Prejudice Enslaves; Confronting it Liberates

The holiday of Pesach in general and the Seder in particular are not just about recounting a seminal event in Jewish history. Each year, Pesach is a time designated to focus on that which enslaves us and holds us in bondage today and to seek in our own lives the freedom and liberty that our ancestors achieved. For example: Selfishness enslaves, and selflessness liberates. Unregulated use of technology enslaves; the capacity to disconnect liberates. Addiction enslaves, and sovereignty liberates. Stinginess enslaves, and generosity liberates. Chaos and disorder enslave; rules and boundaries liberate.

This year, a new form of captivity and freedom occurred to me as a result of a very unfortunate development in Boca Raton. Prejudice and hate enslave, but love and broadmindedness liberate.

My good friend and colleague Rabbi Ruvi New, together with his shul, is seeking to build a new Chabad center in East Boca at 770 Palmetto Park Rd. Their application is fully compliant with city codes, recommended for approval by city staff, and has been unanimously approved by the Planning and Zoning Commission. The new location is zoned as a commercial property and doesn’t interfere with any residences in the area. Rabbi New is an outstanding leader with impeccable integrity. He and his shul members are kind, considerate, respectful, welcoming, and very committed to both the greater Jewish community and to the greater Boca community at large.

Despite the shul’s receiving unanimous approval following an open hearing, there continues to be a voice of opposition (hopefully small) that is rooted in nothing other than prejudice, bias, and bigotry.

According to a website called www.bocawatch.org, “a group of concerned citizens established Boca Watch to provide Boca’s citizens with information to increase the voice of citizen in City Government.” A post this week begins by stating that it wants to “discuss the elephant in the room.” The author, who chooses to remain anonymous other than identifying himself or herself as a Reform Jew, goes on to state, “I have lived through and witnessed what happens when an Orthodox Jewish synagogue comes to an otherwise diverse town filled with all religions. This is not a slow progression. It is swift and pervasive. The beach town that you know now will not look or feel at all the same.”

He or she continues by explaining exactly how: “It will be located within walking distance to several upscale neighborhoods that will undoubtedly become predominantly more Orthodox in nature… The Orthodoxy practice modesty, meaning, there is a strict conservative dress code for both the women and men. Remember, this is a beach community with half clothed people walking up and down the street.”

The author describes the impact to housing and says, “Certain ritualistic practices, such as taking ‘mikvah’ will need to be available, housed in close proximity to the Shul, perhaps even in a private home that will be converted for that specific use. Essentially, mikvah is a cleansing bath-house for women.” He or she continues, “Large families with many young children, carriages and the like will be walking through the neighborhoods to get to temple. The neighborhoods which do not have sidewalks will soon have large groups of walkers on the already narrow streets, getting to and from temple. Walking to temple will require an ‘eruv’ around the community and one will need to be installed.”

Whether or not the post accurately depicts demographic trends in the growth of Orthodox Jewish communities is entirely irrelevant. What matters is that Chabad of East Boca has both a legal and moral right to pursue its dream of a new home, and posts like this are nothing short of bigoted, prejudiced, and intolerable.

Can you imagine if an African American Church submitted an application to build, and a blog post described what would happen to the neighborhood if all these African Americans moved in and how because of their culture and practices, “The beach town that you know now will not look or feel at all the same.” There would rightly be outrage and indignation. This post is no less deserving of the same reaction and response.

We are blessed to live in a country that provides religious freedom and invites diverse religious practice, as long as it is consistent with American law. Building an Orthodox synagogue, purchasing homes in its vicinity, dressing modestly, walking with children to services, constructing a mikvah and building an eruv are all lawful and legitimate. Efforts to stifle or thwart the growth of an Orthodox Jewish community should be unconscionable and intolerable to all who believe in America’s foundational beliefs and principles.

Boca is remarkable for its cross-denominational sense of Jewish community and for the genuine friendships shared by its rabbis. This sentiment, so disturbingly expressed by a fellow Jew, is truly an aberration and disruption of the unity we work so hard to achieve. To be clear, the author absolutely represents only themselves and not all Reform Jews just like when an Orthodox person says or does something reprehensible they don’t speak for all Orthodox Jews. I am confident that my rabbinic colleagues of all denominations will show their support to Rabbi New and reject the sentiments in this post that run counter to our shared values and contribute to division and conflict among our people. Commenting on V’hi she’amda in the Haggadah, the Sfas Emes says, “She’lo echad bilvad amad aleynu l’chaloseinu“—when the Jewish people are not echad (one), when we are divided, that alone stands to destroy us.

This unfortunate episode provides not only an opportunity to fight bigotry, but a reminder of how it is incumbent on observant Jews to carry ourselves with dignity, love, openness, respect, and honesty in a way that would make people feel fortunate to have Orthodox Jews live among them and not the opposite.

In the Pesach spirit of seeking freedom, I urge you to take a moment and contact Mayor Susan Haynie at shaynie@myboca.us and members of the City Council to communicate our tremendous disappointment with the rhetoric being used against Chabad and to call on them to both reject that rhetoric and support the unanimous decision of the Planning and Zoning Commission.

This Pesach, may we all be liberated and freed from that which holds us in bondage!

Have you Told Your Children Your Family Narrative?

On July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress of the newly formed United States of America convened a committee to design what would become our Great seal, our emblem and the symbol of our sovereignty.

The committee was comprised of three of the five men who had drafted the Declaration of Independence: Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin and John Adams. Adams chose a painting known as the “Judgment of Hercules,” to adorn the seal. Jefferson suggested a depiction of the Children of Israel in the wilderness, led by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night for seal.

Benjamin Franklin also chose a design based on the Jewish story that he would describe as, “Moses standing on the Shore, and extending his Hand over the Sea, thereby causing the same to overwhelm Pharaoh who is sitting in an open Chariot, a Crown on his Head and a Sword in his Hand.” Franklin in fact suggested the motto for this new country: “Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God.”

As in most cases of committees, it took six years, three committees, and the contributions of 14 men before the Congress finally accepted a design in 1782 and it wasn’t any of the original three suggestions. However, Thomas Jefferson liked the motto “Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God” so much, he used it on his personal seal.

Why Matzah before Marror?

The story of our Exodus has universal appeal; it has been embraced by countless groups to inspire their own journey towards freedom including the founding fathers and later the civil rights movement. But the truth is that while the story can inspire others, it is uniquely ours and describes a history that belongs to us alone, it is our family’s narrative.

While others have written about it, drawn emblems based on it and composed songs and poems around it, we alone relive it, and we alone invoke the memory of having experienced it directly with sensory experiences. Others tell the story, but we are the only ones who taste the story.

We retell the story of our journey from bondage to freedom specifically with matzah and marror before us. In the Haggadah we read, “Rabban Gamliel said that one who has not said Pesach, matzah and marror has not fulfilled his obligation.” After reminding ourselves of the centrality of matzah and marror, we soon proceed with fulfilling these mitzvos, first eating matzah and only then consuming the requisite measure of marror.

Every time we invoke the themes of matzah and marror, we seem to do so in the wrong order. Matzah represents our freedom and liberty, the culmination and climax of the story. Marror is because the Egyptians made the lives of our forefathers in Egypt bitter.

The marror, the memory of bitterness, servitude, suffering, oppression should come first and only then should we taste the matzah and remember our journey towards freedom and prosperity? Why do we consistently address matzah and marror in the wrong order?

Many illustrious rabbis have addressed this question, however I would like to humbly offer you my own understanding.

Stories that Bind Us

For years researchers have sought to understand, what holds families together? What are the ingredients that make some families united, strong, resilient, and happy, while others are in disarray, fractured, broken, and fragile? Why are some families functional and others utterly dysfunctional?

As it turns out, the single most important thing you can do for your family is to develop a strong family narrative. Two years ago, the New York Times had a fascinating article entitled, “The Stories That Bind Us.” It provides the background for how this conclusion was reached.

In the mid-1990s Dr. Marshall Duke, a psychologist at Emory University was doing research into the dissipation of the family. His wife, Sara, a psychologist who works with children with learning disabilities noticed something about her students. She told her husband, “The ones who know a lot about their families tend to do better when they face challenges.”

Duke decided to test the hypothesis by developing a measure called “Do You Know,” a test for children with questions about their family. Examples of questions were: Do you know where you grandparents grew up? Do you know where your Mom and Dad went to high school? Do you know an illness or something terrible that happened in your family

Duke took the answers he received and compared them to a battery of psychological tests that the same children had taken and he reached an overwhelming conclusion. The more children knew about their family’s history, the stronger their sense of control over their lives, the higher their self-esteem and the more successfully they believed their families functioned.

Three Narratives

Psychologists have found that every family has a unifying narrative and they take one of three shapes. The ascending family narrative is exclusively positive: Son, when we came to this country, we had nothing. We worked hard, opened a store, your grandfather went to high school, your father went to college and now you…”

The second is the descending narrative: “Sweetheart, we used to have it all, then, we lost everything.” Dr. Duke explains that the third narrative, the oscillating family narrative is the most healthful one. “Let me tell you we’ve had ups and downs in our family. We built a strong business, your grandfather was charitable, but we also had setbacks. You had an uncle who was once arrested. Your father lost a job. No matter what happened, we always stuck together as a family.”

Duke and his colleagues concluded that the children who have the most self-confidence and resilience have a strong “intergenerational self.” They know they belong to something bigger than themselves. Dr. Duke recommends parents pursue opportunities to convey a sense of history to their children. Use holidays, vacations, family get-togethers, or even a ride to the mall to tell your family stories and personal anecdotes. He recommends adopting rituals and traditions that can get handed down from one generation to another. The hokier the family’s tradition, he says, the more likely it is to be passed down.

Duke’s bottom line is this: if you want a happier family, create, refine and retell the story of your family’s positive moments and your collective ability to bounce back from difficult ones.

Passing Over Our Family’s Story

When I saw this article and read about Duke’s research, all I could think of is the Pesach Seder and the wisdom our sacred tradition. This new research simply affirms what we knew and have practiced for millennia. When we sit at the Seder and tell the story of our people, our children feel part of something larger than themselves. When they hear our personal stories of ups and downs, bitterness and sweetness, they feel part of something larger and greater than themselves. They don’t see their own circumstance in a vacuum or feel the need to face their challenges alone. When they see themselves as part of our collective history and our family’s personal narrative, they are encouraged, strengthened and uplifted.

Perhaps this research explains why we eat the matzah and marror out of order. You see, we don’t just eat the marror at the seder as a prop in order to tell the story chronologically. It isn’t just a function of reminding our children we were once slaves, but now we are free.

Rather, we eat the marror to remind our children that our narrative is an oscillating one with ups and down, sweetness and bitterness, successes and yes, even failures. We become stronger, more resilient, more effective, more functional and more united when we don’t hide the marror part of our past but instead, we embrace the marror as part of our oscillating narrative. We don’t have marror and then once we have matzah everything is smooth sailing from there. No, we have matzah and then marror and then matzah and then marror and thus is life.

Knowing our narrative is an oscillating one gives us each courage and strength and empowers us to confront the marrors we may face today. The Pesach Seder teaches us to be honest, direct and truthful in our conversations with our family. The more we share about both the matzah and marror moments, the stronger we will be, the more united we will feel and the greater our capacity to overcome whatever may come our way.

The Art of Saying Hello

A couple of weeks ago, the 20^th of Adar, marked the twentieth yahrzeit of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt”l. In a tribute written shortly after his passing, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, who shared a very close relationship with Rav Shlomo Zalman, described him as a “Gentle giant.” He wrote:

Reb Shlomo Zalman was endowed, as a lamdan, with a set of qualities which served him, ideally, as a posek. He had encyclopedic knowledge — and he had it, as mechudaddim beficha, at his fingertips. His temperament was remarkably judicious, invariably level-headed, and never pedestrian. He was deferential to the views of others, and yet genuinely self-confident. He could be innovative and even daring.

Rav Shlomo Zalman’s brilliance was undeniable, and yet it was perhaps surpassed only by his humility and sensitivity to all. R’ Chanoch Teller recounts the following anecdote: “When Rav Shlomo Zalman passed away, a beggar in Sha’arei Chesed sobbed in her anguish: “Now who will say ‘good morning’ to me every day?” (Mi yagid li boker tov?)”

While a testament to his unpretentiousness and accessibility, the anecdote has the potential to leave the reader believing that one must be the gadol ha’dor, the greatest of the generation, to be friendly, caring and gracious to all. Indeed, Rav Shlomo Zalman’s greatness was seeing his warmth and friendliness as nothing extraordinary at all, but something that should come naturally and be instinctive.

This week, I had the privilege of attending a retirement party of an executive who was stepping down after twenty years of dedicated service to his company. In his typical humility, when he invited me, he portrayed the gathering as being something like a small cake in the conference room for a few minutes to mark his retirement. In reality, however, over six hundred people packed into the company cafeteria, most of them standing for what turned into two and a half hours of tributes offered by those who reported to him and with whom he worked closely.

One by one the presenters noted the individual’s business acumen, talents, skills and gifts. They talked about his attention to detail on documents, his negotiating prowess and his invaluable contributions to the growth and success of the company. Every single one of them, however, also noted that what made him truly special and beloved was not his mind, but his generous heart and soul that he brought to work each day. They described him as a man of high moral character. Exasperated when he couldn’t find a better word (he wasn’t familiar with the word mensch), one person described him as amazingly decent. Speakers were literally chocked up as they recounted his warmth, wise counsel, sagacious guidance, and most of all, his genuine care and concern for their personal lives.

When the event concluded, I asked him, “You only thought a handful of people were going to attend, those you worked closest with for the last two decades. Why do you think over six hundred people decided to attend?” He answered, “When I began my career many decades ago I made a conscious decision that I would smile and greet every single person I would encounter throughout my day at work, whether in the lobby, elevator, hallway, in line at the cafeteria or outside in the parking lot. I made it a goal to learn everyone’s name and made it a point to use his or her name whenever I said hello. I guess people appreciated it and maybe that’s why they showed up today.”

The Talmud testifies (Berachos 17a) about Rabban Yochanan ben Zakai that no one ever preceded him in a greeting [of Shalom], even a stranger in the marketplace.” The Mishna in Pirkei Avos (4:20) encourages us all, “Hevei makdim b’shalom kol Adam, be the first to greet each person.” The Maharal explains that when you walk by someone without offering a greeting you make him or her feel invisible and insignificant. By making a point of greeting someone you demonstrate that you don’t see yourself as superior or better than another. Rather, by instigating the greeting, you show that you respect that person as an individual and thereby you give them dignity and worth.

In his book, “Reflections of the Maggid,“ Rabbi Paysach Krohn tells the following story:

In Argentina there was a ritual slaughter complex, comprised of several buildings. There was a building where the animals were fed, a building where they were slaughtered and the meat packed and loaded onto trucks, and an office building with dressing rooms for the shochtim (ritual slaughterers). The entire area was surrounded by a tall chain link fence and everyone entered through a wrought iron gate in the front, near the parking lot.

The owner, Yisrael (Izzy) Nachmal, was a workaholic. He was the first one in every morning and the last one out every evening. He oversaw every aspect of his company, Ultimate Meats, and made it a point to know every worker. The guard at the front gate, Domingo, knew that when Izzy left in the evening, he could lock the gate and go home.

One evening as Izzy was leaving, he called out to the guard, “Good night, Domingo, you can lock up and go.” “No,” Domingo called back, “not everyone has left yet.” “What are you talking about,” Izzy said, “everyone left two hours ago!” “It is not so,” Domingo said, “One of the shochtim, Rabbi Berkowitz, hasn’t left yet.” “But he goes home every day with the other shochtim, maybe you just didn’t see him,” Izzy said. “Believe me, I am positive he didn’t leave yet,” the guard insisted. “We better go look for him.”

Izzy knew that Domingo was reliable and conscientious. He decided not to argue, but instead got out of his car and rushed back to the office building with Domingo. They searched the dressing room thinking that perhaps Rabbi Berkowitz had fainted and was debilitated. He wasn’t there.

They ran to where the animals were slaughtered, but he wasn’t there either. They searched the truck dock, the packing house, going from room to room. Finally they came to the huge walk-in refrigeration room where the large slabs of meat were kept frozen.

They opened the door and to their shock and horror they saw Rabbi Berkowitz rolling on the floor, trying desperately to keep himself warm. They ran over to him, lifted him off the floor and helped him out of the refrigerated room, past the thick heavy wooden door that had locked behind him. They wrapped blankets around him and made sure he was warm and comfortable.

Izzy Nachmal was incredulous. “Domingo,” he asked, “how did you know Rabbi Berkowitz hadn’t left? There are over two hundred workers here every day. Don’t tell me you know the comings and goings of every one of them?”

The guard’s answer is worth remembering. “Every morning when that rabbi comes in, he greets me and says hello. He makes me feel like a person. And every single night when he leaves he tells me, ‘Have a pleasant evening.’ He never misses a night – and to tell you the truth, I wait for his kind words. Dozens and dozens of workers pass me every day – morning and night, and they don’t say a word to me. To them I am a nothing. To him, I am a somebody. “I knew he came in this morning and I was sure he hadn’t left yet, because I was waiting for his friendly good-bye for the evening!”

We may not have encyclopedic Torah knowledge or a brilliant business mind, but every one of us can be extraordinary just by making a point of greeting everyone with a smile. Whether at work, the gym, the supermarket or walking to Shul, we should never retire from being friendly, courteous and attempting to provide dignity and worth to all.

What Happens When We Die?

Cremation in the Jewish community is growing at disturbing rates, with advertisements appearing in Jewish newspapers promoting it as a legitimate post-death option, including in some cases, shockingly, endorsements by rabbis. The prohibitive cost of traditional burial is often given as a reason for this trend, but it undoubtedly is the result of ignorance as well.

It is not just the secular and unaffiliated that are uneducated about the Jewish approach to death and dying. Most people don’t learn about death until they encounter it with the loss of a family member or good friend. Questions like what happens at death, where does the soul go, how do we prepare the body, and what is the afterlife like remain mysterious and unknown. Historically the Chevra Kadisha has always been a modest society who does its work without attention, fanfare or even credit. Those that serve on it do so privately and quietly. But that doesn’t mean that the work it does or the why and how it does it should remain a secret.

Educating about the Jewish view of death doesn’t only prepare people and bring comfort and solace in a painful time that everyone will inevitably face, but in my experience it also inspires living a more meaningful and rich life.

This week, to the great credit of Rabbi Jonathan Kroll, Head of School, senior girls at Weinbaum Yeshiva High School began an eight-session course titled “The Final Journey: How Judaism Dignifies the Passage.” This pioneering project, a brainchild of Rochel Berman, author of “Dignity Beyond Death: The Jewish Preparation for Burial,” is designed to expose students to both the philosophy of what happens at death as well as the practical procedures of the Chevra Kadisha. The course includes a field trip to a funeral home to see the tahara room, tachrichin, and a halachikly appropriate casket.

I had the privilege of teaching the introductory class, in which I attempted to put death in the context of life. At the core of every answer to the myriad of questions revolving around death is the following critical statement: We don’t have a soul; we are a soul. A lifetime of caring for our bodies, pampering ourselves, and seeking physical pleasure often leaves us confused and with the mistaken notion that we are a body and we have a soul. Judaism teaches that in fact, it is the opposite.

Our soul has existed since creation itself and as an extension and expression of the Almighty, it will continue to exist eternally. Our soul is housed in a vessel called the body for what in the span of eternity is a very short period of time: seventy, eighty, or even one hundred and twenty years. Our rabbis don’t refer to what happens at the end of life as death. They call it yetzias ha’neshama, the extraction of the soul from the body because in truth people don’t die, bodies die and people aren’t buried, bodies are buried.

How does the soul experience its transition from the body? Is it painful or pleasurable? The answer is it depends on how that soul lived life when it was housed in the body. The righteous person who throughout his or her life always identified themselves as a soul that had a body and while caring about the body truly invested in nourishing and nurturing the soul, experiences its extraction as a moment of bliss and great joy. The righteous see the body as a burden, a source of temptation and distraction that holds back the soul. Of course they recognize that only with the body can the soul express free will and therefore shape and mold it. They therefore don’t pray for death or welcome it.

However, when it happens, our greatest leaders are described as experiencing a kiss of death, a moment of bliss, when their soul was liberated from the shackles of the body. Rav Nachman of Breslov wrote (Sichos Ha’Ran #179), “I can’t wait to divest myself of this garment that is my body…” To the righteous, removing the body from the soul is as painless and indeed pleasurable as taking off ones suit and tie at the end of a difficult day.

The average person who identified with his or her body throughout life and who invested in nurturing and nourishing the body while neglecting the soul, experiences its extraction very differently. Our tradition teaches that the soul hovers over the body when it is first removed, pained by the startling realization that the body they looked at in the mirror and saw as themselves all those years was only a vessel, a vehicle for the soul. The soul is confused and anxious by the sudden awareness that in fact, we are a soul and only had a body, not the other way around.

The primary responsibility of the Chevra Kadisha is to comfort that soul through its journey and transition. The Shulchan Aruch (Y.D. 33) tells us that it is forbidden to leave a dying person alone. The least we can do is provide that soul with companionship and love during its difficult time. We have a shomer with that soul all the way until the body is buried at which time the soul can begin to ascend on high.

If the body is just a temporary vessel, a source of ephemeral pleasure, why do we treat it with such respect, dignity and affection before placing it in the ground? If what matters is the soul, why not discard the body by any means? The soul of the average person which sees itself as inextricably connected to the body endures pain by the separation. After all, they lived together for a lifetime, engaged the world as one, made choices and experienced events, people and places together.

Shlomo Ha’Melech taught (Kohelles 12:7) “The dust returns to the earth as it was and the spirit returns to God Who gave it.” The soul finds solace and returns to God only after seeing its body return to the earth with dignity and respect. Everything about the tahara, the burial preparation, is designed to allow the soul to observe us treat its formal body with great respect. We carefully wash the body from head to toe, we clean under the fingernails, in the ears, and we remove all tubes, lines and catheters. We purify the body by immersing it in a mikvah or pouring 9 kabim of water of it. And then we dress the body in shrouds that are both simple and majestic. We don’t talk about extraneous things in the tahara room, we have a candle lit to represent the neshama, and we don’t pass things over the body treating it like an object or piece of furniture.

When performing a tahara there is an acute awareness that the neshama of the individual is palpably present in the room, watching, observing and grieving. I have walked away from every tahara I have been privileged to participate in with a greater consciousness of my soul, a greater drive to nourish it, and a renewed mindfulness that in fact, I don’t have a soul; I am a soul that has a body.

Imagine the pain of the soul that, rather than witness its body treated with love, affection and dignity, sees it incinerated and cremated into a pile of ash. From our perspective cremation may not seem that different than placing a body in the ground, but from the perspective of the soul in the world of truth, it can be the difference between comfort and grief, consolation or profound pain.

I would like to believe that Hashem Has a way of providing comfort for those that choose cremation or a mausoleum rather than traditional burial out of a lack of Jewish education or experience. However, it is our responsibility to educate as widely as possible on the beauty and deep meaning of the authentic Jewish view of death and mourning.

I concluded my class by encouraging the students to get involved in the holy work of the Chevra Kadisha. There are few things more satisfying and fulfilling than participating in chesed shel emes, lovingness that cannot be repaid. Contact with death inspires greater meaning in life and provides contact with our souls in a way few other things can. There are so many ways to get involved not only in the tahara room, but serving as shomrim, setting up shiva homes, helping make shiva minyanim, stocking supplies, making meals and more.

I am grateful to Rochel Berman and Weinbaum Yeshiva High School for piloting this program and I hope it will be emulated all over, not only for students but adults as well.

To see a greater discussion with further sources on this subject, please see here.

Bitter Herbs, Not Bitter People: Preparing for Pesach

Now that Purim is behind us, the countdown to Pesach has officially begun, complete with its angst, anxiety, stress, and exhaustion. Sadly, many people associate Pesach with backbreaking work, exorbitant expenses, endless preparation, and bread deprivation. It is not unusual to hear moans, groans, and krechts coming from both men and women when mentioning the upcoming holiday. Many describe themselves as rolling into Pesach ‘like a shmatta,’ unable to enjoy the festive atmosphere, meaningful Sedarim, or even quality time with friends and family.

But this is not the way the Torah or our Rabbis intended it. I believe that the bulk of the stress, aches, and pains that result from Pesach preparation is self-induced and utterly unnecessary. True, there is a high cost of matzah, wine, and Kosher-for-Pesach groceries that cannot be avoided and are challenging particularly during these difficult economic times. However, the overly labor-intensive house preparations and extensive,arguably overly complicated menus and recipes can all be avoided.

For some reason, Pesach has gotten away from us with the purely voluntary now becoming mandated standards and what should be the primary goals becoming almost entirely neglected and dismissed. Undoubtedly, halacha demands that we seek and destroy all chametz in our possession. Definitions of “chametz,” “seek,” and “in our possession” are all very clear and require a preparation of a home that should take only a few hours total. Areas and places where chametz is never brought don’t need to be cleaned or checked (Shulchan Aruch o.c. 433:3). Appliances that will not be accessed or used need not be cleaned or checked; they simply need to be put away and sealed. Any food that is not categorized as edible (a dog would not eat it) is not considered chametz (Shulchan Aruch 442:2). There is no need to check for crumbs that are less than a k’zias if they are dirty or soiled and wouldn’t be edible by a human (Mishna Berura 442:33).

Practically speaking, any cabinet, closet or room that will not be entered on Pesach, can simply be closed with a piece of tape across the door and any chametz contents in it sold. Any kitchen cabinet, drawer, or cupboard that will not be used on Pesach need not be cleaned at all; it just needs to be taped shut. Any appliance, food processor, sandwich maker, mixer, bread machine, etc. that will not be used, need not be cleaned whatsoever. They just need to be put away for Pesach in a sealed space.

Nevertheless, at some point in recent Jewish history, Pesach preparation was substituted with spring-cleaning. If one is moving a refrigerator, oven, or any other heavy appliance, he is spring cleaning, not preparing for Pesach. If one is climbing on a ladder to clean a ceiling fan, taking a toothpick to a toaster or food processor, scrubbing grout with a toothbrush, emptying and wiping all dressers, closets, linen pantries, crawl spaces, or shaking out books that haven’t been opened in years, she is spring cleaning, not preparing for Pesach.

Halacha demands that we go room to room confirming there is no chametz that is larger than 30 grams and edible. That can realistically be accomplished in a few hours at most in almost all of our homes. If you are spending days, weeks, or over a month cleaning, if you are worn down, exhausted and your back aches, blame your proclivity for spring cleaning, don’t dare blame God or His wonderful holiday of Pesach.

Make no mistake, this substitution of spring-cleaning instead of Pesach preparation comes at a great cost and it will likely hurt our community’s attitude towards Pesach in the future. Rather than enter Pesach excited, enthusiastic, and energized to spend time with family and share divrei Torah at our Sedarim, we are increasingly becoming resentful and negative about being observant and burdened by Pesach. Rather than happy people eating bitter herbs to celebrate freedom, we are becoming bitter people exchanging our freedom for unnecessary burdens in anticipation of Pesach.

Pesach, more than any other holiday or time of year, is designed to communicate our values, priorities and lifestyles to the next generation. Pesach, and the days leading up to it, should leave our children with sights, smells, flavors, traditions, and experiences they will draw from and seek to emulate in their own homes for the rest of their lives. It should provide memories and recollections that will inspire and charge the next generation in their Judaism and commitment to the beauty of a Torah lifestyle.

Bedikas chametz, complete with its hide-and-seek nature, should be fun, exciting, and adventurous. Instead, for many it has become a chore that we unburden ourselves from as quickly as possible. Burning chametz, rolling matzah balls by hand, chopping charoses, grinding marror, setting the regal seder table, reenacting the Pesach story at our seders, welcoming visiting family, are among the activities that can be carried out with joy, enthusiasm, nostalgia, and meaning.

Depleting ourselves of energy and joy by engaging in spring cleaning rather than Pesach preparation is not only depriving us of the simcha, joy, we are capable of feeling, but it is indelibly impressing on our children negative memories and associations that will likely haunt them and shape their own attitude toward Pesach preparation and observance.

By exerting all of our energy into that which is unnecessary, we have little left to do the things that make Pesach preparation fun and create the memories that our children and grandchildren will draw from throughout their lives. Today, you can buy bedikas chametz kits complete with numbered pieces of bread, packaged finely chopped charoses and even a jar of kosher for Pesach salt water.

With all respect to the companies that have commercialized those mitzvos, I implore you, don’t cave. I vividly remember how we prepared and hid the bread for bedikas chametz and that is how I taught my children to do it. I can easily picture my siblings and me competing over who got to chop the charoses and how my mother and grandmother lovingly added all the ingredients in their special recipe and it is that experience we try to create for our children today. Is adding salt to water so laborious that we can’t put in even that effort to prepare for our seder table?

As we enter the final countdown to Pesach this year, I beg you to ask yourself the question – which sounds will ring in your children’s ears in the future when they think back to Pesach in their home? Will it be moans, groans, bitterness and complaints or will they remember the joyous sounds of an energized family eagerly preparing for a meaningful Yom Tov?

The Shulchan Aruch (529:2) tells us, “Chayav adom liheyos sameach v’tov leiv b’moed. A person is obligated to be joyous and happy on the holiday.” The Mishna Berura is quick to add that being happy on the holiday is a Biblical mandate and applies equally to men and women.

Let’s not allow spring cleaning or unnecessary stringencies to get in the way of fulfilling our duty to God, our children and ourselves of being happy, joyous, energetic, and enthusiastic.

Over the next month, as we prepare for Pesach, let’s remember what is essential and what is unnecessary, what is an obligation and what isn’t even a mitzvah and most importantly, what will make our children love Pesach and what will cause them to resent it.

From Mordechai & Esther to PM Netanyahu: Sounding the Alarm on Persia/Iran

The seventy year reprieve from anti-Semitism that the nations of the world have given our people, perhaps out of pity and sympathy in the aftermath of the Holocaust, seems to be coming to an end. Our default status in the world – scapegoat, and object of blame, hatred, anti-Semitism, and de-legitimization – is being restored as Israel is no longer the underdog and victim in the world’s eyes, but rather somehow has become the aggressor and the perpetrator.

Mi’shenichnas Adar, marbim b’simcha, we sing with great enthusiasm. When the month of Adar begins, we increase, expand, and intensify our sense of joy. But how can we be happy right now when we reflect on the Jewish condition in the world? What does Adar contain that would allow us to overlook and disregard the threats that Israel confronts, the isolation it experiences, and the challenges our people face?

When Haman approached Achashveirosh with his diabolical, genocidal plan to exterminate the Jews he said, “yeshno am echad mefuzar u’mefurad bein ha’amim…there is a nation scattered abroad and dispersed among the nations.” Rav Dovid Miller, Rosh Kollel of YU’s Gruss Kollel in Israel, pointed out the Gemara in Megillah 13b, which expands on their conversation, is very instructive for us today.

When Haman targeted the Jews for annihilation, the Gemara records, he said to Achashveirosh, “Let’s destroy the Jews.” Achashveirosh replied, “Not so fast. I am afraid of their God, lest He do to me what He did to my predecessors.” Haman relieved the King of that fear when he said, “yeshno am echad,” which translates literally as there is a certain nation. The Gemara quotes Rava, who explains that Haman was telling the King something much more strategic and insightful. Not yeshno am echad, there is a certain nation, but rather yoshnu am echad, there is a sleeping nation. “They have been negligent of mitzvos, they are divided, fighting with one another and divisive. They are asleep as to what is important and what threatens them,” said Haman.

We were vulnerable and literally on the brink of elimination and extinction as a people because we were asleep. Our eyes were closed to what was happening around us. We didn’t take the threats seriously, and we didn’t stand up for our right to simply exist. Haman, like so many of our shrewd enemies throughout Jewish history, understood that going about business as usual, living with our eyes closed and sleepwalking through life exposes us and makes us particularly vulnerable and susceptible to attack.

Haman recognized and took advantage of yoshno am echad, there is a nation that is sleeping. All he had to do was continue to lull the Jewish people into a false sense of security, to breed complacency and apathy and at that moment he could accomplish his goal of ridding the world of our people. So how did we survive? What spoiled his plan? Why did we ultimately triumph over Haman such that we are here today and he is a distant memory? The answer is simple: Mordechai and Esther, two heroes stood up and, like an alarm, rang and rang until they woke up our people from their practically comatose sleep.

Mordechai understood that the antidote to yoshno am echad, there is a nation that is sleeping, is lech knos kol ha’yehudim, go and wake them up. He understood that the response to heim am mefuzar u’mefurad bein ha’amim, they are weak because they are scattered, is to bring them together in fasting and praying. That wakeup call saved our people and ignited a response that provided not only the spark that led to military victory, but attracted people of Shushan to want to join the Jewish people.

Yoshno am echad. Too many of us have been lulled asleep and into a false sense of security and are therefore vulnerable at this time. Our enemies are no less evil than Haman, their plans no less nefarious, and their goals no less threatening to our very existence. And yet, for so many, it is business as usual, apathetic and indifferent to the threats we face.

The story of Purim is unfolding again right before our very eyes. Last week, Iran marked the 36th anniversary of its 1979 Islamic Revolution with rallies and gatherings in which participants chanted “Death to Israel.” Iran is modern day Persia and its leaders are modern day Hamans sharing the same explicitly stated goal of wiping out our people. If they are successful, they can accomplish in minutes what it took the gas chambers years, to kill 6 million Jews and with it the Jewish homeland. We must not allow that to happen.

Like Mordechai and Esther before him, on the eve of Ta’anis Esther this year, the Prime Minister of Israel will speak before a joint a session of Congress and seek to sound the alarm, to awaken from their sleep the decision-makers who can stop the wicked plans of modern day Persia. You don’t have to agree with the decision to invite Prime Minister Netanyahu, and you don’t have to agree with his decision to have accepted.

But now that he is scheduled to speak, as Holocaust survivor and Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel said, “On the day before Purim the Prime Minister of Israel will address Congress…I intend to be there. Should we not show our support for what might be the last clear warning before a terrible deal is struck?” Democratic Senator Charles Schumer called on his fellow Senators, Republican and Democrat alike, to attend Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech in Congress, saying the Israel-US relationship should “transcend” any political differences.

Earlier this week, I had the privilege of attending a private event with Senator Mark Kirk of Illinois, leading sponsor together with Senator Robert Menendez, of the new Iran sanctions legislation. Senator Kirk spoke bluntly and directly of the threat that Iran poses not only to Israel, but also to the United States and the entire free world. He turned to those gathered and after invoking the story of Purim challenged us, will you rise to your Esther moment? Will you do all you can to make sure Iran’s nuclear ambitions are stopped? When he graciously took questions and called on me, he joked, “Rabbi, are you going to correct my quote from Esther?” “Quite the contrary,” I responded, “I want to expand on your parallel and share an incredible insight of Rabbi Soloveitchik with you.”

We all study and celebrate the story of Purim as commemoration of a miracle, the triumph of the Jewish people over evil tyrants. Do you know what the real miracle was, explained the Rav? A madman rose and articulated his intentions to destroy the Jewish people. The miracle was that we didn’t ignore him, we didn’t excuse him, and we didn’t seek to reinterpret him. The miracle was that we actually believed him and sought to do something about it.

I thanked Senator Kirk for being our miracle and taking the bold steps to protect Israel from an existential threat, but Senator Kirk told us that the work is not nearly complete. He challenged us that if we care about Israel and if we care about America’s national security, we must take the time to contact Senators across the country and ask them to commit to both attending Prime Minister Netanyahu’s address and voting in favor of the sanctions bill. He told us to take out a pen and paper, write down the number for the Senate switchboard (202) 224-3121 and make calls every day.

With the Iran negotiations deadline looming and the new Iran sanctions bill in Congress, now is the time to wake up, now is the time for lech k’nos kol ha’yehudim, to come together in prayer, and in fasting, in letter writing, phone calls, advocacy, lobbying and any way that we can raise our voice on behalf of our people.

Perhaps the joy of Adar is the happiness of waking up, of rising from our sleep and recognizing what we confront and stepping up to make a difference. Rav Miller suggested that simcha is being alive, responsive and alert, ready to face whatever challenges may come and to be confident that we will be triumphant as we ultimately have been throughout our illustrious history. Mi’shenichnas adar, marbim b’simcha. When Adar begins, we remember enemies past like Amalek and Haman and we focus acutely on our present enemies and stopping them. When we wake up and confront them, marbim b’simcha, that in itself is a source of joy.

On Sunday, June 7, 1981, on the eve of Shavuos and under the order of then Prime Minister Menachem Begin, Israel unilaterally attacked the Iraqi nuclear reactor in Osirak and carried out a perfect mission that afterwards, even the U.S. military could not believe was possible. In his incredible book “The Prime Ministers,” Ambassador Yehuda Avner recalls that moments after they received the phone call saying the mission was a complete success and the boys are on their way home, Begin dictated a communique to President Reagan that he concluded: “Let the world know that under no circumstances will Israel ever allow an enemy to develop weapons of mass destruction against our people. If ever such a threat reoccurs, we shall take whatever preemptive measures are necessary to defend the citizens of Israel with all the means at our disposal.”

On the eve of Ta’anis Esther, the Prime Minister of Israel will seek to ring the alarm and wake up many of our elected leaders from their sleep. Let us do our part by taking the few moments to contact them and encourage them to attend. Let us pray that they have the fortitude, tenacity and resolve to do all that is necessary to protect not only Israel, but the interests of the entire free world.

Fifty Shades of Red

In his book first published in 1989, “Doesn’t Anyone Blush Anymore,” Rabbi Manis Friedman bemoans the loss of modesty and decency in society, and describes it as the greatest obstacle to achieving authentic love and intimacy. If twenty-six years ago people failed to blush when exposed to indecency, perhaps today one could best describe our society as one that fails to even notice or identify indecency.

This week, the highly provocative and grossly immodest movie “Fifty Shades of Grey,” based on what has become an iconic, best-selling, sensual book series, will be released. The books were deemed so lewd and vulgar that in 2013 a Brazilian judge ruled that they either had to be removed from bookstores altogether or wrapped and placed out of the reach of minors. Before bowing to pressure, the public libraries in Brevard County, Florida, banned the books because of their highly controversial content that has been described by many as a form of pornography.

What is completely shocking and frankly, terribly disturbing, is not only how many sophisticated, successful, mainstream members of society have read the books and eagerly anticipate seeing the movie, but how open they are about it and how utterly unembarrassed they are to admit it and discuss it in public. Once upon a time, there was shame and indignity associated with satisfying a base, animal impulse to read or view indecent material. If one viewed or read such things they did so in private, denied it in public, and did all they could not to be caught with it.

It is frightening and disconcerting how today, instead of the person who unabashedly boasts of reading or watching such things being the outcast, it is the individual who considers reading or watching Fifty Shades or other material like it licentious behavior that is unbecoming and unfitting a decent, moral, and modest person who is dismissed as a prude, a puritan and a killjoy.

Sadly but unsurprisingly, a casual and accepting attitude towards material that was once deemed lascivious and inappropriate is not only true in secular society, but is becoming increasingly present in the Torah-observant community as well. Unconscionably, a Jewish women’s organization is showing the film as a fundraiser. A Purim business is promoting “Fifty Shades of Grey-themed Mishloach Manos.” In 2014, the most popularly borrowed books in the heavily Orthodox community of Williamsburg, Brooklyn Public Library was the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.

Just because society has lost its way regarding modesty and appropriateness doesn’t mean we need to imitate them or dumb down our own sense of dignity and ambition for a life of sanctity. Having healthy boundaries of decency is not an issue of prudishness, or religious fanaticism, or narrow-mindedness. Unlike other religions, Judaism sees pleasure, even sensuality, in the appropriate context as a mitzvah, a noble and spiritual act. But appropriate context is the crucial and key element of achieving true intimacy, of promoting love rather than lust. Guarding our eyes is critical for the health and well-being of our relationships and for preserving the capacity to experience intimacy. The more dulled our radar for indecency and the more casual we are with immodesty, the more we struggle to experience functional, fulfilling, and satisfying relationships.

Being overexposed to images and ideas that are unrealistic and entirely divorced from reality can’t help but hurt the expectations in our relationships and from our spouses. Viewing indecency may satisfy the momentary urge of the body, the animal impulse in all of us, but it poisons the soul, our Godly spirit, and becomes an obstacle to experiencing the eternal pleasure that comes not from hedonism or decadence, but rather from self control, discipline, and a life of dignity and self-respect.

Shemiras ha’einayim, guarding our eyes and protecting ourselves from vulgarity, has always been a challenge, but it has never been nearly as difficult as it is today. It is not just the ease of access to graphic material due to the explosion of electronic devices and the proliferation of the Internet, but it is the larger issue that we live in a society that has utterly erased the taboo and stigma once associated with possessing and viewing it. When and how did it become acceptable in the world at large, and in the Jewish community in particular, to admit openly and discuss publicly that you read erotic books, watch salacious movies, and are avid followers of shows that contain graphic and explicit nudity?

We are all human, we all have moments of weakness, and have personal indiscretions and areas to work on. But what happened to being embarrassed or ashamed of doing things that are beneath us? What happened to keeping it private, personal, and to ourselves? Perhaps one could argue that certain literature shared between a couple could stimulate greater intimacy in their relationship and can be used constructively. However, our moral compass in this area has become so mis-calibrated that social media is full of devotedly observant men and women unabashedly linking to articles, referencing books, and reviewing movies that they should be humiliated for anyone to know they saw or plan to see.

There is a rare genetic disorder called congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis (CIPA) in which those diagnosed with it, simply cannot and do not feel any pain at all. While an inability to feel pain might sound attractive, consider that many people with the disorder suffer terribly because they have no alert system that something is wrong. Some pass away from undetected appendicitis, others have bone infections or internal bleeding and never know anything is wrong before it is too late. Children need to be watched with extreme caution, because they can burn themselves and not be aware of it. While we go to extremes and great expenses to avoid pain and to relieve it, the capacity to feel pain is an essential component of securing our safety and well-being.

Just as pain, while unwelcome and unappreciated, is a necessary component of protecting the body, so too shame and the capacity to blush are necessary components of protecting the spirit and the soul. Shame is the pain of the neshama, alerting us to something being wrong, a line being crossed, a boundary being violated. The lives of people with CIPA are in danger because their pain sensors are broken and they don’t know if something is wrong or threatening their well-being. Our lives are in danger if our spiritual pain sensors are malfunctioning and failing to alert us to something morally wrong, behavior that is indecent that threatens our spiritual well-being.

Seichel hu ha’busha v’habusha hu ha’seichel. Discernment and embarrassment go hand in hand. A discerning individual feels a natural sense of discomfort and disgrace when a boundary of appropriateness has been violated. In her book, “A Return to Modesty,” Wendy Shalit writes, “Embarrassment is actually a wonderful thing, signaling that something very strange or very significant is going on, that some boundary is being threatened – either by you or by others. Without embarrassment,” she writes, “Kids are weaker, more vulnerable to pregnancy, disease, and heartbreak.”

When mainstream members of society proudly boast of having read the Fifty Shades trilogy and the essentially pornographic film version is being shown in theaters across the country, we cannot help but realize that we are to a large degree living in a shameless society. It cannot be a coincidence that the more shameless society has become, the more it has struggled to create functional, healthy, long-lasting marriages of fidelity and fulfillment.

As Torah-observant Jews, a people of decency, modesty and aspiration for purity, we must work overtime to preserve our sense of appropriateness and to retain our capacity for shame. If we post to Facebook with a link we should be embarrassed to have seen privately, let alone to share publicly, we are acting shamelessly. If we forward emails that contain inappropriate images, a racy joke, or language that we should not use or be associated with, we are acting shamelessly.

While the rest of the world moves towards shamelessness, we must remember we, the Jewish people, are to distinguish ourselves specifically through the quality of shame and the capacity to feel shocked. The Talmud in Yevamos 79a states: “Ha’banim ha’kesheirim ha’busha nir’ah al pneiheim ki mi she’hu byshan hu siman she’hu mizerah Avraham, Yitzchak v’Ya’akov.” We the Jewish people can be identified by our natural inclination towards blushing when something is prust: inappropriate or improper. A byshan is not a prude. He or she is one who has maintained a pristine quality, a natural alert system of when a boundary has been crossed and when a border has been violated.

The culture today is to share the intimate details of your life with friends over coffee or with coworkers at the watercooler or in real time over Facebook. What happened to modesty, to privacy, and to a sense of shame that some things are not meant to be shared with the world? If we become numb and oblivious to the distortion of decency, if we lose our busha, than we lose our seichel, our ability to discern between right and wrong, correct and incorrect, between appropriate and inappropriate.

Let’s recalibrate our moral compasses. Let’s repair and renew the feeling in our spiritual nerve endings. Let’s reinstate the very trait that makes us proud descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.

When presented with the opportunity to read or see books or movies whose material is raunchy, vulgar and lewd, let’s make clear that they are beneath us, and instead, rediscover the capacity to turn many shades of red.

Don’t Confuse Earning a Living with Living

A few summers ago, I had the pleasure of attending a wedding in which I hardly knew anyone present other than the family of the bride. At the meal, I found myself sitting at a table full of people, most of whom I had never met. In an attempt to be friendly to the man seated next to me, I asked him, “What do you do?” He sat up in his chair, turned to me and said, “What do I do, or how do I earn a living? I earn a living as a plumber. What I do, what I am most proud of, is that I learn Torah every morning before davening, and I spend time with my family every evening after work.” His answer remains etched in my memory as he taught me a profound lesson that day in that short, but poignant answer to my simple social question.

How often is our first question to someone we meet, what do you do? When inquiring about someone else, how often is our first question, what does he or she do? How often do we define our own self-worth by our profession or if we aren’t working by what takes up the bulk of our time? For too many of us our identity is entirely wrapped up and monopolized by our profession or by what takes up most of our day. We mistake earning a living for actually living. If we are not working, we still often mistakenly identify with the details that take up the greatest quantity of our time, not quality of our time.

We need to challenge ourselves to create a meaningful list of goals outside of how we earn a living. Will our list include making a million dollars, or making a difference? Will it include finishing a stamp collection or finishing shas? Will it include spending money on a nicer car and nicer home or spending time with our spouses and children?

The Netziv, Rav Naftoli Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, was once visited by a student whom he had not seen in a long time. He greeted the student with the popular Yiddish idiom, “vus machs tu,” which is used in the vernacular as how are you, but literally translates as what do you do? The student answered, “I am well Rebbe, Baruch Hashem I am healthy and earn an excellent living.” They sat and made small talk and after a little while the Netziv again asked so “vus machs tu?” Again, the talmid answered, “thank God I am well and grateful I am very successful financially.” They spent the next hour in discussion and again the Netziv, a third time asked, “nu, vus machs tu?” The student finally turned to his Rebbe and said, “forgive me Rebbe, but this is the third time you asked me the same question and I have already told you all is well, I am healthy and parnossa is great.”

The Netziv turned to him and said, “maybe you didn’t understand the question. You answered that you have good health and an excellent livelihood. That’s what Hashem does for you; I asked ‘vus machs tu’, and what do YOU do?”

If we are fortunate, we serve in professions that are more than just ways to earn money, but rather are ways to find meaning. But even so, our profession should not define us or our lives. It must not prevent us from spending the time and doing the things that matter most. Paul Tsongas, the former Senator from Massachusetts wrote, “No man ever said on his deathbed I wish I had spent more time in the office.”

Every seventh year, the farmer is asked by the Torah leave his land fallow. He or she many not plant or harvest and instead must forfeit income for a year. The Kli Yakar explains that the mitzvah of shemita is essentially an exercise in emunah, an opportunity to work on our faith and to remember what is truly important in our lives. For six years we work diligently, we conquer the world, manipulate nature, and fill our day by literally or metaphorically plowing, planting and collecting the fruit of our labor. It is easy to see our lives as synonymous with how we earn a living. Every seventh year we are instructed to take a break from working and to remember what truly matters in our lives.

We are not farmers and though this year is a shemita year, I imagine most of us are not taking sabbaticals from our jobs. Nevertheless, shemita presents an excellent opportunity to challenge ourselves to answer, vus machs tu, and what do YOU do?

Moral Greatness vs. Moral Degradation

Super Bowl XLIX will take place this Sunday night and it is anticipated that it will be watched by more than 113 million people who will consume 1.25 billion chicken wings. And yet, the biggest story leading up to the game is not which quarterback is better, who has a better running game, or which team has the stronger defense. Coverage of the big game has largely been overshadowed by talk of “Deflate-gate,” the scandal involving the New England Patriots having allegedly cheated in the AFC Championship game by deflating eleven out of twelve of the balls they provided.

While the NFL has not yet completed its investigation, there is anecdotal evidence that the Patriots have once again violated the rules in an effort to gain an unfair advantage over their opponent. In 2011, their star quarterback, Tom Brady, was quoted as saying that he likes the ball deflated. A statistical analysis shows that the Patriots fumble the ball at an extremely low rate compared to all other teams and that the same players are more likely to fumble when they play for other teams than when they play for the Patriots.

In his book “By His Light,” Rav Aharon Lichtenstein Shlit”a writes:

The significance of effort is very considerable in our hashkafa. This can find expression even in inherently trivial areas. For example, the world of sports is, in a certain sense, trivial; mature adults are running around trying to put a ball through a hole. Nevertheless, moral qualities can and do come into play: cooperation, teamplay, an attempt to get the maximum out of yourself, etc. The inherent effort of the person himself, or the loneliness of the long-distance runner in his isolation, are very significant moral elements… There is no question that within the essentially trivial world of sports, real moral greatness and real moral degradation can be seen.

Last week, another example of moral degradation in sports was displayed by a girls high school basketball coach. The Arroyo Valley High girls’ basketball coach was suspended for two games after he mercilessly ran up the score. He used a full-court press for the entire first half to lead his team to a 104-1 advantage at halftime; his team ultimately won the game 161-2, humiliating the opponents in the process.

Competitiveness is a virtue if it builds drive, ambition, and determination. In sports, and in life, there is nothing wrong with seeking to succeed, to win, or to prosper. Indeed, Chazal teach (Baba Basra 21a), kinas sofrim tarbeh chochma, competition between scholars increases wisdom. However, competitiveness is a great liability if it supersedes other values, clouds judgment, and leads to unethical and immoral behavior like cutting corners or cheating.

In sports and in life, one can be competitive and at the same time show what Rav Lichtenstein calls “moral greatness” by being kind, considerate, honest, moral, and sportsmanlike. An epic tennis match between Raphael Nadal and Tim Smyczek took place last week at the Australian Open. For more than four hours, 27-year-old Smyczek from Milwaukee competed fiercely for every point against the 14-time Grand Slam champion Nadal. It was 6-5 Nadal in the fifth and final set. Just as Nadal served, a spectator shouted, the serve went long and was called out. As Nadal glared into the stands Smyczek motioned that he should retake the first serve, or as we would say, “take a do-over.” Nadal won the point and the match and the relatively unknown Smyczek won the respect of the tennis world.

Rafael Nadal (right) shakes hands with Tim Smyczek after winning a match at the Australian Open on Jan. 21.

Following the match Smyczek said, ”I don’t know if the guy didn’t know (Nadal) was tossing the ball or not, but it clearly bothered him. You know, I thought it was the right thing to do.” Smyczek is just as competitive as any other professional tennis player. However, when given the opportunity, he chose to do what he called the right thing, and in that moment showed real moral greatness.

If indeed the Patriots are proven to have cheated, the NFL must punish them in a real way to demonstrate that while we encourage competitiveness, it must never lead to moral degradation. Some have argued that Deflate-gate is insignificant compared with domestic abuse, murder, steroid use, and safety, issues that the NFL has yet to deal with in meaningful ways. There is no doubt that those are critical matters the NFL must address, but it would be a mistake to dismiss or ignore cheating because it seems to pale in comparison.

In truth, while murder, domestic battery and concussions are hopefully not relatable to us and we are not in real danger of imitating what we see, the temptation to bend the rules to achieve success is ever present in all our lives and therefore deserves a significant response. While it may sound trite, 113 million people, many of them children, will watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. If the Patriots are guilty and nevertheless get off with a slap on the wrist or are allowed to continue their ways of unhealthy, unbridled competitiveness with impunity, the world will have learned that winning is more important than achieving moral greatness.

Our Rabbis teach (Pesachim 118b) that kasha mezonosav shel adom k’krias yam suf, earning a living is as difficult as the splitting of the sea. It took God’s intervention to overcome the natural order and split the sea and it takes God’s graciousness to allow us to succeed in earning a parnassah. There is nothing trivial about getting the job, closing the deal, making the sale, earning the bonus or getting the raise. Earning a parnassah is difficult and challenging. Being competitive, driven, and having great ambition are important and admirable factors for success. However, that competitiveness and aspiration must never lead to cutting corners, cheating or being dishonest.

More than in sports, it is in our pursuit of a parnassah that real moral greatness and real moral degradation can be seen. Let’s be competitive and driven, but when given the opportunity, rise to the occasion and always do the right thing.

Is There a Place in Zionism for the Diaspora Jew?

In July of 2004, then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon told a gathering of North American Jewish federation leaders: “If I have to advocate to our brothers in France, I will tell them one thing: Move to Israel as early as possible… I say that to Jews all around the world, but there I think it’s a must and they have to move immediately.”

After the horrific Islamic terrorist events that struck France last week, and the Jewish community in particular, current Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu once again articulated the call for French Jews to move to Israel: “This week, a special team of ministers will convene to advance steps to increase immigration from France and other countries in Europe that are suffering from terrible anti-Semitism. All Jews who want to immigrate to Israel will be welcomed here warmly and with open arms.”

With hostility towards Jews growing in many parts of Europe, the blessing and miracle of the existence of the modern State of Israel as a place of refuge and a safe haven for all Jews is perhaps more pronounced than ever. The Jew experiencing anti-Semitism no longer has to rely on the protection of his or her host country alone. They need not live gripped by the fear of being expelled with no place to go. Today, for the first time in two thousand years, our homeland is back in our hands, under our sovereignty, and serving as a source of protection and security not only for those that inhabit its borders, but also for Jews around the world.

As the Jews of France, England and elsewhere are unfortunately learning the hard way, Israel is indeed a safe haven and place of refuge, not just in theory, but also in practice. However, it would be a terrible mistake to reduce Israel to that alone.

In 1903, at the sixth Zionist Congress, Theodor Herzl dropped a bombshell. While the British refused to allow a Jewish state in Palestine, they were offering another territory in East Africa where Jews could enjoy home rule as a British protectorate. A mere six years after the founding of political Zionism, the Uganda Plan was considered a major breakthrough. Herzl expected the proposal to pass easily, but instead a bitter debate ensued.

In his wonderful book, “Jabotinsky: A Life,” Hillel Halkin describes what took place and I was shocked to learn who voted in favor of setting up a Jewish state in Africa.

The Mizrachi voted with Herzl; under attack by the anti-Zionist Orthodox establishment for supporting a Jewish return to the Land of Israel without divine sanction, it sought to demonstrate that it was motivated solely by a desire to relieve Jewish suffering that was untainted by messianic fantasies. Nearly all of the secular Zionists of the “democratic faction,” on the other hand, were fiercely opposed; products of the shtetl and its value even after having revolted against them, they could not imagine a Jewish homeland that was not the land Jews always had longed for.

The vote was tallied. 295 delegates voted in favor, 176 were against, and 143 abstained. Without a true majority, the plan was abandoned and focus was returned to achieving a Jewish state in the Jewish homeland, the Land of Israel.

Israel cannot be in Uganda or Teaneck, the Five Towns, LA Los Angeles, or Boca Raton. Perhaps a Jewish state solely to provide refuge and a safe haven could take root in any of those places. But Israel is so much more than a place to find sanctuary. Only that land possesses unique spiritual qualities, what Rabbi Soloveitchik called “singular.” In “Reflections of the Rav” (volume 1), Rabbi Soloveitchik writes:

The word “singular” means “being one,” “exceptional,” “extraordinary” and “separate.” The word segulah in Hebrew similarly connotes singularity. In Exodus (19:5), the Torah enunciates the doctrine of the election of Israel as a cardinal tenet of our faith. “And you shall be to Me a segulah from all other peoples.”

A segulah people inhabits a segulah land. It is “a land which the Eternal your God looks after; on which the Lord your God always keeps His eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end” (Deut. 11:12). Rashi adds that, although God cares for other lands too, His relationship with Eretz Yisrael is special… Jewish destiny is linked with this land; we have no other. Only in this land, our Sages say, does the Shekhinah dwell and only therein does prophecy flourish. This segulah attribute of the land is no more rationally explicable than the segulah of the people. These are qualities certified by our faith, and history has corroborated the singularity of both people and land.

The reaction to Prime Minister Netanyahu’s call for French Aliyah has been mixed. Many Zionists are thrilled to see more Jews coming home, regardless of whether their motivation is running towards, or just running away. However, others have shared grave concern for the implications of an Aliyah inspired by anti-Semitism and hatred. Fleeing the diaspora, they argue, only incentivizes and rewards Islamic terror, anti-Semitism, and thereby inadvertently promotes more extremism.

One op-ed in Israel put it this way: “Patriotic Israelis will welcome French immigrants to Israel, but that does not contradict the fact that Israel has no interest in promoting the eradication of over two millennia of Jewish presence in Europe. ‘France without its Jews would not be France,’ the country’s prime minister has said, but Israel without its Diaspora might not be the Israel that many of us are still hoping for either.”

Which begs the question: What would Israel look like without its Diaspora? Is there a role in Zionism for the continued existence of the Diaspora Jew? How would the French policies towards Israel be different if the French people and leadership had never met a Jew, known a Jewish colleague or friend, or felt the contribution of Jewish people to France? To be clear, I am certainly not advocating for French Jews to remain in France or for that matter for American Jews to remain in America, but I do believe these questions don’t have simple answers.

If Jews are going to remain in the Diaspora, there is no doubt that there is much important work to be done on behalf of Israel from there. Would America’s three billion dollars of aid, the funding for Iron Dome, military cooperation, and the willingness to utilize the veto at the UN all be givens if there were no Zionist Jews living in America lobbying, advocating and seeking to influence the U.S. policies towards Israel? Would the religious Zionist community be better served if every rabbi and community leader that cares passionately about Israel stopped leading missions, gave up preaching and teaching Aliyah, ceased organizing pro-Israel rallies, no longer promoted greater participation in AIPAC, ZOA, EMET, etc. because they all picked up and made Aliyah? So long as there are Diaspora Jews, there is a need for passionate Zionist Diaspora leadership.

While every Jew should be considering and struggling with Aliyah, to be fair, Aliyah is not a simple matter. Each individual must struggle with it in his or her own way. What is simple is that if one chooses to remain in the Diaspora, they must feel a connection to Israel emotionally, financially and spiritually as a part of their daily lives.

Hungarian born R’ Yisachar Shlomo Teichtal Hy”d was staunchly anti-Zionist. When running and hiding from the Nazis, everything changed for him and he saw a return to Israel as Hashem’s true plan for us. In his incredible book Eim Ha’Banim Semeicha, written by memory and while in hiding, he shares these prescient words:

Now, even though all of Israel will not return right away, it seems to me that the Land will become a universal center for the entire Jewish nation, by the very fact that there will be an assembly of Jews in Jerusalem and Eretz Yisrael. Even those who remain in the Diaspora will keep their eyes and hearts on the Land. They will be bound and connected with all their souls to the universal center, which will be established in Eretz Yisrael. It will unite them even in the Diaspora, and they will not be considered dispersed at all…

Diaspora Jews should make as many trips and spend as much time in Israel as possible. If you can afford it, don’t go to exotic locations for Pesach, go to Israel. Don’t go on summer excursions and tours around the world, go to Israel. But it is in between those trips that Diaspora Jews make their unique contribution to Israel, by using their presence in the Diaspora to advance Israel’s interests and well-being.

Israel certainly does not need Diaspora Jews disengaged from Israel. If Zionistic Jews have a role in the Diaspora we must be devoted and dedicated daily to serving Israel through financial support, lobbying, and advocating on social media, traditional media, and among coworkers and friends.

There is something practical every religious Zionist Jew in the Diaspora can do right now. The Uganda Plan is a distant memory, but the World Zionist Congress continues to meet and will hold its next assembly this year. The Congress’ 525 delegates from all over the world will include 145 delegates from the United States, elected from competing slates with different interests towards Israel’s policies and how funding should be allocated.

The Religious Zionist Slate is a party in the World Zionist Congress comprised of delegates from America’s foundational religious Zionist organizations who provide a religious voice for world Jewry by championing programming and policies that promote Jewish unity and continuity, as well as the preservation and enrichment of Torah values and Jewish life in Israel and around the world.

With every national election, Israeli citizens cast their votes to seat a new Knesset, the men and women who will chart a new path for the State of Israel. By voting in the upcoming elections for the World Zionist Congress, we in the Diaspora also have a voice in deciding Israel’s future as well as the future of Jewish life globally.

You can register and vote simultaneously by visiting www.voteTorah.org. As we are witnessing the rise of Islamic terror and anti-Semitism worldwide, we are amazingly fortunate and blessed to have the miraculous modern State of Israel as a place of refuge and safe haven for all Jews.

However, as Torah Jews and religious Zionists we must remember that Israel is much more than just a place to run to when the heat is turned up in the Diaspora. It is the singular Land for a singular people to bring the singular Torah to life.

Do your part for Israel, even from the Diaspora, by taking a moment to register and vote today.

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