Rabbi Zeitlin

Before I start with my own brief thoughts, I want to recommend this beautiful column, by Rabbi Hillel Goldberg, Executive Editor of the Intermountain Jewish News in Denver.

The representatives of the Gilad clan of the Tribe of Menashe return to Moshe (Bamidbar 36) in order to resolve the future inheritance due Tzelaphchad, who died without sons. Previously, (Bamidbar 27), the daughters of Tzelaphchad came to Moshe with the problem of their father and his descendants becoming disinherited because he lacked sons, and it was resolved with God clarifying that women are also able to inherit land and property. This time, the further problem is that if any of the daughters marry someone from a different tribe, that land will pass out of the tribal inheritance, destroying the subtle and complex balance represented and manifested by the specific inheritances within the Land of Israel. In order to prevent that, the daughters are all directed to marry someone within their own tribe (Menashe).

On the one hand, this is a very simple, straightforward and almost obvious solution and it might be easy to leave it at that. It seems unreasonable, though, that the Torah comes only to teach us so limited a point of inheritance law, especially one that has been inactive for the vast majority of Jewish history. Rather, it’s also presenting a much more universal lesson. Especially in an age where romantic love is so idealized, it’s easy to form an unrealistic and possibly harmful expectation, namely that there is a “one-and-only” soul-mate/true-love. A great deal of unhappiness can be generated when perfectly good solutions are ignored while the search for the “perfect match” comes up dry. This incident, on the other hand, teaches us that even in an artificially limited pool, in other words in every situation we find ourselves in at the time, at least one good soul-mate, solution, can be found.

One of the most self-destructive things we all do, at least from time to time, is reject a good solution, a good direction, because we’re searching, often in vain, for the perfect one! We forget that, at this stage of existence and our endeavor to refine and perfect the world, we aren’t there yet. In our (both individually and universally) current state, missing opportunities to make even incremental improvements, tiny tikkunim, because they don’t provide instant access to perfection, is an avoidable tragedy.

The first section of the parsha, and R’ Goldberg’s commentary on it, emphasize that the true path is actually made up of small steps.

The popular definition of insanity, often attributed to Albert Einstein (although it’s highly unlikely he ever said it), “repeating the same act and expecting different results” conflicts with the common advice, “when, at first, you don’t succeed, try and try again”. When are we merely throwing good money after bad and when do we have just one more push to get over the hill?

Moreover, when do we know that we’ve truly met a challenge and are ready to move on? Perhaps a standard definition of successful tshuva can help clarify–when we find ourselves in a similar situation to those we’ve previously failed in, we make a different, better choice. We can finally step beyond the seemingly endless loop of failure and enter a new realm.

I imagine Moshe rolling his eyes, crying to himself, “There they go again…..” when, in Parshat Matot (Bamidbar 32), the leaders of Gad and Reuven approach Moshe with their proposal to remain on the east bank of the Jordan and settle there rather than in “Eretz Yisrael Proper”. After forty years delay, wandering in the most inhospitable desert, training a new generation of Jews who were uninfected by slavery, we’re on the verge of entering the land promised to our fathers. It’s practically impossible for Moshe to interpret their desire to live east of the Jordan as anything but a repeat of the disastrous reluctance of Israel, undercut by the fear and faithlessness of a previous generation’s leaders, to go up and inherit the land. He certainly cannot ignore the reality that had the Jewish people, with faith, trust and confidence in God, followed him into Eretz Yisrael at that time, he would not now be facing his own death, with his one greatest desire, to step foot in that holy land, unfilled.

It’s far from difficult to understand his reaction at the time, to remind these leaders of the treachery of their own fathers.  Nonetheless, he completely misread their intention, mired in his own fear and disappointment. Having just conquered the Midianites, the nation that just missed destroying Yisrael by rotting our insides, the chiefs of Gad and Reuven are filled with confidence that if they follow God’s commandments only success will ensue. Rather than repeating their parents’ slave-tainted fear, they volunteer to be the vanguard of the Jewish People, leading them into Eretz Yisrael and remaining with them there until it has been fully settled and everyone else has received their inheritance. Not only that, but they also volunteer to be the vanguard to settle the evenutal borders promised by God (while this might seem highly politically incorrect in 2014, a much more accurate map of the Jewish Homeland is the original British Protectorate, before almost three-quarters of it was sliced off to reward the Hashemites as Trans-Jordan.) Once the core of the Holy Land is settled, they’re willing to live on the frontier, cut off from their brothers, removed from the site of the eventual Temple, preparing our not-yet-fulfilled future by developing an economy and founding cities.

The Torah presents us with a fractal-like way of understanding reality. The challenges that face Bnei Yisrael are mirrored not only in the great Kaballistic universe of forces and energies, but also in each of our daily lives. Challenges are inevitable and we’re likely to fail many of them. But they will return, in one form or another, until we do finally master them and move on to a higher reality (also filled with challenges until, eventually, bi’maheyra b’yameynu (soon, in our days) we’ve solved the ultimate challenge and have transformed ourselves and the world into its highest possible state).

Perhaps we will need to alter our strategy if one approach to a challenge repeatedly fails. On the other hand, perhaps all we need to do is to conquer our own fear, thus slaying the non-existent dragon we thought we faced, and take the next step with confidence.

The summer of 1969, just before my senior year in high school, was filled with songs, adventures and events which effect me to this day. The Doors, led by the tragic, self-destructive poet, Jim Morrison, released a complex and adventurous album called, “Soft Parade”.  The title song began with a chant, “When I was a young man in seminary school, there was a person there who put forth the proposition that you can petition The Lord with prayer”. This introduction ends with the scream, “You cannot petition The Lord with prayer”, leading to the song itself.

Obviously, Jim Morrison’s background and lifestyle had nothing to do with Judaism, but, echoing from 45 years ago, he points at a contemporary paradox for both Judaism and all other prayer-based faiths. The past month, beginning with the kidnapping/murder of the three young Israeli students, Eyal Yifrach, Gil-Ad Shaer and Naftali Fraenkel, all of blessed memories, continuing through the ceaseless rocket attacks against Israeli citizen, originating from Hamas-ruled Gaza, has led to numerous rabbinic calls to recite Tehillim (Psalms) and to say special prayers for safety and well-being.

As we know, in the case of the kidnapped boys, the prayers and Psalms didn’t yield the desired results and the third Gaza war is still underway. I remember, during both of my parents’ final illnesses, praying/pleading for their recovery; there, also, I didn’t see the outcome I’d so desperately wanted. But the efficacy of our prayers is only one side of this complex question. Although it’s often promoted by many wise and prominent rabbis, both now and in antiquity, and is also presented as effective numerous times in the Torah (Sh’mot 32:11-14, BaMidbar 12:13 and others), and, along with fasting is mandated as community response to looming disasters (Megillat Esther 4:17 and others), there are also serious questions about not merely the efficacy, but also the propriety.

A friend, Brian Blum, recently published a very revealing and personal column in the Jerusalem Post which addresses these ideas. I’ll try to not repeat the points he so strongly makes and I hope you’ll read it for yourselves.

I do want to emphasize that there is something that seems theologically fishy in trying to manipulate the Infinite God, be it with words, both prayers and Torah recital, with increased mitzva observance, “good acts” of generosity and love, of fasting and communal coalescence. Of course, each of these activities are positive and can yield untold benefits both to the individual and to the world at large, but it’s very arrogant to think that we understand the mechanisms underlying them or that they, somehow, give us power over God.

Of course, we also have a very rich tradition that tells us the exact opposite, that a Tzadik (holy righteous person), presumably through prayer, has the ability to both decree, expecting God’s fulfillment and, even more powerfully, to cancel God’s own decree! (Moed Katan 16b). We also have the prayer of Yitzchak to heal Rivkah from her barrenness (Bereishit 25:21) where the Talmud (Yevamot 64a) teaches that God extended Rivka’s period of barrenness because He “so loves the prayers of tzaddikim“, and perhaps, like it often does, the Talmud provides an opening for an answer.

The paradox is that we are, indeed, encouraged to enter prayer (tefilla) in order to make requests of God. The paradigm of Jewish prayer, the Amida, also known as the Sh’mona Esreh (literally, the eighteen, although in fact it contains nineteen prayers) opens with  of three “prayers” of praise and ends with three of thanksgiving. On weekdays (when the Amida does, indeed, contain all nineteen prayers), the middle section, referred to as Bakashot, requests, is just that, presenting a shopping list to God three times each day! And if the formalized liturgy doesn’t provide for more personal issues, we’re encouraged to add our own words at various points. And this is just on “normal” days, times where we don’t have crises that seem to need Divine Intervention!

(It’s important to emphasize before proceeding that phrases such as “God wants”, “God promises”, and the like are never to be taken literally, but to give us humans a language with which to approximate and develop our understanding of the ineffable.) God “wants” our prayer and indicates this through halacha (Jewish law). There are times that He indicates that our prayers can be granted, but there is never a promise that it will work.

In other words, our tradition goes very far to incentify us to pray, but if we do pray with too much expectation to get what we want, we’re likely to become increasingly disillusioned (which can lead to alienation and worse). With such a potential downside, the glaring question is “Why?”

Throughout the day and throughout our lives, we’re given many opportunities and many “channels” to enhance our relationship with God (or to enhance our awareness of that relationship since it’s impossible for us to not be permanently connected). Torah study opens the intellectual/imaginative/creative/analytical “channel”. Mitzvot which involve actions bring our bodies and materiality into the game (Judaism is not, by any means, an ascetic tradition, but it’s aim is to refine, rather than merely indulge, our bodies). Mitzvot of tzedaka (charity) and hospitality and community participation, independent of their obvious benefits, bring us into our communion with God along the parameter of relationship. Similarly, prayer, tefilla, deepens our relationship with God along the emotional plane.

It’s not impossible that the benefits that accrue to our universe with enhanced relationships between God and man might lead to a better material world, i.e. a world where our desires become actualized. It might, in certain times (that we have no ability to predict) be very effective, but although our desires provide the stimulus to pray, having our desires fulfilled is definitively not the real objective of tefilla.

So, these special prayers and special mitzvot, if they do indeed deepen our connection with The Creator along the prayer “channel” are good things. The crises may very well motivate many of us to steps of spiritual progress and growth. They give us and often-highly-motivated boost. But the ultimate purpose is not to receive the “goodies” on the other end.

And, in face of the paradox, I personally do pray for a secure and safe future for all living in Eretz Yisrael.

The previous article, concerning Parshat Balak, has been revised.  Please read the new version at https://rabbizeitlin.wordpress.com/2014/07/04/evil-can-we-truly-transform-it-or-is-rejection-enough/.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Balak, probably more than any other, holds out the promise of almost effortlessly, almost passively, transforming evil. Dedicated, motivated and highly capable, Bil’am, held to be a prophet on the same high level as Moses, finds each of his formidable attempts to curse Israel transformed by God into praise and blessings. One of these, the beloved  מַה־טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל (Ma Tovu, Ohalecha Ya’akov, Mishkanotecha Yisrael) “How good are your tents, Ya’akov, your dwellings, Yisrael”, is recited daily upon entering the synagogue (the “dwelling place” of Jewish communal prayer and study as well as the exilic substitute for the Mishkan, the dwelling place of The Creator).

In a great many real-life situations, the injection of merely a seed of קדושה (Kedusha), holiness, into evil can transform it to good. In fact, our tradition teaches that there exist only a very few people (who nevertheless do always exist) who are fully evil, רשעים גמורים (Rasha’im Gamourim), who can never be redeemed. No amount of good can counteract complete evil.

Modern western culture has at least tried to evolve into one of kindness (this isn’t the forum to evaluate those attempts) and is developing a value system often unable to be strict, unwilling to condemn, ashamed of using analytical skills to evaluate (i.e. aversion to being labeled “judgemental”). Most of the time, and with most people, that probably is a sign of a better world. But it doesn’t always work.

Both the 34th (read every Shabbat and Festival morning) and the 37th Psalm instructs us to סוּר מֵרָע וַעֲשֵׂה־טוֹב (Sur Mey-Rah V’Oseh Tov), Turn away from evil and do good. There are times when we can pursue both goals gradually and simultaneously, by slowly resisting evil we slowly gain strength against it, allowing us to continue successfully wrestling. There are other times, however, when we have to take the word-order more literally and in order to do good we must, first, turn the evil away. For example, picture a glass of muddy, but non-toxic water — little-by-little we can pour out a spoon-at-a-time of this water and replace it, spoon-by-spoon, with clear, fresh water.  Other times, however, the pollution is toxic and even the tiniest drop is fatal. In this case, the only course of action is to completely empty the soiled water and only then, when no trace of the poison remains, can we fill the glass with clean, safe water.

There are some struggles, internal and external, where we have to be satisfied with slow, but steady progress, where we continue to inject Kedusha into the world, mid-wifing its transition to the Ultimate Good. This is a very comfortable situation in a contemporary, western orientation. But it’s also a luxury and our challenges all-too-often, it seems, require more drastic action. Bil’am’s evil isn’t eliminated from the world until he, himself, is killed (BaMidbar 31:7-9).

A successful operation removes an entire tumor, not just a tiny bit hoping the rest will go away on its own.

Shabbat Shalom

Many adjectives will be used to describe the recent savage murders and kidnapping of our three Israeli high school boys, Naftali Fraenkel, z”l, Gil-Ad Shaer z”l and Eyal Yifrah z”l, but unless these adjectives supplement, rather than replace, the word “evil”, these responses and “condemnations” will remain part of the problem rather than part of the solution.

Judaism places the highest value on שלום (shalom), peace, but we need to define that word in Jewish terms and not in the watered-down western sense of the word in which it has merely become roughly synonymous with the Arabic word, “hudna“, which is just a temporary cease-fire (usually for the purpose of rearming or finding a new victim to attack).

Shalom is based, as are most Hebrew words, on a three-letter root (shoresh), in this case ש-ל-ם which spell שלם (shalaym) and means complete. Shalaymut, completeness, in the Jewish sense of the word, means that the אור הקודש (Ohr HaKodesh), the holy light of The Creator shines through all of Creation, including our very physical and material world, with no obstruction or imperfection. These obstructions are what we refer to when we talk about רע (Rah), Evil, and we must not merely passively look forward to, but must actively work to create a world where Evil is finally destroyed. And that, not merely waiting for the next blow to fall, is true peace.

Of course, it is just as difficult for we Jews as for anyone else to continuously confront evil. Our sages from the time of the Great Assembly, אנשי כנסת הגדול (Anshei Knesset HaGadol, predating the destruction of the Second Temple), who formulated most of our blessings and liturgy, understood that when they altered the verse of Isaiah to start our daily morning prayer, shacharit.  Isaiah (45:7) says, יוֹצֵר אוֹר וּבוֹרֵא חֹשֶׁךְ עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם וּבוֹרֵא רָע (Yotzer ohr u-voray chosech, oseh shalom u’voray rah), “(He) forms light and creates darkness, makes peace and creates evil,” while our siddur changes that to: עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם וּבוֹרֵא אֶת הַכֹּל, “….u’vorey et ha-kol,” “….and creates everything,” which certainly includes evil within it, but doesn’t mention it explicitly.

Nonetheless, evil cannot be destroyed, the impediments to God’s Light permanently removed; true peace, שלום, shalom, based on שלימות, sh’laymut, completeness (total light) cannot enabled, without acknowledging and battling and destroying evil–the true enemy of peace. And we must acknowledge that truly evil deeds are performed and also enabled by evil people.

As Jews, we enjoyed a very short grace period after the Shoah, the Holocaust, during which people of European descent felt so much shame in their participation and tolerance of savagery that they resolved, “Never Again”. Jews and especially Israel, were granted that special support that comes with victimhood, but that can only be milked for a short time. That grace period expired at least ten years ago, and we’re dangerously foolish, looking forward, to rely on backward-looking, guilt-based “goodwill”. For us, “Never Again” should mean that we will never again allow ourselves to become victims, that with renewed sovereignty in the Land of Israel we will never again place our fate in the hands of others. Quoting Samuel II (24:14) twice daily as part of our Tachanun, וַיֹּאמֶר דָּוִד אֶל־גָּד צַר־לִי מְאֹד נִפְּלָה־נָּא בְיַד־יְהֹוָה כִּי־רַבִּים רַחֲמָיו וּבְיַד־אָדָם אַל־אֶפֹּלָה “And David said to Gad, I am in great distress; let us fall now into the hand of God; for His mercies are great; and let me not fall into the hand of man,” we remind ourselves to be wary of false securities and false values we too often are offered.

Sure, it’s comforting in contemporary culture to believe that “evil” is just a synonym for “not perfect”, or “missing the mark”– perhaps it’s not actualy “real”. But then events like these, or the almost daily bombings in Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, the recent kidnappings and sex-slavery in Nigeria invade our complacency.  They force us to realize that evil does, truly exist and that it is the complete negation of even a possibility of good, let alone of perfection.

No, none of us are perfect. But a few of us truly are evil. Tolerating this evil, moreover, is itself an evil act. Standing by, remaining silent, leaves one liable for voiding the positive commandment צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף (Tzedek tzedek tidrof), mandating that we actively race after what is Just. Or, as the British philosopher Edmund Burke wrote, ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph [of evil] is for good men to do nothing.” It takes courage to pursue true justice and not the cause de jour. It takes courage to stand for eternal values and it always has.

Yes, it’s excruciatingly difficult to stand in judgement and to declare certain people evil. It’s even more difficult, and requires almost unbelievable courage to withstand the external pressure and insinuations demanding “restraint” and “tolerance” which enable and thus encourage future evil to flourish. But every drop of our strength and courage will need to be applied to eventually bring the Shalom of Shalaymut into our world.

Not a perfect human, nevertheless Moshe Rabbeinu was our greatest leader. However, with a single public display of anger (BaMidbar 20:10-12), he loses his greatest dream and desire.

In times of crisis, tempers flare and self-righteousness can get out of control.
Rabbi Angel reminds us of the possibility of disagreeing, being diametrically opposed, but not descending to character assassination which so frequently seems to have substituted for debate.

There’s nothing I can add but to say that I agree with him completely and want to share it, verbatim, with all of you.

http://www.jewishideas.org/angel-shabbat/criticism-or-contempt-thoughts-parashat-korah-

My father’s yahrzeit has begun and, as expected, my thoughts turn to him. For a number of years I’ve written my children, sister and nieces reminiscences on the yarhzeits and birthdays of both my parents and want to share a bit of this year’s thoughts.

Although I was living in Los Angeles at the time, I would travel to Denver at least twice a month in his last years. His health and spirits were in decline and there was so much still to say to each other. I was shocked one night when he confided in me that he was tired of being “the father”. The work, the hopes, the dreams, the disappointments had overwhelmed him.

Next morning, however, he got in his car and drove to his office where he spent the day, putting all his energy into his lifelong project of providing for the people he loved. Even when we pleaded with him to stay home and rest, more often than not, even when he didn’t have the energy to walk to the end of the block, he would drive to the building where he worked, climb a flight of stairs and sit behind his desk analyzing and making decisions he hoped would help his wife, son and daughter and two granddaughters. And while he never met his four younger grandchildren, his work, care and love has continued to benefit them as well.

Flash forward thirty-three years and we all live in a time that it is so easy and understandable in which to lose all hope. After a brief respite, at least in Europe and the US, post-Holocaust and the shame and guilt many people felt over unleashing that horror, once again it has become increasingly dangerous to be Jewish. In a world of political correctness, the only group “educated and cultured” people have given themselves permission, even make fashionable, to hate is the Jewish People, slightly camouflaged, of course, this time around as “the Zionists” (and as Martin Luther King, Jr. bravely declared, “Anti-Zionism is Anti-Semitism”). The threat of violence against Israel and Israelis has become permanent, and the current kidnapping of three young yeshiva boys, as well as the unending rocket bombardment from Gaza are only today’s manifestation of that violence. Many western governments, including that of the United States (although not, thank God, the people of the United States), the European Union, the United Nations and other bodies that pretend to uphold the values of freedom and human rights and dignity have abandoned Israel; violent, often murderous attacks against Jews have become almost commonplace in Europe and the US. So many young Jews, especially those trying to navigate the new hotbeds of anti-semitism, disguising itself  in institutions which claim to be of “higher learning”, as the BDS movement, Israel Apartheid Week and worse, no longer know what or who to believe.

There are many nights, many days, too, when I’m tired of “being the father”, of being “the rabbi”. I know the discouragement my own father felt to the depths of my bones.

But each morning, I, and all of us, must rise and face the responsibilities not only with a sense of obligation, but also with joy and with the hope that our efforts will benefit those whom we love: our family, our people and, eventually, as we bring more and more light into the world, mankind at large.  As Caroline Glick writes, “We have a lot of things to feel privileged to fight for”. Following the lead of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, we can increase–even if each of us does just a little it adds up–our study of Torah, our prayer, our ritual observance and our kindness and support to each other. And, as pointed out by Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh, we must actualize our love for Torah, for the Jewish People and for the Land of Israel, asserting not only our age-old right, but our equally long-standing obligation to dwell in (may I soon be able to fulfill this myself) and to have sovereignty and full responsibility for Eretz Yisrael. Yes, the responsibility is enormous, but as Hillel taught (Avot 2:5), “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.”

As Rebbe Nachman taught, “The entire world is a very narrow bridge. But the root of the matter is to never let fear overcome us.”

Just as I can’t but be outraged, saddened, determined and filled with prayer over the kidnapping of three yeshiva students in Israel just before this Shabbat, I can’t but be struck by the timeliness of the accompanying parsha, Shelach.

Beginning here, absolutely every time we consider ourselves unfit for Eretz Yisrael we become so. It matters not the least whether the Canaanites and others saw us as insignificant “grasshoppers”, just as it matters not the least if the “international community”, the current US administration, the EU, the UN, the Islamic factions see us as colonialists, illegitimate, occupiers and the like. The problem arises when a significant portion of the Jewish people, especially the Jewish political leadership, both in Israel and in the diaspora, see ourselves as illegitimate, as too weak to withstand the many challenges we face, always have faced and always, in Olam HaZeh, this world, will face, we will suffer and suffer greatly. By granting strength and confidence to our sworn enemies, throughout history we have made it so.

Believing in God and believing in ourselves, Yisrael, if for no other reason than that God believes in us, and acting with the confidence of our deep and eternal connection to Eretz Yisrael is the only path available to us that leads to safety, security, prosperity and real peace.