Friday, December 19, 2014

Hanukkah -- 5775


I awake in darkness, and want nothing more than to stay in bed.   It is pitch black when I leave synagogue at the end of the day.  This is the season for hibernation, and despair.
The rabbis taught:  When Adam, the first human, witnessed that the daylight waned [after his creation in September (Tishrei)], he said ‘Woe is me!  Perhaps it is because I sinned that the world grows darker and is slowly returning to a state null and void.  This is what the heavens decreed upon me.’  So, Adam stood, fasted, and prayed for eight days.  Then Adam saw that the month of Tevet [the month following Kislev and Hanukkah] arrived and the days began to grow longer.  He said to himself:  ‘This is the natural way of the world’ [i.e., the days grow shorter and longer throughout the yearly cycle].  Therefore he celebrated for eight days and the following year he set it as an annual eight-day festivity.  Adam set it as a celebration in honor of God in Heaven; they [the pagans] established it as a time of idolatry. (BT Avodah Zarah 8a, in Steinberg, Celebrating the Jewish Year, p. 25) 
As children, we learned that Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of the oil.  We were later taught about the Maccabee’s military victory over Antiochus.  So too, Hanukkah is the Festival of Light because it reminds us of what the rabbis of the Talmud knew:  in dark days like these, the human soul craves warmth and light.  We need the promise of springtime.  The candles of the Hanukkiah, both glowing and growing, offer a message of hope.  They remind us that light, now just a glimmer, will return.  Long, bright days and abundant harvests will be with us once again.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Vayeishev -- 5775


 Tamar has been played by her father-in-law, and now she returns the favor.
The widow of Judah’s son Er, Tamar was entitled to marry Er’s brother, Onan, upon Er’s death.  And when Onan died, she was entitled to marry the youngest brother, Shelah.  Judah denied her this chance at security, afraid that his youngest would die, too.
Tamar takes matters into her own hands.  She disguises herself as a prostitute and stands in Judah’s path.  He hires her, promises to pay her later, and leaves his staff, cord, and signet ring as pledge.  When Tamar conceives, Judah, enraged at the infidelity, orders her to be burned.  At that point, Tamar, slyly, produces the evidence of Judah’s complicity.  “’I am with child by the man to whom these belong.’  And she added, ‘Examine these:  whose seal and cord and staff are these?’”  (Genesis 37:25).  Judah recognizes them, and acknowledges that she is in the right.
Tamar displays many positive qualities.  In particular, the rabbis of old celebrate her righteous restraint.  She could have shamed Judah publically, but declines to do so.  The Talmud teaches that humiliating another is akin to killing them – the blood drains from their face, and their reputation can’t be returned.
Throughout the day, we’re given opportunities to embarrass or humiliate one another.  Showing some one up feels good in the moment, but that feeling doesn’t last.  Whatever “points” we score are quickly lost.  Much longer lasting to hold our tongue.  And, when we cannot, it is better to offer our rebuke gently and in private, as Tamar did.

Vayishlach -- 5775

Rachel yearns for a child.  “Let me have children,” she demands of her husband, “otherwise I am a dead woman!”  (Genesis 30:1).  Despite her husband’s love and devotion, Rachel feels worthless without a baby.  Does she want to create life?  Does she want to give her husband a gift or to incarnate their love?   Does she feel motherhood is her duty?  Perhaps she wants to defeat her fertile sister.  We don’t know the cause of her emptiness; we only know her pain.
This week, in Parshat Vayishlach, Rachel gives birth to her second son.  She dies delivering him.  
And so it is for us all.  When we have a goal and work towards it, we can be consumed with our vision and the need to realize it.  But devotion to one cause, whatever it may be, perforce requires abandonment of something else.  We need to give up something to get what we want.  Accomplishment brings with it lost opportunity, lost health, and lost relationships.
When setting out towards a goal, it’s important to consider not only what success will look like, but also what losses you’re prepared to accept.  Can you name them?  Anticipate them?  Feel them?  Until you do, you’re not truly ready to begin.
There is always a price to pay.