New Year's Resolutions and Jewish Thought

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

As we prepare for the new calendar year, it is interesting to look at the Jewish nature of some of the most common New Year's Resolutions:

1. Lose Weight/Start Exercising/Eat Healthy Food
The mitzvah of saving a life (pikuach nefesh) is so great that it precedes most other mitzvot and applies to one's own life as well. Taking care of one's personal health, whether that means eating a healthier diet, exercising or even making certain to go for an annual check-up, is part of the mitzvah that the sages connect to the commandment of Deuteronomy 4:15: "And you shall watch yourselves very well."

2. Take Better Care of the Environment
Judaism has always placed great emphasis on taking care of the world, because the world was created by God. An important component of the Jewish view of the universe is that our very existence is a gift that comes with a responsibility. The sages inform us that "When the Holy One, blessed be God, created the first human ... God said to Adam, 'See my works how good and praiseworthy they are? And all that I have created I made for you. [But] be mindful then that you do not spoil and destroy My world -- for if you do spoil it, there is no one after you to repair it'" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13).

3. Refrain from Gossip
People do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Damage done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc, can usually be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be retrieved. Jewish law regards lashon harah, wicked speech such as gossip and slander, as one of the worst of the transgressions that one may commit against fellow humans.

4. Give to Charity
Ideally, people should have no qualms about supporting those in need. The Torah, however, recognizes that charity is not necessarily a natural instinct, and therefore mandates the giving of tzedakah (charity): "If there be among you a needy man, one of your brethren, within any of your gates, in your land which God gives to you, you shall not harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your needy brother; but you shall surely open your hand to him, and shall surely lend him sufficient for his need" (Deuteronomy 15:7-8).

Additionally, Jews are obligated in the mitzvah of ma'aser, which means a 10th (often translated as "tithe"). In ancient times, each Jew was required to give 1/10th of the produce of the fields to the Levite, and an additional tenth to the poor or to support Jerusalem. Today, ma'aser is generally given from both one's regular income and from any additional monies that come to a person, such as bank interest, an inheritance or a monetary gift. Because of the intricacies of the laws and differences in situations, it is recommended that one seek the help of a qualified rabbi to properly allocate one's ma'aser.

5. Spend More Time with Family
In the day-to-day hubbub of our 21st century world, we are wired and wireless. Through our smartphones and tablets we are now truly available 24/7. Even on vacation, we are likely to be accessible. It seems like there is no break.

Jewish life brings a whole new meaning to TGIF, Thank God It's Friday. With the start of Shabbat (25 hours, starting a little before sunset on Friday) all electrical devices are turned off. No phones or e-mail. One is meant to actually sit down with their families and friends and enjoy each other's company, taking time to relax, talk, visit. It's a relief not to be bound to others, to actually have a day, once a week, when we answer to no person.

6. Manage the Budget
Avak gezel refers to situations in which one had no intention of stealing and, in truth, did not actually steal something, but yet caused a loss to someone else.

In his magnificent compilation of Jewish law known as the Mishneh Torah, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Rambam, Spain/Egypt 12th century) notes that a person who eats a meal with a host who cannot afford to serve that meal has committed avak gezel. The Rambam clearly points out that this is not technically "legal robbery" but is forbidden because there is some element of robbery within this action (Hilchot Teshuva 4:4).

In truth, the laws of avek gezel can apply to one's self as well, and therefore one must make every attempt to maintain a budget and avoid debt.

7. Volunteer to Help Others
While giving to charity (tzedakah) is an act of kindness (chesed), an act of kindness is not charity. According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Elazar, "Acts of Kindness are greater than charity, for it is said (Hosea 1:12), 'Sow to yourself according to your charity, but reap according to your kindness.' If a person sows, it is doubtful whether he will eat or not, but when a person reaps he will certainly eat it" (Sukkah 49b). The sages go on to explain that kindness is better than charity.

There are many ways in which a person can perform acts of kindness. Some of the best-known mitzvot associated with chesed are visiting the sick, welcoming guests, and helping a bride and groom get married. Many of the opportunities to involve one's self with these mitzvot come from being involved with organizations that focus on specific acts of kindness. Within the Jewish community, there are organizations for assisting the poor, helping those who are ill and their families, helping young people find their "soul-mates" and then helping them make a wedding, if needed, and many others.

8. Quit Smoking
Once upon a time, cigarette smoking was assumed to have many health benefits. After all, smokers seemed to feel refreshed and relaxed, a beneficial physical side effect. From a Torah perspective, the only apparent problem with smoking was lighting a cigarette on Shabbat (prohibited).

By the time the dangers of smoking became common knowledge, however, it was a common vice, and rabbinic authorities understood that an outright ban on smoking would be too difficult to enforce (especially given the addictive nature of nicotine). In relation to smoking, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (regarded as one of the greatest Jewish legal minds of the 20th century), felt that he could not outlaw it based on the statement in Yebamot 72a: "Since many people are in the habit of disregarding these precautions, 'The Lord preserves the simple' (Psalms 116:6)." In his 1981 ruling, however, he not only strongly discouraged the habit, but also declared it forbidden to start. More recent rabbinc rulings have outrightly banned smoking.

9. Be Less Grumpy
"When one shows his teeth [smiles] to his fellow man, it is better than giving him milk to drink" (Ketubot 111b).

On the whole, smiling at another person makes them smile too (unless they are in a really bad mood). Imagine passing a smile down a street, "infecting" one person and then another. Unlike a virus, smiling is believed to have great health benefits! A wide range of professionals now believe that smiling not only makes you look better, but actually makes you feel better, perhaps even releasing a small dose of helpful endorphins.

Receiving a smile can change a person's entire perspective. More than just changing a passing mood, sincere smiles (sincerely, as is implied by the reference of showing one's teeth) build self esteem, they change how a person views the world and how a person feels that he/she is viewed by the world.

10. Further One's [Jewish] Education
This a goal that is often elusive. More and more Jews are leaving Jewish life with only basic knowledge about Judaism. Once upon a time, a Jew raised with little knowledge of his/her heritage was the exception, but, according to Jewish law, such a person could not be held responsible for Jewish law. However, one raised without this knowledge can also never know of the depth, ethics, intricacies and fully appreciate the beauty of Jewish life.

Today in North America, where several generations of Jews have been raised with only the most basic Jewish education, there are organizations such as NJOP/Jewish Treats, that strive to provide a more complete understanding of Judaism and Jewish life.

The Jewish Messiah and the End of Days

The question of whether or not Dec. 21 will be the end of the world has been a hot topic in the media. These speculations are based on the Mayan calendar coming to an end. This is not, however, the first time that the world has worried that the end was near.

There have been many who have claimed to have either deciphered or had a mystic revelation of the exact date of the end of the world (as we know it) and the coming of the final redemption. There have also been many who have declared themselves to be the Messiah -- the one who will bring about the ultimate redemption of humankind -- but have not lived up to their promises.

Although the concept of a Messiah* (Moshiach in Hebrew) and an end to the world as we know it is not overtly mentioned in the five books of the Torah, it is actually one of the fundamental articles of Jewish faith. As Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides/Rambam) included in his 13 Principles of Faith (as popularly rendered): "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah; and even though he may tarry, nevertheless, I wait each day for his coming."

The Torah does, however, describe the future that will befall the Jewish people when (not if) they turn their hearts from the Torah (Deuteronomy 28): The land will be destroyed, the people ravaged by disease before being defeated by enemies and exiled. These events have, sadly, come to pass, repeatedly.

Two chapters later, however, Moses informs the people that after all of the curses have befallen the Children of Israel and they have returned to Him with all their heart and soul, then the curse will be undone. This chapter includes all of the famous promises of the ultimate redemption: Ingathering of the exiles, return to the land and the destruction of Israel's enemies. While this process has started several times in the history of the Jewish people, it has never been completed. Jews have returned to Israel, but never in peace and never as an entire people.

Many of the details of the time of the redemption are encrypted in the books of the Prophets. Isaiah, in particular, contains a great number of references and is the primary source from which it is understood that the Messiah, the one destined to lead the Jewish people to their ultimate redemption, will come from the Davidic line. "And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse (King David's father), and a branch shall grow out of his roots: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him" (Isaiah 11:1-2).

As fascinating as end-of-days prophecies and the coming of the Messiah may be, the Torah's only apparent reference to a time when redemption will come states: "And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you shall bethink yourself among all the nations, where the Lord your God has driven you" (Deuteronomy 30:1).

Trying to calculate the exact date of the final redemption is not a high priority for most Jewish scholars. Perhaps that is because Jewish law focuses on the here and now (which is the same reason for the unexpectedly vague discussions of the afterlife).

The Talmud states that "Seven things are hidden from humankind ... [one of them being] when the Davidic dynasty [the Messiah] will return; and when the wicked kingdom will come to an end" (Pesachim 54b).

Nevertheless, we do have some information about the coming of the Messiah. For instance, "Rabbi Kattina said: The world is to last six thousand years, and [for] one thousand it will be desolate" (Rosh Hashana 31a). Now, before one sits down to try to calculate those years (keeping in mind that the Hebrew year is 5763), it is important to consider the following statement by Rav: "All the predestined dates [for redemption] have passed, and the matter [now] depends only on repentance and good deeds" (Sanhedrin 97b).

Rav's statement not only supports the fact that humankind is unable to calculate the date of the coming of the Messiah and the end of the known world, but demonstrates that Judaism is fundamentally about the here and now.

*While the term Messiah is used for savior, it literally means "anointed one."

The Gift of Gifts

The other night, a friend of mine told me how incredulous she was about how strongly her husband’s family focussed on the gift-giving aspect of Chanukah. In her own traditional childhood, her family had only given children Chanukah gelt, a few pennies or coins. Her husband’s family, on the other hand, celebrates Chanukah with a large party and lots of gifts. The Chanukah menorah was lit, but that appears, in her opinion, to be the extent of tradition.

As I listened to my friend’s insights I noticed that I felt mildly uncomfortable. From a strictly traditional opinion, she was right: There is no historic tradition of gifts associated with Chanukah. On the other hand, my own memories are filled with warm recollections of my parents giving my brother and me little presents each night (and one or two big ones). Those long ago evenings, when my brother and I would ask over and over if my father would soon be home so we could light the menorah, as we tried to pretend that we weren’t really asking how soon until we could get presents, built a foundation for the Judaism that I knew I wanted to give to my own children.

Even before I chose a more traditional lifestyle than the one in which I had been raised, my excitement for the Chanukah holiday had refocused on the act of lighting candles, rather than the gifts (not that I didn’t appreciate them as a teen as well).

In my early twenties, I began to take a deeper interest in Jewish life and Jewish law. I spent a year in Israel studying Judaism in depth. The more I have studied, the fewer halachic (Jewish legal) connections I have found for the giving of gifts, while, at the same time, the more I have noticed what an important role they play in modern Jewish life.

My friend felt that this tradition of giving gifts was a reflection of Christmas and Jewish assimilation. Sadly, this is probably true in many North American homes. It’s even true that when I was a kid, I felt that there was a competition–and often that I had the better end of the deal.

On the other hand, one can, and many have, traced the root of gift-giving back to a custom of Chanukah gelt. Gelt itself is a Yiddish word that might lead one to perceive an Eastern European origin to this tradition.

It is a tradition, however, that has its roots in two Talmudic discussions: One stating that lighting the Chanukah menorah is so important that one who cannot afford oil (or candles) should beg in order to purchase oil, and the second, expressing a correlation between lighting the Chanukah menorah and having intelligent children. From these two concepts, the custom developed to reward children for their studies with a little bit of money. This is Gelt. In time, a penny turned into a small token, which, probably in competition with Christmas, became a bundle of presents.

Let’s face it, most American Jews can recall being asked at least once if they really receive a present on each night of Chanukah. Indeed, most of us can also recall being asked whether Chanukah is “the Jewish Christmas.” This second question is quite ironic, given that the holiday of Chanukah is actually a celebration of a victorious battle against assimilation. At the time of the Maccabees, many Jews found it more comfortable to Hellenize their lives rather than fight to maintain a traditional Jewish lifestyle.

When I was a child, I rarely associated Chanukah with Christmas. We had our holiday and they had theirs. But I can, of course, be honest enough to admit that if I had not received Chanukah presents, I probably would have been jealous of, and desirous for, Christmas.

As a small child, the presents were a major focus, but, because of that, I developed a love for this holiday. As I grew older, my brother and I received fewer presents, but that did not diminish my connection to the holiday.

As a teenager, the societal pressure to celebrate Christmas bothered me tremendously. I was the outspoken choir member who insisted on adding Chanukah songs to the holiday concert and the high schooler who made certain a menorah was also part of the holiday display. My actions were driven by my Jewish pride, not by my desire to compare Chanukah to Christmas. I wanted the Jewish students who were less connected than I was to have a reason to be excited about their own heritage.

Listening to my friend’s dismay at the customs of her husband’s family, I felt, at first, embarrassed that this was the type of home in which I had been raised. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that because my parents had never mixed our Chanukah presents with even the slightest hint of that other holiday--there was no Chanukah bush or tinselly decorations--the gifts had been just one more aspect in developing my proud Jewish identity.

As a parent living a traditional Jewish lifestyle, I have not cast away this seeming remnant of assimilation. Instead, my husband and I have incorporated the important Chanukah lesson of Chinuch (education, a word that shares the same Hebrew root as Chanukah). On the nights when our children receive Chanukah presents, each child must answer a question about either Chanukah or the weekly Torah portion. Likewise, when there are gifts to be exchanged between my husband and myself (or the kids and one of us), we must also answer a question.

The other night, I did not say any of this to my friend. I smiled and listened and gave sympathetic answers of tacit agreement. Perhaps I should have said that the end result of the Chanukah presents my parents gave me was the greatest gift of all--my strong sense of my Jewish self.