Va'era 2013/5774: Hope for a good ending

Va’era 2013/5774

Hope for a good ending

George Orwell’s 1984.

Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451

Stephen King’s the Running man.

Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.

What do all these stories have in common?

Worlds in which individual lives are relatively worthless in comparison to the so-called ‘greater good’.

Worlds where violence and fear are the main tools leaders use to pacify the population and keep power.

Worlds where the voice of the individual does not count for anything, because the noise of a twisted status quo, the power of fear and the instinct for survival, shut out the call for freedom, for compassion, for hope.

The Israelites, our ancestors in Egypt, exist in just such a world.  Moses thinks they do not listen to him, to the message of hope and freedom from God, since he is not a good speaker.  Three times he tells God that he does not speak well, that perhaps he has a speech disability.  But the Torah offers another explanation for why the people do not listen to Moses, a reason that Moses himself does not acknowledge.  The people do not listen for the same reason that the characters in all these stories of a scary future do not really listen – the noise of false reassurance, censorship, media and violence overrun the senses.

The Torah teaches, “The people did not listen to Moses due to bitterness of spirit and their hard labor.”  Pharaoh tears away their faith, their strength, all the trust and history they had built up after Pharaoh welcomed their ancestors to live in Egypt during the days of the famine, a famine through which Joseph, and Joseph alone, was responsible for saving Egypt.  It’s not surprising then that the people are not open to listening to Moses.  They are so disillusioned, so in pain, that they are unwilling to hear even good news. 

Rabbi Yehudah ben Beterah (Torah Temimah Vol. 3, page 13) asks the question:  Who would not celebrate when they receive good news? 

A good question, don’t we always feel positive and receptive on hearing good news? 

Ben Beterah argues that the people had lost their identity, turned ‘Egyptian’.

Rashbam teaches the people were stifled under even more difficult labor.

Ibn Ezra suggests our exile lasted so long, that our spirits were crushed.

Chizkuni sees fear in the people, fear of even the possibility of hope under worsening conditions, lest that hope be dashed.

What is it that we fear most?  What keeps us up at night?  What fears make us change our thinking and change our plans?  Which fears do not force us to change?  Which fears have we learned to live with?

Rabbi Harold Kushner in his book ‘Conquering Fear, “sometimes I stubbornly believe as an act of faith that God has made a world in which tragedy is real but happy endings heavily outnumber tragic ones.  I resolve not to let my fears of what might happen prevent me from anticipating with pleasure what I hope will happen.”

Let’s go back to all those stories where we began and test Kushner’s stubborn belief here.

In 1984, Winston Smith succumbs, gives in to belief and love of Big Brother, gives up himself, plagued by the fears the government uses against him in room 101.  Sad ending.

Farenheit 451, Guy Montag escapes, joins the band of free spirits, reconnects with people who love words instead of burning them, there is hope.  Happier ending.

The Running Man, a broadcast goes out that begins to bring down the authoritarian government, rebels fight back, expose the truth.  Happier ending. 

The Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen leads the rebellion, the authoritarian government falls.  Happier ending.

Exodus from Egypt – happier ending, from despair to celebration, miyagon lesimcha, from slavery to freedom, me’avdut lecherut.

And so despite the fact that we often find ourselves walking in a valley of deepest darkness, ‘though I walk in the valley under the dark shadow…’, we keep hope alive knowing that the sun is just over the valley wall, and will rise.

What Jewish leaders and organizations can learn from Santa

Jewish Community Building:  Lessons from Santa

'Erev Xmas', 2013/5774

            Christmas eve day blossoms in northern New Jersey and at the local drugstore I am on line with a handful of people who are buying last minute gifts.  With a small armful of items in my hand, I stand in line next to a large seated burly St. Nick doll festooned with an armful of brightly wrapped gifts.  The ‘real’ Santa Claus right now as I write, thanks to NORAD, was just seen over Johor Bahru, Malaysia.  It is an opportune moment, before he enters American airspace, to reflect on what Jewish leaders and communities could learn from this intrepid and enterprising individual. 

            Why should we take any lessons from Santa?  Lately, I have noticed a trend that here in my neighborhood and elsewhere, Jewish groups have been actively seeking wisdom from Chabad about their outreach strategies.  Since many have decided that the Chabad model is successful, we seek to give credit where credit is due and to learn from people who are doing amazing outreach work to Jews all over the world (including places where we might not even think that Jews congregate).  Their work is important, meaningful, and worthy of much kudos.

            What can Jewish communities learn from Santa, an epic powerhouse of wonder, gift-giving, delight and hope for so many people?

·      Be out there in public and connect to people where they are – St. Nick, despite now receiving gift requests via Twitter, shows up at holiday parties, in shopping malls, stores, and street corners everywhere.  You do not have to look hard to find him and…

·      He is unfailingly positive  - With a happy “Ho ho ho” and a smile, you will never feel burdened by the behind-the-scenes work of the elves to get him ready to deliver to the world.  One day, down the road, he might open up and share the joys and stresses of keeping the operation going, but in the moments you meet him he will welcome you with open arms and joie de vivre.

·      Commitment to the mission – No one doubts the difficulty of Santa’s mission.  With a world in which we can order toys and games online and have them delivered overnight, Santa might be sweating his relevance.  He knows, though, that the experience, the mystery, the wonder of the elusive visit through the chimney keeps alive a world of delight that point and click overnight ordering simply cannot replace…

·      Because what we cannot see is still as powerful, if not more so, than what we can see – Although Santa is indeed everywhere, even on TV as he questions whether the Lincoln or Lexus vehicle is a better value, we know that the elusive visit is still the heart of the Santa experience.  When, as pop culture suggests, children wake on Christmas morning and find cookies and milk consumed, I imagine they feel reassured and content. 

I humbly offer a few ideas that the Jewish community may benefit from in the example of Santa.  None of these ideas is revolutionary thinking.  Many colleagues in the Jewish world have taught and live by these principles.  Personally, it’s helpful to reflect and refresh, and a little humor can go a long way!

Are there other lessons we can draw from Santa for Jewish leaders and communities?  What would you add?

Short Reflection on the demise of the local video rental store

The local Blockbuster video is closing down in our area.  This store, the last of the video rental store Mohicans, is the most recent in a long line of movie rental stores I have visited since the days my older brothers and I first searched the aisles at Errol's video in Rockville to rent only VHS tapes.  When Rachel and I lived for a year in Jerusalem in 2004-2005 we occasionally rented a movie from a small store on Emek Refa'im.  We have not yet started on Netflix or other on-demand movie services (mostly because our TV and DVD/VHS player are both tech dinosaurs), but we did go from time to time to Blockbuster when Redbox did not have movies we, or the kids, wanted to watch.

This extended introduction, a walk down memory lane, is secondary to a great lesson that we can learn from the video store (and also the Redbox machine).  We learn the lesson that what we want is not always available for us, that we need to be flexible, and even when we are looking, or hoping, for one thing we may be surprised and find something else.  We learn that someone else may have arrived just a few minutes before and taken the last copy of what we were itching to see.  In a world that favors our unlimited ability to choose our entertainment and receive it instantly at any time of day, the values addressed by the character building trip to the movie rental store will need to be addressed elsewhere.

Where will the 'location' to teach these values?  The Supermarket? The clothing store?

And so we say 'Kaddish' for our local video rental store, and we hope to keep the lessons of patience, flexibility, and more, alive.

Dvar Torah - Parshat Vayechi: Putting Good Into the Headlines

Parshat Vayechi

5774/2013

Good things that happen, good things people do everyday do not make the newspapers.  To my knowledge, the New York Times has never run a major front page headline when a neighbor helps shovel snow for someone who cannot do it himself, just as an example.  There was never to my knowledge a breaking news story that cut into the Yankees radio broadcast to advise that someone visited her friend in the hospital and brought her flowers.

What is the reason the good news often stays hidden from the headlines unless it is earth shattering?  Why are simple, friendly, and helpful mitzvahs that we do for each other not newsworthy? 

Personally, I would love to read and tell my kids about these things.  These things do attract my attention. 

What do we think?  Can we take a straw poll here?  How many people would like to get a newspaper or digital report about basic good things that people have done for one another? (Possibly with names changed to protect identity and privacy.)  Would this publication change the way people operate?  Would more good happen out there?  Would the news strengthen us?

There is evidence in this week’s parasha that this good news would strengthen us.

Toward the end of his life, and sick in bed, Jacob hears that Joseph is on his way to visit.  Visiting the sick, bikur cholim, is a mitzvah – a mitzvah that is beneficial even if the patient is asleep and does not know you are there.  Prayers we offer are inevitably stronger when we’re standing near a person we care about.  As Joseph approaches, we see that Jacob gains strength, “vayitzchazek Yisrael, vayeshev al ha’mitah”, he feels stronger and sits up in bed.

The Gaon of Vilna reminds us the way the Rabbis teach that a person who visits someone who is sick may be able to take away 1/60^th of whatever they are suffering.  How do we know that this happens when Joseph visits Jacob?  Jacob feels stronger and sits up!  How else do we know that now Jacob’s illness has been reduced, that there are only 59 parts of the malady instead of sixty?  The letters of the word for bed, mitah, add up to 59! (And at first, there were 60 parts of illness, given the word ‘Hineh’ (Behold), Behold your father is ill. Hay-Nun-Hay equals 60.) Itturei Torah, Vol. 2, p. 434

Something about the mitzvah is believed to have a real impact on the person who is receiving its benefit.  I begin to imagine people feeling moved, inspired, and motivated to do more good as a result of reading about these things more often, to the extent that they wish to not only benefit from the mitzvahs of others but to give blessing themselves in their actions.  These ‘simple gifts’ remind us that we need not live in a world in which only radical or extraordinary benevolence makes headlines.

Of course, we might also argue that doing the right thing is its own benefit, and publicizing these things will encourage self-promotion.  If the self-promotion happens for doing good and right, then is it such a problem?  Won’t other people call those to task who are being insincere?

This week, please do not hesitate to share at least when others do special things for us.  Share them on Twitter and Facebook.  Let me know and I’ll remove names and share what happened and put in in the language of mitzvah, the language of our people that calls out to us to be daily messages of our people’s values as they leap from the page into the street.

And let’s celebrate the end the Book of Genesis, when we say tomorrow, Chazak Chazak Ve’nitchazek! A phrase with the same word describing how Jacob was strengthened when Joseph arrived, vayitchazek – may we all have strength of mind, body, and spirit to make headlines for good, headlines with letters so tall that they reach from earth up to heaven.

Shabbat Shalom

Finding our holy, persuasive voices

Dvar Torah:  Parshat Vayera

5774/2013

In late June of 1863, Isidor Bush, Jewish leader of the German-American community in St. Louis Missouri, spoke his mind that emancipation of slaves was absolutely necessary in the face of a state government that favored 1876 as the year for emancipation of slaves.

Here are some of his concluding words:

“I pray you have pity for yourselves, not for them.  Slavery demoralizes, slavery fanaticism binds you; it has arrayed brother against brother, son against father; it has destroyed God’s noblest work-a free and happy people…”

A lone, strong voice, calling out to the chamber, to think again, to persuade them.  What was the message?  It is the leadership that should be ashamed of its actions, having been twisted by enslaving others, eventually causing the implosion of self and country, an offense against the Creator.

Eloquent.  Powerful.  Courageous.

How do we convince anyone of anything?  Do we put together the best information?  Do we speak softly and gently from the heart?  Do we stand on the desk and shout the truth to the world?

I am partial to the first two methods.  Solid information and the passion from a person’s well-informed and positive convictions tend to convince me.  I tend to shut down when there is shouting, bullying, and standing on principle to the last like Butch Cassidy and his partner shooting out their last bullets with the army closing in outside.

Abraham tries methods one and two, information and heartfelt words, to try and save the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.  He also shows his humility, “I am just dust and ashes,” he is not arrogant.  God listens to his entire line of thinking, all the way until he argues that these cities, however wicked their people overall may be, deserve to be saved on account of at minimum 10 righteous people that may be found in these places.  After all, God saved Noah and his family from the Flood amongst the countless inhabitants of the world at the time, so it would make sense that if there were 10 good people in just one or two cities, they would merit being saved.

Think of a time that we convinced someone else of something for the better.  What was the “tipping point” and how did we get there? 

Abraham, unfortunately, is unsuccessful in the end.  Even his strategy of starting big and ending with a minimum number of good people to be found, reducing expectations, does not work out.

Is there still a victory here?  Has Abraham taught us something of value?

The Shinever Rav teaches that once God destroys the cities, and Abraham ‘returns to his place’, Shav limkomo, he keeps up his strong level of faith in God, does not question God’s justice.  Difficult as it can be to watch any project of ours fail, or to see others in crisis, worse still is the possibility that we might lose faith altogether, that me might lose all motivation to help ourselves and others, that we might give up hope, turn inward, and in doing so become more like the people of Sodom and Gomorrah than the righteous and good people who Abraham had hoped to find.

After all, the Rabbis teach us that the way the people of Sodom think is “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours.”  We’ll stay apart, not share, and instead of being like a community we’ll just tolerate each other like two ships who pass by each other as they both use the ocean but don’t share supplies and information with each other about the waves and weather from they directions they both came from.

Now, we cannot live this way if amongst ourselves we are meant to teach the messages of the Torah.  We need to summon the courage of Isidor Bush and Abraham, to stand before people and God to proclaim with judgment, gentleness, but with full conviction of our souls the truths and teachings we want to pass on.  We need not be proselytizers or zealots in this work.  We simply need to let the message fill us up and it will overflow in our words and actions.  And this energy that will radiate from within will be longer lasting than the best cup of Joe, the strongest energy drink, or the push from the best workout at the gym.

If Abraham’s story (either our ancestor or the President who pushed through the Emancipation Proclamation) is an indication, when we advocate in this way, God is listening.

Shabbat Shalom.

Separation Anxiety

It has always been difficult for me to drop off one of my children to school when she or he cries and protests.  The older of my two eventually grew out of this behavior and now separates smoothly each day.  On occasion she may even ask me to leave!  My youngest though is still adjusting to the new rhythm.

I wonder if I, and other parents who experience the anxiety of separation, contribute to the anxiety with non-verbal communications that we do not ourselves recognize.  Often I hear parents and teachers say that it is more painful for the parents than it is for the children.  The first time around I felt guilty, pained, and agitated long after I walked away.  As I watch how the kids calm down in class later on, years later I am more comfortable and confident that the ability to function in a social environment outside our home is worth the temporary discomfort at goodbye, and that my regular presence at drop off is reassurance that the leave-taking is as temporary as the discomfort at drop-off.  As Arnold Schwarzengger likes to say, my son knows that, “I’ll be back.”

In a wider context, separation anxiety is a key part of faith.  We are meant to feel anxious about separations of all kinds, separation between people an God, between people and other people, and within ourselves – between the person we are and the person we want to be.  These gaps, or separations, are the most painful in our lives since they impact us both physically and emotionally.  The wounds are deep and take a long time to heal, if they ever heal. 

On a recurring, weekly basis, nothing reflects personal and communal desires to close these separations better than Shabbat afternoons, the time and melodies of Mincha and the Third Meal, “Shalo’shiddus”.  Between the meaningful and thick work of prayer and study of the morning service and the bittersweet end of Shabbat at Havdalah, the Shabbat afternoon time is the great weekly liminal moment, the time that we are warmed-up, in the fullness of the holy day, when the music turns to melodies of longing, as with the repetition here of Yedid Nefesh, the statement of God as our soul-friend, full of love and compassion for us, that helped to bring Shabbat in on Friday evening.  Now the music says, “Would that this were the case, now and always!”  We sing Psalm 23, “God is my shepherd” in a melody that does not shed tears at our mortality, but that celebrates life’s journey.  After all, in Psalm 23, the valley is really not in the ‘shadow of death’, it is simply a valley, a valley where as the shepherd leads his flock into its floor, the walls block out the sun and cast a shadow – the warmth and reassurance of the sun disappear only until the shepherd leads the flock back up and into the plain, armed with a walking stick to help us endure the journey and another pole to beat away predators that may come after us along the way.

Longing is a feeling we need to cultivate, the sense that our sincerest visions of a self and a world renewed have not been achieved yet.  Longing is a positive and strong heart-filled feeling, not a flimsy wish on a star for an item we want or a person whose company or relationship we seek. 

God longs for us, too, and the Divine energy that comes our way is likely what makes the music of Shabbat afternoon so strong, so uninhibited, however tired or in-between we may feel at that time.