Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

In this week’s parsha we read about the death of Aaron’s two sons, who died from an accidental explosion in the Tabernacle. Aaron’s reaction is quite telling–despite the absence of scriptural detail from the narrator. As is often the case with biblical narrative, more is said by what isn’t stated, than by what is actually mentioned. In the book of Leviticus, the biblical narrator says in but a couple of words the reaction of Aaron:  וַיִּדֹּם אַהֲרֹן (wayyidöm ´ahárön) “And Aaron was silent” (Lev. 10:3).

Nowhere does the biblical narrator provide us with a sense of what Aaron must have been feeling. Did he blame himself? Was this God’s pay-back for when he made the Golden Calf? Did he neglect to tell his sons how to carry out their duties in a safe and careful manner? To decipher Aaron’s response, we must read in between the lines and look for clues.

Among the Hebrew words for “silence” dumah stands out as a term associated with grief and loss.

Another bereaved father in the Bible, Job, does not accept his children’s death silently or stoically–much to the surprise of his community. The differences between these two men’s emotional response certainly ought to pique our curiosity. Job’s community criticizes Job for questioning God’s justice. He refuses to play the role of the quiescent victim, resigned to his misery. Perhaps the men of Job’s community expected him to react like Aaron did after he lost his two sons Nadab and Abihu, who died in the prime of their youth.

In both the narratives of Job and the death of Aaron’s two sons Nadab and Abihu, there are a number of nuances that define the shape and pathos of a grieving silence.

Unlike Aaron, who is forced to hold his feelings within because his priestly office demands no less, Job refuses to accept his loss in stoic silence. He is determined to confront his feelings of torment and anger by directing these toxic feelings to God. Job deeply resents the theological attitude espoused by his “friends” that since his sons were obviously “sinners,” they ultimately received what was coming to them–death. Job’s friends assert that  the social order is maintained whenever God exacts vengeance against His enemies. Job cannot accept such theological nonsense.

Whereas Aaron’s silence was pierced with a divine visitation by God, Job was not as fortunate as Aaron; he is denied an immediate revelation. God seems to be reluctant in responding to Job’s plea for justice. Job’s own silence–and especially the silence of God–threatens to destroy him.

It is an experience known well by anyone who has ever suffered. The best way to understand someone who is grieving is for us to see ourselves as walking in the shoes of the Other. Ergo, the  feelings of restlessness, disorientation, incoherence, shock, and terror often reduces us to silence. Extreme suffering often destroys our ability to communicate for the weight of our suffering leaves us feeling verbally incapacitated. We feel stone-like and lifeless. Trauma makes us feel overwhelmed, terrified and distressed. When we suffer, we must find a language that will lead us out of our bondage of muteness and through the wilderness of silence. We seek a language of redemption. We have felt wronged, we have cried, and we have felt outraged.

All the subtle nuances of Aaron’s and Job’s silence are familiar experiences to most Holocaust survivors and to a lesser extent to their children who grew up in the captivity of silence.  Many survivors like my father, whose family was murdered in Auschwitz, lost their capacity to speak about the horror of the camps. Many second-generation children of survivors grew up never hearing our parents speak about the atrocities that they experienced. Frightened and confused, we never encouraged our parents to tell us their stories.

Several years ago, a refined woman in my congregation lost her father and husband to cancer within the same year. On the anniversary of her husband’s death, her son hosted a golfing tournament. He was a very well-fit young man, age 26, who exercised every day and was the apple of his mother’s eye. After personally winning the tournament, he dropped dead from a heart attack. After the autopsy, they discovered he had ephedrine in his blood, which caused him to have his heart attack. His mother faced a sorrow of Jobian proportions; and for many years, she could not bring herself to pray in the synagogue. Who could honestly blame her?

Another young woman I once knew, had worked at a bar and went to bring a hot beverage from a large coffee maker, which exploded and burned over 90% of her body. Accidents like this occur every day, and it is in these painful epiphanies of the diabolic, the human soul often gets mangled and disfigured along with the body.

Any close brush with the diabolic makes it exceedingly difficult to even talk about faith. Martin Buber asked poignantly:

In this our time, one asks again and again: how is a Jewish life still possible after Auschwitz? I would like to frame this question more correctly: how is a life with God still possible in a time in which there is an Auschwitz?

The estrangement has become too cruel, the hiddenness too deep. One can still “believe” in a God who allowed those things to happen, but how can one still speak to Him? Can one still hear His word? Can one still, as an individual and a people, enter at all in a dialogical relationship with Him? Can one still call on Him? Dare we recommend to the survivors of Auschwitz, the Jobs of the gas chambers: “Call on Him, for He is kind, for His mercy endureth forever?”[1] There is a place in Judaism for religious skepticism. When the wisdom literature of the Bible included Job into the Canon, the ancient Sages revolutionized Judaism forever. You could say that today’s skeptic serves an almost prophetical role in keeping professional rabbis and theologians honest. There is a place in Judaism for questioning and doubting. Skeptical feelings should never be silenced but welcomed into any discussion about faith.

When we suffer we hunger for a restoration of God’s Presence (theophany), and a settling of the records. Like Aaron and Job, not only do we wait for consolation—we expect it; we demand justice. The Psalmist was not unaware of this kind of evil, “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from Him comes my salvation” (Psa. 62:1).

• Are there any biblical analogies to today’s contemporary economic problems?

Well, sort of . . .

Today’s economic times may be compared to one of the more turbulent periods of the early monarchy, to the time of King Solomon and his son Rehoboam. Most of us know that King Solomon was famous for his wisdom and his love life. Despite purportedly being the “wisest man” of all time, when it came to women—King Solomon proved to be quite foolish. Having one wife to love and cherish wasn’t good enough for the old Testosterum-driven monarch—he had to have a thousand wives. By doing so, he violated a number of biblical prohibitions designed to keep monarchial power in check:

• But he shall not have a great number of horses; nor shall he make his people go back again to Egypt to acquire them, against the LORD’S warning that you must never go back that way again.Neither shall he have a great number of wives, lest his heart be estranged, nor shall he accumulate a vast amount of silver and gold (Deut 17:16-17)

King Solomon lived the good life, while conscripting the male population to a life of slavery. He used the proceeds to build extravagant palaces for his lovers–all at the public dole. In fact, the biblical narrator writes:

• King Solomon conscripted thirty thousand workmen from all Israel. He sent them to the Lebanon each month in relays of ten thousand, so that they spent one month in the Lebanon and two months at home. Adoniram was in charge of the draft. Solomon had seventy thousand carriers and eighty thousand stone-cutters in the mountain, in addition to three thousand three hundred overseers, answerable to Solomon’s prefects for the work, oppressing  the people who engaged in the work (1 Kgs. 5:27-28)

King Solomon even recreated an Israelite form of slavery that was reminiscent of the Egyptian bondage. The noun מַס (mas) is usually translated as “levy” but it is sometimes used to denote “taskmaster,” or “forced labor” in Biblical Hebrew. Solomon instituted corvee labor,  which involves involuntary, unpaid labor or other service for a superior power—a feudal lord, a king, or a foreign ruler (cf. Exod. 1:11; Est 10:1; Lam 1:1). One cannot have high expectations of a pagan Pharaoh, who could scarcely recognize or pronounce the God of Israel’s Name.

But Solomon is different.  Surely the “wisest man” of the earth ought to have stronger moral scruples, but he chose to emulate the potentates of the ancient world who ruled by force and despotism.

Solomon’s brutal reign  reminded the Israelites of their historical experiences in Egypt (Exod. 1:11). When the Pharaoh who introduced slavery died, the Israelites hoped that a new Pharaoh would take pity upon them. Instead, the next Pharaoh ruled with even greater vindictiveness. (Exod.2:23). A similar development occurs after the death of Solomon. Seeking to curry favor with Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, the people said to King Rehoboam,“Your father put on us a heavy yoke. If you now lighten the harsh service and the heavy yoke your father imposed on us, we will serve you” (1 Kgs.12:1). The King then takes counsel with his advisers and later proclaims, “My father put on you a heavy yoke, but I will make it heavier. My father beat you with whips, but I will beat you with scorpions” (1 Kgs. 12:14).

Solomon’s reckless economic policies bankrupted the nation and Rehoboam’s foolishness led to the secession of the ten tribes under the leadership of Jeroboam.

Are there modern day parallels to this biblical story?

You betcha!

The real issue that clergy across the religious and political spectrum ought to be critiquing the degree of excess, misappropriation, and willful theft of the American consumer by our governmental leaders—from the President down to the typical bureaucrat. Here are several examples that come to mind.

By now, most of you probably heard about the GSA Las Vegas scandal. The GSA stands for the General Services Administration. Several top executives decided to spend over $800,000 of taxpayer dollars on an extravagant “conference” off of the Las Vegas Strip. What made this story so controversial? Well, the General Services Administration (GSA) was created to, in their words, “streamline the administrative work of the federal government” and it “oversees the business of the U.S. federal government.”

Oh really?

• $31,000 on a “networking reception” that featured $19-per-person “American artisanal cheese display” and $7,000 in sushi

• $3,200 on a session with a mind reader

• $5,600 for in-room parties

• $100,405.37 in employee travel costs to scout the event–meaning, these people returned to the Las Vegas area multiple times to visit hotels before settling on the fancy M Resort and Casino.

• $3,700 for T-shirts and $2,800 in water bottles

• $1,500 for “Boursin scalloped potato with Barolo wine-braised short ribs” and a $525 bartender fee for a cash bar.

• Three officials spent almost $400 for rented tuxedos

• $1,840 for vests for the 19 “regional ambassadors” and other employees

• $146,527.05 was spent on catered food during the entire conference

• $75,000 for a “team-building” exercise — the goal was to build bicycles (which would later be donated to a Boys & Girls Clubs)

Had it not been for an honest reporter, nobody would have known the difference. Think for a minute: Have you ever wondered how many extravagant parties our elected officials have thrown that we have never heard about? But all of these parties are nothing but chump change—when you compare the amount of billions that President Obama’s green energy corporations have squandered with our “stimulus” money. Obviously somebody is getting a lot of stimulation, but not the kind we have expected.

Consider:

• Last April, Solar Trusts of America received a $2.1 billion grant from the Department of Energy to build the world’s largest solar plant in California.

• On 31 August 2011 Solyndra announced it was filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, laying off 1100 employees, and shutting down all operations and manufacturing, while providing no severance for the fired employees, or even providing back due vacation day credit.[1]

(NaturalNews) Just a few months ago, FBI agents raided the headquarters of now-bankrupt solar panel company Solyndra, which received more than half-a-billion dollars in federal stimulus funds as part of the federal government’s green energy stimulus initiative.

According to a new investigation by CBS News, the Solyndra scandal is just the tip of the iceberg, as at least 11 other green energy companies have either already failed, or are on the verge of failing, taking with them more than $6.5 billion in taxpayer money.

Lastly, I must say that I have always been a Democrat but I am a Scoop-Jackson Democrat, one who believes that our elected officials must exemplify integrity and fairness to all—regardless of race, religion, or economic background.

Judging by her behavior, Mrs. Obama has aspirations of becoming the next Imelda Marcus  of the Philippines.  Imelda Marcus’s  extravagant lifestyle reportedly included five-million-dollar shopping tours in New York, Rome and Copenhagen in 1983, and sending a plane to pick up Australian white sand for a new beach resort.

White House sources today claimed that the First Lady has spent $10 million of U.S. taxpayers’ money on vacations alone in the past year. Not bad for just 42 days of vacation, or a little more than one  million out of every nine days, according to a White House Dossier analysis of her travel.

Her vacations, the cost of which are mostly borne by taxpayers, include trips to Panama City, Fla., Martha’s Vineyard, Hawaii, South Africa, Latin America, Vail, Colo., and her visit this week to her brother in Corvallis, Ore.

One can only conclude that, “It’s good to be President!”

Amos the prophet once said, “Hear this word, women of the mountain of Samaria, you cows of Bashan, You who oppress the weak and abuse the needy; Who say to your lords, ‘Bring drink for us!’” (Amos 4:1). It seems that the fat cows of Bashan have invaded and conquered the White House.

So ask my fellow clergy: Where is your sense of outrage? When you consider how many people can barely fill their cars up with gas, Michelle Obama’s spending habits seem obscene.

If I were the President, I would make it a point to be more circumspect with my personal conduct. The appearance of impropriety undermines the confidence the President is trying to establish for his presidency. Continue Reading

I find it amusing whenever I see Christians argue about Jesus and the virtues of liberalism vs. conservatism. NPR featured a story dealing with the question: Would Jesus promote a political philosophy endorsing small-government, or whether he would act as the advocate of the poor?

Politicians love to pontificate almost as much as clergy!  After the House passed its budget last month, liberal religious leaders claimed that the Republican plan, which lowered taxes and cut services to the poor, was an affront to the Gospel — and particularly Jesus’ command to care for the poor.

Not so, says Wisconsin Republican Rep. Paul Ryan, who chairs the House Budget Committee. He told Christian Broadcasting Network last week that it was his Catholic faith that helped shape the budget plan. In his view, the Catholic principle of subsidiarity suggests the government should have little role in helping the poor. He adds, “Through our civic organizations, through our churches, through our charities — through all of our different groups where we interact with people as a community — that’s how we advance the common good.”

The debate is an interesting one and I have heard some rabbis make similar claims that the Exodus proves that God and Moses are great examples of biblical liberals, while the evil Pharaoh and his supporters would have been an excellent Republican. To some extent, the Democrats are also correct in asserting that Moses and Jesus were liberals—and by the way, so is God.

Historically, Ryan’s position has been correct. One of the great philosophers and evolutionary theorists of the 19th century, Peter Kropotkin (1842-1921), took issue with Darwin’s concept of the “survival of the fittest,” and believed that the species of the world survived because of a concept known as “mutual aid.”   Continue Reading

As we open our door to welcome Elijah, some of us probably snicker and say “Yeah, right…” The cynicism of our age makes us doubt whether the Messiah will ever really arrive.

People often wonder who the Messiah is going to be. Many faith communities believe it will be Jesus; Chabad Hasidim believe that Rabbi Schnersohn will arise from the dead and save humankind. Personally, when asked, I often like to tell my students, “Here’s the bad news: The Messiah is more metaphor than it is a historical reality–at least with respect to the present or future generations.  Antecedents for this belief appear in BT Sanhedrin 99a:

• Rabbi Hillel said: There is no messiah for Israel, seeing that they already had him in the time of King Hezekiah. Rav Yosef said: May Rabbi Hillel’s Master forgive him. Hezekiah lived during the First Temple while Zechariah prophesied during the Second Temple.

Rashi notes in his commentary that R. Hillel accepted the concept of a future redemption but merely held that there will be no individual who will bring that redemption. Rather, God will do it without a human messenger. In other words, the human aspect of the Messiah is not that important; what matters is that it is God Who will bring about the final redemption. The 15th century Jewish philosopher, Joseph Albo, contends that the belief in a personal messiah is not essential to Judaism. There is also nothing indicative that R. Hillel rejected the futuristic concept of a messianic age—just a human messiah.

In the Tanakh itself, the term Messiah, simply means, “the anointed one,” originally referred any individual consecrated with sacred oil such as the king of Israel and the high priest. But it  the was also applied to any person for whom God had a special purpose – Cyrus of Persia, for example (Isa. 45:1). This passage in particular is especially intriguing, because the prophet suggests that God can designate anyone–even a gentile–to function in an anointed capacity. One could further suggest that in modern times, President Truman was King Cyrus redux, for he alone made it possible for Israel to be recognized as a Jewish state.

One could even argue that the idea of a Messianic age is another metaphor for Utopia.

But then I tell my students: “Now here’s the good news: You’re it! You must act like a Messiah in redeeming the world around you.” To create the Messianic world, each of us must actualize the goodness p that we possess. Nobody is going to do this task for you. Here is a remarkable Talmudic story that speaks about the importance of getting in touch with the kind of redemptive lives each of us must live–if we are to ultimately midwife the Messianic Era that was envisioned by the prophets.

The Sages often wondered when and where the Messiah would appear, and frequently criticized individuals who claimed or believed in a messiah, e.g., Jesus and Bar Kochba.  Despite their reticence to make messianic predictions, the rabbis nevertheless believed that his coming remains an eternal possibility. As for the time when this consummation was to take place, it was generally held to depend on the degree of progress men will have achieved in their moral development.

This point is well illustrated in the well-known Talmudic parable:

• Rabbi Joshua ben Levi met Elijah standing at the entrance of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai’s tomb.… He then said to him, “When will the Messiah come?” “Go and ask him” was the reply. “Where is he sitting?”—”At the entrance of the city.” And how shall I recognize him? — “He is sitting among the poor lepers, untying and re-bandaging their wounds, while thinking, “Should I be needed, I must not delay.” …[1] So he went to him and greeted him, saying, “Peace be upon you, Master and Teacher.” “Peace be upon you, O son of Levi,” he replied. ‘When will you come, Master?’ asked he. “Today” was his answer.” When the Messiah failed to appear that day, a deeply disappointed Rabbi Joshua returned to Elijah with the complaint: “He lied to me, stating that he would come today, but has not!” Elijah then enlightened him that the Messiah had really quoted Scripture (Ps. 95:7): “Today, if ye hearken to His voice” (Sanhedrin 98a).

One might wonder: Why wasn’t the Messiah worried about ritual impurity? One exposition found in the commentaries suggests that the Messiah is among those afflicted with leprosy (cf. Isa. 53:4); while this is a plausible exposition, I prefer the image of the Messiah ministering to the lepers. The answer to the question is even more remarkable when considering how the ancients marginalized the lepers.

In the days of the Temple, lepers lived outside the cities in special huts, where they all congregated for support. People feared any kind of physical contact with them for fear of contagion, or because of the possibility they might become ritually contaminated.

It was not uncommon for children and adults to throw stones at the lepers because they were the outcasts of ancient society.[2] Anytime a person merely approached a leper, the leper had to say, “Unclean!” in order to avoid contact. One could only imagine the havoc this caused in the leper’s family. The mere appearance of a leper on the street or in a neighborhood meant that everyone had to avoid him.[3] No one could even salute him; his bed was to be low, inclining towards the ground.[4] If he even put his head into a home, that home or building became ritually contaminated. No less a distance than four cubits (six feet) must be kept from a leper; or, if the wind came from that direction, a hundred were scarcely sufficient. For all practical purposes, a leper was like a walking dead man.

Yet, the Messiah of our story seems as though he could care less about ritual impurity; for him, caring for the lepers is a supreme ethical demand that transcends ritual laws.

Learning to heal the lepers—just like the Messiah

The Messiah’s response is intriguing. Redemption will not occur tomorrow, but today when we emulate his acts of selfless love; messianic redemption comes when we bandage the wounds of those suffering in the world around us. It seems as though the Talmud is suggesting, we have a personal role to play in redeeming the human condition. Redemption comes by living a redemptive life.

Bandaging the open wounds of the lepers, one open sore at a time, is the only viable human response to preparing the world for ultimate redemption. This process begins with treating the forlorn and abandoned members such as the lepers, or the AIDS victims, or anyone with a terrible disease with prayer, consideration, kindness and compassion— regardless of the disease.

The Talmud relates a story that is consistent with the ethos of the Messiah passage mentioned above. “R. Helbo was once sick. But none visited him. The Sage rebuked the scholars, saying, ‘Did it not once happen that one of R. Akiba’s disciples fell sick and the Sages did not visit him? So R. Akiba personally entered his student’s house to visit him, and upon finding the chamber neglected, Rabbi Akiba instructed his students to clean up the home and the sick student soon recovered. Thankfully, the student exclaimed, ‘My master—you have revived me!’ R. Akiba began his very next lecture with the statement, ‘Anyone who fails to visit the sick is like a shedder of blood’” (Nedarim 40a). The moral of the story stresses the importance of mutual-aid and responsibility. Simply put, we are our “brother’s keeper.

The French Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas stresses how God’s face is mirrored in the face of the ordinary people we encounter; when we see the beggar on the street asking for us to help, God’s face is present in the face of those struggling just to survive–one day at a time. Kabbalists sometimes describe the Shekhinah (the maternal aspect of the Divine) as always present among those who experience pain and loss. Jewish tradition teaches us that we become most God-like when we outflow compassion to a suffering world.

According to Levinas, God participates in a “divine comedy” in which God makes himself both “knowable” and “unknowable” in the shape of the Other—neighbor, stranger. The way we care for the Other speaks volumes about our faith in God. Isaiah 58 contains a powerful message that still speaks across the chasm of time:

You fast, but at the same time you bicker and fight.

You fast, but you swing a mean fist.

The kind of fasting you do

won’t get your prayers off the ground.

Do you think this is the kind of fast day I’m after:

a day to show off humility?

To put on a pious long face

and parade around solemnly in black?

Do you call that fasting,

a fast day that I, God, would like?

“This is the kind of fast day I’m after:

to break the chains of injustice,

get rid of exploitation in the workplace,

free the oppressed,

cancel debts.

What I’m interested in seeing you do is:

sharing your food with the hungry,

inviting the homeless poor into your homes,

putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,

being available to your own families.

Do this and the lights will turn on,

and your lives will turn around at once.

Your righteousness will pave your way.

The God of glory will secure your passage.

Then when you pray, God will answer.

You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am”

(Isaiah 58:5-11).

Continue Reading

Luke Chabner and I composed a Passover Seder Rap. We hope you like it.

 

Table 1

We’re so glad you came to our Seder

We knew you’d come, sooner or later!

Whether by a truck or an elevator,

From China, Alaska & the Equator

 

This is the bread of affliction we eat,

We welcome the stranger from the street

Without you, Seder ain’t complete

We’ve got a tasty dinner, with delicious meat!

 

Table 2

We will soon hide the Afikomen

Whether you’re Conan or just a Kohen

We hope you like our little slogan

We invited our favorite Japanese shogun!

 

We remember the ancient tale of yore

The day after we put blood on the door

Left so fast, our feet were sore

The Red Sea parted, we crossed ashore

 

Table 3

Sit down with Father and Matta

And take out your Maxwell House Hagadah

We can tell by the smile on your Cada,

We know you want a Pesach enchilada-

 

Find the youngest child, ask four questions

We look to the rabbi, to recite the blessins’

As we learn about the Pesach lessons

Before we sit down eat and fressen

 

Table 4

Passover is about leaving really fast!

God took us out of Pharaoh’s grasp

We left Egypt, by coach first class

We celebrate Passover, not a mass

 

Moses’ name is hardly mentioned

God is the hero, deserving of attention

More important than your earthly pension

Everyone left without dissension!

 

Table 5

We drink four cups of wine

East Passover lamb, and not a swine

It’s our history—yours and mine!

So follow Moses, and get in line!

 

We wandered in the desert for 40 years,

A place of bitterness, a place of tears

D’Seder teaches us, banish our fears

We clean out our homes, & throw out the beers

 

Table 6

From Chula Vista to La Costa

We eat lots of flat tasteless matza

More and more, lotsa and lotsas

This ain’t your mother’s Italian pasta

 

We remember herbs that are so bitter

Forget the glamor and all the glitter

Jewish suffering still gives us lots of jitters

Anti-Semites are nasty critters!

 

Table 7

Now let’s all point to the shank bone

We’re here together and not alone!

Kindly turn down your cell phone

Pray that tyrants are soon dethroned!

 

Every person must see himself

Leaving Egypt with Egyptian wealth

We left proudly, not in stealth

Eat your egg, it’s good for your health!

 

Table 8

We will soon eat Gefillte fish

With horseradish on your dish

Stay away from the potato knish

Swallow the horseradish, make a wish!

 

Sephardic Jews love eating lots of rice

But Ashkenazim are afraid of mice

Let me give you some good advice

Make sure you put some spice in your rice

 

Table 9

Take the Afikomen, out of your pocket

Open the door for Elijah the Prophet

He’s comin’ fast with the force of a rocket

Now earthly power can hardly stop it!

Continue Reading

Children have an unusual ability when it comes to confronting our spiritual hypocrisy as parents and as adults; very often they get to the essence of the problem as they perceive things. Frequently, as parents, we often fail to hear the questions our young people ask of us; often we overreact whenever we feel that our beliefs and values are being questioned or attacked. Rather than listening with an inner ear, as parents, we often react with harshness and anger.

Sometimes we wish our children were more respectful and compliant, or at least, “mind their place” at the Seder table and not misbehave or draw undue attention to themselves. As any Woody Allen fan certainly knows, passionate family discussions always have been a part of Jewish life since ancient times. Unanimity never has been the goal of any kind of discussion wherever you have two or more Jews together engaged in dialogue.

Passover is no exception to this rule.

During Passover, this thought finds expression in the question of the “Rasha” (better known to most of us as the “wicked child”). Without his presence and participation, the entire Seder would be a dull experience. Here is a literal translation of this controversial passage of the Passover Hagadah:

• The wicked son says, ‘What is this service to you?’ Note the Torah says, to you, but not to him; because he has excluded himself from the community. He has denied a basic teaching of the faith. Therefore, you shall smack his teeth and tell him, It is because of this that God wrought for me in my going out of Egypt (Exod. 13:8)‘For me–but not him. Had he been there, he would not have been redeemed.”

The smack in the mouth in front of an entire family creates a toxic atmosphere that is not conducive for sharing and celebrating the Passover holidays.

As a parent, I often have wondered how anyone could call their child “wicked.” The glaring meaning of “Rasha” is arguably offensive. If we are to choose a less offensive title, let us describe him or her as a “Wayward Child,” or perhaps more accurately a “Rebellious Child.” At any rate, our “Rasha” is a person who is a young person who stands perilously close to the edge of his/her Judaism.

Without a wise pedagogical response, the “Rasha” may grow up to disaffiliate as a Jew. Calling him a “Rasha” could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. So we wonder: Why does the “Rasha” strike such a visceral note? The anger of the father deserves special attention. Why does he get upset? How could a simple question push a parent to act so violently at the family Seder? Clearly, the “Rasha” has touched a raw nerve in his father.

If my conjecture is correct, the “wicked” son’s question now begins to make more sense, for she/he may be a child who is dissatisfied with superficial answers. The father may love tradition, but he lacks the ability to articulate to his rebellious adolescent child what it means to be a Jew, especially in a modern age. Of all the children who are present at the Seder table, the “Rasha” is asking the best question of them all.

On a deeper level, the question, “What does this service mean to YOU?” Put in different terms, the child asks, “If the Seder has no deeper meaning for YOU, why should it have any special meaning for ME? How can I make this Seder a self-authenticating experience if the Seder is nothing more than a mechanical exercise? Until I find out the answer, I will not be subject to you or any tradition until I know for sure what it really means, assuming that it means anything at all.”

Regardless of his son’s attitude, he must respond wisely and compassionately—and not with anger and violence. He might have considered saying, “Son, your question is an excellent question—it is precisely the question of this evening. Although I can only speak for myself, but I think the message of Passover applies to you as well. None of us would be celebrating this festive meal had it not been for this important celebration all of our ancestors’ experience of the Exodus. Had our ancestors opted not to leave, you would not recognize the world of the present. Freedom resonates in our soul precisely because our ancestors chose freedom over slavery. They chose the insecurity of freedom over the security of slavery. That is what the holiday means to me—and it might mean the same to you, if you really think about it.” Wise parenting can bypass the Oedipal  conflict that parents routinely experience with their adolescent children.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this article, children have a way of discerning a parent’s Achilles’ heel. A child intuitively knows when parents are just breezing through the motions of religious life—especially in when it pertains to religious ritual. Maybe the rebellious child has a good reason to rebel, for she/he instinctively knows when a parent is real or unreal. The “Rasha” may well see something hollow about his “religious” father.

As parents, Passover reminds us that we need to reexamine what it means to celebrate freedom. Hassidic mystics speak of Egypt as the place of limitations (as intimated by the name “Mitzraim,” the land of straits. On Passover, it is time for us to break out of our narrow-minded way of looking at the world. Passover reminds us to show compassion toward all who are disenfranchised or marginalized.

In all honesty, a wise and loving response from the father might inspire his rebellious son to rethink his attitude about the holiday. There is obviously more to the Seder than the matza ball soup! Continue Reading

 

As we prepare ourselves for the celebration of Passover and give thought to the meaning of freedom. The Passover Hagadah brings us to an important realization: We are not merely the products of the present. In the words of the Hagadah, “And had the Holy Blessed One not taken us out of Egypt, then we, our children and grandchildren would still be slaves to Pharaoh.”

What do these words mean? Think about it . . . The events of the past impact the events of the future. Imagine how history might have changed, were it not for this seminal event of our people? There are turning points of history that forever alter the course of civilization, which creates the stage for the world we now live in.

The question of “What if?” is one of the ancient rabbi’s tools for enhancing our understanding of human history. This simple question may seem counterfactual, but the process of questioning is the vehicle that takes a past event and makes it come alive.

The question of “What if?” reveals the startling stakes that our ancestors faced in a land that disenfranchised and dehumanized them as people. This question is not the only one that the Passover Seder raises. For example, if the Israelites fail to cross the Sea of Reeds, Pharaoh and his hosts would have brought them back to Egypt where they would live out the rest of their lives serving their masters.

One event changes history. Without the Exodus, there is no revelation at Mt. Sinai. By the same token, there would be no “Promised Land,” no prophets, no Kings of Israel, no Temple, no Second Temple, no Maccabees, no Christianity, and no Islam to speak of.

How would the world look today?

Given that the plenitude of dictatorships we see in the world today, it is probably safe to presume that democracy and freedom would be rare. Scholars and rabbis may question the exact historicity of the Exodus, but there can be no question that the entire Torah is predicated upon the memory of the Exodus. For our ancestors, the experience of ill-treatment was real.

If the Israelites choose the security of slavery over the insecurity of freedom, there would never have been an Exodus. Freedom began with a choice.

And so the world changed in the twinkle of an eye . . .

Physicists and meteorologists sometimes speak about a concept known as the “butterfly effect.” According to the meteorologist Ed Lorenz, the earth’s weather systems are perfectly tuned so that even a butterfly’s stirring the air with its wings in the African jungle today will later generate consequences for the storm systems affecting Boston within a few weeks. (By the way, this same kind movement can also be applied with respect to economics, as seen this past year’s gyrations of the stock market.) The effects of the Exodus continue to reverberate over the ages—from ancient times—to the present. The mythos of the Exodus has become embedded in the collective unconscious of all peoples.

The world is still changing as a result of the Exodus. This wonderful holiday beckons all of us to fight for the freedom of all oppressed peoples.

Indeed, God’s glory becomes manifest whenever people free themselves from tyrants. Our sacred stories teach us another important lesson. God does not act unilaterally to free the Israelites from their misery. For freedom to occur there must be a Moses, an Aaron, a Miriam, a Shifra and Puah—good and brave people must take a stand.

Memory in Judaic tradition is never passive. Memory is active, dynamic, and transforming. The Passover Hagadah makes it a point to get the participants imagine themselves as if they were personally present at the original Seder. The Torah makes it a point to reiterate:

• If your kinsman, a Hebrew man or woman, sells himself to you, he is to serve you for six years, but in the seventh year you shall dismiss him from your service, a free man. When you do so, you shall not send him away empty-handed,but shall weight him down with gifts from your flock and threshing floor and wine press, in proportion to the blessing the LORD, your God, has bestowed on you.For remember that you too were once slaves in the land of Egypt, and the LORD, your God, ransomed you. That is why I am giving you this command today (Deut. 15:12-15).
• You shall not violate the rights of the alien or of the orphan, nor take the clothing of a widow as a pledge. For, remember, you were once slaves in Egypt, and the LORD, your God, ransomed you from there; that is why I command you to observe this rule (Deut 24:17-18)

This morning on NPR, I heard the news about Egyptian women fighting for their civil rights. After marching in the streets for more freedom (the more you have, the more you want), the military authorities arrested a large number of women. The Egyptian police took these women to a room where they had to strip. These brave young women had to undergo a “virginity test,” in front of their tormentors.

Samira Ibrahim, 25, a victim of a forced virginity test after being detained in Tahrir Square a year ago, decided to take the Egyptian authorities to court. However, a military tribunal cleared the doctor of all charges.

The Muslim Brotherhood is no friend of the Jews; they despise Western values. After listening to other dissidents who complained about being beaten and incarcerated for weeks, I wondered: Why is our government giving 1.3 billion dollars to a government that despises freedom? Our President needs to be more assertive and make it clear to the Muslim Brotherhood: All financial aid is contingent upon democratizing Egypt.

I am certain our ancestors also experienced this type of treatment in Egypt.

For us, we must do our part and fight for the freedom that the Arab peoples deserve—whether they be in Syria, Egypt, or Iran. Continue Reading

Oscar Wilde once said: “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it… I can resist everything but temptation.”

There’s a lot of truth to Wilde’s temptation. As human beings we often give in to many temptations without thinking about the consequences of our actions.

Lest we start feeling self-righteous and smug, there is hardly a person who cannot be compromised or broken down, provided one is confronted by the right kind of temptation.

An expose appeared in the Ma’ariv newspaper about a man named Yehuda Meshi-Zahav, Eidah Charedis’ former chief operations officer. Meshi-Zahav left his anti-Zionist roots after witnessing the aftermath of a terror attack, and founded ZAKA, the disaster response organization that has rescued countless lives in Israel and elsewhere in the world, whenever a tragedy occurred.

ZAKA’s painstaking attention to gathering all the limbs and organs of terrorist attacks is nothing less than inspiring.

ZAKA provided assistance in Thailand, Sri Lanka, India and Indonesia in the aftermath of the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake. Their teams of forensic experts were sometimes nicknamed, “the team that sleeps with the dead” because they toiled around the clock, ministering to those who died in the tsunami. The experience of ZAKA members, who reportedly see 38 bodies a week on average in Israel, helped the Israeli forensic team to identify corpses faster than many of the other forensic teams that operated in Thailand in the aftermath of the disaster, which placed them in high demand with grieving families.

The Israeli government bestowed Meshiv-Zahav with the honor of lighting an honorary beacon on Israel’s 55th Independence Day official ceremonies on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem, the revered burial spot of modern Zionism’s founder Theodor Herzl.

So what happened? Although few of know or understand the politics of ZAKA, evidently Meshi-Zahav left the organization and started his own ZAKA organization.

Sounds pretty confusing, no?

And confusing it was. Most people did not realize there were two ZAKA organizations. He and his family raised money for the “new” ZAKA but neglected to tell his donors that his organization was different. In good faith, people all over the world sent considerable sums of money to purchase ambulances and EMT vehicles.

The Ma’ariv report alleges that Meshi-Zahav never bought any of these vehicles. It suggested that he used the money for other personal purposes. These are only allegations, and so far we have not seen a response from Meshi-Zahav. One assumes the case will be litigated in Israeli courts and we’ll learn whether Ma’ariv got its facts right.

In its account, Ma’ariv reported that the original ZAKA did not receive the donors’ money. Yet, Meshi-Zahav used the original ZAKA’s tax I.D. number. Meshi-Zahav’s ZAKA allegedly has an agreement with the original ZAKA that allows this, but Meshi-Zahav is supposed to give 40% of what his ZAKA raises after expenses to the original ZAKA. However, no money has been given to it by Meshi-Zahav’s ZAKA, according to Ma’ariv.

ZAKA is in dire financial straits. The Israeli government is trying to understand why the original ZAKA collapsed, and why millions of dollars are missing from its accounts, Ma’ariv reported. The newspaper said that Meshi-Zahav used ZAKA as a personal account for purchasing groceries and vacation trips.

A religious person in particular ought to know that the Torah teaches that freedom is not the license to do whatever one wants. In a God-centered world, it is God Who determines the boundaries between right and wrong; in a human-centered world, humans define values, and in a sense act like God.

We all face temptation. Oscar Wilde is correct to some degree. However, the solution is not to give in to caprice, but to sublimate these urges by simply saying, “No thank you . . .” Continue Reading

Once there was a rabbi and soap merchant who were debating the pros and cons of religion. The soap merchant said, “Frankly I really don’t see the good of religion. Observe how corrupt the world is because of religion!”  The rabbi listened and said nothing. As they were walking together, they came across a youngster that was playing in a mud puddle. The rabbi said, “My goodness, I really don’t see the value of soap, why doesn’t soap keep the mud off of him? Just look how filthy that child is!”  The soap merchant said, “But rabbi, owning soap is not going to make you clean; you must use the soap daily in order for it to be effective!”

The rabbi, replied, “So too is it with religion. It’s not good enough to simply have or own a religion—you must use it daily in order for it to be effective.” Continue Reading

At our downtown TBS Jewish business ethics class, we discussed an interesting subject dealing with the problem of suspicion. The beginning of Parshat Pikudei (Vyakhale-Pikudei), Moses presents a complete inventory of what all the items that he and the priests collected for the Tabernacle (Exod. 38:21ff. Moses gives a precise accounting of the raw material brought to the Sanctuary: gold (29 talents, 730 shekels), silver (100 talents, 1,757 shekels), copper (70 talents, 2,400 shekels), and so on . . . One might wonder:  If we can’t trust Moses, who could the Israelites trust? If Moses is not above suspicion, then who is?  Why encumber Moses with a ledger?

Rabbinic tradition observes that Moses had more than his fair share of critics. People would look at Moses and say, “Look at his neck, look at his thighs – he is obviously eating and drinking from the property we have donated to the Tabernacle!” Moses’ healthy, strong appearance provided a basis for the cynical charge that he was pilfering. To ensure that the job would be carried out with fairness, Moses delegated the accounting to Itamar, the son of Aaron (Midrash HaGadol, Parshat Pikudei).

Accordingly, Moses responded to his critics by giving a precise accounting for every single coin and article contributed to the Sanctuary. The ethos of the Torah portion stresses the importance of maintaining honest records. Leadership–whether it be spiritual or political—demands transparency and accountability.

Rabbinical literature contains numerous discussions about this particular theme. In one ancient text, the Sages discuss the meaning of a passage, “Be sure to keep the commandments, decrees, and laws that the LORD your God has enjoined upon you. Do what is right and good in the sight of the LORD, that it may go well with you and that you may be able to possess the good land that the LORD your God promised on oath to your fathers.”[1]

The rabbis wondered: What do the words “Do what is right and good” mean? What are its practical implications? They discussed a practical problem that the priests used o encounter in the days of the Second Temple:

The Tosefta records the following law:[2] Whenever someone went in to take the terumah offering from the Shekel-chamber, they would search him before he entered the chamber—and after he exited the chamber.[3] They made it a point to engage him in conversation the entire time he would enter and come out. Why was this procedure so necessary? They went through this procedure in order to fulfill the biblical imperative, “You shall be clear before the LORD and before Israel.”[4]

The Tosefta implies that when dealing with public monies, the priests of the Temple must keep a watchful eye upon anyone who enters the shekel (money) room at all times. The Sages feared that the access to Temple funds might prove to be a temptation for greedy individuals.  Ergo, the Sages decided to create safeguards to prevent theft or the accidental co-mingling of personal monies with the Temple monies. To ensure honesty, they conducted a body search of the officer’s  body and clothing. This view was championed by Rabbi Ishmael.

The Tosefta in Shekalim 3:2 continues exploring the theme of “being clear before the LORD” and what that practically means:

However, according to a different rabbinical view that the Tosefta attributes to R. Akiba:

• The collector may not enter dressed in a loose-hanging garment [with sleeves in which money can be concealed—so that he would not be suspected of stealing from the Temple office] nor wearing boots or sandals or phylacteries or an amulet [in which money can be hidden], lest he become impoverished and people will say that he became impoverished because of his transgression in the Temple office [i.e., stealing its money], or lest he become rich and people will say that he enriched himself from the money in the Temple office. For a person must be as blameless before his fellow man as before God, as Scripture states: “You shall be clear before the LORD and before Israel,” and “You will find favor and approbation in the eyes of God and humankind” (Deut. 6:18).[5]

Based upon this opinion, the Temple officials did not subject a person to demeaning searches of his clothing and body; it is adequate if he takes care not to enter the office wearing clothing and objects that could possibly make him suspect. The Halacha follows Rabbi Akiba.

The moral of the rabbinical discussion boils down to one simple principle: Leadership–in all its guises–needs to be beyond suspicion.

Classes in Jewish law and Talmud often lead to some interesting digressions. In one discussion, the lawyers of the class raised the question about the TSA body searches. One of my students observed that in her opinion, the Mishnah seems to also suggest that body searches conducted by the TSA in many of our airports violate both common sense and human dignity.

Her point was well taken.

Performing a body search on a six-year little girl, or a 93 year old woman often involve the kind of groping that authorities would identify with child-molesting, or sexually exploitation. After considerable complaining, it seems that the TSA is beginning to look at other methods that have been used in Israel for years with great success. As mentioned earlier, body searches are not necessary for cases that are obvious to the naked eye. They are necessary only if there appears to be an element of impropriety and suspicion (e.g., wearing loose fitting clothing). All other things being equal, we do not subject people to a body search because it demeans the individual, and for that reason it is also considered to be demeaning to God.

A more practical and prudent approach involves talking to passengers, observe their body language, watching their eyes as they respond to basic questions. Such methods do not diminish the value of a human being–and this method works quite brilliantly for the Israelis. It is amazing to see how some of the Mishnaic methods of antiquity offer practical guidelines that can help us preserve human dignity while working to solve the problem of terrorism. Continue Reading