BO 5779

When I was a kid I would eat a sandwich for lunch every day and so I would ask: “Who invented the sandwich?” The classic answer is the Earl of Sandwich. His real name was John Montagu and he lived in the 18^th century, was a notorious gambler, and the sandwich as a meal he could take with him to the gaming tables. But every Jewish child knows the sandwich was invented many centuries earlier, by the great Talmudic sage Hillel.

In today’s Torah reading (Exodus 12:8) Gd commands the Jewish people about the Passover Seder: “They shall eat the meat (of the Passover sacrifice) that night, roasted over the fire, and matzahs; with bitter herbs they shall eat it.” At our Seders we mention the teaching in the Talmud (Pesachim 115a) where Hillel tells us to make a sandwich of matzah and bitter herbs—dipped in the apple paste called charoset. Hillel’s idea was a compromise. The Torah teaches that at Passover, we should eat the roasted Passover sacrifice with matzah and marror (bitter herbs). We no longer have a Passover sacrifice so we eat the matzah by itself saying a blessing, followed by the bitter herbs by itself saying a blessing. But Hillel was not satisfied with this. He believed we should also eat the matzah and the bitter herbs together—as the verse seems to indicate. So the sandwich was invented as a compromise to satisfy Hillel’s opinion. Sorry Earl of Sandwich, you were not the 1^st.

Jewish tradition is full of compromises. When we hang a mezuzah on the doors of our homes, do you know why we hang it at an angle? In his monumental compendium on Jewish law, the Baal haTurim, Rabbi Jacob ben Asher (13^th–14^th centuries) cites 2 conflicting opinions. He 1^st quotes the great Biblical commentator Rashi, who taught that the mezuzah should be placed vertically. He then cites the view of Rashi’s grandson, Rabbeinu Tam, who disagreed saying that placing the mezuzah in a “standing” position is not respectful. Rather, he taught that it should be placed horizontally—i.e. laying down—similar to how the Tablets of the 10 Commandments and the 1^st Torah scroll were arranged in the Holy Ark in the Temple of old—which, unlike the Arks in our shuls, was a horizontal ark.

Think of our Torahs as they are removed from the Aron Kodesh. As long as someone holds the Torah vertically, all the people stand. As soon as it’s placed down to rest, the people also may sit. Rabbeinu Tam seems to be saying the same about the mezuzah.

So what should we to do? Rabbi Jacob ben Asher concludes that we should hang a mezuzah in our homes at an angle—on a slant—as a compromise to try to fulfill both opinions as best we can. Again, we hand the mezuzah not vertically and not horizontally, but we compromise and hang it on a slant. Perhaps the lesson is that for there to be shalom bayit (peace in a home)—and home is where the mitzvah of mezuzah is commanded—there must be compromise. Every time we walk into our homes or into our bedroom and see the mezuzah on a slant, it’s a reminder that we must compromise. Learning to compromise is an essential Jewish value.

Having said this, not always should one compromise. This reminds me of an old joke that asks us to ponder a moral dilemma:

Imagine you’re in the Middle East and there’s a huge flood. Homes have been lost, water supplies compromised and infrastructures destroyed. You’re traveling alone, taking photographs for a news service, looking for particularly poignant scenes. You come across the Iranian head Ayatollah who has been swept away by the floodwaters. He’s hanging on to the branch of a tree and is about to go under.

You can either put down your camera and save him or take a Pulitzer prize-winning photograph of him as he loses his grip on the branch. So here’s the dilemma—and think carefully before you answer it: What lens would you use—telephoto or wide angle?!

There’s no compromising with someone who only wants to incinerate you and wipe you off the face of the earth. For example, Israel has great expertise in rescue efforts during earthquakes. Last November there was an earthquake in Iran. Despite its fanatically anti-Semitic leaders, Israel wanted to help those poor souls in the Iranian earthquake. But not only would Iran not accept Israel’s help, one of the Ayatollahs blamed Israel for the earthquake!

But in most cases, compromise is a great virtue. Have anyone of you seen the Broadway musical Hamilton? I haven’t; I’m waiting for the prices to become reasonable when it visits Atlanta again. I understand there’s a scene of the portrayal of the Compromise of 1790. Hamilton locked himself in a room with Jefferson and Madison—2 men who truly despised him. Together they worked out a compromise where the Federal government would take over the states’ debts as Hamilton wanted, while building the national capital in part of Virginia as Jefferson wanted. Here we see politicians who fervently disagree and do not like each other, working out a compromise. What a concept!

As I speak now our government is shut down. The issue is the building of a wall along the southern border of the United States. I won’t give an opinion on the wall itself because my message is not political. However, isn’t there a way for Trump, Pelosi and Schumer to follow the lead of Hamilton, Jefferson and Madison and lock themselves in a room and not come out until they hammer out a compromise that will reopen the government? It strikes me that this is what governments are supposed to do. Leaders must find a way to compromise.

I don’t know if you know this, but after I left my former congregation, I trained to become a mediator. While I don’t practice it much, I learned some valuable lessons. I remember the 1^st thing I learned: If there are 2 parties that disagree, find something they can both agree about. For example, a divorcing couple can agree that children need both a mother and a father. Slowly, finding areas of agreement, a mediator can build a compromise. Both sides get part of what they want, and both sides give up part of what they want. Nobody gets everything; compromise is not about all or nothing.

So next Passover, as you build your Hillel sandwich of matzah and bitter herbs, remember that this sandwich was invented as a compromise between those authorities who said the 2 foods should be eaten separately and those who believed it should be eaten together.

The Torah (Deut. 16:20) teaches Tzedek tzedek tirdof (Justice, justice shall you pursue). Why repeat the word “justice” twice? Rashi comments that sometimes you must pursue absolute justice where you are right and the other side is wrong. But equally often, you need to pursue a pshara (a compromise) where each side gets something and each side gives something. It’s a lesson from the Passover Seder that we all need to learn for our homes and for our country. Amen!

VAEYRA 5779

How good are you at heeding warnings? Do you ignore the expiration dates on medications? Do you regularly exceed the speed limit on the highway by more than 10 or even 20 miles an hour?

The zoo in Kirby, England paid visitors for articles stolen by the monkeys. But what puzzled them was the favorite item the animals snatched: eyeglasses. An investigation revealed the reason. The monkeys grabbed the glasses when visitors leaned over to read a small sign on the wall of the cage which said: “Beware! These monkeys steal spectacles.” (https://bible.org/illustration/monkey-thieves)

What do you do when you see a sign that reads, “Wet paint, don’t touch”? I don’t know about you but I always feel compelled to see if it’s still wet.” However, not paying attention to warnings can be dangerous! Doctors have been warning us for years about taking care of our hearts. Rabbi Jack Reimer tells a story about Dr. Ron Wolfson—author of Relational Judaism—that speaks strongly to this warning:

          When Ron was 13 years old, he went to a class in Health Education. He learned about cholesterol and how it can form a hard plaque that clogs the arteries and causes heart attacks. He also learned that it forms from fatty meats, fried food, and smoking cigarettes.

          When Ron heard this, he realized that this was exactly his father’s diet—fatty meats, fried foods, and 4 packs of cigarettes a day! He then started a campaign to persuade his father to change his diet.

          One day, while his father was away at work, he put up warning signs all over the house that had skulls and crossbones on them that said: “Smoking Kills!” or “Don’t Eat Your Heart Out!” or “You’re Too Young to Die!” When his father came home that night and saw the signs, he was furious. He tore the signs down, and said: “Leave me alone. I’ll eat what I want, and I will smoke when I want. You mind your own business!”

          Dr. Wolfson says that that was the day when he learned that a heart can be hard in 2 ways. It can be hard physically, because of clogged arteries, and it can be hard spiritually, because of stubbornness. And he realized that his father was hard-hearted in both ways. And sure enough, 10 years later, at the age of 53, Dr. Wolfson’s father had a major heart attack.

          But from that day on he changed—he worked less, he ate less, and he smoked less.

Today’s Torah reading speaks of another man who allowed his heart to harden—Pharaoh, king of Egypt. Moses asks Pharaoh—on behalf of Gd—to let the Jewish people go and Pharaoh refuses. In today’s Torah reading Gd then brings 7 plagues upon Pharaoh and his people and each time Pharaoh refuses to give in. Each time Pharaoh promises to surrender if only Gd will take away the plague, and then, as soon as the plague is removed, Pharaoh goes back to his old ways. This Pharaoh is one stubborn man! He’s more stubborn than Ron Wolfson’s father who learned his lesson from just one heart attack. Pharaoh had to suffer 10 plagues before he got the idea that perhaps he ought to change.

One can understand Pharaoh’s stubbornness after experiencing one or 2 plagues. After all he thought he was a god. But after experiencing the turning of their drinking water to blood, the infestations of frogs and lice, the invasions of wild animals, the sickness of their cattle, the infestation of crippling boils and blisters, hail so heavy anyone outside was killed, swarms of locusts that ate all their produce, darkness so heavy they could not see…at what point should Pharaoh have said, “Enough, just go!”

Perhaps the answer is that if you’re stubborn enough long enough, what happens is that you eventually lose the ability to change. Habit takes over and controls you. Pharaoh started out stubborn, but he then became a prisoner of his own stubbornness.

That’s not what happened to Ron Wolfson’s father! He took his heart attack as a wake-up call and he changed. He changed his diet, his work schedule and gave up smoking. With this he showed that he was not a prisoner of his stubbornness, but a free man, capable of change. And guess what? He lived to celebrate his 90^th birthday!

I don’t know if Pharaoh lived to celebrate his 90^th birthday. I doubt it. Jewish tradition (Mechilta Beshalach 2:6, Yalkut Shimoni Ex. 176) is divided whether or not he died at the Red Sea. Even if he survived in order to give a 1^st-hand account of Gd’s wonders as one Midrash has it, one can’t imagine that someone with such a hot temper, someone who was as stubborn and as unbending and unwilling to listen to the advice of anyone around him as he was, could have lived to a very ripe old age. The stubbornness of a hard heart can do that to you.

So let me ask you: How hard is your heart? Physically, I know mine is not too hard these days because of the 20mg of Crestor I take every day. But emotionally and spiritually? Let’s do an emotional and spiritual EKG of sorts on our hearts by considering some of the ways we harden our hearts.

From a spiritual perspective, you harden your heart when you see clear evidence of Gd in the world and you don’t allow it to change you. The evidence is there, if you just open your eyes and your heart to see it. Everyone experiences Gdly moments from time to time when Gd helps us in miraculous ways. If you don’t ignore it, you will experience the presence of Gd in your life. At that point you have a choice to make—do you soften your heart and allow Gd in or do you harden your heart and go through life as if nothing has happened? 

From an emotional perspective, you harden your heart when you are so consumed with anger and pain that you refuse to see why it is that the person who hurt you did what he/she did to you. You’re hurt; why should you care about what happened to the one who hurt you? But it’s only with this kind of insight that you can find healing.

Hatred is an even more intense emotion that hardens the heart as we see in the words and actions of Islamic extremists like ISIS, Hezbollah, Hamas, or Iran’s mullahs. That’s why it’s virtually impossible to negotiate with them. Like Pharaoh of old, their hearts are so hardened they will not entertain anyone else’s point of view.

I read an interesting suggestion for France in light of one of her many votes against Israel in the UN Security Council, and in light of recent terror attacks. It was a suggested letter to the president of France:  

Dear Mr. President,

           The recent violence in Paris underscores the need for France to immediately engage in negotiations with French Muslims that will result in the creation of 2 states for 2 peoples, living side by side in peace, harmony and security, with Paris as a shared capital.

Sincerely,

Bibi Netanyahu

How else do we harden our hearts? We harden our hearts when we assume that we’re always right. We’re not always right and even when we are right we need to consider the pain we cause others. We must ask ourselves what’s more important: being right or having meaningful relationships?

Hearts can also become hardened when we suffer setbacks and disappointments. No one is immune to life’s trials. Yet, just as steel is forged by a blacksmith’s hammer, so, too, can we be strengthened by the trials we encounter. So when life is hard, don’t harden your heart. Open it and let Gd in and your love out.

My friends, let’s follow the example of Ron Wolfson’s father and not Pharaoh by opening our hearts to the love and advice of others. And if we do, our hearts will be free of the spiritual cholesterol that hardens them and instead be filled with Gd’s healing light. Then, no doubt, we will live longer and better. Amen!

VAYECHI 5779

Today’s Torah reading deals primarily with the last moments of Father Jacob and his death. Dag Hammerskjold, former UN Secretary-General once said: No choice is uninfluenced by the way in which the personality regards its destiny, and the body its death. In the last analysis, it is our conception of death, which decides our answers to all the questions that life, puts to us.

I thought this Shabbat would be a good time to introduce you to a new book from my mentor and teacher Rabbi Benjamin Blech: Hope, Not Fear: Changing the Way We View Death. It contains many of his teachings I have shared with you over the years with some new exquisite insights.    

On some level of awareness we all know that our days are numbered. How to cope with that recognition is perhaps our greatest challenge. For some, acknowledging mortality is liberating like in Chris Allen’s hit song “Live Like We’re Dying.” For others, fear of the unknown is debilitating and cause for depression.

Judaism, by way of profound insights from the Torah and Kabbalah grants us some amazing answers to what awaits us at the end of our earthly journey. Rabbi Blech, in an article for www.aish.com about his book, shares with us 5 surprising ideas about death from Jewish wisdom:

1. Death is not the end of our existence. Adam was formed from the dust of the earth as well as from the breath of Gd’s spirit. We are a combination of body and soul. It is the soul which defines us as being created “in the image of Gd.” It is the soul that is eternal and represents our essence. King Solomon sums it up best (Ecclesiastes 12:7): “And the dust [the body which is formed from the dust] returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to Gd who gave it.” And so to those who ask: “Does Judaism believe in life after death?” The answer is a resounding yes!
2.  At the moment of death we get a glimpse of Gd. When Moses asked Gd, “Show me please your glory” (Ex. 33:18-20), Gd responded, “You cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live.” The implication is powerful. While the living cannot see Gd, death comes with a vision of Gd. That’s the reason behind the custom of closing the eyes of the dead. Eyes which have perceived the glory of heaven dare no longer be exposed to the harsh reality of this world.

I have more than once been present at the very moment when someone died. Often it appeared that the dying suddenly saw a beautiful and comforting vision. Mona Simpson—Steve Jobs’ sister—in her eulogy reported: Steve’s final words were monosyllables, repeated 3 times. Before embarking, he looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurine, and then over their shoulders past them. Steve’s final words were: “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

What he saw apparently overwhelmed him with its beauty. He could only respond to it with a 3-times repeated exclamation of amazement. Jewish tradition assures us we too, at the moment of death, will have this kind of revelation.

3.  The dead know what is happening around them. Jewish sources tell us what happens to us immediately after death. In Pirke Avot (4:21) Rabbi Yaakov teaches: This world is like a hallway before the world to come. Fix yourself in the hallway so that you may enter the drawing room. The analogy of a hallway is striking. A hallway is but the entrance to the main domicile. In other words, our lives on earth are only the 1^st stage of a more glorious existence.

Rabbi Yaakov (4:22) continues: One hour of pleasure in the world to come is better than all the time in this world. Here on earth we seek happiness, but our pleasures are transitory—our joy is limited by our physical being. Once we pass through the hallway of our lives and arrive in heaven we notice that our earthly “hallway” pales in comparison, and that true meaning of happiness transcends all that we experienced during our lifetimes.

Jewish law takes it a step further. Because our soul—our real self—moves from one domain to another, we leave this world slowly—forsaking our bodies in stages. That’s why the dead should never be left alone—because the soul hovers near the body shortly after its initial separation and it is aware of the love and respect shown to its vessel, the body. And so those tending the deceased are not permitted to eat or learn Torah in their presence because it would be “mocking” the dead by doing something they can no longer do. Why? because they would know it! And we must be careful of what we say in their presence because they can still “hear it.” And so Judaism emphasizes that eulogies require special care with their remarks—not just because inappropriate statements and untrue observations might offend friends or family—but because one of the listeners is none other than the deceased as well! 

4. Dying means remembering, reflecting—and facing final judgment. The Talmud (Avot 3:1) teaches: Akavia ben Mahalalel says: “Pay careful attention to 3 things and you will not come to sin: know from where you came, to where you are going, and before whom you are destined to give a final account and a reckoning.”

More fascinating is that the Talmud (Shabbat, 31a) actually reveals the questions we will all be asked in our “final exam” in heaven. Questions like:

Did you conduct your business affairs honestly?

Did you set aside regular time for Torah study?

Did you ensure continuity of the world by having children?

Did you look forward to the world’s redemption?

So not only do we know that “one hour of pleasure in the world to come is better than all the time in this world,” but we are also told what’s required of us in order to get there. What a remarkable and kind gift it is to have the questions of our final exam in advance. And what great advice for living a life of fulfillment which finds favor in the eyes of Gd and our fellow human beings. 

5. The real reason to cry about death. Why then do people cry when they’re dying? Why cry if we believe we are moving to a better location? And so it is recorded in the Talmud that Rabbi Yehuda explained to his students on his deathbed. “If you want to know why I am crying, it is only because of the Torah and the meritorious deeds that I will no longer be able to perform.”

Death deprives us of the ability to continue to serve Gd and do acts of kindness. The lesson is that it is life that presents us with opportunities for personal growth and the elevation of our souls. Death brings to a close our ability to achieve our potential.

There’s an old story about a businessman who dies and goes up to that line that decides whether he gets into heaven or not. In front of him he sees a man being asked to tell about the good deed he has done. After he finishes, the angel in charge tells him to proceed through the gates into heaven.

          When it’s the businessman’s turn, he clears his throat and says that he didn’t have time for good deeds, and hasn’t given much to charity. He then takes out his check book and says, “Just tell me how much it’ll cost and I’ll write you a check.”

          The angel says to him, “Checks? We don’t take checks in heaven. We only take receipts!” In heaven they take receipts. It’s not a joke. It’s true. 

Rabbi Blech concludes: “These are some of the profound insights which can replace fear with hope as we contemplate the reality we know is the eventual fate of all mankind.” I hope you will buy and read Rabbi Blech’s new book, Hope Not Fear. Keep it close and refer to it often. It’s not a long book and it’s an easy read. And it is worth the effort because it can transform your life. Amen!

 Click here to purchase Rabbi Blech’s new book, Hope Not Fear: Changing the Way We View Death.

VAYIGASH 5779

I always liked my name for this Torah portion which is usually called Vayigash. It’s the one where Joseph reveals himself to his brothers and they all break down in shock and tears. Instead of calling it Vayigash, I call it “Oh-My-Gosh”!

Pharaoh is delighted that Joseph’s family has come to live in Egypt. After all, if Joseph proved to help him and Egypt so much—saving them from famine and desolation and making Pharaoh so rich—imagine how much more blessing all the brothers and the entire family would bring. Joseph brings some of the brothers to meet Pharaoh and then he brings his father Jacob. Their encounter is very strange. Pharaoh asks Jacob (Gen, 47:8-9), “How old are you?” which seems highly impolite, and Jacobs’ response is odd. He says, “I’m 130 years old. Few and bad have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not reached the life span of my fathers.”

The Sages read this and collectively exclaim, “What?! What kind of an answer is that?” He didn’t reach the years of his fathers? He’s not dead yet and perhaps he will. Is his life over? As it turned out he lived another 17 years. Listen to what the Midrash supposes that Gd told Jacob about that remark: “I saved you from Esav and Lavan, and returned Dina and Joseph to you, and yet you complain that your life has been short and unhappy! Therefore you shall not live as long as your father.” The Daas Zekeynim notes that Jacob was punished for this lack of appreciation and lived 33 years less than his father corresponding to the 33 words of complaining in these 2 verses.

I don’t think we need to hit anyone over the head to understand the lesson the Midrash is conveying to us. Yes Jacob had a difficult life. He had a brother who sought to kill him. He had a father-in-law who deceived him. He was tricked into marrying the wrong woman. He fought with an angel. He saw his children fight.

But there were some really good times. He had a mother who adored him. He married the love of his life. He had several intense and pivotal encounters with Gd. He lived to see his children reunited. He was 130 years old. How could he say that his years were few and bad? Why such a melancholy outlook? What’s up with Jacob?

Jacob’s problem is that—like so many of us—he focuses upon his tzuris—his unhappiness, his trials, his problems. But the truth is that there is joy to be found in our lives, no matter what life throws at us. Sometimes, life is unbearably tough, but at other times, life is wondrous and joyous. But, as the cliché puts it: “Time marches on.” The World continues to turn, and we with it. We can wallow in the pain of the past or we can say, “That was then. This is now.”

A wise rabbi I met in Florida at a Rabbinical conference said something in a lecture that stuck with me: “There are 3 things you cannot change. You cannot change other people. You cannot change the past. You cannot change the truth.” Some people get “stuck” in their recollections. Refusing to let go of the pain and regret of the past can affect your health. It will drag you down. If you keep at it long enough, it can alter the way your mind works and with it, even your body chemistry. And yes, it can shorten your life, just as it did father Jacob’s.

Soldiers in combat and rape victims can be so badly traumatized that they can’t let go—their horrific experiences are the seeds of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). These people are not cowards! Their minds are in a state of “dis-order.” We help them back to productive lives by teaching them to take the trauma of the past and put it in a place in their minds where it will no longer interfere with their lives. Will they ever forget what happened? Sadly no, but they can place it in context. They can understand that those events are passed, and they, themselves, are now safe. They can learn to deal with the feelings that attempt to wash over them when they least expect it. They learn that it’s all right to learn from the past, but we cannot allow the awful things that have happened to us to define us, to take over our lives.

Gd didn’t want Jacob’s wallowing in his past hardships to become a model for his children, for the Jewish People—who then stood on the brink of transforming from a family into Gd’s people. The Jewish people, like father Jacob, would experience hardship after hardship, but Gd wanted them to nevertheless find the joy in life—despite its difficulties. And that’s what we did. After the Roman persecutions and expulsion, after the Crusades, the Inquisition and the Holocaust we never became bitter. We continued to live a Torah life and to celebrate life.

Rabbi Scheinbaum writes in his masterwork Peninim on the Torah: “How important it is that we open our eyes and experience the goodness which Hashem grants us. Everyone has his or her own ‘baggage’ of hardships. To allow ourselves to be completely overwhelmed by troubles, never thinking about the good moments which we are accorded is wrong! A malcontent attitude to life is not only self-destructive, but it is also not a Jewish attitude!”

When we get stuck and wallow on the difficulties of the past we look for someone to blame—sometimes it’s someone else and sometimes it’s ourselves. I would have you consider that it’s just part of the challenges we need to face in life.

I’m reminded of the story about a man who went to the doctor and said, “You know, every time I touch my forehead it hurts terribly; and every time I touch my cheek, it hurts terribly; and every time I touch my stomach; it hurts terribly.” The doctor said he thought the man needed to see a specialist. 

A week later, the man returned to his doctor. His doctor asked, “What did the specialist say?”

The man replied, “He said that I have a broken finger!”

My friends, if we’re in pain, we have to make the correct diagnosis. We should not be angry with ourselves or with others. We should muster all our strength and say, “That was then. This is now.” And move on, understanding that what has happened, happened for us to experience and learn from…and that who knows—like father Jacob who lived a wonderful 17 more years—what life has in store for us ahead. Amen!