Rabbi Zeitlin

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov’s famous saying, מצווה גדולה להיות בשמחה (Mitzva gedola l’hyot b’simcha), “It’s a big mitzva to be happy”, is not necessarily an halachic opinion, but good life advice.  However, (ושמחת בחגך (דברים ט״ז י״ד (V’Samachta b’Chagecha, Devarim 16:14), “And you will be happy on your festival”, does have the weight and status of a מצווה דאורייתא (Mitzva D’Oreita) Biblical commandment.

In contrast to Shabbat, where the concept of ענג שבת (Oneg Shabbat), Enjoying Shabbat, is a Rabbinic injunction and is based on a prophetic verse (Isaiah 58:13), וְקָרָאתָ לַשַּׁבָּת עֹנֶג (V’Karata l’Shabbat Oneg) “And you will call Shabbat a pleasure”, being happy on the חגים (Chaggim) Festivals is a profound Torah obligation.

I remember my rebbe, Rabbi BCSZ Twerski zt”l, saying that Simchat Yom Tov (שמחת יום טוב), was the “hardest mitzva in the book”. Turning on our joy and maintaining it for 48 hours (longer if one includes the intermediate days of Chol Hamoed), not allowing ourselves to become annoyed or angry or depressed, is a super-human task. He didn’t mean programmed “Happiness” of singing and dancing, but the actual inner feeling. The world, in its current mode, is just not that well-suited to sustained joy.

Even after we make the decision, using our בחירה (Bechira) Free Will, to be happy, we need every bit of סייעתא דשמיא (Si’ata d’Shemaya) God’s help that we can gather to be able to carry it out.

חג שמח וכשר (Chag Sameach v’Kasher), May you have a Joyful and Kosher Pesach.

When we observe the moon, we know its light is reflected of, and thus less bright than, the sun.  Every month we watch it fade each night for more than two weeks before it begins to return to its former not-so-bright brightness.

Each month, while the moon is still young but has gained reasonable substance (ideally between the third and seventh of the month), we say Kiddush Levana, “Blessing” (making/recognizing the holiness) of the Moon. Part of the service prays that The Creator restores the moon to its original brightness (before it was diminished–but that’s a separate teaching). It continues, וִיהִי אוֹר הַלְּבָנָה כְּאוֹר הַחַמָּה וּכְאוֹר שִׁבְעַת יְמֵי בְרֵאשִׁית, “May the light of the moon become like the light of the sun, and the light of the seven days of Creation.”

For us to be able the witness the light of the moon become as bright as the sun is in our times would violate every law of nature. For the moon to reflect that much light, the sun would have to radiate proportionally more light which would certainly make all life on earth, including ourselves to observe, impossible.

Perhaps when we make this prayer, we imagine a world that exists at a higher level of reality than the one bound by nature to which we’re accustomed.

As we ascend to reach the highest realms, these highest realms race down to join us.

Pesach approaches.

This morning I said my yearly goodbye to תחנון, Tachanun, literally asking for חן (Chen), “grace”, a psalm I recite most weekdays immediately after the Amida, the standing thrice-daily prayer that is the central feature of תפילה (Tefilla), prayer. Along with Tachanun, I won’t visit a number of other psalms and prayers for the next month, because we omit all of them the entire month of Nissan where we both join the tribal leaders in the desert as they celebrated inaugurating the משכן (Mishkan), the traveling, temporary Temple that accompanied us on all our journeys until שלמה המלך, King Solomon, was finally able to build a permanent home for the שכינה (Shechina), the Divine Presence, in Jerusalem, as well as anticipate the upcoming festival of פסח (Pesach), celebrating and renewing each year our freedom. In another two weeks we’ll also, for the week’s duration of Pesach, forego our תפילין (Tefillin).

It’s hard for me to imagine how I’ll survive, let alone continue to function very well without these great aids.

Actually, we’re challenged, as well as invited, to step up to a higher level of freedom and independence. We, for a while this time around, at least, have no need to beg for חן (Chen) since we’ll, if we can actually realize (and hopefully, one day soon, actualize it) that the Mishkan/Bet HaMikdash is now at hand. And, with a couple week of fortifying ourselves with that reality, the intense freedom that began that long-ago Pesach is ours for the taking.

Chodesh Tov

P.S. Enjoy this music, Take A Giant Step, from the 1969 Taj Mahal album of the same name.

This world is not an easy place.

I suspect that thinking, spiritually oriented people have always searched for ways to transcend everyday reality, but I also am pretty sure that certain periods in history have been more challenging to people of faith and morality than others. (Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo writes beautifully this week on how halacha functions as a way to balance life in Olam HaZeh, the “real” while yearning for Olam HaBah, the ideal.) We’re living in an extremely challenging time.

Our mystical tradition has a pretty apt description for much of modern society, שולטת לילית שפחה הרעה (Sholetet Lilit, Shifcha HaRa’a), the dominion of Lilith the evil handmaid (or the handmaid of Evil). As you’d guess, this refers to a time of unbridled license to every imaginable (and unimaginable) desire. Fueled by a marketing culture that exploits the very nature of wanting, everything is not merely available, not merely permitted, but satisfying every whim, no matter how selfishly unhealthy, unsavory, immoral, exploitative and destructive is endorsed and celebrated. The childish chant of the (nineteen) sixties, “If it feels good, do it” has taken over as much of “modern culture”‘s bible.

We’re encouraged to eat as much junk as we can stuff into our maws and damn the diabetes and heart disease, binge- drink and drug ourselves into not only oblivion, but into becoming hazardous drivers and aggressors without inhibition. Paradoxically, sex is good and should be unlimited but is immoral and exploitative at the same time, requiring prior notarized written consent–perhaps the traditional consequence of sex, bringing children into the world, is no longer considered quite…..savory. (They will destroy the future environment and, oh yeah, they require our acting responsibly, infringing on our SELF-fulfillment.) Even giving full rein to anger and violence is no longer quite so terrible, is it, as constant exposure to public beheadings, right there on youtube, has dulled our shock.

Of course most people are not like that, but take a look a popular entertainment and at the news media. Think about the cult of celebrity which encourages the rich and famous to become ever more outrageous. Who has become role models and what value do we give to truth when everyone has their own narrative?

This brings me to this week’s parsha, Vayikra, which deals entirely with the Temple Service, i.e. animal sacrifices. This portion is always read just before Pesach, the festival of freedom. It describes in infinite detail every step from choosing an animal to slaughtering it to collecting and splashing its blood to disposing of its carcass. Many “modern” Jews are embarrassed and disgusted by this part of our history and are horrified at the prospect of a Third Temple which might feature a return to this practice.

At the very least, the common understanding of the English word, sacrifice, points at giving up something that is ours. It can begin to deflect the constant focus on self, on consuming, on filling every desire. Of course, the Hebrew word, קרבן (Karban) tells us even more. Its root, ק-ר-ב, means to approach, to come close, and at its most literal it teaches that giving, rather than taking, brings us closer to holiness. At a more mystical level, though, we’re told that these processes, this Divine Service in the Temple, served to bring the upper, “heavenly”/spiritual realms close to the lower, mundane world in which our consciousness usually resides. Each step that each of us takes in this direction facilitates the ultimate realization of אחדות (Achdut) Oneness. In Rav Cardozo’s language, these mitzvot mediate the gap from what is to what ought to be. They are steps towards our freedom from our enslavement to Lilith, the embodiment of our slavery to greed.

No one knows exactly what the nature of the ideal will look like when it manifests. There is a full range of halachic/philosophical opinions as to whether sacrifices at all, and if so whether they include animal or be restricted to meal offerings, will be part of the daily service in the future Third Temple. Regardless, Bayit Shlishi, the Third Temple (literally, the Third House, since it will be the finite, physical space in the material world where the infinite, immaterial Shechina, Divine Presence, will dwell) will “join the worlds” and fill our finite/material reality with Unlimited Light through whatever process(es) will at that time be designated.

For the time being, prayer, tefilla,  fulfills the function of those karbanot, sacrifices. As הושע הנביא (Hoshea HaNavi), Hoshea the Prophet (14:3) says, וּנְשַׁלְּמָה פָרִים שְׂפָתֵינוּ (U’n’shalma Pharim Sifoteynu), and may our lips complete/replace (the previous function of) our (sacrificial) cattle.

If nothing else, prayer makes us humble and humility is liberating.

Shabbat Shalom

There are no reruns or do-overs in life, and it’s always exponentially harder to repair the damage than it was to cause it. Time, for us, moves only in a forward direction and it’s next to impossible to put the toothpaste back into the tube.

While the Buddhists say that the cause of all suffering is desire, our tradition goes deeper than this and teaches us that the cause of desire itself is narcissism. It is a universal human tendency to replace God as the center of our universe with ourselves. It’s gotten so bad that contemporary Western “enlightened” values have elevated self-empowerment/realization/fulfillment, the ultimate אבודה זרה (avoda zara), idol worship,  into the crown of all virtues.

The lesson of Adam’s and Chava’s (Eve’s) expulsion from Eden is neither a history lesson nor a myth. Rather it illustrates the first step, which each of us seem doomed to replicate, many of us frequently, in our own lives, of addiction–addiction to self. With the opportunity to contribute the final perfection to Creation by restraining his desire to coronate himself as the ultimate authority (“No one will tell me what I can and can’t eat!”), Adam was unable to follow a single, very simple rule. He couldn’t resist satisfying his ego and doing what he wanted rather than what He wanted; rather than lead the world into eternal perfection he began the process of cascading disasters which follow us to this day. He insisted on making his own will supreme, of following his desire rather his duty.

Probably the most frequent criticism of traditional (orthodox, for want of a better word) Judaism is that there are too many rules. A quick look through the contents of the first part of the Shulchan Aruch and you see that every waking moment is accompanied with rules, orders and prohibitions. At first glance (as if one can take a “first glance” at the infinite realm of Halacha) some of these seem “reasonable” and “just”, many more arbitrary and some even contradictory. What they all have in common is that we’re challenged to follow an agenda, from the moment we rise from bed until we go to sleep in the evening, other than our own.

Professional musicians find that it takes a mind-boggling number of repetitions to learn how to perform a composition. Roughly estimated at 500 times, maybe even 1,000, some performers and teachers judge the required repetitions closer to 5,000 or even 10,000 times! And when you make a mistake during practice you need to immediately correct it and repeat the proper notes and rhythm over and over again. That just seems to be the way the human brain is constructed and how “permanent pathways”, i.e. long-term memory and habits, are created.

Let’s be honest. Self-indulgence initally feels good. It rewards us with immediate “positive feedback” and it encourages us to repeatedly treat ourselves as the ultimate authority and arbiter of values, all of which, “coincidentally”, please us. But, as we perform the score of our life’s symphony, ultimately it’s discordant, out-of-synch and destroys the potential value our lives can really have.

We correct these acts of narcissism by doing the opposite, by resisting our desires and, rather, filling another’s desires. And, to really learn the music of life, the harmony of reality, we must repeat these correct actions over and over and over again. Hence, our Torah provides us sufficient reps to overcome our selfishness and to make selflessness a habit, eventually overcoming the damage caused by Adam’s first act of me-first-ism.

Although deeply embedded by that first self-indulgence into what then developed as “human nature”, narcissism is not fundamental to human nature–we can live without it. We have not only the ability, but also the technique (the Torah) to fundamentally transform ourselves, all humanity and all creation, to reach our greatest potential. These many rules, from waking to sleep, day after day after day, are our only way to truly repair ourselves, to repair the damage in the very fabric of existence. It just takes a lot of practice to transform ourselves, but with practice we can, eventually, make ourselves, our lives and our universe sing out in beauty.

The famous dictum in the Talmud (Megilla 7b), מיחייב איניש לבסומי בפוריא עד דלא ידע בין ארור המן לברוך מרדכי (M’Chayiv inish l’besumi b’Puriah ad d’lo yada beyn Arur Haman l’Baruch Mordechai), a person is obligated to sweeten himself (often interpreted as to drink) on Purim until he no longer knows the difference between Curse Haman and Bless Mordechai, has a much deeper meaning than merely instructing us to become intoxicated with joy on Purim. It’s also telling us that, from a certain perspective, both Haman and Mordechai are equally effective in reminding us exactly who we are and bringing us back to our Jewishness. Historically, and just as true today, we can allow ourselves to be inspired by the sweet incense of Torah (a play on the name Mordechai מורדכי = מור דכא, Mor (myrrh) – dacha (pure)) or oppressed with the rabid Jew-hatred of Haman and his present-day descendants, in the end we have no alternative to returning to who we are as Jews.

Another lesson is in the word פורים, Purim, itself. If we remove the “ו” (Vav), the letter of connection (see my previous article on Vav), we’re left with פרים (parim), cattle. Parim, as we know from the daily liturgy which describes the Temple Service, were the animal used for the twice-daily תמיד (Tamid) sacrifice (as well as being used in many other sacrifices).

Yes, Purim calls out for fun, merry-making, even a degree of intoxication. But, like our Jewish people in ancient Persia as the story begins, mindlessly feasting with Ahashuerus as he mocks and desecrates our holiest traditions (he wears the clothes of the Cohain Gadol, the High Priest, and drinks from the holy vessels looted from the Temple), without the Vav of God’s Holy Name, the Vav of connection, the Vav of Yosef the Tzaddik (יוסף הצדיק), we share the status of cattle, standing to be slaughtered. But when we allow ourselves to be seduced by the heavenly scent of Torah, inspired by Moredechai, connect ourselves by means of the Vav to God’s Holy Name, model ourselves after Yosef and his unassailable morality, we הפיר* (he-feer), nullify, the plan of each generation’s Haman and, furthermore, we פרו (p’ru) become fruitful and thrive.

חג פורים שמח–Happy Purim

* The letters ו (vav) and י (yud) resemble each other, one a point and the other the line extending from that point. They are often interchanged and both appear in the Holy Name י-ה-ו-ה.

“Paradigm Shift” has become a very popular phrase. Originally coined by Thomas Kuhn in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962), it means a completely new way to understand reality, based on new data (rather than theories) which forces the shift. For example, consider Galileo’s proof of heliocentric solar system (although our Jewish tradition long-ago took that for granted). Looking forward from our time, as new knowledge/data multiplies at ever-increasing rates, it seems we’re in a constant state of paradigm shift.

There is a major shift in Jewish reality, but it is not the Shoah (Holocaust) and our survival–we’ve survived systematic attempts to destroy us for millennia–but, rather, Jewish sovereignty, albeit as yet incomplete, in Eretz Yisrael with a closely approaching majority of the world’s Jews living in Eretz Yisrael. This requires a paradigm shift from Survival Judaism, in all its manifestations, quite necessary and proper in galut (the diaspora), to Geula (Redemption)-mode Torah, aimed at completing our mission. That mission, of course, goes way beyond surviving as an intact people and even beyond our previous introduction of ethical monotheism into the world (both of these were and remain absolutely essential, necessary but not in themselves sufficient), and entails, somehow, perfecting humanity, leading the way for all peoples to transcend the current limits of “human nature” (to be discussed in a future article), so we can all fulfill our potential and become what, as an entire species, we’re destined to and promised we will become.

Just as in the periods before every previous “paradigm shift” we really have at best a vague idea of the upcoming configuration of reality, so today we have no real understanding of what we mean by גאולה (Geula), redemption, משיח (Mashiach), Messiah (The Anointed One), עולם הבא (Olam HaBa), the world to come (more accurately translated as the world that continuously arrives) or לעתיד לבא, (L’Atid L’Vo) The Future To Come and other related terms and phrases. At best we can assume that each describes a slightly different gradation of God’s vision for Ultimate Reality and, as a result of this, our attachment, both individual and collective, to Him. We possess other vague descriptions such as the moon will shine with the current light of the sun while the sun will shine with the brightness of Creation. Or that we’ll return to the stature of  אדם הראשון (Adam HaRishon), the Primordial, one-small-step-away-from-perfection, Man, described as standing with his feet on earth and head in the heavens, with vision that stretches from one end of the universe to the other, with skin of pure glowing light and with only a single mitzva, the (seemingly) simple task of listening and obeying the instruction to refrain from eating the fruit of a single tree.

While we can’t describe the future, we do have a much better idea of how, together, we create it. As the sole people who accepted the Torah, we have been tasked with first bringing ethical monotheism to the world. While we demand of ourselves the entire package of all 613 מצוות (mitzvot), commandments, we present to the rest of the world only seven, the מצות בני נח  (Mitzvot B’nei Noach), Noahide commandments, essentially the minimum requirements to act civilized, compassionate and just towards all to the rest of humanity and creation.

However, that is only our first step. Beyond monitoring our own behavior and both acting and modeling ethical, loving relationships with all, we do have the remaining 606 mitzvot to work with, culminating in living properly, in harmony with our holy mitzvot, in the Land of Israel, our native soil where we operate most effectively, and then building and operating the בית המקדש (Bet HaMikdash) the Holy Temple, which becomes much more than a communal house of worship, but the essential fount of maximum שפע (Shefa), Divine Energy, to flow into the material world, bringing us, all humanity and the entire universe into maximal connection with The Creator,  our highest potential states of being.

Admittedly, through the lens of materialism and empiricism which have dominated and defined our world view for the millennia since the destruction of the Second Holy Temple, this sounds like science fiction/fantasy. But that’s because we’re trying to merely scratch the surface of a new reality, the new paradigm, towards which we’re shifting. Of course, until we transform ourselves we won’t be capable of even beginning to describe this new reality, and until that reality itself becomes manifest we don’t know what we will describe.

The Rambam is often, and inaccurately, accused of dogmatism when he lists thirteen articles of belief. He’s not giving us an ultimatum–believe these or you’re not one of us. Rather, he uses the word אמונה (Emunah), Belief, as something he knows to be true but has no empirical/logical tools or words to explain why.

As each of us follows our path through our tradition and its a-rational steps towards refining ourselves and the world, also known as הלכה (Halacha), the Walking (i.e. Path), we each can experience the unfolding, according to our unique personalities and souls, of that approaching paradigm yet to be.

 רַבִּי נְחוּנְיָא בֶּן הַקָּנָה הָיָה מִתְפַּלֵּל בִּכְנִיסָתוֹ לְבֵית הַמִּדְרָשׁ וּבִיצִיאָתוֹ תְּפִלָּה קְצָרָה. אָמְרוּ לוֹ, מַה מָּקוֹם לִתְפִלָּה זוֹ. אָמַר לָהֶם, בִּכְנִיסָתִי אֲנִי מִתְפַּלֵּל שֶׁלֹּא תֶאֱרַע תַּקָלָה עַל יָדִי, וּבִיצִיאָתִי אֲנִי נוֹתֵן הוֹדָיָה עַל חֶלְקִי–משנה ברכות ד:ב

Rabbi Nehunia ben HaKana would say a short prayer both when he entered and left the Bet Midrash (study hall). (His students) asked him, “What is the nature/source of that prayer?” He replied, “When I enter I pray that I don’t cause a disaster (by inaccurate, deceptive, destructive interpretations of the Torah), and when I leave I give thanks for my portion (in life).”–Mishna Brachot 4:2

Our early leaders and sages, connected to Torah by נבואה (Nevuah), prophecy, and רוח הקודש (Ruah HaKodesh), Divine inspiration, realized and experienced that the power of Torah, the Infinite somehow contained within the Finite, is, itself, infinite. Super-concentrated like nuclear energy only much more so, the Torah has the capacity to transform our imperfect world into the paradise it is intended to be. But when hijacked and distorted, it also has the capacity to destroy our world and plunge us all into brutal savagery and horror. Also at the individual level it can either ennoble and transform one into a צדיק (Tzadik), a saintly, selfless lover of humanity or, chas v’Shalom, into a close-minded, obsessive control freak and/or abuser. Rabbi Nehunia ben HaKana, best known today for his mystical poem אנא בכח (Ana B’Koach), which reveals/generates one of the hidden names of God, was well aware of that power and understood that, as a fallible human, he needed Divine aid to withstand the many temptations to misuse his knowledge as well as that same Divine aid to not lose focus and thus fail.

As a Jew, I’m not only obligated to engage with Torah, to fulfill mitzvot and to perform tefilla, I’m entrusted to use this incredible power to bring our world closer to that perfection. I am privileged, for example, to join the holy Names of The Creator which are generated by the ראשי תיבות  (Roshei Teyvot), first letters of each word taken in sequence, the סופי תיבות (Sofei Teyvot), the last letters of each word, again taken in sequence, and even the אמציות תיבות (Emtziot Teyvot), middle letters, as well as the chain of all the letters of each word also taken as a series, on top of the energy invested in the semantic meaning of each word and then each phrase and sentence as the words combine with each other, the energy inherent in the very shape of each letter, as well as the ניקודים (Nikkudim), “points” or vowels and many more that I’m not even aware of, each of the three times a day I pray. I, along with every Jew who also participates, wield this tremendous power and, with it, we make irreplaceable contributions to the world.

This opportunity to be a critical member of the team that is bringing perfection to the universe is Jewish Privilege. Being among the first generations in millennia who have the opportunity to amplify our efforts by bringing them to Eretz Yisrael, the native soil which best nourishes and powers our work to their maximum effectiveness is Jewish Privilege. Deepening each day my understandings and insights and inner connections of our infinitely complex and beautiful Torah is Jewish Privilege. Teaching Torah every day and offering loving support to my fellow Jews is Jewish Privilege.

Like Rabbi Nehunia ben HaKana, every day I give thanks for my lot in life.

IMPORTANT NOTE

My description of just part of the power embedded in our daily tefilla (prayers) is not meant to say or even to imply that one needs to engage in special meditations, kavvanot (kabbalistic intentions) or anything else. This, and all the underlying processes in all of our Jewish observance are “built-in” to the amazing technology bequeathed us by our sages when they devised our prayers. Every act we perform as Jews, whether intentional or not, conscious or unconscious, contributes to this great tikkun.

A chosen people, עם סגולה (Am Segulah) does not imply special privileges but rather special responsibilities. In a world view that sees responsibilities as burdens, that’s nothing to be proud of, but in a world view that sees the granting of responsibility as recognition of maturity and ability, it is, indeed, privilege.

Perhaps it’s an “age thing” or maybe it just has to do with how long, regardless of age, you’ve spent engaged with Torah as a serious pursuit. I guess it’s natural when you first encounter the power of Torah to expect a magic, instantaneous transformation but many people find themselves disappointed to the point of utter despair when they learn it doesn’t work like that. Rather, it’s a gradual lifelong path of continual effort.

Many features in our tradition point to the critical value of tiny, seemingly insignificant steps. ברק השחר (barak ha-shachar), the “‘lightening” flash of dawn,  עמוד השחר (amud ha-shachar), the pillar of dawn, מאיר פני המזרח (me’ir p’nei ha-mizrach), illuminating the eastern horizon and נץ החמה (neitz ha-chama), the blossom of the sun, all refer to those few moments between when the sky begins to lighten and the sun actually rises. These points of the morning are also described as enough light to be able to distinguish between purple/blue and white (to detect the string of תכלת t’cheylet in the ציצימ tzitzit) or between the blue of the sky and the green of the earth (i.e. to distinguish the horizon) or to recognize a friend from ד׳ אמות (dalet amot) 4 cubits (6-8 feet). Subtle distinctions, they become significant when we weave them into our daily mitzvot (obligations) and tefilla (prayer).

Likewise, as I wrote previously, a single drop of wine, a single touch of חסד (chesed) is all it takes to make the otherwise inflexible universe sustainable and inhabitable. Much more than that single drop, however, and our wine is ruined and the world would probably plunge into the opposite deadly extreme of chaos.

When we pray, it’s rarely healthy to expect our wishes to be instantly granted. Rather, the importance in tefilla is the thrice-daily regularity with which we offer them, the subtle differences they make in us and in the greater universe. Similarly, it’s often a shock for a beginning musician to learn that it takes, literally, thousands repetitions to actually create beautiful music! No single performance, just like no single recital of a prayer, makes that much difference. But, with hard work brilliance can result.

On the other hand, of course, in tefilla or in any other mitzva we perform, we never know just which recital or performance will create the “critical mass” for the change we hope for. This was certainly one idea behind the Lubavitcher Rebbe zt”l’s approach to encourage us to just add one mitzva at a time–it might, after all, be just the one that transforms all reality.

Of course, when The Creator intervenes with that natural course of event, what we call a נס (neys) miracle, such as at the Reed Sea, the change is immediately experienced. Likewise, when we read texts or prayers describing or pleading for God to reveal His Love, His Power, His Unity, the effects are also immediate, but we need to remember that these are written either from a state of נבואה (Nevuah) prophecy (which does not mean predicting the future, but, rather, the highest state of connection with God available to a human) or רוח הקודש (Ruach HaKodesh) Divine Inspiration, the second highest state of connection. Neither of these states are common; they are, according to our texts and tradition, exceedingly rare and difficult to reach, but they offer even the student who reads or makes these prayers a taste of God’s perspective. We must, however, always remember that we are not and never can be God, that His Perception, as it were, is never available to us in “real life”. We’re “doomed” or “graced”, depending on our attitude and wisdom, to the gradual path, the path of patience, hard work, repetition, frequent failure and, thank God, the opportunity to try to do better.

Perhaps this begins to answer the common complaint of why we have so many, 613, rules and regulations. Merely performing one act or refraining from another, while potentially dramatic, proved beyond the capability even of Adam, the primordial man, who spanned the distance from Earth to Heaven, was clothed in pure light and was able to see from one end of the world to the other. It’s a blessing, bracha, and a mercy, chesed, that we, ordinary humans, don’t need to have everything ride on a “single roll of the dice”. Rather, we’re granted almost endless opportunities to eventually get it right. Baruch HaShem.

Perhaps it’s that most human trait of all, certainty in the righteous truth and justice of our opinions, that leads directly to inhuman hell.

A beautiful talk by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin on Parshat Yitro emphasizes the ultimate value Judaism places on life. Given current events, in the last moments he contrasts it with the demonic values of extremist Islam which proudly proclaims itself to value death over life.

I don’t begin to assume that the champions of jihad are either unintelligent or intrinsically evil people. Rather, their misstep, which leads to the absolute disasters of ISIS, Hamas, Hezbollah, Al Qaeda and more, is their absolute belief in God as exclusively Absolute Justice. There is right and there is wrong and wrong must be destroyed so right can triumph.

There are a number of versions of Judaism’s profound lesson that God created a number of defective worlds which self-destructed until He finally came upon the secret of a world that can survive. He first intended to create the world with דין (Din), absolute justice. He saw, however, that the world He intended, with humans as the crown of Creation, could not be sustained like that so He mixed in just a small measure of  חסד (Chesed), love.

When I first decided to become a rabbi, I discussed my plan with Rabbi Daniel Goldberger z”l, a lifelong friend and mentor, father of good friends and known as Denver’s most beloved rabbi. His first response was to look me in the eye and say, “Zeitlin, the one luxury I never afford myself is 100% certainty….about anything.” Through the years, that wisdom returns to me on a daily basis.

Whenever we open a new bottle of wine, or in other minhagim (customs) whenever we pour wine into a cup for Kiddush, we add a drop of water. We dilute the red of Din with the water of Chesed. We need this weekly reminder of our fallibility, of the limits of our concept of justice and of the supreme value of love and life.