Posts
April 22, 2013
Who are your heroes today?
I want to tell you about a Jewish hero of mine. Her name is Maya Paley, and you’ve probably never heard of her.
Maya Paley is a young Jewish woman living in Los Angeles. In 2010, when she was 27 years old, she worked in Israel on a social justice fellowship, researching the plight of the more than 60,000 African asylum seekers currently living in a state of limbo in Israel. These refugees are caught in a legal Catch-22 in which they are often held in detention centers or left to fend for themselves on the streets of Tel Aviv, without legal permission to work or the ability to apply for refugee status.
Maya’s experience getting to know some of these refugees touched her heart and ignited her passion for justice. This past summer, back in the U.S., she and her friend Stephen Slater launched a grass-roots effort to raise consciousness about this troubling situation and to press the Israeli government to act justly. Their gutsy, social media-savvy campaign, called Right Now, is already making a difference. Look for them on Facebook.
Martin Luther King, Jr. concluded what was to be his final sermon on February 4, 1968 with a reflection on what he would want said about him at his funeral. Preaching on the evils of the “drum major instinct,” the egotistic drive in humans and in nations to be “out in front,” King concluded: “If you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. Say that I was a drum major for peace, that I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter.”
In her own way, Maya Paley is following in the footsteps of the great drum major for righteousness. I have never met Maya Paley in person, but her feisty brand of activism gives me hope that the dream of Martin Luther King, Jr. lives on.
Who are your heroes today?
January 3, 2013
The Noah story, told another way
I wrote this story for my young friends, but I've been asked to share it with adults too:
Dear friends,
Here is another way to tell the Noah story. See what you think:
Once upon a time, long, long ago, in another part of the world, there was a very bad storm. Maybe something like “Super Storm Sandy” that happened here in October 2012!
It rained…
…and it rained…
…and it rained!
The rivers and lakes flooded, and a lot of people who lived near the rivers and lakes were killed by the flooding. Now the people living there did not know how big the world really was, so it seemed to them that the whole earth was being flooded....
November 16, 2012
Gift giving
Control your anger. Do not hurt other people. Control yourself. Accept and deal with what you have. Work things out instead of killing or acting violently. Do not hurt someone else when something unfair happens. Violence is not the answer. Don’t kill your brother!
These are direct quotes from our children in Tikvah Learning who were recently pondering the biblical story of Cain and Abel. We asked them: What is the Torah trying to teach us in this story? My colleague David Blocker and I are regularly blown away by the thoughtfulness of our young friends in these weekly conversations.
Now here’s a question for you: Why does God favor Abel’s offering over Cain’s? The only hint in the text is that Abel brings the “choicest” from the flock.
But is there more going on?
One commentary zooms in on a subtlety in the original Hebrew. The Torah says that Cain brings an offering “from the fruit of the earth,” and Abel brings an offering “from his flock.” Aha! – Abel brings a sheep from his own flock, but Cain brings fruit that isn’t “his.” In other words, Abel brings a gift that is dear to him, something that he has invested time and energy in. Cain brings a gift that means nothing to him, that wasn’t even his to give.
Mining the Hebrew even more, we turn up yet another clue. The Torah says “Cain brought.… And Abel also he brought….” In an imaginative midrashic move, we can read this apparently superfluous “also he” to mean that Abel literally also brought himself to God. So Abel’s offering was accepted by God not only because he brought that which was precious to him, but also because his heart and soul were involved.
Do you hear a lesson in this for your own life?
May the upcoming season of gift-giving also be a time for us to reflect on what we offer to the world, and how we offer it.
These are direct quotes from our children in Tikvah Learning who were recently pondering the biblical story of Cain and Abel. We asked them: What is the Torah trying to teach us in this story? My colleague David Blocker and I are regularly blown away by the thoughtfulness of our young friends in these weekly conversations.
Now here’s a question for you: Why does God favor Abel’s offering over Cain’s? The only hint in the text is that Abel brings the “choicest” from the flock.
But is there more going on?
One commentary zooms in on a subtlety in the original Hebrew. The Torah says that Cain brings an offering “from the fruit of the earth,” and Abel brings an offering “from his flock.” Aha! – Abel brings a sheep from his own flock, but Cain brings fruit that isn’t “his.” In other words, Abel brings a gift that is dear to him, something that he has invested time and energy in. Cain brings a gift that means nothing to him, that wasn’t even his to give.
Mining the Hebrew even more, we turn up yet another clue. The Torah says “Cain brought.… And Abel also he brought….” In an imaginative midrashic move, we can read this apparently superfluous “also he” to mean that Abel literally also brought himself to God. So Abel’s offering was accepted by God not only because he brought that which was precious to him, but also because his heart and soul were involved.
Do you hear a lesson in this for your own life?
May the upcoming season of gift-giving also be a time for us to reflect on what we offer to the world, and how we offer it.
October 22, 2012
Counter-cultural food for thought as you decide how to vote on Question #2 in Massachusetts
Traditional Jewish Principles/Laws Relevant to the Subject of “Medically Induced Death”
1. Every human is created in the divine image. Human life is sacred, regardless of its quality or usefulness. The value of life does not depend on our abilities. Our bodies/lives/souls “belong” to God, not to us. We are responsible for preserving and not harming them.
A corollary: We are obligated to protect the vulnerable in society (elderly, minority, poor, mentally ill), whose lives may appear to be less “useful.”
In contrast: Yankee/American value of liberty – the right to do what we want with our bodies; and the utilitarian/pragmatic worldview that people are only of value if they are “doing” and “producing.”
2. Thou shall not murder. Jewish law prohibits murder (except in self-defense or war), and suicide (except death for God’s sake, not yours – i.e. martyrdom).
In contrast: Suicide is legal in all 50 states in the U.S.
3. Do not put a stumbling block before the blind (Lev. 19:14). This is understood metaphorically to mean: Don't mislead someone who is morally not seeing clearly. And do not cause or assist someone else to violate Jewish law (Avodah Zarah 55b). Since suicide is forbidden, assisting a suicide is a violation of these two principles.
4. While it is forbidden to do anything to “hasten” death (which would be a violation of the above principles), we may remove impediments to the natural dying process.
"It is forbidden to do anything to hasten the death of one who is in a dying condition…. If, however, there is something that causes a delay in the exit of the soul, as, for example, if near to his house there is a sound of pounding as one who is chopping wood, or there is salt on his tongue, and these delay the soul’s leaving the body, it is permitted to remove these because there is no direct act involved here, only the removal of an obstacle."
- Rabbi Moshe Isserles (16th century), commentary on Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 339:1
See the story of the death of Rabbi Chananyah ben Tradyon (Avodah Zarah 18a)
5. We are required to do whatever we can to relieve the pain and suffering of a dying person, and may even pray for their death. (Some say you are obligated to pray for their death.)
See the story of the death of Rabbi Yehudah haNasi (Ketubot 104a), which is also a story of removing an impediment to the dying process -- in this case, his disciples' prayers for healing, which were keeping his soul from leaving his body!
Sources:
Matters of Life and Death: A Jewish Approach to Modern Medical Ethics, Dr. Elliot Dorff, 1998
“Who Shall Live…” A Report from the CCAR Task Force on Assisted Suicide, 2003
Recommended reading: Choosing Medically Induced Death, a white paper prepared by the Community Ethics Committee on Massachusetts Petition 11-12 on the subject alternatively known as Death with Dignity and Physician Assisted Suicide, July 2012
September 27, 2012
On Love and Loss
Yom Kippur 5773/2012
Dear God,
I am writing to You on behalf of my congregation. Although we have differences of opinion about You, and some of us are uncertain about what “believing in You” means, we still feel the impulse to communicate with You occasionally. To address the awesome mystery of existence as “You.” We can’t seem to help it sometimes.
Anyway, I am writing this letter to You on behalf of my congregation on the subject of love and loss. There has been much personal loss in this little congregation, and it is on our minds. I promise, God, not to ask “Why?” or at least not to ask it too often. I know that asking “why” questions puts a person on the defensive. Of course You are not a person, but still I know that asking why You, God, do this or that is not a fruitful line of inquiry, because there is never a satisfactory answer.
Ribono shel Olam / Master of the universe: Everything we love, we will eventually lose. Everything, and everyone. This is the truth of being human. We get that – intellectually, sometimes – and yet we are thrown by it over and over....
Click here for complete sermon
Dear God,
I am writing to You on behalf of my congregation. Although we have differences of opinion about You, and some of us are uncertain about what “believing in You” means, we still feel the impulse to communicate with You occasionally. To address the awesome mystery of existence as “You.” We can’t seem to help it sometimes.
Anyway, I am writing this letter to You on behalf of my congregation on the subject of love and loss. There has been much personal loss in this little congregation, and it is on our minds. I promise, God, not to ask “Why?” or at least not to ask it too often. I know that asking “why” questions puts a person on the defensive. Of course You are not a person, but still I know that asking why You, God, do this or that is not a fruitful line of inquiry, because there is never a satisfactory answer.
Ribono shel Olam / Master of the universe: Everything we love, we will eventually lose. Everything, and everyone. This is the truth of being human. We get that – intellectually, sometimes – and yet we are thrown by it over and over....
Click here for complete sermon
September 21, 2012
Real prayer for real people
Rosh Hashanah 5773/2012
A story: Some years ago there was a car crash in front of the Baptist church in the town where my family used to live. The driver, taking her eyes off the road to turn and yell at her children in the back seat, swerved and hit an on-coming vehicle. The children were injured, the older girl critically. The Baptist church undertook a ‘round-the-clock prayer vigil. When at last the girl was released from the hospital, a member of the church wrote a letter to the local newspaper congratulating the church for the power of its prayers, taking credit for the girl’s survival.
Another story: I met a woman who was visiting her critically ill friend in the hospital. She was distraught because the medical staff would not discuss her friend’s condition with her and tell her which organs and systems of the body were malfunctioning. She said to me: “How can I pray if I don’t know specifically what I’m praying for? I need to know what I’m praying for.”
Two years ago on Yom Kippur, I offered a radical perspective on God which opened up a lot of conversation and reflection for quite some time afterwards. People are still reading that sermon on the internet, two years later.
Today I want to take the next step, and share a radical approach to prayer. Why? Because I think we’ve gotten boxed into a corner that is not a very Jewish corner. And because there is a lot of suffering in our lives, and this could help....
A story: Some years ago there was a car crash in front of the Baptist church in the town where my family used to live. The driver, taking her eyes off the road to turn and yell at her children in the back seat, swerved and hit an on-coming vehicle. The children were injured, the older girl critically. The Baptist church undertook a ‘round-the-clock prayer vigil. When at last the girl was released from the hospital, a member of the church wrote a letter to the local newspaper congratulating the church for the power of its prayers, taking credit for the girl’s survival.
Another story: I met a woman who was visiting her critically ill friend in the hospital. She was distraught because the medical staff would not discuss her friend’s condition with her and tell her which organs and systems of the body were malfunctioning. She said to me: “How can I pray if I don’t know specifically what I’m praying for? I need to know what I’m praying for.”
Two years ago on Yom Kippur, I offered a radical perspective on God which opened up a lot of conversation and reflection for quite some time afterwards. People are still reading that sermon on the internet, two years later.
Today I want to take the next step, and share a radical approach to prayer. Why? Because I think we’ve gotten boxed into a corner that is not a very Jewish corner. And because there is a lot of suffering in our lives, and this could help....
September 3, 2012
Smile Always?
On my vacation this summer, I encountered the following slogan on a hand-painted sign in a bed & breakfast: “Dream big, plan well, work hard, smile always, and good things will happen.”
Sounds nice, you think?
I had a different reaction: No, life doesn’t happen that way!
Life happens. As much as we dream, plan, work, and smile (and pray), life happens the way life happens. And good things don’t always happen.
This type of kitschy slogan is an expression of an insidious theme in American culture going way back. The 19th century psychologist William James referred to it as “the religion of healthy-mindedness,” in which people endeavor by sheer force of will to experience only the good and not the bad in life. It’s the converse that is most problematic: When something bad happens, it is implied that you did not dream, plan, work, or smile (or pray) sufficiently.
Dream big? Sure. We Jews are the masters of grandiosity. Plan well? Good idea, up to a point. Work hard? A bit Puritanical, but useful. Smile always? A lovely sentiment (although I’m not sure I could bear to be around someone who smiles always).
…And good things will happen? Maybe, and maybe not.
In their wisdom, our ancient ancestors assembled a Torah which offers not only the Deuteronomic voice (Do-exactly-what-I-say-and-good-things-will-happen), but also the more recognizable voice of Job. In the book of Job, life is experienced as uncertain and unfair, and what we do is not necessarily correlated with “good” or “bad” outcomes. Life happens, in all it’s complex messiness and glory. And while Job’s erstwhile friends attempt to convince him that his troubles are because he didn’t “smile always,” Job (and we) know better.
Life happens. As much as we dream, plan, work, and smile (and pray), life happens the way life happens. Thankfully, yet another voice in Torah tells us that it’s all manageable – that in every moment we have a choice how to respond. And when bad things happen, it’s how wisely we choose to respond that really matters.
Sounds nice, you think?
I had a different reaction: No, life doesn’t happen that way!
Life happens. As much as we dream, plan, work, and smile (and pray), life happens the way life happens. And good things don’t always happen.
This type of kitschy slogan is an expression of an insidious theme in American culture going way back. The 19th century psychologist William James referred to it as “the religion of healthy-mindedness,” in which people endeavor by sheer force of will to experience only the good and not the bad in life. It’s the converse that is most problematic: When something bad happens, it is implied that you did not dream, plan, work, or smile (or pray) sufficiently.
Dream big? Sure. We Jews are the masters of grandiosity. Plan well? Good idea, up to a point. Work hard? A bit Puritanical, but useful. Smile always? A lovely sentiment (although I’m not sure I could bear to be around someone who smiles always).
…And good things will happen? Maybe, and maybe not.
In their wisdom, our ancient ancestors assembled a Torah which offers not only the Deuteronomic voice (Do-exactly-what-I-say-and-good-things-will-happen), but also the more recognizable voice of Job. In the book of Job, life is experienced as uncertain and unfair, and what we do is not necessarily correlated with “good” or “bad” outcomes. Life happens, in all it’s complex messiness and glory. And while Job’s erstwhile friends attempt to convince him that his troubles are because he didn’t “smile always,” Job (and we) know better.
Life happens. As much as we dream, plan, work, and smile (and pray), life happens the way life happens. Thankfully, yet another voice in Torah tells us that it’s all manageable – that in every moment we have a choice how to respond. And when bad things happen, it’s how wisely we choose to respond that really matters.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)