Reflections on Holocaust Remembrance Day

Tomorrow, April 19/27 Nissan, is celebrated as Holocaust Remembrance Day, or in Hebrew, Yom HaShoah v’haGevurah.

What is the enduring lesson of the Holocaust?

A generation ago, the Holocaust was taught as a lesson of man’s inhumanity to man; of the power of an artificial ideology to blind us to very real human anguish, and to deafen us to the bloodcurdling cries of the women and children. It was a lesson in Hannah Arendt’s eloquent characterization of the banality of evil. The Holocaust reminded us that despite two millennia of progress, Western Civilization was no more ethically advanced than the barbarians of old. And lastly, the Holocaust reminded us that evil, in its purest and most unalloyed form, exists within us all, and we must be forever on guard against it.

Today, however, the message has morphed into something more…sanitized. A meaningful discussion of good and evil is problematic, because it bespeaks a moral absolutism which is no longer fashionable. Instead, the Holocaust is now an object lesson in ‘tolerance,’ as we are encouraged to exhibit tolerance of the ‘other.’ Antisemitism has been distilled down to something less vexing and far more palatable, viz., a specialized form of intolerance. A piece of cake to understand. It is taken as axiomatic that if only everyone were more tolerant (or less intolerant?) of others, the world would be a much better place.

The new and improved Holocaust (ver. 2.1.0) is no longer a uniquely Jewish tragedy. After all, the Nazis ym”sh also harassed and persecuted trade unionists and communists, gypsys and homosexuals, Lutherans and Catholics. The German people themselves were the real victims of Nazism; just ask them.

Like a simple algebra equation, “x” = oppressor, “y” = oppressed. We plug in whichever values suit the moment.

So we have come to a place where Holocaust education is about inculcating tolerance for alternative lifestyles; for LGBT activists; for those living on the fringes of society; and presumably, for satanists, murderers, pedophiles, Holocaust deniers, and any other “other” we can identify with our values-neutral goggles.

And perhaps in the cruelest twist of all, the Jew is the new Nazi, oppressing, persecuting and driving the aboriginal Arab from his land. Yes, dear reader, the lesson of the Holocaust is…Palestinian Rights in the Jewish Apartheid Regime.

The immense tragedy of the Holocaust is compounded because we have not learned the proper lessons from it, and are thus doomed to repeat it. The Iranians apparently read Santayana.

So in light of the foregoing, please tolerate and consider an-other, alternative perspective, a classical understanding if you will, of the meaning of the Holocaust.

On every major Jewish holiday, we say the following prayer: “Because of our sins, we were exiled from our country, and distanced from our land [of Israel.]” Any meaningful understanding of the Holocaust has to begin in the context of a reflection on the nature of, and the reasons for, the Dispersion.

In the Book of Exodus, the A-lmighty charges the Jewish people to be a Kingdom of Priests and Holy Nation. It is our Divine mission; it is to illuminate our every act, infuse our every utterance. In the dark world of three millennia ago, Judaism alone held up the banner of morality, of compassion, and of hope against polytheism, chaos, nihilism and frank evil. So impeccable was to be our example of righteousness that the nations of the world would declare, “what a wise, knowledgeable and great nation is Israel! For what other nation has the A-lmighty so nearby, that they may call out to Him at will? And what other nation has such a codex of righteous statutes as their Torah?” Through our passionate deeds and words, the knowledge of the One True Gcd would be known, acknowledged and sanctified in the world.

To our unending sorrow, we stumbled in that mission. Within a relatively short time, the first Jewish Commonwealth was split in two, and the seductive Canaanite pagan cults were never successfully uprooted from the fields and minds of the Jewish common folk. Jew fought Jew, Torah observance lapsed, and the storm clouds of Assyria, Babylonia and Rome darkened our skies. Our current exile followed, and we have lived with the sequelae of our failure almost without interruption since that tragic time; indeed, we feel its rumblings down to our very day.

The evil we endured under the Nazis ym”sh was born of a worldview which not only rejected the notion of a Jewish moral beacon, but actively and aggressively sought to eliminate the Jew and his message from the world, root and branch. The Nazis were attempting the mass murder of an idea as much as a people, because evil cannot flourish in the presence of goodness.

Furthermore, and to their enduring shame, the nations of the world stood idly by. While perhaps not being as savage as the Nazis, they were not very enamored of the Jewish message, either. There was little objection to the premise that the world would be a better place without the Jew.

“Because of our sins, we were exiled from our country, and distanced from our land.” The attempt to understand the enormity of the destruction of European Judaism begins with a journey inward. I don’t know if it’s possible to teach tolerance to neo-Nazi skinheads, New Black Panthers and Jihadis, but I do know it is possible to change me. This idea, “because of our sins” (in Hebrew, mipnei chata’einu) teaches us that the proper lesson to take from the Holocaust is one of self-reflection, repentance, and re-dedication to the ennobling goals of our Jewish calling; of being Isaiah’s ‘Light unto the Nations.’  

Passover has just ended, and the taste of matzah is still fresh in our mouths. In the Haggadah, we say the following:

…for not only that one [i.e. Pharaoh] arose to destroy us; but in every generation evil people arise to destroy us. And in every case, the Holy One, Blessed be He, rescues us from their hand.”

Maybe that’s why Holocaust Remembrance Day falls right after Passover. The message, the connection, is ineluctable.

If we can act, then we are not truly victims. The Hebrew name for Holocaust Remembrance Day is more accurately translated as “The Day of the Holocaust and Heroism/Resolve.” Evil exists, but we resolve to never be its victims again. We resolve to fight evil in all its forms, wherever it is encountered. The People of Israel live, and the State of Israel lives, while the Nazi regime is gone.

I personally resolve to take upon myself this Holocaust Remembrance Day is a private fast day (b”n); one dedicated to introspection, self-improvement, study of Torah, and connection to Gcd. In so doing, I, along with many others, will sanctify Gcd’s Name in the world, and will bear witness that our six million did not die in vain.

X-Ray Vision

The tragic shooting of Trayvon Martin has catapulted race relations back onto the front pages and into the consciousness of every thoughtful American. While much has already been written on this incident, one perspective has been missing. Specifically, what can Torah teach us about race relations in America?

I had a rebbe, Rabbi Richter, who told our seventh grade class about an amazing audience he once had as a young man with the Hasidic scion of New Square, NY, Rabbi Yaakov Yoseleh Twerski, known as the “Skverer Rebbe,” back in the early ‘60s. People from all walks of life used to line up and wait hours for a private audience with the Rebbe – Skverer Hasidim, hobos, hippies, spiritual seekers of all types. You see, the Rebbe was renowned for his freakish ability to spend but a moment with you and offer you very relevant, very specific advice for what was on your heart. The young Rabbi Richter left the audience quite shaken; and although he never divulged to the class the advice he received from the Skverer Rebbe, he always spoke of the meeting reverently, and said that it changed his life.

How could the Skverer Rebbe get a handle on a person’s true essence in a matter of seconds? Rabbi Richter said that he had a penetrating gaze, almost like he was looking directly into your soul. In other words, he had X-Ray vision.

Do you remember Superman’s X-Ray vision? That guy could see through solid stone walls. (And while we’re on the subject, I wonder where two Jewish boys, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, got the idea of a righteous incorruptible hero, dedicated to truth and justice, wearing a suspiciously “tallit”-looking cape, who brings universal peace and redeems the world from evil? Hmmm. Also, did you know they couldn’t write the comic strip on Fridays? Early on, they story-boarded on a big piece of wood they found lying around the house, but on Fridays Bubbie needed her challah board back! True story. But I digress.)

I wish everybody had Superman’s X-Ray vision. Not to see through solid rock, or to sneak a peek under Lois Lane’s clothing. But rather to have that ability, the Skverer Rebbe’s ability, to see past the externalities, right into a person’s soul.

The Torah is a book of distinctions. The very first sentence says that the first thing the A-lmighty created was difference, distinction, discernment. Heaven and earth. The Torah goes on to speak of many types of distinction – between light and darkness, between good and evil, between the Sabbath day and the six weekdays, and between the unique mission of Israel in the world and the mission of the Nations. But nowhere – nowhere – in the A-lmighty’s book does He distinguish between people based upon skin color.

It can be argued that race relations has been the defining theme of American history. The Founding Fathers grappled with it from the very start of the Republic. At one time, many whites believed that blacks were sub-human, and subjugated, tortured and enslaved them. We have, thank Gcd, emerged from that horror and that blot on our national consciousness. Countless laws and tireless education have ensured equal opportunity for blacks in America; indeed, we have merited to see a black President of the United States, elected by a majority of all Americans.

Most Americans strive to treat their black neighbors with the same respect and consideration they expect for themselves. Many people of good will, and not a few prominent Jews, advocated equal rights for blacks. But that is not enough. The Torah holds us to an even higher standard – the Gcdly standard – the ability to see past the externalities of our neighbor and see his soul. We dare not see a black man or a white man before us – we must see a man, we must see our brother. Because that is the way Gcd sees us.

If we relate to our fellow man, either for good or for ill, primarily on the basis of skin color, we have already lost. Black supremacists are as misguided as white supremacists. Common references to the “Black Community” or the “White Community” or “Black voters” and “White voters” are demeaning and counterproductive.

This is the Torah’s secret: there is no such thing as a black person or a white person. Black people don’t exist, white people don’t exist. It is but a chimera. The only “race” is the human race. I am a person, we are people, you and me, created in the image of Gcd, a soul put on earth by the A-lmighty to fulfill a specific mission, in a specific place, at a specific time.

We must cultivate that intangible faculty, that sixth sense, to see the true essence of our neighbor, to transcend the veils that conceal the soul. What is their character? Are they honest? Are they kind? Are they learned? Are they wise? No physical characteristic can predict these soul traits.

A generation ago, the bad guys wore black uniforms with swastikas and totenkopf insignia on their helmets. It was relatively easy to tell who the enemy was. Today, we live in an age where the enemy wears no uniform; where the bad guy could be holed up in an Afghan cave - or could be the neighbor next door. In our troubled times, we don’t know for sure if every cop is a good guy, or every soldier is on our side, or if we can trust our sons with the parish priest, or if our rabbis, despite their pious garb and public expressions of devotion, are truly exemplars of the blessings of a Torah-directed life. (And let’s not even discuss politicians.) As the footsteps of the Messiah approach and as the human family matures spiritually, it is more important than ever to have X-Ray vision.

It is my hope and prayer that America rises to the Torah standard, to X-Ray vision, to the Skverer Rebbe’s penetrating soul gaze; so that we may finally emerge from the long shadows that slavery has cast on this land, and grow together as brothers, as neighbors, and as friends.

I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke - Reflections on World Peace

בס''ד

PARASHAT TRUMAH DRASH 5772

[Thanks to R' Shlomo Riskin from whom I learned many of the key concepts presented here.]

World Peace. It is so desperately desired by so many. Why, then, is it so elusive? This week's parshah sheds some light - quite literally - on this question.

We learn this week of the construction of the Mishkan, the desert Tabernacle, with all its detailed instructions and specifications. From the description, it must have been compellingly beautiful to behold. "And they will make for me a Mikdash - a sanctified space - that I may dwell among them."

There are two features of the Mishkan that represent Torah: one, of course, is the Ark of the Covenant, which held the Tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were engraved; and the other was the Menorah, the candelabra. Why was there a need for two such symbols? The answers lie in the unique construction details of these spectacular vessels.

How exactly does the Menorah represent Torah? Because it says in Mishlei (Proverbs) that "ner mitzvah v'torah or," a single mitzvah is like a candle, and Torah - the sum of all the individual mitzvahs - is like a brilliant light. The light of the menorah symbolizes the brilliant light of Torah.

But it’s even deeper than that.  If you stand back and look at the Menorah, you'll see it actually looks like a tree. In fact, the Torah describes it as having branches, leaves and flowers.

So when we think of a tree and Torah, what's the first verse that pops into your head? "It is a Tree of Life for those who grab on to it, for those who rely on it will be gladdened." Etz Chaim Hee, again from Mishlei. And when we think of an Etz Chaim, what other Etz Chaim comes to mind? Maybe...the Tree of Life which stands in the center of the Garden of Eden. So the symbolism of the Menorah is meant to suggest to us the pristine harmony of Eden; a piece of art which is itself in perfect balance and symmetry, reflective of the ideal of a world in perfect balance and symmetry; a world where all of its elements work naturally together in the vivifying light of all that is good and holy. In other words – world peace.

This hearkening back to Eden, though, is a universal longing, not just reserved for the Children of Israel. This yearning belongs to all peoples of the world. And this, in fact, is exactly what the Menorah represents: with its seven lights, representing the Seven Laws of the Torah which are incumbent upon all of mankind, projecting its brilliant light outward into the world, the menorah symbolizes the universal Torah that belongs to every person – Christian, Moslem, Buddhist - who seeks closeness with Gcd.

The Ark of the Covenant was hidden away, protected in the bosom of the Holy of Holies, like a priceless treasure. And in that way, it is emblematic of the unique Abrahamitic Covenant between the A-lmighty and the Jewish people, who are described as “Am Segulah”, a Treasured People. The Ark – the introspective, particularistic Torah of Am Yisrael; the Menorah – the expansive, universalistic Torah of the Seven Laws.

To say it in a different way: the sub-structure for world peace was built right into the fabric of Jewish life, of Jewish thought, into the very structure of G-d’s House, right from the outset.

Perhaps this is the deeper meaning of the Midrash that speaks of Moshe's inability to conceptualize the construction of the menorah, until the A-lmighty, as it were, drew him a picture. How, Moshe puzzled, do we achieve the world peace and harmony symbolized by the Menorah? It seems so distant and hard to conceive.  Here, Hashem says, I'll show you.

The nation of Israel is described as “A Kingdom of Priests and a Nation Set Apart.”  In order to fulfill our divine mission to minister, to guide, and to teach the nations about ethical monotheism, we must adhere to the 613 – the Torah of the Ark of the Covenant.

What about the rest of the world? Maybe, like Lou Jacobi quipped, when you’re in love, the whole world is Jewish?”  In fact, Gcd didn’t make the whole world Jewish; the A-lmighty, in his infinite wisdom, created the seventy nations of the world for a reason. Each nation, and each individual member of every nation, has a unique contribution to make to the betterment of the world. Not to become Jewish, but to be true to themselves. Hashem doesn’t desire rigid uniformity from us. In the wonderful diversity of cultures and views, He designed the world to better express ourselves and utilize our unique talents and special insights.  But first, we must acknowledge Gcd as the source of those gifts. Its one teeny tiny thing, but a crucial thing: we have to recognize Gcd’s guidance in human affairs.

It is very important to note that the Menorah was not made of seven billion pieces of gold, all skillfully welded together to form a composite. It was formed from one massive piece of gold, which was then sculpted and shaped into its many individual features.  So it is with humankind; every person, and every nation, has a unique voice, a unique gift, a unique spark of the divine to contribute.  But how do we embark on the task of world peace with a cacophony of seven billion disparate ideas?  We can’t start from a place of individuation.

Like the menorah, every feature, every differentiation, must be fashioned from the same ingot of gold. No welds; its all of a piece. That ingot is the Seven Laws.  From the unity of Gcd’s law flows the diversity of textured harmonic expression. World peace begins the day the nations come to recognize that there is no morality which excludes the A-lmighty. When all people recognize the inherent justice and beauty of the Seven Laws, commanded to us by a Gcd who is totally good, and who desires only good for His creatures; only then can the unique contribution of each individual find its proper expression, and only then will the seeds of world peace begin to sprout. Gcd wants us all – Jew and Gentile - to work together, each in his own capacity and in fulfillment his own divine calling, to help prepare the world for the Kingdom of Heaven (as we say in the Aleinu prayer). That is the message is of the Menorah.

So the first necessary step to perfecting the world is to work on ourselves. It’s relatively easy to hold up a placard at a protest or sit-in; its much harder to become a more educated person, a more refined and sensitive moral agent. That is the mysterious secret ingredient that eludes the well meaning seekers of world peace. For there can be no peace without acknowledging that the basis for human morality and civility can only be found in Gcd, and in the light of His Menorah, and in the light of His Torah. "And they will make for me a Mikdash that I may dwell among them.” Hashem desires to dwell among us – if we will only let him in.

Shabbat Shalom

Feelin' Groovy - Parashat Yitro Drash 5772

בעזרהי''ת

Does anyone remember Steve Martin’s stand up shtick “What I Believe” from the early ‘80’s? It was very funny.  (Look it up on YouTube.) Anyway, in this comedy routine, he raises his hand high and solemnly avers that he believes in “eight - of the Ten Commandments.”

Everybody says they believe in the Ten Commandments, right? If you polled most people they would say that keeping the Ten Commandments is the basis for being a good person. OK, fine. Now ask them to actually LIST the ten…in any order…no rush… [deer in the headlights time]

Let's focus on one of the ones that I think Steve had trouble with, the Tenth Commandment. The pasuk says: Do not covet the house of your friend; do not covet the wife of your friend, his manservant, his maidservant, his ox, his mule, and anything that belongs to your friend.” [Exodus 20:14] 

“Do Not Covet.”  Think about that for a minute. Jealousy or desire is a feeling. How can the A-lmighty legislate our feelings? I get “Keep the Shabbat.” I get “Don’t Murder.” But how can Hashem say to us, “Don’t desire the Bugatti Veyron, the most expensive car in the world, or that hunky guy, or that cute girl, or that magnificent home.”  Isn’t that instant of desire more like an instinct, the green-eyed monster that resides in us all; isn’t something primal that just happens, something over which we have no control?

The Ibn Ezra has an interesting insight into this conundrum. He explains it with a parable: an "average joe" finds a particular supermodel or actress stunningly beautiful. [OK so I’m paraphrasing a wee bitsicule…] Pretty as she may be, he doesn’t really desire her, because he knows deep down that she is unattainable. The Ibn Ezra goes on: and don’t confuse him with someone with irrational desires, like a meshuga who desires to sprout wings and fly like a bird. It’s more akin to a man not desiring his mother, because no matter how beautiful she may be, he is conditioned from childhood that such a liaison is impossible.

Thank you, Rabbi Ibn Ezra. Please take a seat. In this, we have the kernel of an answer to the question.  The Torah here is teaching us something quite remarkable. The Torah is saying to us, “do not be a slave to your desires. Your actions dictate your feelings, not the other way ‘round.” That bears repeating:

Your actions dictate your feelings, not the other way ‘round.

Show me a person who acts on their feelings, and I will show you a person who’s life is total chaos. We all know such people – the drama mamas (and drama daddies.) Their life is a personal private soap opera. We feel bummed out, so we overeat (pass the Haagen Dasz – no, no, the BIG one). We feel stressed out, so we drink to excess. We yearn for approval, so we yield to peer pressure. (You got a tattoo where?) We feel impassioned, so we step out on our spouses. We feel needy, so we steal. We feel rage, so we raise a hand to a spouse or a child, or we vandalize and even murder. We live in an age of no hang-ups, where self-expression is the quintessence of modern art; where every feeling is natural and healthy and is not to be denied.

That the very opposite is true is one of the greatest contributions of Torah to Western thought. Over 3000 years later, Dr. William James, the father of modern psychology, would say “We become what we think about.”  In other words, our thoughts become actions, and our actions control our feelings. [Like, sure, it was his idea…]

Pirkei Avot echoes this theme when it teaches us: “Who is strong? One who conquers their passions.” [Avot 4:1] R’ Yosef Soleveitchick, arguably one of the greatest philosophical minds of the 20th century, Jewish or otherwise, wrote that only when we exercise our most human faculty of reason can we be truly free, for those who act upon emotion, instinct and passion emulate the behavior of animals, who, lacking freedom of choice, can never be free.

We choose our actions, and our actions program our emotions. Let that sink in for a moment. True freedom is making a conscious choice to act. That is why our sages tell us, ‘put on tefillin every day, even if you don’t feel like it. Daven every day, even if you’re not in the mood.’ That is the essence of “mitzvah,”  to do it anyway. Our sages understood that the action performed without proper intent, over time, will reprogram us to feel the mitzvah and we will grow to perform it properly.

The way we observe the Tenth Commandment is to behave in ways that thwart feelings of jealousy or inappropriate desire. So if you’re feeling depressed, plant a garden. If you’re stressed, meditate. If you’re feeling passionate, sing opera. If you’re feeling needful, volunteer at a hospital or at soup kitchen. Feeling rage? Write a poem. DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Whatever you do, if your change your behavior, your feelings will take care of themselves.

What a wonderful, empowering, liberating message! Lo Tachmod is a personal Declaration of Independence. The A-lmighty is telling us: you are no longer slaves to another man; do not fall into the trap of becoming a slave to yourself. True freedom is only to be found in service to Me, and the reward for My service, the performance of Mitzvot,  is a profound soul-peace; loving relationships; a sane, ordered life; health; and length of days to enjoy it all.

Ken tehiye lanu – so may it be for us all!

Shabbat Shalom.

What Now? - Parashat B'Shalach 5772 Drash

בעזרה''ית

[Please review Exodus 16:2 – 17:7]

No sooner are Bnei Yisrael safe from the pursuit of the Egyptian Army, than the complaints begin against Moshe and Aharon. How did we jump so fast from the Song of Joy to the Song of Oy! The transition is quite startling, isn’t it?

Further: these early grumblings vaguely remind us of events we see unfold later in Sefer Bamidbar when the Bnei Yisrael complain that they are sick and tired of the mahn, and demand meat (P’ Bha’alotcha) and when they complain for lack of water after Miriam’s death (P’ Chukat.) Are these complaints qualitatively the same? How do these early events relate to the later ones? And is there a lesson for us in all of this? (Duh, of course there is. Read on.)

To answer these questions, put yourself in the sandals of a Hebrew slave. OK Hebrew slave, you’re a little tired and cranky because you’ve been up all night crossing an ocean – without the benefit of a boat!  As you stand on the far shore of the sea, it’s hard to believe the supernatural storm that raged here last night. The sky is sunny, the water so placid; it’s so flat you could skip rocks. Did it even happen? Did I imagine it?

And then you see it: an Egyptian chariot wheel washed up on the shore, the Pharaoh’s golden crest on the hub glinting in the sun, little waves gently lapping its edge. And it all comes back to you, in every vivid detail. The sounds, the smells.  Oh, it happened, all right.

OK, now what? We’re out. We’re free (I think). What’s the next move?

This is where we pick up the thread of our Parashah. Now what? Refer back to Exodus 12:39 – “…for they had made no provisions for themselves.”

Back in Egypt, everyone was so focused on this monumental, miraculous event, the actual leaving and the whirlwind of miracles that enveloped their leaving that no one – not even Moshe – gave a moment’s thought to the day after.

I remember when we first came home with our newborn twin girls from the hospital, our firstborn. We had spent so much time and invested so much energy in the preparing for the birth! And the great event was behind us now. Here we were, at home.  It was exciting and humbling at the same time. No doctors, nurses, midwives, labor coaches, birth instructors. Just the two of us and these soft, sweet, vulnerable, needy little puff balls. We’re on our own. OK… Now what?

Bnei Yisrael was a newborn nation. Now what? What do we eat and drink? Where are we going to live? When do we travel? These and a million other questions that are generally lumped together and called “Logistics.”  What Moshe needed was a Quartermaster General.

And so this infant nation, incubated in the womb of slavery; this nation, unique in that it was a nation midwived from the belly of another nation, cries out for food and water. This is not an unreasonable request. When a baby’s tummy is empty, she cries, as the Bnei Yisrael does here.

Unlike the complaints we see later in Sefer Bamidbar, the complaints we read of here were born of a legitimate concern over the question of ‘what now.’ And Moshe tells the infant people, “Hashem, our Father, has heard your complaint – and it is legitimate.”

One way to understand the second half of Sefer Shmot and entirety of Sefer Vayikra  is as an answer to the great question of the post-Exodus “what now?” How will we organize ourselves? What will our future society look like? It was scary and exhilirating all at the same time. We were venturing into uncharted territory here. And so in our parashah, the basic provisions of food and water for the people are made. In subsequent parshiot, we will observe the framework of the holy and exalted Jewish Society begin to take on additional form and substance.

Ok, great. If all this is true, why does Moshe backhand the Bnei Yisrael? Ah, Grasshopper, now we come to the point: it was not for what they asked, but for how they asked it. And this is a great lesson we can take from our Parashah. What we say is important, but how we say what we say can be just as important.

When people think of the mitzvah of Shmirat HaLoshon, of guarding our speech, we generally think of avoiding gossip mongering and slander. And that’s proper, as far as it goes. But even when we have something meaningful to say, we must consider the ”how.”  We must consider the effects of our words on others, on the “what now” after our words have sunk in and had their effect.

We all have a natural desire to have our voice heard, and to receive the approval of others for an idea well articulated. We speak cogently and concisely (hopefully!) to make our views known, and to persuade others of their validity. Occasionally, we might even aspire to eloquence.

The Torah, however, calls upon us to do more. Think about your audience – of one or of one thousand. To whom are you speaking? Will your words be received in the spirit which they are intended, or will they be misconstrued? be resented? Or Ch”V will you inadvertently embarrass the other person? Pirkei Avot 2:15 – “Let your friend’s honor be as dear to as your own.”  You can be on base, yet totally off track.

In Masechet Shabbat, 33b, the story is related of Shimon Bar Yochai. He was condemned to death by the Romans, and hid for 13 years in a cave. When he emerged, he saw the Jews of his day involved in mundane pursuits – farming, animal husbandry and the like. This enraged Bar Yochai, who had spent years doing nothing but studying Torah. He fulminated, "How can people engage themselves in matters of this world and neglect matters of the next world?" Whereupon a Heavenly Voice said, "Bar Yochai, go back to the cave! You are not fit for the company of other human beings." Rabbi Shimon went back to the cave, reoriented his perspective, and emerged again. This time, he was able to interact with the people of his generation, and become a great teacher of Torah.

What was so bad about Bar Yochai’s point? Nothing, really. His fault was in the way he expressed himself. The Torah implores us to weigh our words carefully, even the good ones. Don’t speak in haste, or in anger, or in righteous indignation. Take a deep breath. Pause. Ask yourself: how will my words affect others? And maybe – just maybe – I should just be quiet…

Make your words smile. That way, when you do talk, people will be drawn to your message. It is the truly thoughtful person, the Gcdly person, who develops the sensitivity to speak to each person in their own language; to use the gift of speech to elevate, and never to debase; and who weighs the impact of his words, well meant though they may be, on the heart of the listener.

Sadly, we live in an age of shockingly shrill and divisive rhetoric. May it be Hashem’s will that we all think more, talk a little less, and utilize the gift of speech in the cause of goodwill and civil discourse between friends.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Va'era Drash 5772

In this week’s parasha, we learn of the first seven of the 10 plagues.

The following question is often asked on these verses: OK, one can understand how Pharaoh might dismiss the first three plagues. After all, his own magicians and sorcerers conjured up similar miraculous feats. But from the fourth plague onwards, especially after he is forced to humble himself before Moshe to beg for respite from the plagues, one wonders how Pharaoh could have been so deep in denial that he failed to recognize Gcd’s hand in events overtaking his empire? How could he be so blind as to permit the utter destruction of his land? Apparently, in this case, ‘denial’ actually IS a river in Egypt.

I would answer this question with a question: what standing have we to even ask such a question, when we are guilty of the same degree of self-deception as Pharaoh?

Let me explain.

I have to tell you about an incredible Federation meeting I once attended. It was billed as dedicated to exploring ideas to make the Lehigh Valley Jewish Community a more, caring, sharing, learning community. A noble aspiration, to be sure.  But let’s face facts: the unspoken predicate of the meeting, and indeed of all of the current communal strategic planning efforts, is that Jewish life in the Lehigh Valley is ebbing away. It’s dying. As in so many smaller communities across America, synagogue attendance is in decline, the median age of synagogue goers is skewing to the 60s and the 70s, most of the JCC membership is not Jewish, etc. So the unspoken agenda, based on the unspoken predicate, was how to think about reversing that trend.

I participated in a breakout session on childhood and teen education.

In this discussion group, it was stated that 80% to 90% of the Valley’s Jewish kids do not attend the Jewish Day School. So it quickly developed into a forum exploring ideas on how to improve Supplemental Jewish Education Initiatives, which is Jewish bureaucratic double-speak for Talmud Torah programs run by the respective synagogues/temples. (It will not surprise you to learn that Temple educators/educational administrators were heavily over-represented at the table.)

About halfway through this discussion, someone (ahem) pointed out that multiple studies have demonstrated that the Talmud Torah educational model doesn’t work. Period. They fail at conveying even the most basic tools of Jewish literacy; they fail at encouraging continued participation in Jewish communal life; and they fail to transmit the values framework necessary for continued Jewish learning and to marry a Jewish spouse and build a ‘Bayit Ne’eman B’Yisrael,’ a faith-filled house among Israel. Talmud Torah educational system is an epic failure and a waste of resources. Talmud Torah is part of the problem, not a part of the solution.

This person (ahem) continued that the only educational model that has proven successful in the diaspora is the Hebrew Day School/Yeshivah model. Therefore, common sense dictates:

1. that communal educational funds should be diverted from failed institutions and funneled instead to support the successful educational model;

2.Talmud Torah, to the limited extent that it must exist, should take place at the JDS campus, and should be seen as a feeder program to encourage JDS enrollment; and

3. Communal resources should be prioritized to provide a JDS education to every Jewish child in the Lehigh Valley.

No one responded. No a one. Not a ‘Hey! Great idea!' or ‘that’s an awful idea, and here’s why.’ Nothing. [Cue the chirping crickets.] After a momentary and conspicuously uncomfortable silence, the discussion moderator quickly re-directed the conversation back to clever ideas to revitalize Temple Talmud Torah programs.

Huh? Did I lapse into ancient Greek and not realize it?

I wish I could say that I am stunned, but I am not. “Al eleh, ani bochiyah.”

We are in a mode of denial far deeper than Pharaoh’s.

Jewish life in the United States is indeed dying, and local federations are right to be concerned. The golden goose in the “Goldeneh Medinah” is showing its goosey wrinkles and laying far fewer golden eggs. While no one seriously questions the point, the question remains: what to do about it?

A model for successful Jewish living in the diaspora over successive generations already exists: it is called a life of Torah and Mitzvot.

We are Bnai Brit – contractual partners with the A-lmighty. To the extent that we uphold our end of the contract, Gcd upholds His end. To the extent that the Jew embraces the mitzvoth, deepens his or her study of Torah and commitment to the Covenant, is the extent to which the A-lmighty will protect and nourish us in both good times and bad. “Because He is our Gcd, and we are the People he shepherds, the flocks of his hands – today! – if we only hearken to His voice. [Psalm 95]

As covenantal partners with Hashem, we are able to fulfill our historic mission as the People of the Book, the Nation of Teachers, helping to perfect the world. In that way, we can be a Nation that both lives in the world and yet lives apart from the world.

But we can’t repair the world until we repair ourselves. Tragically, then we abandon His mitzvoth, we are left to fend for ourselves, and the results thus far are not encouraging.

So what do we do? Do we possess the intellectual integrity to choose life, or do we dither? Pharaoh thought it inconceivable that he could be on the losing side of history. Pharaoh, with his fabulous wealth, his power, and his vaunted army, by far the most fear-inspiring military machine in the ancient world, considered himself invincible. Many Jews today put as much faith in their failed synagogues, trendy reform and renewal movements, and Sunday schools as Pharaoh did in the Egyptian Army.  For at least three generations, most American Jews have abandoned the Covenant. Shabbat observance is a dim memory. Kashrut is passé. Mikveh – what’s a mikveh? We American Jews have transcended the need to keep the mitzvoth; we are uber-sophisticating ourselves out of existence.

The answer to the original question, about Pharaoh, is about the heart of the individual. Pharaoh begs Moshe to pray to the Jewish Gcd to halt the plagues, using the hif’il form of the Hebrew verb to pray (Ha’atiru)[Ex. 9:28]. Rashi teaches us that this implies quantity – as if Pharaoh says to Moshe, “say 100 prayers, 1000 prayers, a million prayers if you have to – just get this plague to stop!” Moshe tells Pharaoh, “Unlike you, the King of all Kings doesn’t desire quantities, vast amounts of tribute. He wants our hearts. I can get the plague to stop without uttering even one prayer – I will turn my palms upward and give my heart to Gcd. And by that you shall know that unto Gcd belongs the Earth.” [Ex. 9:29] And so he does.

Gcd wants our hearts. If the question on the table is, ‘how does Judaism survive to successive generations,’ we have that answer. When we love Hashem with all of our hearts, our souls, our very essence; when we take our obligations to the mitzvoth seriously, then Jewish Life in the Lehigh Valley will thrive. Again, logic demands that communal efforts must be channeled into re-connecting Jews to the treasures of their heritage. And by that I mean Torah, not Zumba. “Ki hem Chayeinu, V’Orach Yameinu. – For the Mitzvoth are our very lives, and the length of our days.” [evening prayer]

Pharaoh ignored self-evident facts because the conclusions he must perforce draw from them were uncomfortable, and it led to his destruction. We will share his fate if we persist in seeking answers to the question, “how do we stay ‘Jewish’ without doing all those meddlesome mitzvoth?”

Today, I issue an open call to everyone to adopt a mitzvah. Just one. A small one, even. A mitzvah that you grandfather or grandmother did that you don’t do anymore. Maybe start by saying thank you more. Make a brachah before you eat. Put spare change in a pushkah. Pester a rabbi with questions. Start lighting Shabbat candles. Play Scrabble with your kids. Hug your husband/wife for no apparent reason. Call your mother. Spend five minutes a day on YouTube studying Torah. Whatever you decide on, commit to it every day. Start there. Together, we will do more to ensure the continuity of Jewish life in the Lehigh Valley than all the demographic studies, and focus groups and dazzling marketing campaigns combined. Because at the end of the day, it’s all about the heart.

Shabbat Shalom.