MISHPATIM 5786

The Joy of Dogs

Let me start off with the most pressing question of the day: Should a Jew celebrate Valentine’s Day? Yes, today is Valentine’s Day. In some ways Valentine’s Day is the one American holiday that presents the Jew with the most difficulty. Thanksgiving, July 4^th, Labor Day, MLK Day, President’s Weekend—no problem. They’re for all Americans. Christmas, Easter—also no problem. They’re just for Christians.

But what about Valentine’s Day? On the one hand, everyone around us seems to celebrate it. According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion Valentine cards are sent each year. One billion! And those who don’t send a card either don’t have someone they love, or if they do and didn’t send a card, perhaps they no longer have someone they love! 

Here’s my favorite Valentine’s Day joke. A guy walks into a post office and sees a middle-aged, overweight balding man standing at the counter placing “Love” stamps on bright pink envelopes with hearts all over them. He then takes out a perfume bottle and sprays them with scent.

         His curiosity gets the better of him and so he asks him what is he doing? The man says, “I’m sending out 1,000 Valentine cards signed, ‘Guess who?’”

         “But why?” asks the man.

         “Because I’m a divorce lawyer!”

Should Jews celebrate Valentine’s Day? After all it was originally “St. Valentine’s Day.” However, the 2^nd Vatican Council removed Valentine as a Saint because it realized Valentine probably never existed! Since it’s no longer a Christian holiday maybe it’s ok to celebrate. My approach is that I feel uncomfortable celebrating it because of its Christian origins. Besides, everyday is the right time to show your love. 

Let me take this discussion of showing love in another direction. How many of you are dog lovers? There’s something about a dog’s wagging tail, eager eyes, and boundless enthusiasm that can melt even the hardest heart. How many of you own a dog? Does he/she bite? There’s quite a discussion in Jewish law over whether it’s forbidden or not to have a dog. In the Talmud (Bava Kama 15b), Rabbi Natan asserts that one who raises an “evil dog” in his home violates the Torah (Deut. 22:8) prohibition: “Do not place blood in your home.” The implication is that it is permissible to raise a dog in one’s home provided it’s not a “vicious dog.” Rabbi Yishmael, in fact, permits one to raise a Kofri dog, which Rashi tells us, is a dog that doesn’t harm.

Owning a dog that’s not vicious is, therefore, OK. In fact, dogs in Jewish homes go all the way back to our slavery in Egypt. In the midst of the chaos of the final plague of the Killing of the 1^st Born—the Torah (Ex. 11:7) tells us no dog growled or barked at the Jews in their homes. So, Jews in Egypt had dogs in their homes.

Today’s Torah reading teaches (Ex. 22:30) that when Jews have trief meat—that they can’t eat—it should be given to the dogs. The Midrash tells us (Mechilta, Bo 13) this was a reward for not barking or growling at the Jews in their homes. The lesson is clear: Be grateful—especially to your dogs.

We also see from this that dogs have superpowers. They can sense the presence of actual things that we humans cannot—like impending weather and or the presence of cancer. There’s plenty of documentation that dogs—and other animals—can sense paranormal activity. Kabbalah learns from this verse that dogs can sense the presence of a parting soul shortly after death and then bark or bay. This verse tells us that in the Jewish homes the dogs did not bay because there were no 1^st-born deaths—no parting souls.

As far as dog’s superpowers go, we’ve seen how dogs serve as therapy animals, guide dogs for the blind, and companions for the lonely with their amazing ability to sense human emotion and provide comfort.

I was about 9 years old when I got my 1^st dog. I’ve had dogs on and off since then: Mighty Max, Joey, Benji, and Fifi. My 1^st dog’s name was Sam—a beautiful Cocker Spaniel. Sam was a sweet, kind dog who just wanted to be at our side and have his belly rubbed as much as you could. Sam has been gone for 50 years, but when I think of him, I still feel the love.  

You see, love never dies. It transitions from your heart to your head, where it’s safely stored for you to recall in a flash. But some of it always remains in your heart. All the times I griped about walking Sam in the cold or rain—telling him to hurry with his business—seem trivial now as I remember him. Dogs do what most people are incapable of doing. They sit with you and don’t try to fix you. They’re patient and wait for you to discover, by yourself, what is needed.  

Most of us who’ve had dogs will tell you that dogs are all heart. In fact, the Hebrew word for dog is kelev—an abbreviation of k-lev (like the heart) or kol lev (all heart). Like people, dogs understand loneliness and a broken heart.  Almost all the dogs I’ve had hated to be left alone. Even in my home study, my dog would scratch on the door to be let in just to sit near me. They need our companionship like we need theirs. 

Nothing in the world greets you like your dog. Sometimes I’ve had to beg them to stop kissing me while I was hugging them hello. When was the last time anyone in your family kissed you hello for 2 minutes?  

Cheryl and I have had 3 dogs together. She brought Joey and Benji into the marriage … and Fifi—who died just a few months ago—was bequeathed to us by someone who died. Sometimes, when a dog is old and in pain, it’s ok to put them down—but never a second earlier than necessary. It’s a heartbreaking experience, after which we sometimes vow, “No more dogs!” But after a while, we usually heal and open ourselves up to another.

 There’s a saying: “Love can’t be bought.” Or as the rabbis say, “If you marry for money and the money runs out, you might find you don’t even like or you regret the person.” Dogs, however, don’t care what you have in the bank … They care what you have in your heart. Did you ever notice that many homeless people have dogs? Who looks more miserable? The answer is not the dog. The dog is just as happy to be with a homeless person as in a mansion.

Just as the dogs in Egypt taught us that there’s a time to be silent, so too do our dogs have much to teach us:

·       Dogs teach us faithfulness, presence, and unconditional love.

·       Their actions remind us to be grateful for our companions—human and animal—who walk beside us on our journey.

·       Dogs teach us to live in the moment. They don’t dwell on yesterday’s mistakes or tomorrow’s worries. They find joy in a walk, a treat, or a simple belly rub.

·       And dogs remind us to celebrate life. A dog will run in the rain, chase a ball until it drops, and find delight in the smallest things—reminding us that life overflows with joy, gratitude, and wonder.

·       Dogs may NOT speak our language, but they preach a silent sermon every day: Love deeply. Forgive quickly. Live joyfully. 

My friends, let’s take these lessons to heart and honor not only the gift of these faithful companions, but also be grateful to the Hashem who made them.

I’m grateful for every 4-legged pal I’ve had. They were there for me during my thick and thin days. Now we’ve taken in Lola—Cheryl’s sister’s dog—while she and her husband are away. Lola is today my dog Valintine.

A friend tells the story of his dog who likes to sleep under the covers around is knees. Once, at about 4 a.m., not knowing it was the dog, he mumbled to his wife that she needed to shave her legs. Maybe it didn’t happen, but he swears he heard his dog laugh. Amen!