Attitude of Gratitude On This Thanksgiving Weekend

 George Washington was inaugurated as the first President of the United States on April 30, 1789. On October 3rd of that year, Washington issued the first Thanksgiving Day Proclamation, assigning Thursday November 26, 1789 as a day: “To be devoted by the people of These States to the Service of the Great and Glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be.”236 years later, we continue to celebrate this American holiday that allows people of all religions, and even those without religion, an opportunity to express gratitude- whether it be to G-d, fate, or luck, as well as to family and friends. On November 26, 1789 Gershon Mendes Seixas delivered a sermon in honor of the first Thanksgiving, at the request of his congregation, Shearith Israel (The Spanish Portuguese Synagogue): After all these years it has not lost its relevance. I quote for you some of its contents:

“It is necessary that we, each of us in our respective stations, behave in such a manner as to give strength and stability to the laws entered into by our representatives… to consider the burden imparted on those who are appointed to act in the executive department….If to seek the peace and prosperity of the city wherein we dwell be a duty, even under bad governments, what must it be when we are situated under the best of constitutions?”

We must show our gratitude by living as law abiding citizens, and by recognizing the tremendous efforts it takes to create and maintain our democratic country. Seixas continued:

And lastly, it is incumbent on us as Jews in a more especial manner (seeing we are the chosen and peculiar treasure of G-d) to be more circumspect in our conduct, that as we are at this day living evidences of His Divine Power and Unity, so may we become striking examples to the nations of the earth hereafter as mentioned in Exodus “You shall be unto me a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation.”

Thanksgiving Weekend/ Shabbat Vayeitzei remind us that gratitude is an attitude that needs to be cultivated. Some of the ways suggested by author Lauren Aaronson (Psychology Today) to cultivate gratitude is:

1)            Write a gratitude letter: a kind of belated thank you note to someone in your life. Studies show that such letters provide long-lasting mood boosts to the writer. Want to make the experience have even more impact? After writing the letter, go and read it to the person to whom you wish to thank.

2)            Keep a gratitude journal. Take a few minutes out of the day to jot down things that make you feel thankful, whether its generosity of friends, food on the table. Studies have shown that people who follow this routine for a few weeks feel better about them, have more energy and feel more alert.

3)            “Fake it until you make it“- even if you don’t feel like expressing gratitude, say thank you anyways. It may take some time, but soon enough your mind will fall in line with your words.

Jews are called Yehudim, those who descend from Yehuda (named in this week’s Parsha) but also from the word “Todah”, for we must understand that essential to our Jewish identity is the attribute of gratitude. On this Thanksgiving Weekend/ Shabbat Vayeitzei let us resolve to cultivate our sense of gratitude: whether towards Hashem our family and friends, or our country.

Combating Cynicism

  “And these are the offspring of Isaac, the son of Avraham- Avraham begot Isaac. "The first verse in this week’s Parsha seems redundant. Why repeat the fact that Avraham was the father of Yitzchak twice in one Pasuk?! Rashi quotes the Midrash that there were “Leitzanei Hador”, scoffers, who cast aspersions about Avraham’s paternity. They noted that Sarah and Avraham were married for many years without children. And Sarah had a child after being taken by Avimelech, King of the Plishtim. The Midrash continues that to ensure no one would believe such lies, Hashem made sure that the family resemblance between Avraham and Yitzchak was uncanny. The question is: Does it matter to G-d what the Leitzanei Hador were saying? Let the scoffers think and say whatever they want. We know the truth. So why did G-d intercede in order to silence the nay-sayers? Rabbi Mordechai Gifter explained that this Midrash highlights the destructive power of cynicism. Once expressed, it has the power to infect everything around it. The genetic relationship between each of our forefathers is integral to our tradition. To allow cynics to question this truth would have been a devastating blow to Judaism. The Midrash is teaching us that cynicism is so sinister that G-d intervenes to curtail its effects. Historically, there was a school of ancient philosophy called Cynicism. It is believed that there is neither absolute truth nor intrinsic goodness in this universe. Although such an outlook seems to be depressing, one of the most famous Cynics, Diogenes, reacted to this realization with humor. He described the human condition as being like a dog trying to catch its own tail. After adopting Cynicism, Diogenes spent his life aimlessly wandering the beaches of Greece, enjoying the warm weather. Thousands of disciples followed him, and he would stop along the beach and give lectures full of sarcastic remarks about society. Today, cynicism is defined as an attitude of jaded negativity. People are not born cynical. Children are generally optimistic and trusting. But at some point, we all experience a challenge to this worldview. Somebody may disappoint us. Or something that we expected to happen does not materialize. Researchers from Yale University found that children begin to demonstrate cynical tendencies at around the second grade. Cynicism is rampant in today’s society. People are cynical about politics and politicians. People are cynical about society. Skepticism is not the same as cynicism. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch praised the skepticism that Bnei Yisrael exhibited towards every one of Moshe’s accomplishments. Rav Hirsch explains that had the Jews been completely enamored, later generations would have suspected that their ancestors were intellectual pushovers who had been impressed by some charismatic leader. It was precisely because of their initial skepticism that allowed for their later enthusiastically embraced Torah. In the first Aliyah, we also read how Eisav traded his birthright for a bowl of lentils: “Eisav ate and drank, got up and left, and Eisav despised the birthright.” Like the Leitzanei HaDor, the verse tells us that Eisav acted cynically. Eisav’s wickedness is shown here through this cynicism. Parshat Toldot teaches us that cynicism can be a destructive force within our lives.  Judaism vehemently objects to the philosophy of the ancient Cynics. We can question, we can even be disappointed by people and events- but we should never, ever, lose faith.

The Spice of Spiritual DNA

Pizza is one of my son Avi's primary food groups. Recently I noticed that he put crushed red pepper flakes on his pizza. He picked up this practice when he was on an Israel program this past summer. When I recently saw him add some spice to his pizza, I had a nostalgic epiphany. Avi is named for my Opa, my grandfather Arthur Goldschmidt z’l. During his American military service in World War II, he worked in logistics, especially related to food service. One memory I have of my Opa is walking home with him from shul and telling me about a Gemara (now I know that it's in Tractate Brachot) that discusses the correct blessing to make on certain spices such as pepper, ginger and saffron. He utilized that opportunity to flex some of his culinary acumen and explain to his grandson the differences in how these spices grow and are harvested. A number of years after this incident, I went to visit my grandparents at their home in Dallas. One day for lunch my Opa laid out ingredients to make pizza: flat bread, sauce, cheese — and a bunch of spices, including black pepper. It was the first time I ever put black pepper on my pizza, and it was good. Ever since I like my pizza with pepper (black pepper under the cheese, and sometimes red pepper flakes on top of the cheese). My Opa died before Avi was born. Yet this pepper-on-the-pizza moment reminded me of the Jewish belief in spiritual DNA; that we possess and can emulate the qualities of Jewish ancestors whom we never met. When we read the stories of our patriarchs and matriarchs we are actually supposed to be learning things about ourselves. The Torah’s intention is not to tell us ancient stories about the past, but to help us discover who we are and what we are made of: our spiritual genetics. Chazal teach us that ma’aseh avot siman labanim, the experiences of the forefathers are signs for the children. This is not simply a poetic phrase or historical foreshadowing. It is a reflection of an inner reality: we are a continuation of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov; Sara, Rivka, Rachel and Leah. Their spiritual DNA is found within us. The same courage, faith, and moral conviction that they exhibited are embedded within their descendants. This idea is deeply empowering. It means that when we struggle to have faith in difficult times, when we strive to act with kindness, or when we are called upon to make sacrifices for our beliefs, we are not starting from scratch. We can recall and access a legacy that has been encoded within our Jewish soul. Rav Kook explains that Avraham’s willingness to offer Yitzchak at the Akeidah implanted within the Jewish people an eternal capacity for mesirut nefesh, self-sacrifice for Hashem and His ideals. That same readiness to give of ourselves, whether in defending Israel, preserving Jewish identity, or standing up for morality in a confused world, flows through our veins and our souls. Just as Avi’s pepper-topped pizza reminded me of my Opa and revealed a link that bridges generations, our study of Avraham Avinu should remind us of who we are at our core. We are the continuation of a sacred family line, carrying within us the spiritual genes of greatness. Every act of faith, kindness, and courage we do adds another “spice” to the Jewish family recipe; connecting our past with our present and helping to shape the Jewish future. 

Disappointing Outcomes Can’t Negate the Power of the Effort

 One of the most poignant scenes in Parashat Vayera is Avraham’s heartfelt plea on behalf of the people of Sedom. After being informed of the impending destruction, Avraham does something unexpected: he argues with Hashem for their salvation. Not because they were righteous. Not because they were kind. Not because he agreed with their lifestyle or their values. Avraham prayed on their behalf because he believed it was the right thing to do because every human being is created B’tzelem Elokim, in the Divine image. Avraham seeks to find fifty righteous individuals, perhaps forty-five, perhaps ten. In the end, the city is not spared. On the surface, Avraham’s prayer appears to have been a failure. The outcome did not match the desired result. And yet our tradition never refers to this moment as a failure. To the contrary, it becomes the paradigm for Jewish prayer. The Talmud points to Avraham’s prayer for Sedom as foundational. Why? Because tefilah is not transactional. We do not pray because prayer guarantees a desired outcome. We pray because the act of turning to God shapes us, our values, our empathy, our resilience, our sense of responsibility for one another. Prayer may not always change the world in the way we hope, but it always has an impact and the capacity to change us.

This is a powerful message this week as Jews in New York City reflect on the recent mayoral election with both bewilderment and concern. They organized. They registered others to vote. They spoke out and they showed up. And, in the end, they did not see the result that they had hoped for. It is natural at a moment like that to feel defeated and question the value of the efforts expended. But as Avraham taught us, outcomes are not the only measure of the value of our efforts. While our preferred candidate didn’t win, we saw Jewish communities across neighborhoods and backgrounds finding common cause. People who might disagree passionately on other issues discovered that they could still stand shoulder to shoulder when it mattered. The election reminded us that our community is capable of mobilizing, communicating, caring, and working together. It reminded us that our voice can be strong, not only when we win, but when we show up and put on display the power of Jewish unity. Advocacy is about showing up. Tefilah is also about showing up, among many other important life values. No one can guarantee the result we seek every time we work on a cause. But each effort strengthens the core of community and the character of the individual.

We keep speaking out. We protect and enrich Jewish life – from both a defensive and proactive posture.

We keep working. We keep caring. We keep believing that our voice and our efforts matter. Most importantly, we keep praying; not only to be answered, but to become the kind of prayerful people we want to be.

The story of Avraham and Sedom does not end in failure. It is a story of courage, faith and resolve. Let us learn from Avraham’s example to put results in their proper context and to value, no matter the outcome, the impact we create when we put in the efforts to connect and grow together.