Angel for Shabbat

In a recent sermon, Rabbi Shaul Robinson of the Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York City referred to an amazing incident in the life of Dr. George Dantzig (1914-2005), one of the greatest American mathematicians of the 20th century. In 1939, when Dantzig was a graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley, he arrived late to class one day. The professor had written several problems in statistics on the blackboard.

Dantzig assumed that these problems were a homework assignment. He copied them into his notebook and then worked on them over the next few days. When he turned them in, he mentioned to his professor that the problems were a bit more difficult than usual and he apologized for handing in the assignment late.

The New York Times of February 6, 2015, included a long article under the caption: “Strains Grow Between Israel and Many Jews in the U.S.” The article focused on unhappiness with the monopoly of Israel’s Orthodox Chief Rabbinate in matters of marriage, divorce and conversion to Judaism.

In his book, “Creativity, The Magic Synthesis” (Basic Books, 1976), the late psychiatrist Dr. Silvano Arieti discussed the process of creating a work of art. The artist perceives something directly and then attempts to interpret it through imagery. Various processes are at work. “Preceding thoughts and feelings about an object affect the way he perceives it directly. In other words, past experiences of the object—everything he knows and feels about it—influence the way he sees that object” (p. 194).

The Ner Tamid (eternal light) was a basic feature of the Mishkan as well as of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Symbolizing the Almighty’s constant presence and providence, the Ner Tamid has been a vital component of our synagogues throughout the generations.

by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Some years ago, I served as scholar-in-residence on a trip to Spain and Israel sponsored by the American Friends of the Technion. The closing event  was a dinner at the Technion in Haifa. It was a week or so before Passover.  One of the Israeli participants in the program--I believe she was a teacher or administrator of the school--noticed that I was wearing a kippah, and she came to speak with me.

As a child growing up among the Sephardim of Seattle, I experienced Judaism as a happy and loving way of life. We seemed to have an endless stream of parties, wonderful food, beautiful singing. One of our customs at the conclusion of Pessah was—and still is—the “money throw.”

The business analyst, Clayton M. Christensen, distinguished between two types of innovations. A sustaining innovation builds on a company’s basic business by improving its products and providing better value. A disruptive innovation creates a new market that displaces earlier technologies. Sustaining innovation focuses on improving existing products; disruptive innovation moves in a new, unexpected direction that radically changes the market. Sustaining innovation is evolutionary; disruptive innovation is revolutionary.

I recently attended a daily minyan but could hardly concentrate on my prayers. What was the problem?

One of the worshipers chanted all his prayers in a loud tone of voice, generally a paragraph or two behind the hazzan. The more I tried to focus on my own prayers, the more the loud voice of this person distracted me. Instead of experiencing the prayers with a feeling of spiritual elevation, I found myself feeling annoyed, even angry.

After their glorious victory and rededication of the Temple, the Hasmoneans established the holiday of Hanukkah to be celebrated by Jews for all future generations. The festival of lights is an occasion for thanksgiving to God, celebration of Jewish pride, remembrance of the importance of religious freedom.

It wasn't too long, though, before this great spiritual and military victory lost its luster. The Hasmoneans--a priestly family--set themselves up as kings. Once they centralized so much power in themselves, corruption soon set in. Their "kings" became ruthless despots; the high priesthood became a political prize going to the highest bidder.

On Sunday night, February 9, 2014, I had the honor and pleasure of speaking at the inaugural event of the Centennial celebration of Congregation Or V’Shalom in Atlanta, Georgia. The Congregation dates back to 1914, when two groups of Sephardim from Turkey and Rhodes merged their organizations—Or Hahayim and Ahavath Shalom—into one community. Many of the current members of Or V’Shalom are descendants of the founders’ generation, and many others have joined the congregation, attracted by its warmth and vitality.