Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Coming downstairs one morning, Lord Congelton heard the cook exclaim, “Oh, if I only had five pounds, wouldn’t I be content!” Thinking the matter over, and anxious to see the woman satisfied, he shortly after handed her a five-pound note, then worth about twenty-five dollars. She thanked him profusely.

He paused outside the door to hear if she would express her satisfaction and thank God. As soon as his shadow was invisible, she cried out, “Why didn’t I say ten?”

Rabbinic wisdom teaches us that he who has $100, wants $200. It is the nature to want more than what we have. When I think of this story, the wisdom of Eric Fromm comes to mind. Fromm survived the camps and published a fascinating book, “To Be or to Have?”  In his study, he raises one of the most important questions of our age: How do we find contentment in our modern contemporary society?

Fromm insists that there are two modes of existence struggling fiercely for the soul of humankind: the “Having mode” vs. the “Being mode.” The Having mode is dedicated to the accumulation of wealth, material possessions, and property. People dedicated to the acquisition of gelt generally tend to be aggressive. Indeed, the reality of war is a grim reminder that people who define their existence by materialistic values will stop at nothing to achieve their values—the recent BP oil disaster is an excellent case in point. Driven by the love of money, principles, ethics often get sacrificed for the bottom line—but always at a cost.

The Being mode represents more of a spiritual attitude. It is not the man who has much who is much; rather, it is the man who is much who has much. Such an attitude focuses one inward development, love, compassion, a kinship with nature, and spiritual evolution as the only values worth perpetuating.

In a prosperous society such as ours, it is not hard to see why there is so much crime and violence. Too often we teach our children that money is the only value that counts. In God we trust, all others pay cash! The advertising industry spends billions to enslave our souls and minds.

Sex is frequently used in commercials to make a product tantalizing; yet, despite the prosperity of our society, record numbers of people committing suicide are on the rise. The wealthy and the powerful are not immune to the same problems we all face.

Without a spiritual orientation, we are indeed, a generation that is lost in space.

What wisdom can we draw from the wellspring of our tradition and parsha? Consider the following thought—consider the lesson of the manna.

Remarkably, rabbinic tradition attributes many wonderful qualities to the manna, which was purported to taste like anything you wanted it to taste like. Hamburger, cheeseburger, you name it—it could taste like your favorite food. Yet, no one person could hoard it all. Each family had exactly what it needed—not more, not less.

The sacred biblical author attributes the following wisdom to Moses:

What  was the purpose of the manna ?  Here the Torah conveys a timeless truth: “Man  does not live on bread alone, but on the emanations that proceed from the mouth of God” ( Deut. 8:3 ).

The  important  lesson  of  the manna was  to  realize  that all sustenance we receive comes from a Higher Source. It makes little difference whether you’re eating a crust of bread, or for that matter expensive caviar. It is all the same. Rav Nachman in own of his famous stories, deals with the  motif of contentment in a story called ” The Simple Man And the Sage.” In Nachman’s writings, the Sage is the sophisticate who is never content with what he has; but the Tam (“simpleton”) recognizes that all of life is a gift from God. To him, a stale crust of bread taste like the manna from Heaven.  As you can see, it is all a matter of perspective. Nachman extols the virtues of the Tam—and for good reason.

Some Jewish mystics, like R. Isaac Luria (16th century)  explains in his commentary that a human being does not live solely on the vitamins and nutrients of bread alone, but on the spiritual energy that gives bread its existence. Man is not just a material   being living in a material world;  we are spiritual beings having a physical experience. Even Madonna, the “material girl” studies and teaches Kabbalah! Continue Reading

Frequently the Torah calls upon us to choose life over death, “^ I call heaven and earth today to witness against you: I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live . . .” (Deut. 30:19).

The themes of life and death are especially poignant illustrations of the Jewish New Year, as we reflect upon our mortality and the moral choices we have made in the course of the past year. Every thought, every word, and every deed has binary consequences. Each act can, as Maimonides explains, redeem the world, or bring about its ruination.

One might wonder: Why would anyone want to choose death over life? Why would anyone prefer cursedness over blessedness? Blessedness and cursedness are not abstractions; they are the products of a lifestyle that people consciously or unconsciously choose.

According to Fromm, two fundamentally orientations compete for the soul of the individual and the world: biophilia and necrophilia. Biophilia denotes the love of life, while necrophilia denotes the love of death.  The love of life is what we experience when observing the beauties of nature; in terms of human behavior, biophilia stresses the importance of treating life with sanctity and dignity.  According to this perspective, life is of infinite value. Love leads to a greater valuation of the people we meet in our lives; whether it is a spouse, a family member who is ailing, or even the stranger who cries out for our generosity and kindness. Fromm felt that human beings must learn to transcend their animalistic evolution by engendering life and resist the impulse to destroy it.

Contrary to popular perceptions, the necrophiliac is not someone who delights in ravishing corpses. Fromm regards necrophilia as a hostility and death force that finds its delight in the devaluation of life; to the necrophiliac, people are objects—a utilitarian means toward a utilitarian end. In a modern society, the worship of technology (especially with respect to the military), the absence of love, and the emergence of the bureaucratic State contribute toward necrophilia as a life-orientation.

Fromm argues that the necrophile’s passion aims to transform that which is alive into something dead, to tear down for the pleasure of seeing an object’s destruction, in obliterating sentient and living structures. Such a person believes that the only way to solve a problem or conflict is through force and violence. Constructive approaches stressing sympathy and co-operative effort.

How does one develop an attitude of biophilia? This all depends upon our upbringing. Living in a life-furthering environment (family and society), develops the biophilous passions of love, tenderness, justice, and the desire to grow things and to further life. Should this impulse be frustrated, resulting in the frustration of our fundamental existential needs, we are likely to develop the character-rooted passions of hate, greed, jealousy, envy, cruelty, narcissism, and destructiveness.

Actions mold character.

When observing the struggles between Palestinians and Israelis, it is not hard to see that the forces of biophilia vs necrophilia exist within each society itself. Radical elements within both communities view violence as a means of achieving their goals—finding delight in the victimization of the Other.

Gaza, for example, poses a very serious problem. Given their propensity toward the worst kinds of violence, Israel is forced to block ships carrying military weapons intended for her destruction. The community of Sedroth endured thousands of missiles shot at their homes and city before Israel finally responded. And despite the criticism the Israeli military received from the Western media, Israel acted with remarkable restraint given the fact that Hamas hid behind human shields.
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Last night, at my doorstep I discovered the first printed volume of my new Genesis commentary, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: The Timeless Theological Conversation.”  The package came to me as a surprise, I wasn’t quite sure when the new book would actually arrive. Like a proud father, I thanked God for helping me to celebrate this fragment of time in my lifetime. There are still a few corrections I need to make, such as adding the name of my newest grandchild–a baby girl named Zoe! Yes, life is good and even sweet. Amazon will be featuring the book within the next month or so; I am planning on releasing a new soft-covered version of the book as well, which should reduce the price of the book considerably  for consumers.

This summer I have been working on a another book, whose title I will not mention at the present; this new book promises that will reflect upon the theme and nature of Judaic wisdom in a manner that is elegant–even simple. Stayed tuned in for more!

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Well, writing a book is a lot like giving birth to a baby. Granted, being a male member of the human species prevents me from ever having such an experience, but true creativity derives from the depths of our being. This topic reminds me about a remarkable topic in Jewish philosophy that I will share with my readers regarding the nature of human and Divine creativity. Are they the same? In what ways do they differ? In Part I of this essay, we will examine one way of approaching the issue.

Sheneir Zalman (1745-1812) attempts to differentiate between human versus Divine creation. Here is one passage from the Tanya that I have recently translated that will hopefully clarify this topic.

 Let this point serve as an answer to the deists, who deny God’s creation. . . .  In their error, they foolishly imagine that creation is akin to the work and design of mortals as when a smith completes fashioning a vessel, that vessel no longer requires the smith to ensure its existence. Even when its maker is physically removed from it, the vessel remains intact—just as it was when he fashioned it. By the same token, these thinkers foolishly imagine that since heaven and earth exist, the cosmos no longer depends upon the Creator for its raison d’être.

 However, their eyes are covered for they do not differentiate between Divine and human creativity; the latter consists of improving upon something that is already in existence; that is to say, human creativity can only change an object’s form and appearance. Returning to our original analogy of the smith, he merely takes a silver ingot and transforms it into a vessel. Human creativity always consists of altering the form of some pre-existing matter. . . .  After finishing his handiwork, the smith leaves it alone to its own device. Similarly, the smith knows that once his work is finished, it no longer requires his attentiveness . . .  

 . . . In contrast, God’s creation is different. He literally wills the cosmos into being from a state of utter non-being. In reality, physical existence is a novelty that occurs each moment of its duration. . . . If this creative flow ceases—even for a single moment—everything that exists would instantaneously return to its original state of non-being. From this perspective, one must say that creatio ex nihilo is a far greater miracle than even the Splitting of the Sea of Reeds (Exod. 14:21-22; 15:8). For in this case, God merely drove back the sea through the force of a strong east wind that blew throughout the night. The waters at the Sea of Reeds stood immediately erect as if they   were a wall. Had God withdrawn the wind, the waters would instantly revert to their natural flowing state. . . . The element of novelty was obvious to all who witnessed the miracle, they recognized how the Divine power kept the water’s temporary structure intact. . . . However, after the last of the Israelites finished crossing, the waters of the Sea of Reeds reverted back to its natural state. What is true with regard to a great biblical miracle applies all the more so when comparing it to a miracle like Creation. The entire cosmic reality depends upon its Creator to provide it with being each moment it exists. . . . Ethereal letters expressed by the Divine Word continue animating and renewing Creation for all time. This would explain why the Psalmist proclaims, “Your Word stands in the Heavens. . . .” (Psa. 33:6) Continue Reading

I came across an interesting question that has sometimes been raised in Jewish history: Has the holiday of Tisha b’ Av, which recalls the destruction of the First and Second Temple outlived its usefulness? Historically, the Reform movement in the 19th century attempted to eliminate the observance of Tisha b’Av, but this was more because of nationalism than anything else. Jews throughout Europe began to view themselves as being “French” or “German” first before being “Jewish.” With the return of our people to Israel, could one logically argue that the biblical “exile” has officially come to an end? There is no nation–not even a country like Iran–who would prevent a Jew from moving to the Holy Land (of course, many refuse to do so–but this is because of financial reasons more than anything else).

More recently Anshel Pfeffer, a columnist of the Ha’aretz newspaper, argues that the fast of the 10th month would eventually come to an end, and with the other fast days[1], will become transformed into days of feasting and happiness (Zech 8:19).

Pfeffer writes:

“Changed attitudes by God and Israel prompted a question: What is the need for all these fasts? There was none. Instead of having fasts to remember all the bad moments in their history, God instructed them to have joyful feasts. In other words, the fasts were to be turned to feasts and occasions of joy. “The fast … shall be to the house of Judah joy and gladness, and cheerful feasts; therefore, love the truth and peace” (8:19). The horrors of the fall of Jerusalem, the burning of the Temple, and other calamities would drift into obscurity as joy flooded their hearts through the manifold mercies of the Lord . . . ”

One must ask: Have we in our own day realized this ancient biblical prophecy? Well, in a word: yes and no. The Jewish return to her ancestral homeland is indeed one of the most remarkable chapters of Jewish history–both ancient and modern–and logically one could make the case that Tisha’ B’Av has finally fulfilled its purpose. However, the fact remains that the Third Temple has not yet been built, and given the draconian attitude of the Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox and Hassidic leadership), one can safely conclude that the Third Temple will not be built any time in the near or distant future.

Exile is more than just a brute physical fact, it is a way of thinking; unfortunately, our spiritual healthiness today reflects a religious community that is at odds within itself. The recent attempt to delegitimize the Diaspora Jewish community only proves that there are many obstacles that prevent us from truly fulfilling the biblical passages cited above.  When Jews attack and destroy synagogues in Israel as the Haredi did earlier this year with the Intel building just because this gentile business remained open on Shabbat, we have a serious problem that all Jews must earnestly address.

Hurling stones on Shabbat in the holy city of Jerusalem reflects a spiritual disease of intolerance that is far deadlier to the Jewish people than all the missiles shot by the Palestinians in Gaza or from Lebanon. The Talmud (BT Gittin 55b-57a) describes how the zealots purposely burned the food silos rather than make a truce with the Romans, killing anyone who got in their way. When we watch how the Haredim are behaving in Israel today, joining forces with the Palestinians who wish to uproot the Jewish presence altogether, we must wonder whether we have sunk to a new historical low.  

How can we as a “chosen people” bear witness to our unique vocation when in reality, we are doing everything to rip our nation apart? The religious fanaticism that propelled our ancestors to fight against Rome ended in the destruction of our homeland. The real enemies of the Jewish people proved to be–not the Romans–but Jews who acted violently toward their own fellow Jewish citizens.

Rabbinic wisdom in the Talmud and subsequent texts explains how “sin’at hinnum” (gratuitous hatred) resulted in the exile of our people; the real question we must ask is: Have we learned any wisdom from the mistakes of our forbearers?

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Notes:

[1] Of course, one might ask: What other fast days was the prophet Zechariah referring to? Simply put, the fast of the fifth month marked the tragic destruction of the temple on the seventeenth day (2 Kgs 25:8). The other subsidiary events were included under the greater (cf. 8:19): the ninth day of the fourth month is recorded as the date when the city wall was breached (Jer. 39:2); the fast of the seventh month commemorated the murder of Gedaliah (2 Kgs 25:25; Jer. 41:1f.), and the tenth day of the tenth month marked the beginning of Nebuchadrezzar’s siege of the city (2 Kgs 25:1, 2; Jer. 39:1) These special days had become hallowed by observance for over sixty years