Friday, September 28, 2012

Rejoicing on Sukkot: Then and Now

Originally published on Huffington Post

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) declared: Mitzvah gedolah lee'yoht b'simcha tamid -- "To always be happy is a great mitzvah." The commandment to be happy is not included among the positive commandments of the Torah except during the holiday of Sukkot.

The Feast of the Tabernacles, as Sukkot is called in English, is a seven-day holiday in which the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings with thatch-like roofs and wave four species. One might ask why the command to be happy is associated with Sukkot rather than Passover, when Jews celebrate being redeemed from slavery in Egypt, or Shavuot, when Jews celebrate receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai.

The holiday of Sukkot is celebrated at the time of the harvest, when farmers bring in the fruits of their labor, and everyone prepares for the onset of winter. This, too, serves as a spur for people to be thankful that the ground brings forth such delights and that trees bear such bountiful fruit. There is no question that, as a result of witnessing the miracle of growth in the field, people are moved to be thankful to the Creator of all things.

But what of the years when the harvest is not good? If Sukkot were purely an agricultural holiday, it would be cruel to command the farmers to rejoice on years that the crops failed. In fact, many commentators have associated the directive to live in the sukkah as a reminder to humankind that the success of their own handiwork is, and always will be, dependent upon Divine will.

Sukkot is celebrated on the 15th of Tishrei, less than one week after Yom Kippur and two weeks after Rosh Hashana. During the High Holidays, every man and woman approaches the Divine throne to beseech God to be forgiven for the sins they may have committed and to be cleansed of their misdeeds. At the end of Yom Kippur, it is assumed that the prayers for atonement have been accepted and that we enter the new year with a clean slate. Sukkot is known as Z'man Sim'chah'tay'nu -- the time of our rejoicing -- because the Jewish people are especially joyful knowing that the world has just been judged and, please God, their prayers for atonement have been accepted.
 Although the mitzvah to rejoice in one's feast is emphasized on the holiday of Sukkot, it is a mitzvah that applies to all the Jewish "feast" days. As with all of the mitzvot, the details of the mitzvah are elaborated on in the Talmud:
Our Rabbis taught: A man is duty-bound to make his children and his household rejoice on a festival, for it is said, 'And you shall rejoice on your feast, [you and your son, and your daughter, etc.]' With what does he make them rejoice? With wine. Rabbi Judah said: Men with what is suitable for them, and women with, what is suitable for them. 'Men with what is suitable for them' -- with wine. And women with what? Rabbi Joseph recited: in Babylonia, with colored garments; in the Land of Israel, with ironed lined garments (Pesachim 109a).

According to Jewish tradition, the key to a man's heart really is through his stomach! More specifically, through meat and wine. For women, it seems that "retail therapy" is not as new a concept as one might think.

In the days of the sages, and, in truth, for much of history, both a fine cut of meat and a new dress were luxury items. Today, although many of us still enjoy an attractive gift or a juicy steak, it is harder to connect these items to rejoicing. So how can one rejoice on the holidays in the 21st century?

The presence of meat at an ancient meal represented a vast upgrade in menu. Whether one is able to fulfill the mitzvah of eating in the sukkah or not, one can, nevertheless, enhance the festival week by setting the table with attractive china (or nice dishware) and serving a favored delicacy.

The gift of a new garment (whether given or purchased for oneself) represents another means of setting the festival days apart. It is commonly understood that the way one dresses influences the way one feels and acts. Wearing something new, or something which is usually reserved for special occasions, during the days of the festival is one more way of elevating the holiday and of keeping oneself in a festive spirit.

Wine represents our ability to take the mundane and elevate it to the holy. This is an opportunity that we have every day of our lives, but all the more so on the Jewish festivals when we use wine to sanctify the day.

This article is an excerpt from Jewish Treats Complete Guide to Celebrating Sukkot, a free copy of which may be download by clicking here.

Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Nailbiting and Song - A Strange Combination

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


I too would like to thank Caryn and Ruthie for starting this inspiring group. I printed a great number of the divrei Torah on erev Rosh Hashana, and they were incredibly inspiring.
Each year, when I receive the initial email from Caryn and Ruthie, I hem and I haw. I have never been good at daily activities (even now, with 3 kids on anti-biotics for strep, I missed a dose!) This year, Ruthie did not let me hesitate. I had called her for an update on Elisheva Bracha Chaya and she left me no choice by immediately telling me she was signing me up and would give me “easy tehillim.” For this I thank her because it truly did make it easier for me.
As many of you know, I spend my days writing about a wide variety of Jewish topics, which actually sometimes makes it more challenging to feel as if I am writing something new and inspiring. In the past years I have often found myself using this dvar Torah as a cathartic opportunity to both write on a personal level and to open my heart and admit my great challenges.  This year has not been without its challenges, and sadly many of them are the exact same challenges I have faced in the years past - too much anger, not enough patience, too much working, too much judging others.
This Shabbas was Shabbas Shuva (yes, I am writing this motzei Shabbas...don’t ask!). This year, instead of trying to “connect” to the “feelings” I think that I am supposed to be feeling, I have found myself approaching the aseret y’mei teshuva in a more practical manner. For Shabbas Shuva it was actually a very, very practical manner. I bought “bitter nail” and put it on my nails and that of my two oldest children who are nail biters. I did NOT bite my nails all Shabbas. (For those of you who don’t know people with this bad habit, let me tell you that it is incredibly difficult to break.) Conscious of the nail biting because of the “bitter nail,” I found myself more conscious of Shabbas in general.
Perhaps this can be a beautiful analogy to all averos. My son told me he doesn’t bite any more. I held out his hand to show him the nails and said...”Yes, you do, you just don’t even realize when you are putting your fingers to your mouth. You do it without noticing.”
How often do we speak loshon harah without realizing it? Ok, butloshen harah is the easy analogy. Let’s be honest, it’s the most frequent trangression people make and, perhaps, the most discussed (except maybe tznius). But look further. How often do we take a bite of something and forget to make a bracha, eat something and never get around to saying the after-bracha, or steal someone else’s time (or even ideas) without considering our actions?
Alas, God has not provided a “bitter nail” for our daily lives because then we would not have free will. (But it would be so much easier!)
When I sat down to write, however, this is not where I expected to go. (Nor can I neatly tie these two sections together...sorry.)
As Shabbas went out, I glanced back at the parasha and had an all together different line of thought. What jumped out at me from this weeks parasha, and connected to next weeks parasha (which is appropriate on Motze Shabbat) was the concept of song.
As I alluded to above, and as those of you who know me will recognize, “spiritual” is not a description I use of myself. I don’t easily connect to the emotional side of Judaism. I don’t get goosebumps at the kosel or lose myself in prayer. (I truly wish that I did.)
When I do wish to daven for something particular, I always feel self-conscious and at a strange loss for word. (Odd for a writer, don’t you think.) A few months ago, feeling challenged by this fact, I decided that when I did wish to turn to personal tefilla, the best means for me to do so would be through song. One of the most moving prayers I ever felt myself pray was when I was in Israel in 1994 and the soldier Nachson Wachsman had been kidnapped by Arabs. That Shabbas, walking to shul at Hebrew U., I sang out to Hashem the refrain from “Bring Him Home” (Les Miserables).
Since making the decision to sing my prayers, I have actually done so on a number of occasions. (I would add here that, perhaps for the first time, I have felt truly moved by reciting Tehillim over the last few weeks when saying them for Elisheva Bracha Chaya...which has also helped me connect to reciting the Tehillim for this group.)
In Parasha Vayelch, it is written “And Moshe wrote this song on that day.” The song, written out in next week’s parash Haazinu, opens with praise of Hashem and a reminder that Hashem is our Creator and the rock of our lives. Moshe sang of all the kindness that Hashem did for our people. But then his song describes the transgressions that overcome our people and God’s wrathful response. From wrath, however, Moshe sang of hope and love and our ultimate redemption.”
Moshe song was both a lesson for the Jewish people, one that is relevant to every generation, and a prayer stated in narrative. Our job is to listen to this prayer and respond by recognizing Hashem’s greatness and following in his ways.
In just a few days it will be Yom Kippur. As we head into this holiest of days, I wonder how I will achieve what I wish to achieve. My greatest height of “spiritual connection” on Yom Kippur was attained through the rigor of standing in shul an entire day. It has been 8 years since I have been able to go to shul on Yom Kippur (Barch Hashem) and, in truth, I no longer even feel that I could concentrate if someone volunteered to take my children all day.
Perhaps, however, I will remember this d’var Torah, my promise to sing and God will accept my heartfelt desire to truly grow in the year to come.
In addition to Caryn, Ruthie and the entire Elul women’s group, I would like to thank my husband for putting the kids to bed and cleaning up while I composed this dvar Torah.
In the merit of the women of this Elul group, I will be giving Tzedakah to Midreshet Rachel v’Chaya.
I wish you all a successful Yom Kippur.
(Oh and don’t’ forget that Montreal is a great place to visit!!!!!)

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Can You Forgive? Can You Be Forgiven?

Originally published on Huffington Post.
 
Asking for forgiveness is an admittedly difficult task. After all, no one likes to admit to their own faults or shortcomings. However, asking for forgiveness is an essential aspect of teshuva, repentance.
Teshuva is actually a process of self-evaluation and self-improvement. The Rambam (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, a 12th century sage and commentator) enumerated four primary steps to the teshuva process:
  1. Recognize and discontinue the improper action.

  2. Verbally confess the action, thus giving the action a concrete form in your own mind.

  3. Regret the action. Evaluate the negative impact this action may have had on yourself or on others.

  4. Determine never to repeat the action. Picture a better way to handle it.

When one has caused harm to others, whether by stealing from them, embarrassing them or anything else, then teshuva also requires that restitution and reconciliation be arranged between the parties involved. The damaged party must forgive the perpetrator before Divine forgiveness is granted.

There are, however, certain tricky situations that must be handled delicately. An ancient Jewish proverb declares: "Loose tongues are worse than wicked hands." Truth is, people do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Things done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc., can be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be taken back. Jewish law regards lashon harah -- wicked speech, such as gossip and slander -- as one of the worst of the transgressions that one commits against fellow humans.

Here is the dilemma: Teshuva for hurting another person requires that one personally ask the other person's forgiveness. What does one do if one spoke badly about someone, in a fit of anger? Now that the two are friends once again, how does one ask properly for forgiveness?

The answer to this dilemma depends on the extent of the "damage." If the gossip itself created negative consequences, then the person must be asked directly for forgiveness. Even if no harm was done, and it is known that the person will be understanding about the incident, then forgiveness should still be asked.

However, according to the opinion of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, if informing a person that you spoke about them would result in embarrassment or hurt, it is acceptable to ask for general forgiveness, without going into detail. Indeed, causing additional embarrassment to the person might actually necessitate asking for mechila (forgiveness) once again.
As central as expressing regret and apologizing for hurting another person is to the process of teshuva, equally important is the ability to hear someone else's apology and to accept it. (Of course, the ideal situation is when one foregoes an apology altogether and simply forgives the person for hurting you.)
Jewish tradition teaches that one is only obligated to ask for forgiveness three times. After three refusals, the person is no longer held accountable for their misconduct, as he/she has demonstrated true regret. The one who will not accept a sincere apology after three requests for forgiveness is now guilty of bearing a grudge.
What is wrong with bearing a grudge against a person who really hurt you? Beyond the fact that it is a violation of a Torah prohibition (Leviticus 19:18), bearing a grudge affects the bearer psychologically. A person bearing a grudge is, in general, less happy with the world and with other people because he/she cannot get past the feeling that he/she was wronged.
Forgiveness is rather easy to bestow. And when it is done with sincerity, it is as much a gift to ourselves as it is to the person we forgive.
Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.



Monday, September 10, 2012

Jewish Wisdom for Worker's Rights

Originally published on Huffington Post.
Are workers' rights a modern invention born out of the trials and tribulations of the industrial revolution? Everyone's heard of the horrors of the sweatshops, child labor abuses and other workplace issues that, sadly, sometimes still take place today.
It should be known, however, that workers' rights were a concern long before sweatshops, and that workers' rights were addressed in many different ways by the Torah. One can imagine the early labor activists, creating a placard of Deuteronomy 24:14: "You shall not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of your people, or of the strangers that are in your land within your gates." Not only does Deuteronomy 24 prohibit an employer from mistreating an employee either through physical or verbal abuse, but it is also understood to mean that an employer may not force a servant to do work that is demeaning.
In fact, the sages of the Talmud appear to have been in favor of employers going above and beyond to ensure that workers were treated fairly. For example, in Baba Metzia 83a, it is recorded that Rabba the son of Rabbi Huna confiscated the garments of some porters who had broken a barrel of wine he had hired them to transport. When the workers complained, Rav ordered Rabba to return the garments. When Rabba inquired if that was the law, Rav replied by quoting Psalms 2:20: 'That you may walk in the way of good men.' When their garments were returned, the men inquired whether they should not also receive their pay, for although the barrel had broken, they had labored all day. Rav ruled again in favor of the workers, noting that the aforementioned verse concluded "and keep the path of the righteous."
The tone of the Talmud indicates that while Rabba did not have an obligation to pay these workers, for they had been negligent in their task, it was, nevertheless, the right thing to do.
Another classic example of workers' rights in the Torah is with regard to the payment of wages. First mentioned in Leviticus 19:13, the Torah states: "...the wages of a hired servant shall not abide with you all night until the morning." When a person hires a day laborer, the worker must be paid, without delay, before the beginning of the next day.
While this seems obvious -- a man is hired to build a shed, he finishes the job and you pay him -- there are many cases and situations in which a person might not be so careful. What about the teenage babysitter for whom you have forgotten to have cash on hand? It's happened to all of us. This rule also applies to artisans: A customer is responsible for paying a worker upon receipt of the work he/she was to have done (for instance when a tailor delivers a new suit).
Often, a casual employer doesn't realize how much a delayed payment can affect an employee. Perhaps the employee has debts that are due or a babysitter that must be paid. Perhaps it is simply that the employee had intended to use the money to make a particular purchase that evening.
The Torah's views on workers' rights serve to remind us of the compassion one must always
feel for human beings.
This essay first appeared in an abbreviated form on JewishTreats.org.