Friday, August 23, 2013

Ki Tavo 5773

In this parsha, Moses enacts a ritual that involves the entire community.  He divides all the people into two camps.  As he recites a litany of blessings and curses, half the tribes embody the former, and half embody the latter.  Some stand for positivity, and some negativity.

As Moses did with the people, so do we do with individuals.  We type them and label them:  “detractors, naysayers, and complainers,” “helpers, optimists, and achievers.”   Some people, we decide, have a positive influence in our lives, and some a negative.

But human beings are far more complex than that.  The way someone relates to me is not the way s/he relates to everyone else.  The sliver of a person’s being I get to see likely does not represent their entire humanity.  Further, people change over time—the sense I got from someone years ago may not be who they are today; my encounter with someone who was upset this morning may have more to do with what they just experienced than who they are.

Still, it can be frustrating when the only aspect we see of an individual is negativity and complaint.  It’s helpful to remember that that’s not the whole person.

More powerful still is to invert their negative energy.  Can you see past their bitterness and consider whether their observations have merit?  Can you share their passion but decline their negativity?  Can you turn their “curse” into a “blessing”?

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Ki Titzei 5773

As a very young man, I sat at a plaza eating my lunch.  I noticed a toddler crawling on the ledge of a fountain several yards away.  He tottered, and I reached out to steady him – even though there was no possible way I could catch him.  In fact, dozens of arms stretched out to him simultaneously.  It is human instinct to protect people in danger.

“When you build a new house, you shall make a parapet for your roof, so that you do not bring bloodguilt on your house if anyone should fall from it” (Deuteronomy 22:8).  A parapet is an extension of a wall that serves as a barrier on a balcony, roof, or terrace.  In ancient times, people would sleep and work on the roof, and were liable to fall off if there were no fence.  More broadly, we have an affirmative obligation to construct buildings that protect others from injury.  We must add railings, fence pools, and post proper signage to help prevent injury.  That fountain in Santa Monica was an injury waiting to happen, and the city ought to have installed it more safely.
What of the individual’s obligations?  Surely, no child can weigh the risks of crawling on a ledge.  But most adults can be expected to consider the range of possibilities that might result from our actions.  Take, for example, texting while driving.

It seems so innocuous – just a quick flick of the eyes, no more impactful than changing the radio station.  Or we start a text while stopped at a red light, and finish it as we roll through the intersection.  We’ve all done it a hundred times.  What could happen? 
I recently watched a 35 minute movie called “From One Second to the Next,” about four lives altered beyond recognition by texting while driving.  It was made by acclaimed director Walter Herzog and funded by AT&T, Verizon, Sprint, and T-Mobile.  It will put the fear of God into you – not only for your own life and the lives of your loved ones, but also for the pain you may cause inadvertently and easily. 

Until watching that movie, I’ve been troubled by the Torah’s formulation – “so that you do not bring bloodguilt on your house if anyone should fall from it.” Surely, we should construct the proverbial parapet to safeguard life and limb.  But after watching “From One Second to the Next,” and witnessing the pain of those whose haste and disregard destroyed lives, I understand it a bit better.  “Take precautions not to harm others and also not to wrack yourself with unbearable guilt—legal AND emotional.”
Watch the movie at ItCanWait.com.  There’s a “texting while driving simulator,” and also a “no texting while driving” pledge to sign.  We no longer sleep on our roofs.  But whenever we drive, we hold other people’s lives in our hands.