Mar 16 2017

Carrying Our Weight

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In this week’s reading, we learn about the episode of the Golden Calf. Moshe took a day too long to come back down off the mountain, and many assumed that he must have died, that he was never returning to earth. And so they made a new leader for themselves, and some even worshipped their new idol.

At this point, G-d said to Moshe: “go descend, for your nation has corrupted itself, which you brought up from the Land of Egypt” [32:7]. And Rashi comments, “descend from your greatness, [for] I only gave you greatness because of them.” According to Rashi, Moshe only “deserved” to be up in the Heavens, learning Torah from G-d Himself, because of Israel. Once Israel corrupted itself, Moshe could no longer remain in that elevated place.

Moshe grew up in Pharoah’s palace, and in adulthood ran away to Midyan. So he was, in many ways, separate from the rest of the nation of Israel. His experience with the Burning Bush was exactly that — his experience, and no one else’s. His spiritual elevation did not depend upon other Jews, or so it would seem. But all of that changed once Israel became a nation. Now, when Israel sinned, G-d told him: go down. Your nation is lower, so you must be lower.

Our Sages teach that “all of Israel is responsible one for the other.” In its simplest form, we understand from this that a person is responsible to help others to do the Commandments. If we see someone else about to make a mistake, we are not free to say “oh well, it’s not our problem.” On the contrary, it is our problem. We must alert him or her, in a helpful way of course.

But what we learn from G-d’s words to Moshe is that this idea, the concept that we are all responsible for each other, is even true on a metaphysical level. What we do has a spiritual impact upon others. We can help even the greatest of Israel’s leaders to reach greater heights, by striving for greater heights ourselves. The spiritual elevation of Moshe himself depended upon that of the rest of Israel.

An individual can always fall into the trap of thinking him or herself “insignificant.” “I’m just the quintessential ‘little guy.’ It doesn’t matter what I do, I won’t accomplish much anyways, the world goes on without me.” The Torah is telling us that each individual contributes in ways that he or she cannot even begin to perceive. No individual is insignificant, because each of us has the ability to elevate everyone else. Each of us contributes our part to the spiritual level of all of Israel, building a better future not merely for each of us as individuals, but for all of us together.

Mar 10 2017

Celebrating the Miracle of Jewish Survival

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What is the miracle of Purim?

The great majority of Jewish holidays were mandated at Sinai: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shemini Atzeret, Pesach and Shavuot. Most of the Rabbinic enactments are fast days, times of mourning. So the one other (happy) holiday decreed by the Rabbis is Chanukah, which celebrates a great miracle, a clear sign from G-d, blessing the Jewish response to Greek oppression. Why did the Rabbis, then, make Purim into a holiday?

There is, in actuality, a deep connection between Chanukah and Purim, in that both celebrate a reprieve from annihilation. Haman asked to murder all Jews; the Greeks wanted to stamp out Judaism.

And this helps us to recognize the miracle that we celebrate on Purim: the permanent nature of Jewish survival. Not everything is obvious. It doesn’t have to be an open miracle for us to analyze our circumstances and realize that something truly supernatural has transpired.

The very name given to Hadassah, “Esther,” comes from the Hebrew word for “hidden.” It recalls the verses in Deuteronomy [31:17-18], “I will hide My face from them … And I will surely hide [haster astir] My face on that day, for the evil that [Israel] did, for he turned to other gods.” Throughout the Megillah, G-d’s name is never mentioned; our Sages teach that every time the Megillah refers to “the King” without specifying Ahasuerus, we are to read it as referring to both King Ahasuerus and the King of Kings. Purim celebrates a hidden miracle.

In the global context, Jewish survival is perhaps the greatest miracle of all Jewish history. It defies clear historical patterns. Whenever people move to different countries, they gradually integrate, following the beliefs and ideals of the local population. Yet the Jews were different, stubbornly so. On the contrary, it is those who have oppressed the Jews – the Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Crusaders, Spanish, and the Nazis (to specify but a few of countless examples) whose ideologies rightly reside in the proverbial dustbin of history.

In the wake of Haman’s decree, the Jews of that era recognized that by participating in the party of Ahasuerus, in which he rejoiced in the desecration of the Jewish Holy Temple and the ongoing exile of the Jews, they were leading to their own destruction. And they changed course. They returned to the unique path that has preserved the Jews through history.

Amazingly, it is the idolatry of Haman and Ahasuerus that has declined. Today the majority of humanity at least purports belief in the Jewish G-d — and throughout the Western world, the principles of ethical monotheism found in our Torah are considered fundamental to development of a first-world civilization.

Anti-Semitism remains what it always was: the revolt of immorality and barbarism against the ongoing, inexorable turn towards the values found in our Torah. The Jews were prophesied to be “a light unto the nations,” helping to spread the moral principles taught by G-d… and that light will always burn.

That is, indeed, a great cause for celebration!

Mar 02 2017

Cultivating a Generous Heart

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Have you heard “Mitzvah” translated as a “good deed?” That’s incorrect, and this week’s reading proves it: not every good deed is a Mitzvah!

A Mitzvah is something we are Commanded to do, from “Tzivui,” a command. When it comes to the donations for building the Mishkan, the Tabernacle in the desert, the Torah never actually gives Israel a Commandment to give; rather, it simply tells Israel that “they shall collect a donation for me, from every person whose heart moves him you shall collect My donation” [Exodus 25:2]. And then, the reading goes on to describe to us what Israel was able to accomplish.

Now, I do not mean to say that there is no Commandment to give. The word used here for donation, Terumah, is the same used for allocating a portion of one’s crop for the Kohanim, the priests. But even there, no amount is specified (the Rabbis do specify the standards for generous, normative and miserly portions). We are supposed to give what we can, and to learn to give frequently on behalf of many causes.

I must add at this juncture that our raffle, a critical fundraiser for us, is not performing nearly as well as last year; I’m not sure why, but I do believe that I have insufficiently expressed our gratitude to all those who have given in previous years, and whose support we do need once again — and those who have not yet been able to give have similarly not heard from us how important it truly is for our ability to reach you all. We are blessed to hear from Jews all around the world every day and to offer individual guidance, while also continuing to improve our websites and ability to reach people.

If you are moved to help, we truly need to hear from you. If you wish to simply make a donation, that’s wonderful as well! And a good way to put the lessons of this week’s reading into immediate practice.

Our obligation is to duplicate G-d, who is boundless in his generosity; we are left with the task of learning to open our hands, to be generous with others, in accordance with our ability. The Ohr HaChaim writes that when a person is a “Nediv Lev,” of a giving heart, we can be assured that he or she will do what he or she can. And G-d Himself testifies that this is “My donation,” this is a person giving what he or she is able to give.

Feb 16 2017

Why So Much Hate?

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Why are Jews hated? It comes from this week’s reading. “Why is it called Mount Sinai? It is the mountain where hatred [Sinah] descended upon the nations of the world” [Shabbos 99a].

The Medrash says that G-d offered the Torah to various other nations of that time, but when they found out that the Torah had laws against murder, theft and immorality, each nation chose a reason why they did not want to accept its laws upon themselves.

Rabbi Shmuel Yaakov Klein of Torah U’Mesorah gave me a fascinating insight into this Medrash. Wouldn’t it make more sense, he asked, for nations to be bothered by incomprehensible Commandments, such as the laws of the red heifer, which even King Solomon could not understand? Every civilized nation has laws against theft and murder; otherwise you would have anarchy!

Yet what bothered them, he explained, is exactly this idea — that even basic laws, central to civil society, are in G-d’s Hands. Even a king is not exempt, he cannot do as he pleases. The prophets were very critical of David and Solomon, although they, as kings, did so much good, and wrote prophetic works of their own.

A king wants to see himself as above the law, as having absolute power. Everyone else isn’t allowed to steal, but he has eminent domain. Everyone else cannot commit murder, but he is able to call for a royal execution.

This idea, that we are not Kant philosophizing about our own moral requirements, but subject to an absolute standard that we cannot challenge or change, is what they found so offensive. That is the concept that those filled with hatred cannot abide.

Hitler said he was honored to be called a barbarian. His enmity for Jews went along with his enmity for the idea of conscience, which he called a Jewish concept. He even said that he wanted Germans to be ruthless and cruel.

In the end, anti-Semitism is about hatred for an absolute standard of morality. If you’re going to be hated for something, it might as well be for the very best of reasons!

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