Angel for Shabbat

A while ago, a member of our Institute sent me an email. Here are his comments, although I've deleted the name of the rabbi to whom he referred.

"Does it bother anyone else that Sephardim have begun wearing the funeral dress of Ashkenazim- the black hats, suits, and other "garb" of Eastern European Jews ? Even Rabbi X, a well-respected Sephardi Hakham, has succumbed to this. I fear for the future of Sephardi customs and traditions !!"

Why were our Temples in ancient Jerusalem destroyed? Jewish tradition offers answers.

The first Temple was destroyed in 586 BCE by the Babylonians--because of the sins of the people of Israel. This is evident especially from the prophecies of Jeremiah. The Talmud notes that the Israelites of that period committed major sins. The destruction and exile were brought about "because of our sins."

The second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70CE. The Talmud suggests that the destruction was a punishment for the sin of "Sinat Hinam," Jews hating each other without justification.

A famous joke tells of a “conversation” between two people. “A” goes on at great length talking about how wonderful he/she is, elaborating in a very self-centered way on his/her talents, virtues, accomplishments. Finally, though, “A” realizes that the “conversation” is entirely one-sided. Courtesy demands that “B” also be invited to participate if there is to be a dialogue. So “A” tells “B”: “That’s enough talking about ME. Let’s talk about YOU now. What do YOU think about ME?”

An old Turkish proverb states: “My heart wants neither coffee nor coffeehouse; my heart wants a friend, coffee is an excuse.” We all seek a social texture for our lives…friends, community, a sense of belonging and continuity.

We drink coffee together not because we want coffee but because we want sociability. We want a friend with whom to talk. We want a peaceful respite from a noisy world.

(This week’s Angel for Shabbat column is excerpted from my book, “Rhythms of Jewish Living,” chapter two.)

Jewish religious experience is intimately linked to the rhythms of the natural world. The rhythms of the sun and moon govern our times of prayer, our religious festivals, our meditation of the universe. The phenomena of nature evoke within us responses to the greatness of God, the Creator, and we recite blessings on witnessing the powers of nature.

Centuries of Westernization and urbanization have profoundly affected Jewish religious sensitivity. There has been a steady and increasing alienation between Jewish religious observance and the natural world, with a parallel diminution in sensing the awe of God as Creator of the natural universe.

LET US ALL OFFER SPECIAL PRAYERS FOR THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL AT THIS VERY DANGEROUS TIME. MAY THE ALMIGHTY GRANT SAFETY, SECURITY AND STRENGTH TO THE STATE OF ISRAEL AND ALL ITS INHABITANTS. MAY THE ALMIGHTY GRANT ISRAEL A GENUINE PEACE, AND MAY HE BLESS ALL GOOD PEOPLE EVERYWHERE WHO STRIVE FOR PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING AMONG HUMANITY.

Thoughts for Rosh Hashana 5774

Sometimes it takes a crisis to remind us of the transience of life. It might be an illness, the death of a loved one, an accident, a shocking and tragic news report. At these crisis moments, we suddenly and starkly remember that we are mortal, that life on this earth is temporary.

When people confront their own mortality, they often come to the realization that time is precious; that life is too valuable to be frittered away on nonsense; that it is self-destructive to engage in petty feuds or egotistical competitions. It can take a crisis to help us live on a higher, happier level. Facing the transience of life, we take our living moments more seriously.

When I was a teenager growing up in Seattle, our family was affiliated with Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. Our rabbi was Rabbi William Greenberg, of blessed memory.

I still recall vividly a conversation/confrontation I had with Rabbi Greenberg. He taught me a lesson which I’ve never forgotten.

One Shabbat morning, a member of our congregation came to services. Rabbi Greenberg gave him a big smile. The gentleman was given the honor of being called to the Torah, and Rabbi Greenberg welcomed him warmly during his sermon.

God instructs Abram to set out for a new land. God states that He will bless Abram, make him into a great nation, increase his fame, support his allies and curse his enemies. Abram will be a blessing to the nations of the world.

Abram complies with God’s commandment: “So Abram went as the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him…”(Bereishith 12:4).

Lot? How did Lot get into this scene? God had spoken with Abram and hadn’t said a word to Lot about going to a new land!

The very next verse (12:5) reports: “And Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son…and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan.” But didn’t the previous verse already inform us that Lot was going with Abram? Why is Lot
mentioned again?

Let us try to reconstruct the story.

What did the Israelites do during their forty years of wandering in the wilderness?

They didn’t need to work for their food, clothing or shelter. They didn’t have businesses to run. They didn’t have homes to repair or gardens to tend. They didn’t have theaters for entertainment or arenas for sporting events. They didn’t have televisions or internet connections or facebook. They didn’t have a formal school system for their children, or summer camps, or vacation homes.

We may assume that the Israelites—men, women and children—spent part of their days studying Torah. But what else did they have to do? How did they deal with what must have been overwhelming boredom? What did the Almighty have in mind when He imposed forty years of wandering on them?