Showing posts with label Parsha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parsha. Show all posts

Friday, September 23, 2011

Parshat Netzavim-Vayelech


The book, The Perfect Mile, by Neil Bascomb tells the story of Roger Bannister, three athletes who committed themselves to breaking the four-minute mile.  Bascomb writes:

All three runners endured thousands of hours of training to shape their bodies and minds. They ran more miles in a year than many of us walk in a lifetime. They spent a large part of their youth struggling for breath. They trained week after week to the point of collapse, all to shave off a second, maybe two, during a mile race—the time it takes to snap one's fingers and register the sound. They understood that life was somehow different for them. If they weren't training or racing or gathering the will required for these efforts, they were trying not to think about training or racing at all.
Each of them describes the attempt to push oneself beyond the ordinary, to make changes in their lifestyles in order to better themselves and in doing so they felt that they had achieved something unique and extraordinarily satisfying.
What does it mean to be human?  How are human beings different than all other living things?  When asked this question, I think that many of us would answer, “Free will.”  It’s the fact that Human beings have the ability to exercise choice.  We do not make important life decisions based on instinct, we have the ability to use critical thinking, to weigh evidence, and gather data before making a decision. But let me ask you something?  How many times have you done something that you knew you shouldn’t do, but you just couldn’t help it?  Or how many times have you failed to do something that you really should have done?  Where is our free will in these situations? 
Furthermore, research has shown that both hereditary and environmental factors will not just influence a person’s likelihood to act in a certain way, but they can actually predict how an individual will act in a given situation.  What about choice?This week’s Parsha has an important lesson with regard to free will.  At the end of Parshat Nitzavim 30:19, we have the words: “I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse, choose life!” ובחרת בחיים! 
When we think about it, why do we need to be told to choose life and blessing?  The choice seems pretty obvious, there doesn’t seem like much of a choice at all.   Who in their right mind would choose death over life or curse over blessing.  We shouldn’t need to be told to choose life. Nevertheless, the torah tells us to choose life.  I believe the Torah tells us this for a reason.   Because when it comes to expressing our free will, it needs to be an active and conscious process.  Where we come from, our personal history and experiences no doubt have an impact on how we will react in any given situation, but it cannot dictate the way that we will act.  Our actions need not be predetermined.  We all have the ability to change!
As we go into Rosh Hashanah, we should realize that this is exactly what teshuva is really about.  It’s about being able to make changes in our lives.  The word teshuva literally means to return.  Return involves a certain degree of change.  When we make difficult changes, we are acting with free will.  We are choosing how to live, and this time of year our choice, just like it says in the Parsha, is to choose life.  So much of what we pray for on Rosh Hashanah is life.  We ask God to inscribe us in the book of life; we add the word חיים [life] to blessings in the amidah between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  When we prepare ourselves for the High Holidays, the Teshuva we are doing is an introspection on what do we want out of our lives in the coming year and how are we going to achieve that. We’re not just praying for a higher quantity of life, we are prayer for a higher quality of life!
Choosing life, while it might be obvious, is not always easy.  Choosing life means becoming aware of the things that we know that we really want to implement in our lives but don’t.  Choosing life means taking a step back from our routine and reevaluating.  
In the recent issue of the Reform Judaism magazine there was an article called, “my frum week.”  The article is about a young woman who is a student at Yale university who decided she was going to try being as frum as she could.  She was going to try living like an Orthodox Jew for a week.  Every day she got up early for minyan, went to minyan in the afternoon for mincha and Ma’ariv, made blessings before and after she ate, she dressed differently, basically she felt like for that week her whole life had changed.  Making the change gave her insight into her own life and Judaism based on her experience of these mitzvoth she hadn’t previously experienced.  I’d like to share with you one of her observations in her own words:
The new level of observance I experienced during frum week also gave me a different way of connecting to God. Previously I believed that some undercurrent of Divinity was in the world around me; to experience it I simply needed to enter the world with open eyes and wait for God’s presence to appear to me. During frum week, each action I took was a forced pause of mindfulness of the Divine, an awareness that my every deed was meant to advance me toward God, regardless of how I was feeling at that moment. 
One of the most important aspects of being an observant Jew is the way in which everything we do has the potential to be a movement towards God.  But this experience doesn’t just happen.  It has to be something that we choose, we need to exert our free will to make changes in our lives that can sometimes seem inconvenient to use before we get used to that change.  But the point of it all is that it connects us to our maker. 
Rosh Hashanah is the time of year when we remind ourselves that we are human, we are not just automatons; we are capable of making changes.  To some extent we are products of our environments and surroundings, but we always have a choice on how we are going to exist in that space. 
                This week is when we really begin the High Holidays.  Tonight we are going to start saying selichot, and we will say them every day until Rosh Hashanah begins.  Because the work that we hope to accomplish on Rosh Hashanah has to start beforehand, meaningful change does not come in an instant.  Let’s make this week our frum week.  Whatever it is that you do, figure out a plan on how you will do something additional this week.  Take the time to consider how this mitzvah will help with the overall mitzvah of teshuvah.  Perhaps it is to say blessings before and/or after you eat coming, maybe it’s to pray more at home or even to come to shul for minyan this week.  Go visit an elderly friend, give food to the homeless, or make a hospital visit. Let us all choose to do something extra this week as an expression of our free will and our desire to choose life.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Parshat Ki Tavo


This week’s Parsha begins with the commandment for the Jewish farmer during the times that the Temple stood to bring his first fruits to the Temple as an offering.   Part of this ritual was the requirement of the person bringing their fruits to recite something called, וידוי מעשר, the Ma’aser confession.  The text of this statement (which is also part of the haggadah liturgy read at the Seder on Passover)begins:

(Lavan) the Aramean wanted to destroy my Father, afterwards he went down to Egypt and became a great, powerful, and populous nation there… (Deuteronomy 26:5)

What I find fascinating about this statement is the way in which the statement begins, with the words, “my father.”  One could argue that it is specifically talking about Jacob, which is why it refers to a singular father.  But the statement continues and tells more of the story of Jewish history, about what happened to the Jews in Egypt, and how God took them out of Egypt, all things that didn’t happen to Jacob himself.  So I’m left with the impression the, “my father,” in this statement is referring to the ancestors of the Jewish people.  

The reason I find this statement to be fascinating is because it is a powerful statement about where we look towards guidance and our relationship in the world.  A father has an incredible potential to make an impression on his child’s perspective on pretty much everything in the world, and the way in which the child will choose to act in the world based on that perspective.  When the Jewish farmer who would recite this statement in a Temple ritual said, “my father,” he was making a statement of the relationship he has with Jewish history and Judaism.  The lesson here is not only for the Jewish farmer during the times that this ritual was observed, it’s for all time.  How many of us seriously look towards Judaism as a guide for how we see everything in the world and how we choose to behave as a result?

Parshat Ki Tavo


This week’s Parsha begins with the commandment for the Jewish farmer during the times that the Temple stood to bring his first fruits to the Temple as an offering.   Part of this ritual was the requirement of the person bringing their fruits to recite something called, וידוי מעשר, the Ma’aser confession.  The text of this statement (which is also part of the haggadah liturgy read at the Seder on Passover)begins:

(Lavan) the Aramean wanted to destroy my Father, afterwards he went down to Egypt and became a great, powerful, and populous nation there… (Deuteronomy 26:5)

What I find fascinating about this statement is the way in which the statement begins, with the words, “my father.”  One could argue that it is specifically talking about Jacob, which is why it refers to a singular father.  But the statement continues and tells more of the story of Jewish history, about what happened to the Jews in Egypt, and how God took them out of Egypt, all things that didn’t happen to Jacob himself.  So I’m left with the impression the, “my father,” in this statement is referring to the ancestors of the Jewish people.  

The reason I find this statement to be fascinating is because it is a powerful statement about where we look towards guidance and our relationship in the world.  A father has an incredible potential to make an impression on his child’s perspective on pretty much everything in the world, and the way in which the child will choose to act in the world based on that perspective.  When the Jewish farmer who would recite this statement in a Temple ritual said, “my father,” he was making a statement of the relationship he has with Jewish history and Judaism.  The lesson here is not only for the Jewish farmer during the times that this ritual was observed, it’s for all time.  How many of us seriously look towards Judaism as a guide for how we see everything in the world and how we choose to behave as a result?

Friday, September 9, 2011

Parshat Ki Tetzeh


Once there was a king who had an identical twin brother, the king’s twin brother was the worst kind of criminal.  One day the king’s criminal brother got caught, he was hung for his crimes, and his body was left hanging as a warning for others to not turn to a life of crime.  Leaving a body hanging was, and unfortunately still is, a common punishment in some societies as a way to deter undesirable behavior.  The idea being that the horror of seeing the remains of the criminal will scare people away from following in the criminal’s footsteps.
Although the motivation for this practice might be well meaning as a way to inspire proper behavior, there is still an immoral element to this sort of practice.  In this week’s parsha we are commanded against doing such an act.  When it comes to creating a moral society, the ends do not ever justify the means.  Doing an immoral act, even if well intentioned in the desired outcome, leaves a mark on a person and on that society. 
This is what our sages were trying to teach us in the story of the king and his criminal brother.  The problem with leaving the body of the King’s criminal twin brother was that, when people saw the body hanging, it looked identical to the king’s, they didn’t know it was the king’s brother.   They thought that the king had been overthrown and killed.  Leaving the body of the king’s brother hanging might have seemed like the right thing to do, but it turned out to be an affront to the respect and authority of the king himself. 
This Midrash continues by drawing a parallel between the king and his brother and the relationship between God and human beings.  In the story, the disrespect to the identical twin brother of the king resulted in disrespect to the king as well, since the torah tells us that man is created in the image of God, the disrespect shown to human remains is also disrespectful to God.  The failure to do the right thing here, and bury the person as soon as possible, is an immoral act which causes corruption.  Immorality, no matter what, goes against what we stand for and who we are as a people.
So what are we supposed to stand for?  I believe that this law is really the key to understanding the central theme of the entire torah portion that we read today.  And that this central theme is a FUNDAMENTAL statement of what we stand for as a people and what it means to be a good Jew.  With this law the torah is saying, doing something bad, no matter the intention, will corrupt you.  But the lesson isn’t just a commandment of what not to do.  The rest of the laws in this week’s parsha are a guide to us of how to have a moral society and be moral people.
Compassion is always at the core of what the torah is teaching us when it reminds us to remember the needs of the people in society who are the most vulnerable, like the widow, the orphan, and the stranger as it does in this week’s parsha.  But we are also taught the lesson of being compassionate to the vulnerable in all aspects of life; whether it’s the way we do business: as we learn this week about paying workers on time, and not deliberately deceiving customers; or if it’s how to treat animals as we see in the commandment to send away a mother bird from her nest before taking her eggs. 
Another example is the command to put a fence around your roof.  While it might seem strange that the torah would be giving us advice on how to build a house, there is a fundamental moral lesson here. When we are commanded to build a fence around our roofs when building a house, we are being taught that we must be conscientious at all times because you never know how an action or inaction might hurt someone.  In addition, this week’s Parsha has commandments regarding the respect an individual should have of other people’s boundaries both private and public, respect for marriage, paying debts, keeping true to your word, and so many more. 
The torah is trying to teach us that it’s not enough to just not do bad things; we are being commanded to train ourselves, at our core, to be moral people who are respectful, conscientious and compassionate in all that we do.  Although this lesson may seem simple, it is by no means unimportant.   This is the fundamental mission of the Jewish people.  Being a light unto the nations means being the example of a moral society, it means being proactively positive. 
This lesson is really driven home by the bookends of the parsha.  The parsha begins with the laws of warfare and ends with the commandment to never forget Amalek.  Wartime can unfortunately be a time when morality is put on the side for what a well meaning society considers to be for the greater good.  The torah is saying the Jewish people ALWAYS need to be a beacon of morality, even during war; the ends NEVER justify the means.  It then continues with a list of ways in which a society and people need to be moral in their day to day lives.  Some of which I discussed earlier.  And then the final lesson, remembering Amalek, is a reminder of what is at stake.  Amalek is the symbol to the Jewish people of all that is wrong and immoral with the world.  Amalek is our archenemy because they exist to sow disorder, immorality and chaos.  The best way for us to defeat Amalek is to stand for a world of order and morality. 
Our tradition tells us ","סור מרע ועשה טוב stay away from Evil and do good.  Today’s parsha is saying be aware how doing bad no matter what is dangerous, therefore make a point to not only stay away from bad, but pro-actively seek to do good.  This is always an important lesson, but now in the time leading up to the high holidays it is a lesson that should be ever more present in our minds as we prepare for the upcoming holidays.