Hanukkah and the Greeks' Grudge

Originally published on Huffington Post.

The basic story behind the holiday of Hanukkah is fairly well-known. The Selucid (Syrian-Greek empire) oppressed the Jews. The Jews fought back under the leadership of the Maccabees (particularly Judah). The underdog Jews won and, in the process of rededicating the Temple, found only one flask of oil that miraculously lit the menorah for eight straight days. Great... enough said, let's go eat some latkes.

So what went wrong between the Greeks and the Jews. After all, in the initial conquest of Judea by the Greeks, Alexander the Great is viewed by the sages as a friend to the Jews. In fact, the Talmud (Yoma 69a) relates that when Alexander came to Judea, he refrained from attacking Jerusalem because he recognized Simeon the Just, the High Priest, from the dreams he had each night before a victorious battle (for more on this story, click here).

But the events of Hanukkah took place over a hundred years after Alexander's empire was divided into the Antigonid Empire in Greece, the Selucid Empire in Mesopotamia and Persia, the Ptolemaic Kingdom based in Egypt. By the time Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the villain of the Hanukkah story, assumed the throne of the Selucid empire in 175 BCE, Judea was under Selucid control.

The Greeks are looked upon by many historians as a unifying and civilizing force. The vast empire, even after it was divided into three, brought a shared culture to much of the "known world." Judea was not exempt from the enthrallment of its citizens with Grecian society. There was great divisiveness among the Jews over people accepting Hellenistic culture. But a core majority refused to embrace this foreign way of life. And while this probably frustrated the ruling Selucuds, it was not a cause for persecution.

Timing is everything, however. Just as Antiochus IV Epiphanes was backtracking after a bid to conquer Egypt was thwarted by threats from Rome, he learned that the Judeans had removed from office the man (Menalaus) he had appointed as High Priest (a position of political as well as religious power). According to The Second Book of Maccabees, Menelaus was from the tribe of Benjamin -- not a member of the priesthood, or even of the tribe of Levi (who were responsible for the Temple). The appointment of Menelaus was perceived as part of the Hellenizing campaign of the Selucids and those in Judea who wished to assimilate into the Hellenistic culture. From Antiochus' viewpoint, the problem with the Jewish people, the reason that they would dare to oust Menelaus from the position of High Priest, was their adherence to the Torah.

In retribution, Antiochus forbade the celebration of Rosh Chodesh (the new month), the observance of Shabbat, brit milah (circumcision), and the study of Torah. Why were these mitzvot noted in particular?

The very first commandment that the Jewish people received as a nation was "This month shall be yours as the first of months" (Exodus 12:1-2), which instructs the Jews to sanctify the beginning of each new month. In ancient times, when there was a Temple and aSanhedrin (Jewish Supreme Court), witnesses would come and declare that the new moon had been seen. The sages would then declare the month sanctified. This sanctification of the new moon was a declaration that God controls time. The Selucids felt threatened by the "revolutionary" Jewish concept of Divinely ordained time.

The Selucids were against the keeping of Shabbat, not because it sanctified time, but because it was a day of rest. "Six days shall you work and do all your labor, but the seventh day is Shabbat for the Lord your God. On it, you shall do no [creative] work" (Exodus 20:9-10). This contradicted to the creative essence of the Hellenistic culture. Through their creativity, the Selucids proclaimed their might over the world. The Jewish idea of taking one day off to demonstrate belief in God's control of the world, negated the Selucid belief in the ultimate power of the individual.

Of all the Jewish laws, however, the Selucids found circumcision to be the most abhorrent. Remember, the Selucids idealized the beauty of the physical form, particularly the male body. The idea that the Jews would willingly mar their bodies was outrageous to them. On a deeper level, however, circumcision represents the human being's ability to have control over one's physical self. The Selucids believed in fulfilling all of their passions, and found Judaism's devotion to self-discipline unacceptable.

Torah study was prohibited by the Selucids because it promoted all of these commandments and more. The Torah teaches humankind to strive to be God-like. In contrast, the Greeks created gods who acted with less dignity than many humans. Thus, Torah in-and-of-itself was a threat to their culture and philosophy.

Each of these outlawed mitzvot are actually represented by the festival of Hanukkah: Hanukkah lasts for eight days, the same number of days before a brit milah. Similarly, one cannot celebrate Hanukkah without observing at least one Shabbat (if not two). Additionally, since the holiday begins on the 25th of Kislev and lasts for eight days, the holiday always enters into the month of Tevet -- necessitating the celebration of the new month (Rosh Chodesh).

The fourth mitzvah, Torah study, is actually at the heart of Hanukkah's attraction for children. The word Hanukkah shares the same root as the Hebrew word chinuch, which means education. From the game of dreidel to the giving of gifts, many Hanukkah customs stem from the legacy of the educational zeal of the Jews.

Even after the Selucids banned the study of Torah, many Jews continued to practice their Judaism, even under threat of death. According to tradition, students would gather together in a cave to study Torah, leaving one man on guard standing by the entrance. When the lookout signaled that soldiers were coming, the books were quickly hidden and the students took out spinning tops, making it appear as if they were gambling (which was perfectly acceptable to the Selucids). We commemorate their ingenuity and willingness to risk their lives with the game of dreidel!

What about the gifts? The Talmud, in Shabbat 23b, teaches that one who is diligent in lighting Hanukkah candles will have children who are scholars. In fact, the desire for children to grow into scholars was one of the motivations for the custom of giving Hanukkah gelt (which, under modern influence, has been turned into Hanukkah presents). It became a custom to give a little money (gelt) to children as a reward for studying. Children who showed mastery of the laws and customs of the holiday, or who were diligent in their studies, were rewarded with a shiny coin. Over time, the simple giving of gelt (coins or presents) itself, became a Hanukkah custom.

While gifts and games appear to be offshoots of the holiday, they actually represent the essential spirit of Hanukkah. What is it that we are teaching our children on Hanukkah? What was the purpose of the battle of the Maccabees? That their children and their children's children would be able to be knowledgeable about their Jewish heritage and live a Jewish life.

Some Jews Don't Eat Turkey!

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

Some Jews don't eat turkey, and they do so out of religious conviction. That does not, of course, mean that these Jews lack patriotic feelings or do not appreciate the great freedom that they enjoy in the United States of America. No, these Jews who don't eat turkey are worried about the bird itself.

While the Torah specifically identifies those features that make animals and fish kosher (chews cud and split hooves for animals, scales and fins for fish), it does not specify the identifying features of a kosher bird. Instead it states that one may eat "all the clean birds," and then lists only the birds which one may not eat (Deuteronomy 14:11-20).

This has created a problem because not all the birds identified in the Torah's prohibited list are known today. The Code of Jewish Law (Shulchan Aruch completed in 1563) therefore ruled that only those birds traditionally known to be eaten by Jewish communities were allowed. This included chicken and ducks.

The turkey, however, was not a traditional bird. Turkeys are indigenous to the "New World" and were not seen by European Jews until explorers brought them back from America. As turkeys became more common fare in the general European community, the rabbis began to receive questions about the bird's kosher status.

The turkey, which shares many similarities to other known kosher birds -- the nature of their stomach, the shape of their beak, the structure of their feet, and that they were not predatory -- was deemed kosher by almost all authorities.

Speaking of turkeys, did you know that the Hebrew word for turkey is "tar'negol hodu,"literally, an "Indian Rooster." It came by this name because turkeys are indigenous to North America, which the first explorers thought was actually part of India. The country of India is called Hodu in Hebrew, most commonly recognized from the opening lines ofMegillat Esther (Book of Esther, Purim), when King Achashverosh is depicted as ruling a kingdom that stretched "me'hodu v'ad kush" from India to Ethiopia.

"So what?" you might ask. Actually, this really might be one of life's weird coincidences, since there is another way to translate tar'negol hodu. Using the other meaning of the wordhodu--thanks, a turkey in Hebrew actually means a "rooster of thanks."

The phrase from Tehillim (Psalms) 118, Hodu LaHashem Ki Tov, is generally translated as, "Give thanks to God because He is good." However, the phrase may also be translated as, "Give thanks to God because it is good." Giving thanks to God is good for us!

Giving thanks is a natural and continual part of Jewish life. Indeed, the first words one is supposed to say upon waking in the morning is "Mo'deh ani li'fa'nech'ah melech chai v'kayam, she'heh'cheh'zarta bee nishmatee b'chemla--raba emuna'tehcha. I give thanks before You, living and eternal King, Who has returned my soul to me with compassion--abundant is Your faithfulness!" Daily, Jews thank God for the very fact of waking up in the morning.

Modeh Ani is about more than just religious devotion (although it is that). Modeh Anireminds a person that he/she must have, and demonstrate, hakarat hatov, appreciation of the good, throughout the day. It sets the tone for a day that should include thanking the person who held the door for an extra moment, acknowledging the driver who allowed others to merge, smiling in support at the police officers who protect the streets, etc.

The American celebration of Thanksgiving is a day that focuses on hakarat hatov. For many American Jews, it is one of the few holidays that can be celebrated as part of a national community because it is a day that does not have religious connotations. Some American Jews, however, really don't celebrate the day at all, and there are several reasons for this, although numerous religious authorities have maintained that there is no prohibition to enjoying a turkey dinner of Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is a unique holiday that reminds us, through the story of the first meal between the early European settlers and the native people of the land, of the great dreams upon which America was built. At the same time it is a day that is focused on hodu in general. Whether we choose to focus on the turkey or thanking God and those around us, is a choice we each make.

Jewish in Name: What's the Point of Having a Hebrew Name?

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

A few months back, celebrity watchers held their collective breaths awaiting the announcement of the name of Natalie Portman's new son. Fans were curious whether her Israeli/Jewish identity would effect the choice of name, and while Aleph is certainly not a traditional Jewish name, it is unquestionably Hebrew (being the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet). For Jewish fans, the choice of the name was strange but, in a way, reassuring. As far as she has come professionally, she is still connected to her Jewish-Israeli identity.

Whether a person uses it on a regular basis or not, a Hebrew name is one of the critical totems of Jewish identity. It connects a person to his/her family and to generations of Jews. Imagine how many Sarahs and Isaacs have listened to the resonant call of the shofar or swept out their cupboards to prepare for Passover.

Young Aleph does not share a name with any of the usual Biblical heros, but the use of Hebrew words as names is not without precedence. Pesach (Passover), Yom Tov (a festival day) and Abba (father) are not-uncommon Hebrew names for boys. Tova (good) and Mazal (fate) are Hebrew words used as girl names.

Hebrew is an ancient language that has survived two millennia of exile. In many countries it was almost lost save as the language of prayer and study. Hebrew names, however, were slower to change and many Jews still have a Hebrew name given to them at birth, even if they use an English name in daily life. That Hebrew name connects a Jewish person to some key moment in life.

The first, and most obvious, ceremonial use of a Jewish name is at a child's naming. In fact, prior to a boy's brit milah (circumcision) or a girl's naming (either with a special prayer recited as part of a Torah reading service or at a simchat bat celebration), it is traditional to keep the baby's name private until the official naming. While there is no specific source for this tradition, the custom is so entrenched in Jewish life that it is now considered k'halacha, like law.

One's Hebrew name is used for all synagogue ceremonies, such as being called to the Torah for an alliyah, and every religious milestone is marked with one's official name. Knowing the Hebrew names of the bride and groom is essential for the writing of a proper ketubah, the Jewish marriage contract. Likewise, these names must be used in the writing of a get, a Jewish bill of divorce. With the final life cycle, death, a person's Hebrew name is left as a permanent record on his/her tombstone and is used in memorial prayers at the funeral, as well as on the annual yahrtzeit (anniversary of the death).

Beyond the life cycle and synagogue honors, one's name is used when a person is ill or in need of any sort of prayers. In such cases, the person is called so-and-so ben/bat(son/daughter) mother's name. (If one does not know the Hebrew name of the parent, one may use the English name. If neither Hebrew nor English name of the mother is known, one should say so-and-so ben/bat Sarah. If the father's Hebrew name is unknown, Abraham is used instead.) This is a reflection of King David's prayer for salvation: "I beseech you, O God, for I am your servant, the son of your handmaid..." (Psalms 116:16). Another reason the mother's name is added is because the Hebrew word for compassion (rachamim) is derived from the Hebrew word for womb (rechem).

Jewish tradition, from Genesis through the writings of the great sages, reflects the importance of a person's name. The first human being was named "Adam," which is derived from the Hebrew word adama, ground. It is a descriptive name, since Adam was created from the earth. Eve (Chava), the name of the first woman, derives from the wordchai, life.

Abraham and Sarah both received new names from God before Isaac was conceived. The sages explain that the mazal (fate) connected with the names of Abram and Sarai indicated barrenness. God changed their names, thus their "fortunes," and then He declared that the descendants of Abraham would not be dominated by fate -- they could go above and beyond what normal fate/mazal indictates.

God's alteration of existing mazal through name change is a concept upheld even to this day. It is customary in cases of critical illness to add a name to the patient's name -- usually a name such as Chaim (life) or Rafael (healer).

Later in Genesis, we read about Abraham's great-grandsons: Joseph, the Viceroy of Egypt, and his 11 brothers who came to buy grain from him. Joseph's brothers did not recognize their brother because he wore Egyptian clothes, spoke Egyptian and went by an Egyptian name. This was a lesson for the generations to come. By the time Moses came to redeem the Jewish people from slavery, the Midrash tells us that they had lost most of their distinctive identity except for the way they dressed, their language and their names. This story highlights the incredible importance of identifying with our Hebrew names.

One might, of course, point out that a new Hebrew name such as Aleph is less connected to Jewish tradition than a Yiddish name like Mendel or Russian name like Masha, both of which are common in Ashkenazi Jewish communities. In truth, host countries and foreign conquerors have influenced Jewish naming patterns since the days of the Maccabees (Hanukkah story). The Maccabees who liberated Judea from the Syrian-Greeks and founded the Hasmonean dynasty, had both Hebrew and Greek names (e.g. Simon Thassi, Yochanan Hyrcanus, etc.).

The same was true in Spain, in the countries of North Africa, and certainly in Europe. Thus, the seemingly modern custom of having an English name and a Hebrew name is not new at all. Having both a common name and Hebrew name often makes it easier to function in non-Jewish society, but what happens when Jews no longer know or give our children Hebrew names? This, sadly, is often a sign of a Jewish community that will soon disappear.

So if you are Jewish, take pride in your Hebrew name and let it work for you! And if you don't have a Hebrew name, ask a local rabbi, or tweet us for advice! And don't miss your opportunity to explore the background of 25 of the most popular names of Hebrew origin on Twebrewschool.org throughout the month of November.

The Importance of Circumcision in Jewish Law

Originally published on Huffington Post

There are few aspects of Jewish life that have been debated as heatedly as circumcision. It's physical. It's permanent. It effects an area of the body that most people today won't even discuss in proper company.

Most recently, the citizens of San Francisco, Calif., faced a potential vote on whether to make it a misdemeanor to circumcise any male under the age of 18. The referendum, which was to be held in November, will not take place because California Governor Jerry Brown has passed a law banning any bans on circumcision.

While many Americans were surprised by the proposal, and great debates raged on the Internet, this would certainly not have been the first time that circumcision has been outlawed. The most famous prohibition of circumcision occurred when the Syrian-Greeks sought to force Hellenization on the Judeans (in the era of the Maccabees and Hanukkah). Performing a circumcision on one's child became a capital crime. The Syrian-Greeks found circumcision particularly offensive because of their own culture's devotion to the beauty and perfection of the human body. The ancient Greeks are renowned for their sculptures and naked athletics. From the perspective of Hellenistic culture, the male body represented perfection. It was therefore unconscionable that the Jews should alter it, or maim it, especially by Divine decree.

According to Rabbi Shimon ben Eleazar, as quoted in the Talmud: "Every precept for which Israel submitted [themselves] to death at the time of the royal decree [of the Syrian-Greeks], e.g. idolatry and circumcision, is still held firmly in their [the Jews'] minds" (Shabbat 130a).

Brit Milah, as circumcision is called in Hebrew, is a mitzvah that has withstood the test of time. Even Jews with only a tentative connection to Judaism still have their sons circumcised. Perhaps it is because this is a mitzvah that is done joyously (accompanied as it is with a festive meal) as it not only affirms the parents' connection with Judaism, but the child's link as well. According to Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel, the joy with which the Jewish people accepted this mitzvah is the reason that it is still observed.

Brit Milah is so important a mitzvah that the Talmud states: "Great is circumcision, for it counterbalances all the [other] laws of the Torah" (Nedarim 32a). In fact, circumcision is so important to the Jewish people that it is one of only two commandments for which the punishment of kareit (being "cut-off") is applied if they are not fulfilled. (The other is the offering of the Paschal lamb in Temple times and when one was not in a category allowing for exemption).

Kareit, often defined as excision, is extremely hard to comprehend. In fact, the sages of the Talmud even debate what this punishment is. Many sages and rabbinic leaders have also noted that kareit may have a different effect on people today than it did in the days of the Holy Temple. It is believed that, in times when our connection to the spiritual realm was more tangible, kareit was actual death. (Not instant death, but rather death at a young age -- under 60 -- accompanied by a lack of further offspring.) But kareit is also understood as a spiritual excommunication, in which one's soul is cut off from God.

Why is circumcision so important to God? The plain fact of the matter is that we do not know. While numerous explanations for the ritual have been suggested by different sages throughout the generations, circumcision is a chok, a law that is performed as God's decree, and according to traditional Judaism, no further explanation is needed.

No arguments can be addressed to those who do not recognize the concept of sanctification or the importance of heritage. Claims that an act of tradition are barbaric need no reply. For those who wonder about the safety of circumcision, however, it must be stated that fulfilling a mitzvah at the risk of someone's life (even one's own) is a severe transgression of Jewish law. There are only three exceptions to this rule: one must give up one's own life rather than take the life of another, commit an act of sexual immorality or worship idols. Although it is commanded that the brit milah be performed on the eighth day, a mohel (one trained to perform brit milah) will not perform the ritual on any child who is not in perfect health.

pre-Yom Kippur Blogburst

-This post was originally published on http://thoughts4mysoul.wordpress.com/

I feel the need to share, and since that seems to me to be the point of blogging, I have come back to this blog to write.
 

We are now in the final 24 hours before Yom Kippur, and I feel…well, I don’t really know. I’m not so good at “feeling.” I like to hide behind intellectualism, rationalization and anxiety. Sounds like a lovely cup of tea, doesn’t it -  but it is the truth.

I had a beautiful Rosh Hashana. We had lots of company, the children let me daven and make it to shofar blowing in the morning (and hear the shofar), and some good friends took me up on my offer to hang at my house with their kids for a bit. Being able to daven was nice, but I must admit that I did have to rush threw Mussaf (the first day 18-month-old Yaakov was busy climbing on the dining room table right in front of me!)

And I actually managed to say shemona asrei a few times this week (even remembering to ad HaMelech HaKadosh)!

But did I improve myself. I don’t feel improved. I yelled at the kids at least once…no at least 4 or 5 times…each day, even though I tried to hold my temper. I goofed off when I should have been working hard (although I did comp the time later in the day).

This afternoon an electrician was working on my house. He was there from 1 o’clock on and was working with the front doors both open because he had his equipment lined up the hall and was working on the porch. This was fine…except that my children come home at 3. They watched him with me for a while and then went to have snacks and we all went about our lives as usual. Yaakov generally has free reign in the house and I forgot the door was open. At around 4 I was finishing a project on my laptop in the dining room. I stood up and walked into the hallway to find Yaakov standing in front of the inside front door (leading to a small hallway and the real front door) staring straight out on a clear run into the very very busy street in front of our house. The electrician had gone to his car (and stopped to shmooze with a potential customer) and had left the doors wide open. My reactions were everywhere, mostly though I was just grateful that nothing had happened. Trust me, Yaakov is the type of kid who will walk out.

Then my anxiety kicked in. The what-if film strip kept running in my head. I shudder inside every time I envision exactly what could have happened. It’s stupid, because it didn’t happen.  Thinking about it later that night I realize that there are so many incidents each day which go just right, where nothing happens, and I lack that emotion, that feeling, of true gratitude to Hashem. I think about it. I say Baruch Hashem and I recognize how lucky I am, but I don’t feel like I connect to the emotion enough.

Emuna and bitachon have always been a struggle for me. I have friends who I feel can so tangibly relate to the Divine in the world (the people who really know how to say tehillim, you know what I mean), and it is those people of whom I am most jealous. I often joke to myself that if I were to go to a great rebbe or a mekubal I would ask for a bracha in emuna.

I have rambled a bit, and I apologize. Tonight starts the final day before Yom Kippur and I am scared. Alas, I wish I could honestly say I stand in awe of the process of judgment around me, but, in truth, I am scared of dealing with 4 small kids on the fast day, of getting everything done tomorrow like I need to…and then, too, I am scared of coming away unchanged.

In a Jewish life that puts so much value on self-improvement, I often want to cry out with tears: “But I don’t know how to change! It is too hard and I don’t even know how to begin!” (I cry it to myself, certainly.) That moment is emotional, however, and once I touch it, something within me jumps back and leaps away from the thought.

This year, Hashem, as the gates of heaven are open to our prayers…please open the floodgate within my heart, for I cannot do it on my own! Let me truly express how thankful I am to all that you have given me and let me feel the safety of your fatherly embrace.

–gmar chatima tova

The Fifth Day of The Ten Days of Teshuva

This Dvar Torah was written as part of a group that says Tehillim/Psalms together during the month of Elul (through Yom Kippur).

I am writing this Dvar Torah for Monday. The normal crazy, hectic, back-on-schedule, what-was-I-working-on Monday, that will be made crazier by the long holiday. But this Monday is also the fifth day of the aseret ymai teshuva. One might say it is the midpoint of these day on which we are meant to be more alert to our spiritiual needs.

In my hectic, get-the-kids-up, carpool, work, medical appointments, carpool entertain-feed-put-them-to-bed weekdays, connecting to the aserest ymai teshuva is incredibly difficult. The question, of course, is what to do with it.

This year’s Tzum Gedaliah fast was a strange one for me. Perhaps because it was really the fourth of Tishrei instead of the third, or perhaps because it was a rainy, gray Sunday (never the best days in our house). I think, however, it had a lot to do with a conversation I had with someone about the very ambiguity of the day. Oddly enough, this person expressed a thought that I too had had about this fast, only said more clearly: "What were the sages thinking? Don’t we have enough fast days that they added this one?" The point was not the fasting, but the lack of any connection as to why we were fasting. Taanis Esther we all understand, it is so obvious from the text itself. Tisha B’Av, Asarah b’ Tevet, Shiva Asar b’Tamuz...these also give us something to connect with...ok, I can reflect on the loss of the Beis Hamikdash. But Tzum Gedaliah doesn’t feel like it has the same weight. Nebach, one Jew murdered another. But its happened at other points in history. We today are highly desensitized to these sort of things. The stroy of Gedaliah has intrigue, political motivations, dire consequences...it sounds like a pulp fiction paperback.

I’m jumping a bit here, but please be patient...

In doing research for writing Jewish Treats (I write the blog Jewishtreats.org), I was intrigued by the story in Talmud Rosh Hashana 25a, in which Rabban Gamaliel orders Rabbi Joshua to appear before him with his staff and his wallet on the day Rabbi Joshua believed was Yom Kippur. Rabban Gamaliel had declared the new month based on two witnesses who may have been wrong, since no moon actually appeared that night. Rabbi Joshua, following Rabbi Dosa ben Harkinas, declared the two witnesses false...accept that their testimonies had already been accepted by Rabban Gamaliel. Rabbi Joshua arrived at the Sanhedrin as ordered because

Rabbi Akiva...said to him: I can bring proof [from the scripture] that whatever Rabban Gamaliel has done is valid, because it says, "These are the appointed seasons of the Lord, holy convocations, which you shall proclaim in their appointed seasons," [which means to say that] whether they are proclaimed at their proper time or not at their proper time, I have no appointed seasons save these. He [Rabbi Joshua] then went to Rabbi Dosa ben Harkinas, who said to him: If we call in question [the fecisions of] the beth din of Rabban Gamaliel, we must call in question the decisions of every beth din which has existed since the days of Moses up to the present time.

It all goes back to Devarim 17:11, "According to the law which they shall teach you, and according to the judgment which they shall tell you, you shall do; you shalt not turn aside from the sentence which they shall declare to you, to the right hand, nor to the left."

We fast on Tzum Gedaliah because God instructed us to follow the sages, even if we aren’t quite certain of their logic. God trusted them to make the right decisions for us.

Two Shabbasim ago we read Parashat Nitzavim, in which there is a verse that I found particularly profound. "The secret things belong to the Lord our God; but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law" (Deuteronomy 29:28).We can’t always get an answer to why things we must follow certain laws (chukim) - well any laws really - and we can’t understand why things happen in the world.

And in the end, every question about how to connect to the asert ymai teshuvacomes back to God and trust, to remembering that which we will say on Yom Kippur in Kee Anu Amecha: We are Your handiwork, and You are our Shaper.

Over Rosh Hashana I was lucky enough to be able to daven all of Pekudei D’zimrot, Shacharit and Mussaf (for those who don’t know me, I have four kids 7 and under, none of whom were at shul). As I ended P.D. on the second morning, I "pretended" to be in shul and shouted out HaMelech. Avi, my oldest, thought this was quite strange and asked my husband (who had not yet gone to shul) why I did it. David explained that this was one of the themes of Rosh Hashana.

Thinking back on this incident, however, I realize that this is my key. I’m not a good "davener," I don’t connect when I recite Shemona Esrei. I have yet to feel a link to the Divine when reciting Tehillim. But I can shout out Hamelech with gusto and emotion. That one word says so much. God is the King, and we have to love and fear and be grateful to him at all moments.

So for the remainder of the asert ymai teshuva, I am going to try and call out to the king, even if it is just a short momentary call of Hamelech when I wish to say thank You, or help me, or simply to remind myself, that everything in life, whether it makes sense or not, is sent to me from the King.

Rosh Hashanah: The Incomplete Repentance

Originally published on Huffington Post.

Rosh Hashanah is tonight and the buzz word throughout Jewish media and, of course, on the lips of rabbis everywhere, is repentance. As familiar as we all are with the word repentance, it is a difficult concept to truly wrap one's minds around.

"Repentance" sounds like a grand and powerful word. In truth, the most important adjective that must be attached to the act of repentance is the word "sincere."

At one time or another, we all experience insincere apologies, and it doesn't make anyone feel better to receive one. Since an apology is critical to the repentance process, an insincere apology does not bode well for true repentance.

One particular story in the Bible highlights the tragedy brought about by an insincere apology: King Saul, the first King of Israel, was responsible both because of a general commandment in the Torah (Deuteronomy 25:17-19) and a personal directive issued through the words of the prophet Samuel, to completely wipe out the Amalekites, ancient enemies of the Jewish people. While he was victorious over them, "Saul and the people spared Agag, and the best of the sheep, oxen... and lambs, and all that was good..."(I Samuel 15:9).

When confronted the next morning by Samuel (to whom God had already expressed his anger over Saul's disobedience), King Saul's response was to declare that he had listened to the Divine command, capturing King Agag alive and destroying the Amelekites. He then added, "the people took of the spoils, sheep and oxen, the chief of the devoted things" (I Samuel 15:21) to sacrifice to God. Finally, Saul admits his wrong-doing, but still does not take responsibility: "I have sinned; for I have transgressed the commandment of God, and your words; because I feared the people, and hearkened to their voice" (I Samuel 15:24).

Samuel would not, could not, give Saul forgiveness when he was not really sorry for his actions and would not take responsibility for his actions. Samuel had no choice but to tell him his punishment: "God has rent the kingdom of Israel from you this day, and has given it to your neighbor who is better than you are" (15:28).

By blaming the people, Saul voided his apology. Perhaps, if he had immediately recognized his mistake, admitted it and apologized sincerely, the dynastic line of kingship would not have been removed from his family and given to David.

David brought more than a new bloodline to the throne of Israel, he brought an entirely different attitude as to his rule. The power of kingship made King Saul feel above the law, and it would be inaccurate to say that King David never lost his way either. But their reactions were completely different. When the prophet Nathan came to David to tell him that God was angry at him for putting Uriah the Hittaite (Batsheva's first husband, who had divorced her before going to war) in the line of enemy fire in order that he should be killed (which he was), David's immediate response was to admit his own guilt, "David said to Nathan: 'I have sinned against God'" (II Samuels 12:13), and then says nothing more -- no "buts."

The sages in the Talmud use five phrases from Psalms 19:13-14 to understand the process of repentance: "(1) Who can discern [a person's] errors? (2) From unperceived faults cleanse me. (3) Restrain your servant from intentional sins, that they may not have dominion over me. (4) Then I shall be faultless.(5) I shall be innocent of great transgression." Rabbi Dosetai of Beri reads the words of Psalms 19:13-14 as a dialogue with God. After each of the first four phrases, God informs King David that he has been forgiven. However, when David asks that he be made "'innocent of the great transgression': so my sins may not be recorded.' [God] replied, 'That is impossible... (Sanhedrin 107a)"

True repentance means asking forgiveness for all transgressions, both those intended and unintended, and even from those wrong-doings of which a person is not even wholly aware (think bumping into someone and not noticing). Once he was informed that God was angry with him, King Saul should have recognized that God would not claim he had transgressed if he had not.

If King Saul had acknowledged his error, the damage would have already been done. In the one night that he allowed King Agag to remain alive, Agag seduced a handmaid. Generations later, the descendent of this union became one of the greatest enemies in the history of the Jewish people: Haman. But if King Saul had acknowledged his error, his own personal history might have changed and this one act would not have become an act that crippled his soul.

Repentance is a process that shapes who we are, that makes us better people, that creates links between people or between ourselves and the Divine. It doesn't change the act that was done. Everyone knows that an apology is often insufficient to undo the damage to a hurt friend. And even when people atone and others forgive, the act always exists.

A Quick Thought On Shelach

-This post was originally published on http://thoughts4mysoul.wordpress.com/

This Shabbat was Parshat Shelach, which is best known for the stories of the spies. While reviewing the parsha withoutkids, my husband read to them the often less spoken about story of the man who desecrated Shabbat by gathering wood. He was warned by two witnesses that he should stop his trangression and ignored them. He received the death sentence.  When my husbadn read the My First Parsha book version of the story, my eldest piped up that he had learned that the man did it so that everyone would know that the laws of Shabbat were serious.My husband had never heard this Midrash and was a bit surprised…after all, that would mean that this man deliberately set out to get the death penalty.

Upon further research, I discovered that this is one of those interesting stories on which there is definite disagreement. There is a Midrash that states that the man was worried that the Israelites, having just been denied entry into the Holy Land on account of the spies, would think that they need not keep any mitzvot until they were in the Promised Land and would therefore be lax. In this particular Midrash’s opinion, it was l’shaim sh’mayim (for the sake of Heaven). However, the Midrash Says, the book I was using for reference, specifically mentions that this is a highly contested Midrash.  The other book I looked into, The Weekly Midrash, discusses the other opinion – how great a rasha, wicked one, this man was.

These two Midrashim are startling contrasts to each other. So where, I wonder, does that leave me. How am I to pass on the emes of the Midrash with such a contrast of opinions. Perhaps from these two Midrashim one can learn two lessons. One is about judging others. We can never really know a person’s motives just by watching their actions. The second is that one person may very-well have two motivations. Perhaps this many worried that the others would come to sin because he believed it a bit himself. Perhaps he felt lost and disillusioned by the disheartening words of the Spies, perhaps he felt that they did not really have G-d’s forgiveness and would not get the land. He set out to desecrate the Shabbat like a stubborn child who breaks all the rules hoping to be caught so that Mom and Dad will prove their love by punishing them, by setting limits on them. Perhaps this man broke Shabbat because he was uncertain but, all the time, hoped that he would (and did) receiver proof that his actions really did matter.

A River Shabbat

-This post was originally published on http://thoughts4mysoul.wordpress.com/

 

This weekend, the weekend before Shavuot…the weekend before my entire family is coming up for two days of Yom Tov followed by Shabbat…we went away. One could not say that we went on a vacation for the weekend, but it felt like one. Sadly, my husband’s grandmother passed away a few months back. This weekend was the memorial service/funeral for the ashes at her estate in the Thousand Island area in Ontario.

Events were scheduled throughout the weekend, but due to Shabbat, our family hung out at the estate until Sunday morning, when we were able to go to the cemetery and brunch. I had expected it to be a terrible weekend of trying to control my kids (in a thoroughly not-kid-friendly house) and to be constantly explaining our strange behaviours. But we had beautiful weather and enough of the extended family around in the afternoon to entertain the kids that it was the most relaxing Shabbat I have had in a long, long time.

Of course having people entertain the kids was part of it, but the other part was the different and beautiful scenery. The estate, known as Totem Point, is a magnificent piece of architecture – an island house built for entertaining. It is the river, however, that was the key. Sitting and watching the water, the waves, the light dancing its reflections. Ahh. Even the boats going by – speed or regular- added to the atmosphere.

So I can’t always go to such a place for Shabbat, I know that. I can’t put myself in a different location every time I want to feel spiritually refreshed. I can, however, take the memories of those moments and cherish them for when I need just a little boost.

Parshat Naso: One Among Many

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The longest parsha (Torah portion) in the entire Torah, Naso, is the second reading in the Book of Bamidbar (Numbers). It begins with a natural continuation from the previous week’s census by sorting out the jobs of the levi’im. Then, however, the parsha presents a series of topics that appear, at first glance, to be quite disparate: levites; remunerations, tzarat and confession; suspicion of adultery/punishment of adulterers; the nazir (one who take so on the nazarite vow of refraining from haircuts, alcohol and contact with dead bodies; the priestly blessing; and the princely gifts

While gifts brought by the prince of each tribe closes the parsha, it also doubles the parsha’s length, taking three aliyot to be completed. It is also the most repetitive section of the Torah, as all 12 princes brought the same offerings and gifts. And while there are many different lessons that people have explained for this repetition, I would like to explore the entire parsha as a whole–and why these particular laws are grouped together.

The twelve princes honoured G-d in the best possible way – with unity. The well loved song says it best: Hinei mah tov u’mah’nai’yim, shevet acheem gam yachad. (How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity – Psalms 133:1). But how do we get to unity?

The parsha begins with the levi’im who prepared the Mishkan (Tablernacle), demonstrating the need for people to work together, but each with his specific jobs. Another allusion to unity. Each group of levi’im had their own special tasks – and each was an essential part of the service.

The next portion of the parsha, however, introduces the rules for those affected by ritual impurity. While some may not enter the Mishkan or its environs, others are banished from the camp altogether. Those plagued with tzarat, which is commonly mistranslated as leprosy, suffered with this strange skin disease because of a spiritual degeneration. In most cases, tzarat was a result of lashon harah, the wicked tongue, an allusion to gossip. Those banished from the camp because of tzarat would, it was hoped, repent of their anti-social behaviour through a desire to return from banishment.

Reparations for thievery, another anti-social behaviour, is the topic of the next section of the parsha. A thief must return what he stole or the value of what he stole PLUS that value again. Additionally, a thief must confess his wrong doing. In fact, every transgression must be verbally confessed, to the victim and to G-d because every transgression weakens society.

Society is made up of individuals, but it is built in the home. Children learn morals at home. More importantly, children learn to feel secure, to trust others, at home. The Torah therefore next defines what should be done when the trust in a household is destroyed by the suspicion of adultery or adultery itself.

It is not just crime and moral misconduct that undermines a society. The Torah follows the question of the adulterer with instruction, praise and a subtle reprimand for the nazir. A nazir is one who takes a special vow to abstain from alcohol, hair cuts and contact with the dead. While the goal of the nazir, to make himself more holy, is praised, the conditions that separate him from society incur, according to some opinions, the need for a sin offering.

Without pause, the parsha transitions to the blessing of the priests over the people. Today, these words are included in the prayer service, the morning blessings and the blessing of the children on Shabbat – in addition to its recitation by the kohanim:

Y’va’reh’ch’cha Hashem v’yish’m’recha.
Ya’ayr Hashem panav ay’leh’cha vee’chu’neh’ka.
Yee’sah Hashem panav ay’leh’cha, v’yah’saym l’cha shalom.

May G-d bless you and watch over you.
May G-d shine His face toward you and show you favour.
May G-d be favourably disposed to you and grant you peace.

The nazir adds stringencies upon himself to come closer to G-d; the priestly blessing, however, offers insight into how to do that without the stringencies. In a relationship, a person is favourably disposed to another when the first person feels comfortable and accepted by the other. When the Jewish people turn toward G-d, G-d turns His face towards us – collectively and individually.

The Jewish people is a nation made up of individuals. Each has his own job. Some will fall, damaging the bonds of community. Others will set themselves apart in the desire to be better. In the end, for both the transgressors and the ascetics, nothing is as effective as turning your face toward G-d.

The power of the individual as part of the nation was not, at first, something that the princes of the tribes understood. When Moses first asked the people to bring gifts from the heart for the building of the Mishkan, the princes held back, saying among themselves that they would wait and see what was still needed. They assumed their individual abilities to give were of greater use than the giving of the community. After all of the people gave the donations to Moses, however, there was nothing left for the princes to donate. At the inauguration of the Mishkan, they did not make the same mistake. By each bringing the same gift at that time, they expressed the beauty of being an individual and a member of a larger whole.

Tongues, Lungs and Eyes

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This morning a friend of mine asked me why my kids always seemed to be sick. And she wasn’t the first person to ask me or point this out. My kids catch things a lot, it’s true. Why–don’t know.

This has been a particularly challenging week. My eldest two, and my husband, were stricken by a weird virus that causes their tongues to hurt and small blisters to appear (and conveniently disappear when the doctor is mentioned so that there is no sign of anything wrong). Actually, this weird tongue virus has been in our house for over two weeks, but this week the three of them had it for sure. The three year old similarly complained but I was never sure with her.

We asked a doctor on Monday, on Wednesday, on Thursday and on Friday (all different doctors in different situations0 and they all shrugged their shoulders and said it was just a virus. (Thanks, really helpful when my kids are whining at me!)

The three year old, as I mentioned, also complained about her tongue but more concerning was that she started a fever Sunday night that lasted the entire week. Although she was seen by a doctor Monday (it’s just a virus), I took her to the pediatrician this morning (Friday) because I didn’t like the fact that the fever kept coming back as soon as the tylenol wore off.  Congratulations…she has Pneumonia (we even got x-ray confirmation).

After spending the morning at the pediatrician and the radiologist for x-rays, I managed to be home for all of an hour and a half before picking my eldest up from school and taking the top three to the eye doctor. Now my eldest kept telling us he needed classes…and both my husband and I thought it was all in his head. We were wrong…he is myopic (fancy word for nearsighted, I think). So Sunday we will be going glasses shopping.

If you are wondering how this all relates to thoughts on the soul, let me tell you. We have poor eyes, pneumonia and a mystery virus that will not die.  And I say — Hodu la’hem kee tov! Thanks to God, for He is good!  Every time I want to complain I just think…it’s only this. Baruch Hashem, these little childhood illnesses are nothing.  We all had them and we survived.

The news, even just the neighbourhood news, is so filled with tragic events and terrible illnesses that it makes one stop and say “Thank You God for the sneezes, and the coughs and, yes, even diarrhea.”

I had more thoughts on this, but I have to finish preparing for Shabbat.  However, all the things that happened today, this week, were such a beautiful reminder to me of how much we can learn when we look at things from a more global, more spiritual perspective.

Scheduling Conflicts

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Balancing the world of Torah and the world of work can, for many people, be a delicate dance.  Today I’ve gained a renewed perspective on how grateful I must be to work for a Jewish organization and not participate in the dance.  Unfortunately, this understanding, sadly, came at the expense of watching another struggle.

A close friend of mine realized only today that an important two day meeting conflicted with Shavuot. It was an avoidable predicament that left this friend in lurch on how to communicate with the boss.  The conversation had to take place sooner or later, but the boss was hard to reach until late in the evening. The whole day was spent with an anxious sense of doom…

It wasn’t my predicament, but I too worried about the outcome. Would this be a chillul Hashem (desecration of the name, or basically when Jews do something that leaves a bad impression)? Would the Torah be blamed for this, or simply the lack of forethought?

I finally spoke to my friend tonight and, thank God, everything worked out. The boss is put off, but it looks like it will not be considered a permanent strike.

This morning I davened for my friend. I asked God to just make it all go smoothly, to let the boss be in a good mood and that God should not “harden his heart.” Of course I was concerned for my friend and my friend’s future, but the chance of these actions creating a negative view of Jewish life was also on my mind.

While I grew up surrounded, for the most part, by Jews, and I have spent a large portion of my adult life immersed in the Jewish world both socially and professionally, there is a large part of my family that is either not religious or not Jewish. These people do not necessarily comprehend the perspective of my community on absolute truth and absolute laws. I can’t drive on Saturday ever – period, end of story. (When I was overdue with my son, the nurse said that the hospital might call me to induce me on Saturday. When I told her I couldn’t answer my phone that day, she asked why I couldn’t make just one exception.)

Upholding the Torah way of life in a world that does not understand is always challenging. Jewish law often sets Jews apart from the cultures in which they life…and while this may be, practically, to limit social interaction, it is also a constant reminder to our own selves that the world does watch us, does note how we are, does take our solo actions as the actions of the whole.