Shabbat Greetings - Parshat Emor

We are now in that seven-week period between Passover and the holiday of Shavuot (“the Festival of Weeks”) which falls on the fiftieth day. This seven-week period of “Counting the Omer” is marked by an intense journey of emotional refinement. Following the lesson of our kabbalistic traditions, Rabbi Simon Jacobson of the Meaningful Life Center suggests that each of the forty-nine days of this seven-week period corresponds to one aspect of our seven emotional attributes – love, discipline, harmony, endurance, humility, bonding, and nobility – as they manifest in combination with each other [for a total of forty-nine combinations].

So in the first week, those of us who have undertaken this practice began with the emotional attribute of love, working to refine love within love, discipline within love, harmony within love, and so forth. The second week, we worked on the seven aspects of discipline, and this week we are working on the seven aspects of harmony.

This work in character development, however, begs the question: Can we indeed do much of anything to change our personalities? It does seem that we come into this world with a particular, distinct nature, and it seems “unnatural” to try to change it. There was a perfect example this past week.

After ten years of the greatest manhunt in history, Osama bin Laden, the mastermind of the most devastating attack on American soil in modern times, was killed by U.S. forces in Pakistan. Almost a decade from the day when President Bush declared that we will get him “dead or alive,” the man is now dead at age 54, put to rest at sea, never to be heard from again.

Would you believe it? Ten years have passed since the day that everyone remembers, a day that has become seared into our consciousness as “9/11”. Much has transpired in this past decade – many accomplishments and many tragedies – but despite them all, the images of 9/11, especially that of the fallen towers has always cast a long shadow which would not go away … together with the elusive Osama Bin Laden, who remained almost mythically beyond our reach. Justice has been done, to quote the words of President Obama, and in celebration many Americans have taken to the streets in mass euphoria. Whether you agree with that jubilation or not (more on that in a moment), how can you not feel some vindication and relief over the demise of a man who was responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent men, women and children, and in the process changed the way we live our lives – a person who became the face of terror in the world? I mean, finally, after all the grief and disruption caused by 9/11, we have a bit of closure!

But, as the euphoria dies down, and we look beyond the legitimate emotions, we must ask: What is the bigger story here? What lessons can we derive from the end of this chapter? What does the Torah say about such an event? How are we Jews to look at it?

The Baal Shem Tov teaches us that every detail in life is driven by Divine Providence and contains personal and global lessons for us. How much more so, this event – the killing of Bin Laden – a man who led an effort that has disrupted billions of lives, and whose death now has captured the attention of so many billions of people. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to understand that Bin Laden’s death does not mark the death of terrorism, nor bring to an end the challenges facing the Arab/Muslim world today and its confrontations with the West. Indeed, think about the 10 (!) years it took to capture Bin Laden, and the surprising discovery that he was hiding not in some obscure cave in the Afghanistan wilderness, but in a multi-million compound in an affluent community in Pakistan, just a third of a mile away from a military base. All this underscores the thorny complexity of our relationship with the Muslim world, and leads us to ask: Was Pakistan complicit in protecting him? And how many Muslims would prefer Bin Laden over the West?

What this tells us is that despite the momentary victory that the killing of Osama bin Laden brings, the story is far from over. And it would be wise to glean lessons from this event that will inform us in the future as we shape long term strategies, beyond the current short-lived celebration.

One of the most unique elements of Jewish thought is that even evil offers us life lessons. Perhaps that is one way of redeeming the negative. So, even Osama bin Laden – a person who became the face of global terror and evil, a person who became equated in the American imagination with the likes of Stalin and Hitler (who incidentally was also declared dead on May 1, 66 years ago) – even he can offer us lessons for our own lives that will help us face future challenges.

In this week’s Torah portion, Emor (Leviticus 21:1-24:23) we read about the precept, “I shall be sanctified among the children of Israel (Lev. 22:32),” which implies the duty to “sanctify the Name” by giving up one's life, if necessary, rather than betray our covenant with God.

Judaism is a culture of life, not a culture of death. Jews are totally committed to living a life that God mandated to the point that they are ready to die for it. Because a life worth living is one in which you live for something that you are ready to die for, but never one that seeks out death. In other words, your commitment is unconditional, not optional, but not one that aspires death. The Torah advocates love and sanctity of life. “You shall live by them (Torah and its commandments) and not die by them.”(Leviticus 18:5. Sanhedrin 74a. Rambam, Mishnah Torah, Hilchot Yetodei haTorah 5:1) Contrast that with Osama bin Laden’s statement in November 2001: “We love death. The US loves life. That is the difference between us two.” Bin Laden evidently missed the verse in Proverbs (8:36): “All those who hate me love death.” The aim of the entire Torah is to bring peace to this world, as it says, “its ways are pleasant ways and all its paths are peace.”( Rambam, conclusion of Laws of Chanukah. Proverbs 3:16)

In the Book of Proverbs (24:17-18), we learn: “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice, and when he stumbles, let your heart not exult, lest God see and be displeased, and turn God’s wrath away from him.” The Talmud teaches the same lesson with the following story: “When the Egyptians were drowning in the Sea of Reeds, the angels wanted to sing. God said to them, ‘The work of My hands is drowning in the sea, and you want to sing?!’” (Sanhedrin 39b) But then the Book of Proverbs also says, “When the evil perish, there is joyful song.”(11:10) And indeed, though the angels were told not to sing, Moses and the Jewish people raised their voices in song after the parting of the sea, celebrating the death of the drowned Egyptians. And this song has become mainstay of every daily prayer! How do we reconcile the two approaches?

Commentaries offer different opinions, but the most obvious explanation is simple: We don’t rejoice over the death of anyone. We rejoice over the victory of goodness and justice. Our hope is that no human being should ever come to hurt others, and even if he does, he should repent and mend his ways. But if, after it all, a person continues to kill innocent people and remains a threat, we delight in his demise and, above all, in the fact that goodness has prevailed. The Torah, in its infinite sensitivity, is cautioning us not to succumb in the personal indulgence of rejoicing at another’s destruction. We are permitted to sing with joy, but only about the fact that good has been vindicated. We are permitted to sing with joy that justice has prevailed. But, at the same time, we must weep that humans can stoop so low, and that we live in a world where people can still kill innocents in the name of convoluted faith.

With that being said, allow me to add one more point: Some of the jubilation around Bin Laden's death certainly feels shallow and in some circles, even political. But let's face it: This is America and it has its way of celebrating victory, in ways that often looks, especially in this media age, like a simplistic type of "Cowboys and Indians" battle, or the winning of the Super Bowl. At the same time, is this the most important issue to debate now?! Even if one were to argue that some of the celebrating went too far, so what? Just as people grieved a decade ago over a senseless tragedy, give them some slack and allow them to feel some absolution.

On the other hand, this superficiality compels us to look deeper into the lessons of Bin Laden's death, far beyond the hoopla.

It is also interesting to note that the day of Bin Laden’s killing was Day 12 of the Counting of Omer, when we focus on refining the attribute of “humility in discipline.” The results of discipline and might without humility are obvious. The greatest catastrophes have occurred as a result of people sitting in arrogant judgment of others. Who epitomized this more in our times than Bin Laden and his operatives?

This demands us to ask ourselves: Am I arrogant in the name of justice (what I consider just)? Do I ever think that I sit on a higher pedestal and bestow judgment on my subjects below? What about my children? My friends? My students? The lesson: Before judging anyone, insure that you are doing so selflessly with no personal bias.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Greetings - Shabbat HaGadol

Shabbat Greetings

This Shabbat is called Shabbat Ha-Gadol, the Sabbath just prior to Passover which starts Monday evening. The Haftarah for Shabbat Ha-Gadol is from the prophet Malachi, and contains a moving statement on redemption, most appropriate for the season in which the Israelites were redeemed from slavery. Malachi’s message, “Behold I will send you Elijah, the prophet on this GREAT awesome Day…Yom HaGadol V’HaNorah! Passover is about a historical redemption, a time of freedom; the prophet’s promise here is for redemption to come again. When will it come? This redemption, by the coming of a Messiah, and the future is foretold by Elijah, with Elijah serving as the messenger.

My understanding of history, ours and the world’s, indicates that the idea of Messianism leads to a perception of absolutism. Time has proven that it is dangerous and this has provided great pain for humankind. The idea of perfection is equated with impossibility. The weight of our tradition indicates that we live in a world that resides between poles…good and evil, sweet, bitter, holy and profane; that is the human condition. Yet, the figure of Elijah and his promise of redemption is very significant in parts of our ancient tradition.

What’s Elijah going to do when he comes? Well, in a very beautiful expression it says, “The prophet, Elijah will turn the hearts of parents to their children, and children to their parents.” Elijah will bring reconciliation between opposing forces, people who see the world differently, from different places and different perspectives.

If I had to categorize the major problems that people come to me with, I would say that around 80% of them have to do with raising children, have to do with differences between generations, an older generation feeling a younger generation doesn’t take responsibility; a younger generation feeling an older generation doesn’t understand. Today, we are dealing with tremendous challenges, an aging population and the responsibility of families for that. There is transformation taking place in politics and social situations which create a division between the hearts of parents and children. So, Elijah will come and he will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents. What a beautiful notion. The Messiah is contingent on that.

On Monday night, we’re going to welcome Elijah into our homes. Elijah is one of the most popular and beloved biblical figures in Jewish legend and yet there is less known about him than most prophets. We know that he is from Tishbi; it’s a little town in Gilead which is east of the Jordan. Our rabbis have taught us that Elijah was upright, fearless, uncompromising, and a zealous man. Yet, it is his death that propels him into a higher realm. Even though the Book of Kings said that he departed life in a chariot of fire and he was born up to heaven by a whirlwind, the rabbis taught us that Elijah didn’t die, but flew into the heavens.

This gave the rabbis incredible soil to plant their legends and ideas. Based on the personality that is created in the legends of the Midrash, Elijah wandered over the face of the earth in many disguises. Usually, as a Bedouin, like figure from the desert, where he would act as a messenger of God, he would warn people when they were facing disaster. He’d feed the hungry and shelter the needy. He would advise people how to improve their condition and the world. He especially appeared in times of great distress and danger. Elijah would bring consolation to the outcasts of society, to the afflicted and Elijah would also test the arrogant. Elijah’s name became associated with hope and expectation. He became the model of giving. And he would herald the time when all would be well, all would be equal, the world will be at peace. And that is his chief role on this holiday. He is the prophet of hope, the symbol of a dream. As our people experienced redemption in history one time after years of oppression and hate we would once again find a place of comfort.

Later on, the rabbis in the Talmud evoke Elijah as the solver of all the problems we have and the difficult questions we cannot answer. The message in the Talmud is that there is a realization that not all questions have answers. None of us can know all the answers even if they did exist. All the legal difficulties that are unresolved will accumulate and someday there will be an answer, but not now. We have to live with contradictions and we have to learn with uncertainty. That I believe is the sign of spiritual maturity. Elijah will do this and when he finally comes at the end of the day, in this legend, the answers will become clear and that will denote the coming of the Messiah. So, Elijah has played a very important purpose as a symbol of a world that will be redeemed, as a symbol for a world that needs redemption, a better world. Elijah symbolizes a world where there is reconciliation in families, where problems are solved; a world that is ready to accept the Messiah.

Did you know that there are rabbinic arguments about the Seder table? Just about everything is questioned and one question is how many cups of wine? We all assume there are four, but there are some who say there are five based on a passage in Exodus(6:6-8). Today we have four cups and a fifth cup is the cup of Elijah. Maybe, he will come to our Seder table and he will drink of it himself.

The Rabbis taught that Elijah comes to the naming of our children. A special chair is there - Kisei Eliyahu - and his purpose there at that time, at that moment of is to express the great hope in a young couple’s life as they celebrate their newborn entering into the covenant of the people Israel. Could there be a moment of greater hope? So, we welcome Elijah and give him a chair that is supposed to have mystical powers.

Even with all of this, the Baal Shem Tov offers the best understanding of Elijah and fits modern Judaism well. He said, “You don’t have to be afraid. When Elijah comes, he will come not through that door, not at all. Elijah is going to come through your heart.” If redemption comes to the world, the secret of redemption will be when people’s hearts are open to each other. When people’s hearts are open to life, then they will respect each other, they will listen to each other. Children and parents will not become one; children and parents will get even closer as they live with each other’s differences. Elijah is a symbol of the ability to live with questions, disagreement, uncertainty…and move forward retaining hope.

Passover is a time of openness. We are to open to our hearts, to new possibilities, to new growth. Hope is a constant companion of the Jewish people. Our hope in the coming of a Messiah, a Messianic period cannot be rooted in either an empty ritual, in words which are sung or myth, but rather must be transformed into action. Ultimately the changes that need to be made in the world are made by each one of us. We create the conditions for redemption when we teach respect for all, work for the end of poverty and oppression, and help repair our world. Yearning for better days will not just happen through faith or words, but rather action. That’s the essence of the Jewish vision. We hope, we pray, we learn and through it all we need to be transformed to take responsibility for the world we live in. May your Pesach be sweet.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Greetings - Parshat Metzora

Have you ever felt alone? Have you ever had a sense of “not belonging” … isolated … rejected … shunned like a pariah?

As social creatures, whose wholesomeness is dependent on being with others, feeling separate and apart can be most distressing to the emotional wellbeing of our psyches. None of us are immune to the occasional experience of loneliness and rejection, and abandonment can be especially devastating to young people.

We know that kids can be cruel. But their cruelty, like their moods, tempers and emotions tend to flare and die away. A few minutes after a bitter feud, they are laughing together like nothing has happened. Unfortunately, modern technology has introduced another level to the common spat among kids, especially teenagers, though there have been stories of kids as young as nine who were bruised (and even damaged) by this new way of communicating taunts, insults and even explicit pictures.

Facebook, Twitter and cellular texting allow kids to ridicule their friends, peers or neighbors, impersonate them, lie about them and then disseminate – within seconds – that hurtful talk to the entire class or social circle. When the recipients forward such messages, the effect on the victim and his or her family can be devastating. Why? As the New York Times reported, “Online bullying can be more psychologically savage than schoolyard bullying. The Internet erases inhibitions, with adolescents often going further online than they could ever in person.” (December 4, 2010)

This phenomenon has become so common that it has a name of its own – “cyber-bullying” – and it has already been the subject of several studies. Further in the New York Times, it graphically described this newest social problem, highlighting a number of tragic stories, including that of a 13-year-old boy, a new arrival at school, who was so viciously taunted that he and his family nearly moved out of town due to the hurt and harassment. In short, this boy became a pariah. And that brings us to today’s topic. How does someone who becomes a pariah in society – for whatever reason – recover their sense of self worth and belonging?

The Torah addresses the problem of the social outcast in this week’s reading – Metzora (Leviticus 14:1 – 15:33), which at first glance may seem obscure and irrelevant to our modern times. For the Torah discusses here the metzora, a person afflicted with a spiritual, leper-like disease who was sequestered from the community and banished to live alone outside of the camp until he was healed. But upon a deeper look, the “law of the leper” contains some very relevant lessons to our lives today concerning those who feel shunned by society for whatever reason.

What is a leper? A leper is someone suffering from a horribly disfiguring disease caused by bacteria. Left untreated, leprosy can be progressive, causing open skin lesions and resulting in tissue loss that causes permanent deformation. Because of this terrible, highly contagious disease, lepers have always been social outcasts. So much so that, in today’s English, the word leper is most often used to denote somebody shunned by society – synonymous with “reject” or “pariah.” The Torah calls him metzora. But Torah’s leper is not an ordinary leper, for the Torah is speaking about a person with another problem altogether, a spiritual problem with physical manifestations, not a leprous bacterial infection. The rabbi/physician, Moses Maimonides writes that this disease – which, in his understanding, occurred primarily in spiritually advanced individuals whose body functions were subject to their spiritual state – does not exist today.(Yad, Tumat Tzara’at 16:10)

So what relevance can this possibly have for our modern lives? Since the very word “Torah” means “instruction” (from the Hebrew hora’ah), we must assume that the chapters pertaining to the metzora do contain timeless lessons. Furthermore, these lessons must be of crucial importance as the Torah devotes two full chapters (comprising nearly 100 verses) – in Parshat Tazria and Parshat Metzora – to the subject of this pariah, and how he or she can be healed and re-introduced into society. But odd as it may seem, the introduction to the discussion of the leper – which is obviously linked with it in the same Torah reading – does not mention anything repellent at all. Indeed, it speaks of a pure miracle: conception and childbirth.

The rabbis do actually comment on the fact that these two Torah portions (Tazria and Metzora) are often read together – though not this year because it is a leap year. And that their juxtaposition does bring about a bizarre convergence of these two paradoxical elements: the power and beauty of conception and birth, and the degradation and lowliness of the leper. Indeed, Sefer Yetzirah (the Kabbalistic “Book of Formation”) states:

“Nothing is higher than pleasure (oneg). Nothing is lower than leprosy (negah).” Oneg and negah consist of the same three Hebrew letters: ayin-nun-gimmel. When the ayin comes first it creates oneg (“pleasure”), but when the letters are re-organized and the nun comes first, it creates negah (a leprous curse”). There is no greater pleasure (oneg) than birth. But pleasure is only possible and appreciated when contrasted with something unpleasant.

In reply to Job’s timeless question “Why do people suffer?” God replied (in short): “If there was no life there would be no pain, if there was no birth there would be no death, if there were no pleasure there would be no suffering.”(Job Chapters 38-39) Negah is a form of death (for the leper is considered as “dead”). Yet the same letters slightly re-organized describe the deepest pleasure of birth.

It is perhaps the most fundamental truth of all truths – and the basis of the entire Torah – that every individual was created in the Divine Image, each with a pure soul, and no matter what happens in one’s lifetime, the sacred innocence remains intact. Perhaps cloaked, obscured, even to the point of total concealment, but still flickering in some way, waiting to be fanned into a flame. This applies even to the child who grew up in the most abusive home, where instead of being nurtured he or she was hurt and rejected. This applies to a child who was bullied at school, ostracized and friendless. Any damage done, any wounds incurred, are only on the exterior, conscious level. The inner soul can never be damaged by another. It always maintains its potency, and with effort and persistence, it can be brought back to the surface.

This is the meaning of the two Torah portions which discuss the leper, Tazria and Metzora. Out of the pariah’s isolation greatness can be conceived. True, the leper is a lonely sufferer, outside the camp and community, but the Torah also relates how this is part of the process of his healing.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Greetings

Dear Friends:

Each Erev Shabbat morning, I will post a weekly interpretation on the weekly parsha. Enjoy!

Rabbi Malinger