commandments, or rather suggesting that each of us will find certain mitzvot more challenging? There are many cogent arguments that can be made for both approaches.
Certainly there are commandments requiring physical action or inaction (saying the Shema, not eating treif, living in a succah, eating matza on Pesach, fasting on Yom Kippur) that could be easier or more enjoyable for some, and perhaps the reward is greater for those who find a particular mitzvah more challenging. And what are the rewards and costs? Could the same mitzvah be both “light” and “heavy”. Are some commandments really more important than others?

Consider this passuk (verse) from this week’s parasha:
וְלֹא תְחַלְּלוּ, אֶת-שֵׁם קָדְשִׁי, וְנִקְדַּשְׁתִּי, בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל: אֲנִי יְהוָה, מְקַדִּשְׁכֶם.
“You shall not desecrate My Holy Name , rather I should be sanctified among the Children of Israel . I am G-d Who makes you holy.” (Leviticus 22:32)

The Jewish people were chosen by their creator to be aidim, witnesses, testifying to the existence of G-d, and of G-d’s presence in the world.

If a Jew should knowingly and publicly deny the Torah, and the divine authority , by ignoring its dictates, they are performing a Chillul Hashem-a desecration of G-d’s name. One of the reasons traditional Jews have often worn similar garments, a Jewish uniform, so to speak, is to underscore the fact that their every action in public will be viewed as a Jewish action, for better or worse.

How much more so under the scrutiny of our creator! When a Jew performs an act publicly that demonstrates the beauty, compassion, wisdom, or sensitivity of Judaism, he or she has made a “Kiddush Hashem“, a sanctification of G-d’s name.

Many people erroneously believe that the Torah’s laws of righteousness and fairness only apply to behavior towards other Jews.

The Jerusalem Talmud, in the tractate of Bava Metzia tells a story of the great sage Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach, a humble dry goods merchant, who’s gracious and fair dealings with his gentile neighbors were well known. Once, his pupils presented him with a donkey which they had purchased from an Arab. Under the neck of the animal they found a purse containing an expensive pearl, whereupon they joyously told their master that he might now cease toiling since the proceeds from the jewel would make him wealthy. Rabbi Shimon, however, replied that the Arab had sold them the donkey only, and not the pearl; and he returned the gem to the Arab, who exclaimed, “Praised be the God of Shimon ben Shetach!”

The ultimate opportunity for the sanctification of G-d’s name is in our adherence to the Torah’s principles under pressure, or even threat of loss of life.
The Torah teaches us that a Jew is obligated to sacrifice his or her own life in an act of Kiddush Hashem, rather than to commit murder, immorality, or idol worship. The millions of martyrs who died as Jews instead of living as idolators or gentiles have perhaps performed the highest level of sanctification of G-d’s name. The story of the Ten Martyrs we read in the synagogue on Yom Kippur is one of the most emotional and inspiring pieces in our entire liturgy.

One need not face death to achieve this level of spiritual attainment. When a minyan says kedusha (and thinks about what they are actually saying!) during the repetition of the Amidah prayer they are sanctifying G-d’s name, and when the opening words of the kaddish (sanctification) prayer are chanted the congregational response of Amein, Y’hay Sh’mai Rabba… is a literal Kiddush Hashem.

It is inspiring to see how the death of a loved one is the impetus for countless jews to re-examine their relationship with their creator and their community. By going to the synagogue to say the mourner’s kaddish one can turn his deepest sorrow into an opportunity to fulfill the mitzvah of sanctifying the name of G-d. The spiritual force of the living and departed are combined and the results are far reaching in this world and the next.

What about the private arena? Is it possible to perform the mitzvah of kiddush hashem in a non public setting?
The very act of sanctification is actually an affirmation of our love of our creator, and a private statement of Shema Yisrael, and v’ahavta eit Hashem elokecha is indeed an opportunity to perform the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem in the privacy of our own rooms.

In most prayer books, and as written in a Torah scroll, the letters “Ayin” and “Daled” of the first verse are enlarged — encoded to spell out the Hebrew word “aid” — witness. When we say the Shema, we are testifying to the Oneness of God, the transcendental sanctification by our own pure thoughts and speech.

May we be blessed to fulfill the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem through life, and not death.

Can I get a witness?

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Greg

Houses of the Holy

Parashiot Acharai Mot/Kedoshim

This week’s reading, a double parasha, is a whirlwind tour through a vast array of theological conundrums, spiritual concepts, divine admonitions, ontological intellections and other cool stuff.

Recently (In Parashat Shemini)  we were introduced to the concept of holiness through controlling how we use our mouths, vis-à-vis eating. Last week we learned that holiness is based on what comes out of our mouths as well, and the perils of harmful speech.

Our internal drive for self-preservation makes the acquisition of food a passionate endeavor, and our ability to control our appetite is a key for entering into the realm of holiness.
The Torah gave Adam and Eve all produce of the earth as food, save for that of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It is no surprise that the first failing of mankind, the action that evicted human beings from paradise, into a world of toil and tummel was eating the forbidden fruit.

Today, most most people think of forbidden fruit in the context of another appetite, that of human sexuality. Judaism, unlike many other religious traditions,teaches that sexuality is both healthy and pleasurable. In fact, because there is a divine commandment to reproduce, sexuality can be a powerful vehicle for holiness even when propagation of the species is not the intended goal. There are, however limits to this pleasure. These limits are not always logical, and many fall under the legal umbrella of chukim, commandments we must follow even if the reason is beyond our understanding.

In this week’s  first parasha (much of which we read on Yom Kippur as well) we learn about the arayot, the physical pairings that the Torah singles out as harmful.
The Torah explains that these relationships were the practice of the Canaanites, who were being expelled from the land for these very practices.

These relationships go beyond the commonly known incestuous combinations that are known to incite genetic mayhem, to relationships that are not at all connected by blood. For example, a man is forbidden to ever marry his wife’s sister during his wife’s lifetime, even after a divorce (Lev. 18:18).

The concept of harmful pairings is developed in the next parasha, Parashat Kedoshim.

The Torah says, “You shall observe My statutes: You shall not crossbreed your livestock with different species. You shall not sow your field with a mixture of seeds, and a garment which has a mixture of shaatnez shall not come upon you” (Lev. 19:19).

Shaatnez, a mixture of linen and  wool, is forbidden to be worn. The Midrash Tanchuma explains that this is related to the offerings of Cain (linen) and Abel (a lamb) that resulted in the world’s first murder.
Murder? Why should the Torah care what I choose to wear?

Some pairings are beyond the limits. As a stream of water is strengthened when its channels are limited, so is our holiness as our natural desires are restricted.

May we see these restrictions as broad avenues to get closer in our relationship with G-d, and stimulate our spiritual appetites.

True freedom, worthy of celebrating at our seder tables, and in our daily lives, only comes with being able to willfully navigate through life purposefully. The ideas and mitvot presented in the Torah give our lives an ultimate purpose. May we all be free to reach our spiritual and physical potential.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Greg

Deaf Leper

Parashiot Tazria/Metzorah

Although I have traditionally eschewed the mainstream corporate mentality of suit, briefcase and expense account, I am familiar with the culture, as some friends and family have spent substantial time in that world. There is an expected attitude towards moving up the ladder, and an inherent part of the process is the annual (or quarterly) review where employees are given constructive criticism so that they may concentrate on specific areas that need improvement.

In the education field substantial time and resources are spent on assessment activities. These activities and tools not only gauge the abilities of students to learn, but also that of teachers to teach.

Way back when, in school days of yore, I played woodwinds in the pit for a high school production of “Applause”. As the title tune explains, approval from the audience is a major motivating factor in show business. As I became more artistically driven, the approval I sought was mostly from other musicians, painters, writers, hipsters, and the occasional well connected critic or reviewer, although paying audiences were a good sign that I was on the right track for sustaining a career in the arts. If someone’s work was substandard the audience would dwindle, as would the calls from potential collaborators, and the person would get the message-more practicing required!

The need for feedback from the public spreads into many fields. Ed Koch the mayor of New York City from 1979 to 1989 is renowned for walking around the city and cheerfully asking everyone, “How’m I Doing? “. (He is now feeling groovy, after having Simon and Garfunkle’s 59th St. Bridge named after him…..)

The Torah gives us an annual review, called Rosh Hashanah, and we are given an opportunity to perfect our job performance, as well as make amends for any shortcomings in our spiritual growth. Although most of us do our most intense soul searching during the officially sanctioned ten days of repentance, the opportunity for introspection and t’shuva ( returning to the correct path) is available year round.

Historically, when the the nation of Israel fell short of its mission they were informed by the usual channels- plagues, draughts, floods,wild beasts, etc. These signs were the catalyst for national behavior modification, and the Torah documents many cases of national t’shuva.

In this week’s parasha we get a glimpse into a unique and wondrous methodology- the Torah’s plan for informing individuals that they are falling short of their spiritual responsibilities by actual physical signs on the their bodies!

One of these signs is called tzarat, almost always translated as leprosy, and is perhaps one of the most misunderstood and mistranslated ideas in the Torah.

Firstly, tzarat cannot be the famous and now completely treatable bacterial infection (also called Hansen’s disease) that caused millions around the world to be sequestered ( even today there are reported to be over 1000 leper colonies in India). The symptoms of tzarat were ignored during national celebrations, weddings, and other festive times when the greatest number of people could potentially be threatened by an infectious disease. Clearly, the Torah is not concerned about a public health threat. The symptoms only indicated the potential for diagnosis, and were completely benign to others until the time of “official” declaration by a kohane.

Tzarat, as described in the Torah is a SPIRITUAL malady, which leaves the afflicted in a state of tumah, or spiritual impurity, which can spread by contact. The first signs, or nega’im are found on the walls of a person’s house. The tumah sets in only when declared by the kohane. The Torah mercifully tells the afflicted to move his possessions outside of his house ahead of the visit from the kohane, lest the tzarat (which does not technically exist prior to the kohane’s declaration) affect those articles as well. This is a sign from G-d that the individual is falling short in his relationship with the community by improper use of speech. The house is closed off, and the afflicted is given time for reflection and repentance.

If this opportunity passes with no change, the nega’im appear next on clothing, and finally on one’s skin. The word nega, or mark, also means touch. G-d is touching them to alert them that they are in danger of failing their periodic review, and give them time to work on themselves, in privacy. After a week’s time they can rejoin the community after a fascinating but complicated purification ritual.

Hurtful or improper use of speech, called Lashon Harah in Hebrew, is singled out here, from among all possible human shortcomings, because it directly contradicts the holiness of our Creator.
Our world, and all that are contained within are the products of Divine Speech, (whatever that means!) . Every morning we start our communal prayers with “Blessed be the one who spoke, and the world came into being”. Humans are distinguished from other creatures by their ability to use speech. To use speech to hurt or destroy is the antithesis of holiness, and tzarat was a friendly wake up call to get to work and grow in that area.

One of the many tragedies of the current exile is the loss of prophecy, and with it, the personal, undeniable feedback from G-d.
In today’s challenging spiritual environment it is much more difficult to sense the presence of G-d, and we are not now fortunate enough to receive a divine tap on the shoulder when we err. The voice of G-d now comes mostly from within. By continuously working on refining ourselves, we will be growing spiritually, and when we ask ourselves, “How’m I doing?”, we can become more and more sensitive to the “still, small voice”.
Let’s pray that it does not fall on deaf ears.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Greg

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