Tag Archives: Musings about God/Faith/Religious Life

A 400 Year-old Reflection about Paris – John Donne

16 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , ,

“…all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another; …

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

MEDITATION XVII. Donne, John (1572-1631). From The Works of John Donne. vol III. Henry Alford, ed. London: John W. Parker, 1839. Pages 574-5.

Note: I have not changed the original English nor adjusted the gender exclusivity of John Donne’s original.

Watson – you see but you do not observe! Parashat Vayera

29 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

This week’s Torah portion Vayera reminds me of Sherlock Holmes’ famous statement to his loyal friend Dr. Watson: “Watson – you see but you do not observe!”

Most of us are like Watson. At first sight, we see only the surface of things, an object’s size, shape, color, line, texture, and form.

Jewish mysticism teaches, however, that nothing is as it appears to the eye – every physical thing is but a reflection of something deeper, more complex, wondrous, and enriched than we imagine it to be.

The great Jewish scholar, Dr. Jacob Neusner, described the 2nd century law code, the Mishnah, as an ideal spiritual architecture underpinning the physical world. Every letter, word, phrase, and law, he said, embraces the seen and the unseen, the explicit and implicit – all existence.

This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, is about seeing in all its dimensions. It concerns especially what God sees and what God wants us to see;  the physical and the metaphysical, the material and what can be grasped only through intuition.

The 3-letter Hebrew root of the title of Vayera (“And God appeared…”) is resh-aleph-heh. The root appears 11 times in the portion in a variety of forms (Genesis 18:1-22:24). In 9 of the 11, it is used in connection with God and angels (i.e. God’s messengers).

Abraham greets three God-like men who ‘appear’ near his tent. God goes to Sodom and ‘sees’ whether the people have turned away from their evil. Lot ‘saw’ two of God’s messengers. Sarah ‘saw’ Ishmael and feared he had receive the inheritance in place of her son Isaac. Hagar ‘saw’ a well of water that would save her son, Ishmael, from certain death. Abraham and Isaac both were able to ‘see’ the cloud hovering upon a mountain called Moriah, the place (Makom – another word for God) where there would be ‘vision.’

In those 9 of 11 occurrences, there is divine revelation. These chapters of Vayera point to our patriarch Abraham as a grand ‘seer’ graced with intuitive insight. In every one of these spiritual encounters, we sense newness and spiritual awakening, and that phenomenon inspires within the heart the virtues of appreciation and gratitude and within the soul the experience of awe and wonder.

When the heart opens this way and the soul ‘sees,’ we mere mortals are drawn more deeply into what it means to be human and to sense what God requires of us ethically and spiritually in the world.

Abraham, the prophet and patriarch, must have had a highly developed intuitive sensibility. If only we could hear God’s voice and know what Abraham experienced in those moments!

The 18th century British poet and painter, William Blake, in his book The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, imagined a conversation with the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel:

“…the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel dined with me, and I asked them how they dared so roundly to assert that God spoke to them; and whether they did not think at the time that they would be misunderstood…?  To which Isaiah answered: ‘I saw no God nor heard any in a finite organic perception; but my senses discovered the infinite in everything.”

Blake’s way is also the way of the Jewish mystic who senses always the holy in the mundane and glimpses the Godly in the human situation. I suspect this was Abraham’s experience as he welcomed the three visitors to his tent. He saw them as human beings, but they were really angels. Thus, Abraham set the way of the Jew and became our example.

Boggling the Mind – A New Super-Fast Camera

27 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

I recently watched a 5-minute piece of footage from PBS’s NOVA (from the 2013 season) about the development of “Super-Fast Cameras.” It not only inspired in me a sense of awe and wonder  about the character and behavior of light, but also about the current state of our technological and scientific know-how.

This video shows that which humankind has never been able to observe before – the fastest thing in the universe – light.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Z8EtlBe8Ts

In the 1950s, a 2000-mph bullet was photographed passing through an apple. The video shows a picture of that bullet as if suspended in time, in one particular moment.

In the past 60 years, a new Super-Fast Camera has been developed that can break down what happens to a one-trillionth of a frame per second, thus enabling us to see, moment by moment, light moving into a scene.

We can even see the moment a shadow is formed after light hits an object, not simultaneously as we once assumed.

We can watch light traveling at 600 million miles-per-hour, and observe what occurs in one-billionth of a second.

This NOVA PBS segment offers suggestions about how this new Super-Fast Camera can one day benefit the fields of medicine and many other human endeavors.

We will read on Simchat Torah next week the mythic story of the Creation of the universe and the human being (Genesis 1 and 2). After seeing this video, I marvel in a completely new way at the workings of the universe and at our human capacity for invention on the one hand, and the experience of awe and wonder on the other, which leads me to an insightful analysis of the differences between the two accounts in the Hebrew Bible of the creation of the human being (Adam) that appear in Genesis 1 and Genesis 2.

The great scholar Rabbi Yosef Soloveitchik commented on the essential differences of these two creation narratives of Adam. He named the first Adam of creation “Adam I” (Genesis 1:26-27) and the second Adam of creation “Adam II” (Genesis 2:7, 18, 21-24).

“Adam I” of Genesis 1 is a utilitarian man/woman. S/he is charged with the task of ruling over the world, mastering and subduing it to his/her purposes. The man partners with the woman who are created simultaneously, and their goals are practical, purposeful and productive. They embody the principle that two are better than one, but each, by virtue of being created “b’tzelem Elohim-in the Divine image,” are empowered with intelligence and the ability to create and be productive. Such people through history have been farmers, artists, scientists, legal scholars, physicians, architects, builders, manufacturers, fashioners of institutions, and creators of community. They are this-worldly and are energized by virtue of being useful. They find meaning and relevance when they are productive, and as long as they are they are never rebellious nor ever lonely, for they do their work in partnership with others.

“Adam II” of Genesis 2 is an existential being. He/she is created from the dust of the earth (adamah) and is endowed with divine purpose by means of being infused with  divine breath (nishmat chayim). He/She does not lord over the earth. Rather, s/he watches over creation and protects it by virtue of being one with it. Nevertheless, s/he is alone and lonely and needs an intimate partner, to be in relationship with another. So God, the Creator, draws from Adam II a tzela (often translated as “rib” but it could also mean a side, part or aspect of the primordial human) to make woman-isha.

Adam II responds to the world spontaneously, and s/he yearns for intimacy and a life of quality and meaning. S/he is neither controlling nor power-centered. S/he intuits God’s presence everywhere and strives for “ach’dut-unity” with God. (i.e. to be at one-yichud with the root-shoresh of his/her being and life in God).

Adam II is an existential being, a seeker and an appreciator, and s/he is ever-aware of God’s Infinity, Eternity and Ineffability. S/he aspires for the religious experience of community, sanctity and transcendence. S/he is faith-oriented, needs a soul mate (i.e. beshert) and a faith community.

I mention Adam I and Adam II in the context of the invention of this Super-Fast Camera because our human engagement with it embraces both Adam I and Adam II.

My brother, an awe-struck scientist, remarked to me when he shared this video with me that this Super-Fast Camera and what it can show about the behavior of light would “even boggle Einstein’s mind!”

Chag Sukkot Sameach.

Falling on “God’s Face”

21 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

,

There are a number of prayers in the High Holiday liturgy that evoke the core purposes of this season. One of these is the Aleinu HaGadol (“The Great Aleinu”).

To better understand the meaning of this prayer it is important to recognize a significant difference between the English word “prayer” and the Hebrew word “t’filah” (often translated as “prayer”).

While “prayer” includes the expression of gratitude and praise, the petition of God for help, strength, courage, restored health, sustenance, and peace of mind, and communion with God, t’filah, though encompassing praise and petition as well, is associated with the Hebrew word nafal (The infinitive of nafal is Lipol: lamed-yod-peh-lamed – from the Hebrew root: nun-peh-lamed; the nun is silent in t’filah) – meaning “to fall.” (Note: I learned this interpretation years ago, but I do not recall who taught it to me)

Unlike the English word “prayer,” the Hebrew word t’filah entails falling before God.

This idea of t’filah is captured in an early interaction between Avram and God.

When God gave Avram his new name, Avraham, and explained that Abraham’s new status would be as the patriarch of Israel in return for which God promised Abraham the blessing that he would become av hamon goyim – “Father of a multitude of nations,” the Torah says that in response Vayipol Avram al panav – “And Abram fell (vayipol) on his face” (Genesis 17:3-5).

Even as Avram assumed his new spiritual status and responsibility, he recognized the enormity of the task of leading his people, and he acknowledged his need for God’s help. Hence, Vayipol Avram al panav.

This phrase reasonably can be read in one of two ways: The most common is “Abram fell on his own face,” expressing through prostration the physical attitude of supplication and humility before God.

The second way it can be read is this – “Avram fell on God’s face.”

What might it mean for Avram to fall upon God’s face?

In addition to assuming the physical attitude of supplication and humility in prostration, Avram may well have yearned to become One with God, thus falling upon God’s “Face.” Chassidism teaches that this is one goal of all t’filah. It fulfills the yearning of the mystic to become one-achdut with God.

Twice each year the Jewish people prostates  before God. The first is on Rosh Hashanah and the second is on Yom Kippur. Both are during the Aleinu Hagadol, the Great Aleinu.

Muslims too assume through prostration this attitude of submission to Allah five times daily. I am told that in Los Angeles, Catholic Priests of the Archdiocese prostrate together before the altar on Good Friday in the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, otherwise known as the Catholic Downtown Cathedral.

Many Jews in my congregation take this opportunity to assume the most humble attitude before the open ark on the afternoon of Yom Kippur when, led by the Rabbis, we chant the Aleinu Hagadol in a prone position. It is a most powerful and emotionally charged moment.

This year I invite those of you who have not fallen before the ark upon your faces and upon God’s face to do so.

G’mar chatimah tovah – may we all be sealed in the Book of Life.

L’shanah tovah.

Overcoming Despair and Beginning Again

13 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

The central theme of these High Holidays is teshuvah, a process that brings us back to ourselves, to our families and friends, to our community, Torah, and God. Teshuvah is ultimately an expression of hope, that the way we are today need not be who we become tomorrow.

Teshuvah is essentially a step-by-step process of turning and re-engaging with our most basic inclinations, the yetzer hara-the evil urge that is propelled by desire, lust and need and our yetzer tov-the good inclination that is inspired by humility, gratitude, generosity, and kindness.

A key beginning in the process that is teshuvah is, however, a sense of despair, hopelessness and sadness, the feeling that we are stuck and cannot change the nature, character and direction of our lives.

Judaism, however, rejects pessimism, cynicism and everything that impedes personal transformation and a hopeful future.

In the story of Jonah, to be read on the afternoon of Yom Kippur, we read the tale of the prophet’s descent into hopelessness and what is required for him to change direction.

Jonah is the epitome of a unrealized prophet who runs from himself, from civilization and from God. Every verb associated with his journey is the language of descent (yod-resh-daled). He flees down to the sea. He boards a ship and goes down into its dark interior. He lays down and falls into a deep sleep. He is thrown overboard down into the waters by his terrified ship-mates. He is swallowed and descends into the belly of a great fish, and there he stays for three days and nights until from that place of despair and utter darkness Jonah decides that he wishes to live and not die. He cries out to God to save him.

God responds by making the fish vomit Jonah out onto dry land. Jonah agrees this time to do God’s bidding and preach to the Ninevites to repent from their evil ways. While the town’s people are all putting on sack cloth and ashes and promising to change, God provides Jonah with shade and protection from the hot sun. Jonah, however, becomes mortified because he still believes that change is impossible and that the Ninevites are destined to fail. Their success, in his mind, makes him to appear the fool.

Teshuvah is never easy. It is for those of us who are strong of mind, heart and soul, who are willing to work hard and suffer failure, but to get up every time, to own what we do, to acknowledge our wrong-doing, to apologize to ourselves and others, and to recommit to the struggle, step-by-step, patiently, one day at a time, one hour at a time, and even one moment at a time.

When successful, teshuvah is restorative and even utopian, for it enables us to return to our truest selves, to the place of soul, to the garden of oneness.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik taught that in teshuvah we are able even to transcend time itself. He said, “The future has overcome the past.”

L’shanah tovah u-m’tukah.
A good and sweet New Year to you all.

The Cottage of Candles – As We Begin Elul on Shabbat Shoftim

20 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

There was once a Jew who went out into the world to fulfill the Biblical command – “Tzedek tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice shall you pursue.” [Deuteronomy. 26:20]

Many years passed before the man had explored the known world, except for one last great forest into which he entered. There in the forest he came upon a cave of thieves who mocked him: “Do you expect to find justice here?”

He then went into a hut of witches who laughed at him as well: “Do you expect to find justice here?”

At last he arrived at a fragile clay hut, and through the window he could see many flickering flames. He wondered why they were burning. He then knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As soon as he entered, the hut appeared much larger than it had from outside. He saw hundreds of shelves, and on every shelf were dozens of oil candles. Some were sitting in holders of gold, silver or marble, and others were in modest clay or tin holders. Some were filled with oil and had straight wicks with brightly burning flames. Others had very little oil remaining and were about to sputter out.

An old man robed in white with a flowing white beard stood before him: “Shalom Aleichem, my son. How can I help you?”

The Jew said: “Aleichem shalom. I have gone everywhere searching for justice, but never have I seen anything like this. Tell me, what are all these candles?”

The old man said: “Each is a person’s soul,” as it says – ‘Ner Adonai nishmat Adam – The candle of God is the human soul.’ [Proverbs 20:27] As long as that person is alive the candle burns; but, when the person’s soul takes leave of this world, the candle burns out.”

The Jew who sought justice said: “Can you show me the candle of my soul?”

The old man beckoned: “Follow me.”

He led the Jew through the labyrinth of the cottage until they reached a low shelf, and there the old man pointed to a candle in a clay holder, “That is the candle of your soul.”

A great fear suddenly enveloped the Jew for the candle’s wick was short with little oil remaining. Was it possible for the end of his life to be so near without his having known it?

He then noticed the candle next to his own that was filled with oil, its wick long and straight, its flame burning brightly.

“Whose candle is that?” he wanted to know.

“I can only reveal each person’s candle to him or herself alone,” the old man said, and he left the Jew there alone.

The Jew stood there staring at his candle, and then heard a sputtering sound. When he looked up he saw smoke rising from another shelf. He knew that somewhere someone was no longer among the living. He looked back at his own candle, turned to the candle next to his own, so filled with oil, and a terrible thought came to him.

He searched for the old man, but didn’t see him. He lifted the candle filled with oil and a long brightly burning wick and he held it up just above his own. At once the old man reappeared and gripped his arm, saying: “Is THIS the kind of justice you seek?”

The Jew closed his eyes because the pain of the old man’s grip on his arm was so very great. When he opened them at last the old man was gone and the cottage and candles had disappeared. He stood there alone in the forest listening to the trees whispering his fate.”

This story, as told by Howard Schwartz, is not really about the objective state of justice in the world. Rather, it is about the commitment to justice each one of us has made. The old man (Was he God, The Angel of Death, The Keeper of Human Souls, one of the Lamed Vavniks – 36 righteous people who permit the world to survive?) became angry when the Jew tried to extend his own life at the expense of another.

The story uncovers a test – to what degree have we internalized Judaism’s moral principles and performed them in the world?

The month of Elul began last Saturday evening and ushered in a 40-day period in which we are called upon to do t’shuvah (turn and return to lives of dignity, integrity and decency) leading to Yom Kippur. We are as if living in our own great forest and God is calling to us: “Ayeka – Where are you?” (Genesis 3:9).

Like the first man and first woman in the Garden of Eden, there is no place for us to hide. What is in our hearts must be a reflection of the deeds we perform and the values we embody.

Shabbat shalom!
The Torah portion for this week is Shoftim in which is the verse – “Tzedek tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice shall you pursue” appears. [Deuteronomy 16:20]

Source of story: Howard Schwartz included this story in his book The Tree of Souls: The Mythology of Judaism. It is based on tale by Zevulon Qort who received it from Ben Zion Asherov of Afghanistan. I have edited the original telling.

Come for One Hour of Peace, Connection and Cultural Detox

07 Friday Aug 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

Most of us are over-programmed, disjointed and stressed out. Living in the fast lane isn’t everything that it’s cracked up to be, nor does such a life bring us what we really need deep down – a day simply to be without doing, to love without feeling lonely, to celebrate without worrying, to retrieve simplicity and dispel clutter.

Shabbat is a radical and ancient notion, one that the Jewish people gave to the world 3000 years ago. It’s a day to live counter-culturally, to protest against the domination of consumerism and materialism over our lives.

Through Shabbat, Jews have an opportunity to rediscover family and friends, and to experience why it’s important to take a day to co-exist in the world without having to change or transform it.

Many of us did not grow up with traditional Judaism in our homes, though we may be Jews and strongly identifying. We don’t know very much about Judaism, Hebrew and ritual, and our not knowing feels intimidating and embarrassing. We would rather stay away than feel bad, so we don’t come to synagogue except on state occasions when we can disappear into the crowd.

Let me say this to those of you who feel this way! Stop it! We in established synagogues all over the country want you to come for Shabbat and we don’t care how much you know or don’t know. We just want you. The more frequently you come, the more comfortable you will be. This, I know to be true.

At Friday evening services synagogues sing together, are quiet together, celebrate baby namings, upcoming b’nai mitzvah and weddings, conversions to Judaism, milestone wedding anniversaries and birthdays, and we grieve together and say the Mourner’s Kaddish when we lose our loved ones. We also talk Torah and see its relevance in our lives today. We think, we reconnect and we let go.

That’s what Shabbat is and every synagogue is open for you to join us, young and old, for one hour each week. Come together, or come alone. Plan to meet a friend and return home for a Shabbos meal.

Make every Shabbat evening a weekly date with yourself, to reconnect, to meet fellow congregants, or others about whom you care and love. Everyone is welcome – member and non-member, Jew and those from other traditions alike. We are open communities and want you.

If the service start-time is inconvenient, then leave work early on Fridays and work late another evening during the week. Work out an arrangement with your employer explaining that you want/need to celebrate Shabbat.

Give yourself a gift of one hour of Shabbos each week. Reconsider your priorities and the way you spend your time. Start your weekend together in community.

The greatest benefit of Shabbat is the experience of a replenishing rest, a rest that spills over into our weeks, our years, our lives.

A study conducted at Duke University found that those who attend religious services once a week and are part of a caring religious community add years to their lives, reduce stress, and end up in the hospital significantly less than those who don’t pray.

Singing the blessings together over light, wine and challah and eating a good meal are activities that center all of us.

Even the most harried workdays become tolerable when we know that a day of sacred peace is shortly arriving.

Shabbat returns us to the first light of creation, to the Garden of Eden of oneness and to a reunion with our innermost selves, with our loved ones, our people, and God.

Shabbat is a rekindler of light, a restorer of soul, a bridge linking heaven and earth.

Come join us and remember the Psalmist’s words: “This is the day God has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Note: If you are already a member of a synagogue, I hope you will take full advantage of its religious community. If not, shop around and find the place that feels comfortable for you. As the Senior Rabbi of Temple Israel of Hollywood, we welcome anyone who would like to join us. Our services on Friday evenings all begin at 6:30 PM and conclude by 7:30 PM.

Shabbat shalom!

Hearing God’s Voice and the Importance of a Dot! – D’var Torah Naso

29 Thursday May 2014

Posted by in Divrei Torah, Ethics, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

“Va-y’hi b’yom kalot Moshe l’hakim et ha-mish’kan – On the day that Moses finished setting up the Tabernacle, he anointed and consecrated it and all its furnishings ….” (Numbers 7:1)

This final chapter of Parashat Naso then lists in detail the names of the tribes and their offerings, concluding in verse 89:

“When Moses went into the Tent of Meeting to speak with Him, he [Moses] would hear the Voice addressing him from above the cover that was on top of the Ark of the Pact between the two cherubim; thus He (God) spoke to him (Moses).”

All seems straightforward enough, but there’s an odd grammatical irregularity involving a single “dot” (called a dagesh) in one of the letters in one of the words in this final verse that doesn’t seem to belong.

The verb l’dabeir (Hebrew root – daled-bet-resh – “to speak”) appears three times in this verse:

“When Moses went into the Tent of Meeting to speak (L’da-beir) with Him [God], he [Moses] would hear the Voice addressing him (m’da-beir) from above the cover that was on top of the Ark of the Pact between the two cherubim [winged angels]; thus He (God) spoke (va-y’da-beir) to him (Moses).”

Grammarians teach that the verb “l’da-beir – to speak” is a piel construction. Every piel verb includes a dagesh (a dot) in the middle letter of the three-letter Hebrew root sometimes changing the sound of the letter and sometimes not – in this case the dagesh changes the vet to a bet. However, the verb m’da-beir as it appears here has two dageshim, one where we expect it (in the middle letter bet) and the other in the first letter of the three-letter root, daled, where we do NOT expect to see it.

A little thing; an insignificant thing not worth worrying about! Right!?

Not so fast. There are twenty such occurrences in the Hebrew Bible of a dagesh appearing in the first letter where it doesn’t normally belong, and in six of those times the dagesh is in this particular verb – daled-bet-resh. (Genesis 32:29, Exodus 34:33, 1 Samuel 25:17, 2 Samuel 14:13, and Psalms 34:14; 52:5. I am grateful to Rabbi Michael Curasick who pointed this out.)

What does this dagesh-dot indicate in our verse – m’da-beir? That’s the question, and as you will soon see, that little dot changes the meaning of the verse itself and shines a theological light on what might have really taken place between God and Moses in the Tent of Meeting.

Abraham ibn Ezra (11th century Spain) and Rashi (11th century France) both conclude that this verb m’da-beir is not in the piel verbal construction at all, but rather is a hit’pa-el verb, and so the dagesh in the first letter daled isn’t an emphasis mark but rather stands in for a missing letter – tav – making the original word not m’da-beir, but mit’da-beir.

Piel verbs tend to be active and intensive verbs – hit’pa-el verbs tend to be reflexive. If Ibn Ezra and Rashi are right, and it makes sense that they are given the twenty other occasions where this occurs and the special relationship between God and Moses, our verse doesn’t mean that “[God’s] voice spoke (m’da-beir) to Moses …” but rather “God was speaking to Himself and Moses overheard.” (Rashi)

Rabbi Bachya ben Asher (13th century Spain) explains further that God intended that the words He spoke in the tent of meeting were meant only for Moses to overhear, and that no one else, not Aaron, not any of the tribal chieftains could do so, thus demonstrating “the enormous spiritual stature of Moses compared to all other subsequent prophets…that Moses had attained the ultimate level of spirituality that is possible for a human being to attain while alive on earth.” (Rabbeinu Bachya, translated by Eliahu Munk, vol. 6, p. 1955)

Everett Fox (The Five Books of Moses – The Schocken Bible, Volume 1, p. 695) translates m’da-beir as a “voice continually-speaking,” as though Moses walked into the Tent and the radio was on all day long.

There are several lessons here for us?

First, none of us is a Moses, and whether or not we can hear God’s voice or not is irrelevant to the truth that God is “continually-speaking” not only in the Tent of Meeting, but everywhere.

Second, it is consequently upon us to strive always to evolve spiritually, to attune ourselves intently to every sound around us, however slight, to listen carefully for God’s voice in the multiplicity of ways that are possible, as well as to our own inner voice and to the voices of others.

And finally, hearing ourselves and hearing each other more acutely may be the path for us to be able to hear God’s voice too. After all, does not God’s voice speak through each one of us?

Shabbat shalom!

 

 

 

 

Does the Command to “Love Our Fellows” Include “Loving Our Enemies Too?”

25 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

In this week’s Torah portion Kedoshim a verse appears in the very center of the portion that Rabbi Akiva called “Klal gadol baTorah – a great rule of the Torah.”

The verse is among the most famous in the Bible, and I believe among the most misunderstood – “V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha… You shall love your fellow/neighbor as yourself….” (Leviticus 19:18)

There are at least three questions this verse raises. The first is how a human being can be commanded to feel love?

Actually, we can’t, which means that the mitzvah to “love” must be understood as involving something other than feelings.

The spiritual teacher David Steindl-Rast writes that there’s one thing that characterizes “love” in all its forms – erotic, romantic, familial, tribal, national, spiritual, religious, even love we feel for our pets – and it is found in our yearning to belong to and be connected with something greater than ourselves.

“Love,” he says “is a wholehearted [and willful] ‘yes’ to belonging” (Essential Writings, p. 73) with all the implications that attachment to, responsibility for and accountability with others bring.

Our yearning to belong opens us to greater understanding of who we really are and what our role is in the world. That yearning links us heart to heart with others, with creatures large and small, with nature, the universe, the cosmos, and God.

Jewish mystics have taught for centuries a central truth, just as scientists today have concluded, that we are physically and spiritually part of a vast Oneness. We share common origins and a common destiny with each other, with every people and nation, and because of this we’re responsible for one another and accountable for how we behave with friend, foe and stranger alike.

Too often our idea of “self” as suggested in “You shall love your fellow as yourself,” is limited to our little egos. If that verse, however, is to mean something, then we need to think about “love” differently; not as a feeling alone, but as an attitude of the heart.

V’ahavta understood this way enables us to fulfill the commandment because our response is not based in a feeling but as an act of will that we exercise when we take responsibility for others because we belong to each other as part of the great Oneness of humankind.

What does it mean then to “love” someone as we love ourselves?

Rambam taught that if it’s ever a toss-up between saving our own lives and saving another, we’re obligated to save our own lives first.

Ramban (a century later) interprets the mitzvah as meaning that what we wish for ourselves we must also wish for others whether we know them or not.

The third question is perhaps the most challenging. Does this commandment call upon us actually to “love” our enemies in some way?

No. Indeed, there are some people we cannot wish well as we wish for ourselves because their deeds have been too heinous to tolerate or forgive.

That being said, I’ll never forget a speech delivered nearly thirty-six years ago on the White House lawn by Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin on the occasion of the signing of the Camp David Peace Accords with Egypt.

Begin told the world that day that the Jewish people considers it amongst the greatest of mitzvot to make of a “ra” ( an “evil” person –an enemy) into a “rea” (“a fellow” – a friend).

Though Egypt and Israel are hardly “friends” as we understand friendship between nations, it’s a fact that since that day, September 17, 1978, there has not been one day of war between Israel and Egypt.

There are many examples in which enemies have been transformed into “fellows” by sincere t’shuvah (penitence) and s’lichah (forgiveness) on the part of one or both parties.

Though Judaism doesn’t command us to “love” our enemies, tradition does require us to give a penitent person a chance at reconciliation.

As a people we’re only required to act ethically towards our enemies thereby leaving open the possibility of transformation should circumstances warrant it (see Exodus 23:4).

This week negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians verge on derailment, but we need to remember that once Germany was the Jewish people’s greatest enemy and today Germany is the least anti-Semitic country in Europe.

Germany and Japan were bitter foes of America seventy years ago, and Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland were killing each other. Today, these former enemies have laid down their guns and established peace.

My Israeli friend, Yaron Shavit, likes to say – “B’Yisrael ye-ush lo optsia! – In Israel, despair is not an option!”

That is an important attitude to remember as we keep open our hearts that we may now or in the future fulfill the mitzvah “V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha!”

Shabbat shalom!

 

 

 

Erotic Poem, Intra-Divine Allegory – or Both?

18 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Beauty in Nature, Divrei Torah, Holidays, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

“The world is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel, for all the writings are holy, but the Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies.”

So said Rabbi Akiva (2nd century Palestine), who believed that The Song of Songs, traditionally attributed to King Solomon as a young man, is an allegory between two lovers, God and Israel.

According to Moshe Idel, Professor of Jewish Thought at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Kabbalah – New Perspectives, 1990), the 12th century Spanish mystic, Rabbi Ezra ben Solomon of Gerona, the 13th century Castilian mystic, Rabbi Isaac ibn Avi Sahula, and others focus on what are called the theosophical processes taking place between the two lower Sefirot of Tiferet (symbolized by the bridegroom) and Malchut (symbolized by the bride). According to these Kabbalists, both the biblical description and human love itself reflect or symbolize higher events within the metaphysical structure of God. (p. 206)

In other accounts, such as that of the 13th century Spanish Kabbalist, Avraham ben Shmuel Abulafia, The Song of Songs is an allegory of the intellect and its union with God.

These allegorical interpretations of The Song of Songs, beginning with Rabbi Akiva, are the basis upon which The Song of Songs is read each year on the Shabbat during Pesach, for it is then that we celebrate our people’s redemption on the one hand and the hoped-for-redemption of God within God’s Divine Self on the other.

All that being said, this extraordinarily enriched poetry seems at first glance to be a purely secular poem (God’s Name is never mentioned) celebrating young, sensuous and erotic love, the passionate draw of two lovers yearning for relief from their existential loneliness:

“For Love is strong as death / Harsh as the grave. / Its tongues are flames, a fierce / And holy blaze” (8:6 – Translation by Marcia Falk)

Taking the Songs as a secular poem, an allegory, or both, the emotional and spiritual longing can be sated only by one’s human and/or Divine lover.

The great Rav Avraham Isaac Kook wrote of the higher love this way (Translation by Ben Zion Bokser):

“Expanses divine my soul craves. / Confine me not in cages, / of substance or of spirit.

I am love-sick / I thirst, / I thirst for God, / as a deer for water brooks.

Alas, who can describe my pain? / Who will be a violin / to express the songs of my grief?

I am bound to the world, / all creatures, / all people are my friends.

Many parts of my soul / are intertwined with them, / But how can I share with them my light.”

          Shabbat shalom and Moadim L’simchah!