Neutrality is for the dogs

When caught in the middle of a heated argument between people you know, your first instinct might be to stay out of it. But a paper published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology suggests that declaring neutrality comes with consequences. In three studies, participants were surveyed about hypothetical barroom scenarios: They were locked in a verbal dispute with someone else, and a close friend either backed them up or stayed out of it. Remaining neutral wasn't considered a problem if the friend who was stuck in the crossfire was said to be equally close to both people who were arguing. But if the friend was closer to one participant than to the other disputant, then a decision not to get involved was typically treated as a betrayal. Participants rated neutrality in that case nearly as offensive as taking the other person's side.

Stepping back from a friend's fight may be perceived as a dereliction of duty and can send a worrying message, according to Alex Shaw, a psychologist at the University of Chicago and one of the paper's authors. "If I don't take a close friend's side over an acquaintance, then to some extent, the friend is getting a signal that I think of them the way I think of an acquaintance," he says. If you must remain neutral, Shaw proposes hearing out both sides, explaining your stance, and playing the part of mediator. All are ways to communicate that you still have your friend's back.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski retells a story that in Brisk a bitter feud broke out between two groups of Jews. The Beis Halevi, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, appealed to an influential member of the community to intervene and help bring about peace. The man declined. When the Beis Halevi reminded the man how big a mitzvah it is to promote peace, the man responded that he felt that remaining neutral was an even bigger mitzvah. Upon hearing the man extol the virtues of neutrality, the Beis Halevi shared the following Torah thought: In Parshat Bo, The Torah describes the contrast that will exist during the tenth plague. Egyptian firstborn will die causing a great cry among the Egyptians, however Bnei Yisrael will experience none of this to the degree that (11:7) “no dog shall whet its tongue”. Why does the Torah tell us this detail regarding the dogs?

The Beis Halevi explained based on a statement of the Talmud in Baba Kamma 60b: “When the Angel of Death enters a community- the dogs cry. When Eliyahu Hanavi enters a community- the dogs are playful.” On the night of the tenth plague the dogs had a problem. Since it was the night of the Jews’ redemption Eliyahu Hanavi, the harbinger of redemption, was present. But that night the firstborn were killed, so the Angel of Death must have also been present. Since the dogs didn’t know whether to be playful or to cry, they chose to remain neutral and not do anything. 

The Beis Halevi concluded that when there is an opportunity to intervene and bring about peace, remaining neutral is an option for dogs but not for intelligent human beings. While remaining neutral may at times be the easy thing to do, we should always remember the value of promoting peace and the importance of taking initiative. We should not be afraid nor reluctant to interject ourselves into a situation when we have something positive to contribute.

You Don’t Need to Walk in Anyone’s Shoes to Show Empathy

Hillel taught in Pirkei Avot (2:4) “Do not judge your fellow man until you have reached his place.” This is similar to the expression, “Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.” We need to train ourselves to be less judgmental. From our perspective a person may be acting incorrectly or making a big mistake. However before we judge that person let us remember that that person is coming from a different place and has different experiences and different perspectives. We should be slower to judge others and quicker to try and understand them. And even when we can’t understand them we should be slow to judge and quick to help in whatever ways that we can.

While we may not be able to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” that does not mean that we cannot empathize with people who are experiencing challenges with which we do not have personal experience or familiarity. The basis of empathy is that we should try to feel the pain of others, even if the reality is that that pain is foreign and unfamiliar to us. A therapist need have experienced every trauma in order to provide treatment to a person who is struggling with trauma. A person can pay a shiva or Bikur Cholim visit even if they have never been on the receiving end of such a chesed. This was one of Pharaoh’s mistakes. We have a tradition that the tribe of Levi was never enslaved. Some credit Yosef with this break. During the years of famine Yosef did not take over the land of the Egyptian priests. Pharaoh continued that tradition by not enslaving the tribe of Levi, who functioned in a priestly role. 

However Rabbi Yonasan Eibeschutz suggested that Pharoah had much more sinister motives. Through his sorcerers he learned that the future redeemer of Israel was destined to come from the tribe of Levi. Pharaoh believed that only a person who was subjected to slavery would have the sensitivity, empathy and motivation to lead the nation out of slavery. Pharaoh miscalculated because he did not factor in the power of empathy, often referred to in Jewish texts as “Nosei B’Ol Im Chaveiro” (the ability to share in my friend’s burden). 

Although Moshe was never enslaved, the Torah tells us that (2:11) “he went out to his brothers and perceived their burdens”. Moshe did not have to be enslaved in order to feel empathy for the Jewish slaves. The Shelah points out that Levi gave his children names that reference the slavery, even though they themselves were not enslaved. His children have names such as Gershom (“I am a stranger in a strange land”) and Merari (from the word mar, bitterness of slavery). By naming his children names that reference the slavery, Levi took concrete steps to ensure that he and his descendants would always feel and demonstrate empathy towards their fellow Jews. In the merit of this empathy Moshe became leader and the Jewish People were redeemed.  

Names Can Be Descriptive and Prescriptive

 

This week we begin reading the second book of the Chumash. Our Rabbis refer to it as Sefer Hageulah, The Book of Redemption. This name aptly describes the main topics and themes contained within: the redemption from Egyptian slavery, which is only fully realized with the construction of the Tabernacle at the end of the book.

However most of us are more familiar with the second book of the Chumash as Sefer Shemot, literally “The Book of Names”.  Besides being one of the first words of the first Parsha in the book, are there any further lessons we can derive from the name “Shemot”?

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba) writes that one of the merits that the Jewish People accumulated throughout their years of slavery is the fact that they never changed their names. They kept their Jewish names as a way of reminding themselves that they were not part of the majority, dominant culture of Egypt.  Their Jewish names reinforced the idea that the Jewish People came from a different culture and from ancestors that had a unique relationship with G-d. Names have the power to remind us of who we are and from where we come. It is no accident that there is a widespread Jewish custom to name babies after ancestors, whether deceased or still living.

 But names have a future oriented role as well. In Parshat Lech Lecha, Hashem changed Avram’s and Sarai’s names. Rashi (on 15:5) introduces the concept of “Shem Gorem”: that a person’s name can have an impact on their destiny. Avram and Sarai would never have children. But with new names Hashem informs Avraham and Sarah that they are now ready to be parents. Names can identify a person with a unique mission and destiny.

This future oriented aspect of names needs to be reinforced. A person or institution can attain a “name”, or reputation in one of two ways: based on past performance or as a hope and challenge for future achievement. Too often we hastily attach negative names to people or institutions based on past events. For example, a student that has performed poorly in the past may improve dramatically if given positive reinforcement and labeled in a good way (ie given a new name). The same is true of adults and institutions. As we begin the book of Shemot, let us realize that names not only connect us to our past, but they can help shape our future

Never Get Used to Injustice

The Talmud (Sotah 13) teaches that when Yaakov’s family reached Mearat Hamachpela in Chevron and were about to bury him, Eisav appeared and protested, claiming that as Yitzchak’s heir he was the rightful owner of the last burial plot in the cave. Yaakov’s sons claimed that they had a document that proved Yaakov’s ownership of the plot, but the deed had been left in Egypt. Eisav insisted that proof be brought. So the brothers dispatched their speedy brother Naftali back to Egypt to retrieve the ownership deed. The Talmud continues that while the family waited for Naftali’s return, Chushim took matters into his own hands. Chushim was the son of Dan, and he was hard of hearing. Unaware of the discussions that had caused the delay, Chushim asked a family member why Yaakov had not yet been buried. After the situation was explained to him, Chushim was outraged at the thought of Yaakov’s disgrace due to a delayed burial. Out of outrage he killed EIsav thereby resolving the problem in a different, quicker way. Rabbi Chaim Shmulevitz asked: Why was Chushim the only family member who reacted? He answers that because the other family members had heard Eisav’s initial protest and then engaged in a back-and-forth negotiation with Eisav, they had become desensitized to the gravity of the disgrace that it represented for Yaakov’s to remain unburied. Their sense of outrage faded. They unwittingly became more comfortable with the situation and were therefore not inspired to react immediately. Since Chushim did not hear any of the negotiations, he felt a full sense of outrage and felt compelled to act. Rabbi Shmulevitz says that from here we can learn the danger of losing a sense of outrage. Just because we hear about mass shootings regularly on the news doesn’t mean we should ever get used to it. Just because we hear about scandals and bad behavior on a regular basis does not mean we should ever get used to it. Even if we hear everything, we can try to be like Chushim and never lose our sensitivity towards wrongdoing. We must never be indifferent to injustice.

The Crucial Lesson of Zevachim

                                    

Both Yaakov and Yosef are anxious to be reunited in Egypt. And yet we read that Yaakov makes a stop along the way (46:1): וַיִּסַּ֤ע יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְכָל־אֲשֶׁר־ל֔וֹ וַיָּבֹ֖א בְּאֵ֣רָה שָּׁ֑בַע וַיִּזְבַּ֣ח זְבָחִ֔ים לֵֽא-לֹהֵ֖י אָבִ֥יו יִצְחָֽק: “And Israel and all that was his set out and came to Beer Sheba, and he slaughtered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac.” As eager as Yaakov was to see his son, he makes sure to take a moment to direct his attention and appreciation to Hashem. Upon hearing that Yosef is alive and well in Egypt Yaakov has experienced a “Shehecheyanu” moment. As eager as he might be to reach his destination Yaakov understood the need to turn to Hashem in appreciation for surviving to see the happy ending of this dramatic saga and in recognition that throughout the entire ordeal of Yosef’s disappearance there had in fact been a Divine plan unfolding. One could ask: Granted, we understand why Yaakov feels a need to offer sacrifices. But why does he do so in the middle of his family’s journey down to Egypt? Why not offer the sacrifices immediately upon hearing the good news of Yosef’s wellbeing, before embarking upon the journey? Alternatively, why didn’t Yaakov wait until after his reunion with Yosef, so that he could offer the sacrifices to Hashem with a full measure of joy and gratitude?

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch noted that it is here, for the first time in history, that we are introduced to “zevachim” sacrifices. Until this point in time, all other sacrifices to Hashem (offered by Hevel, Avraham, Yitzchak etc) were in the form of an Olah, a burnt offering where the entire sacrifice is dedicated to God. Olot represent the idea of dedicating oneself completely to God. A Zevach is a sacrifice offered in part to Hashem but the rest is then consumed by the person offering the sacrifice along with his/her family. Rav Hirsch explains that zevachim teach us the idea that Hashem can accompany us in all of our activities, even in the mundane activity of eating. Yaakov takes a lunch break with his family along his journey to Egypt. He offers zevachim there for the first time in history to teach his family- and us- that we have the ability to imbue spirituality even into the seemingly mundane activities of daily life. Through this episode we learn for the first time that a Jew’s dining table can be an altar and a Jewish home can serve as a Temple. The idea that a Jew’s religious life must encompass the totality of our existence is an idea emphasized by the Rav, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. In Halachik Man, the Rav wrote (pg. 33): “The task of the religious individual is bound up with the performance of commandments, and this performance is confined to this world, to physical, concrete reality, to clamorous, tumultuous, life, pulsating with exuberance and strength.”

Perhaps this is why Yaakov chose to offer his zevachim specifically in the middle of his journey. He is teaching us that not only can you serve Hashem through seemingly mundane activities such as eating, but that this service can and should be accomplished anywhere and at any time: even on the side of the road during a long family trip down to Egypt.

Renewal and Inauguration: Two Aspects of Chanukah

 Our Chanukah study and celebration generally focuses on renewal. After the Maccabee victory the Jews purified the Beit Hamikdash and renewed the Temple service and restored Jewish rule over Jerusalem. However Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt’l (in a talk that he delivered in 1999) notes that the word “Chanukah” means to dedicate something for the first time, to inaugurate, to innovate. Chanukah was not only about restoring that which was. Chanukah was also about inaugurating and creating new ideas that would help the Jewish People going forward. Rav Lichtenstein notes that these two motifs of renewal and inauguration are reflected in the Al HaNisim prayer. First we say that Chanukah celebrates restoring that which was: “Afterwards, Your sons entered the Holy of Holies of Your Abode, cleaned Your Temple, purified Your Sanctuary.” But restoring that which was is only half the story. Chanukah is also a celebration of dedicating something new, as Al Hanisim goes on to say: “and kindled lights in the Courtyards of Your Sanctuary, and designated these eight days of Chanukah.” The first time the root of “Chanukah” is found in the Torah is in Bereishit 14:14. When Avraham hears that his nephew has been captured, he prepares to go to battle to bring Lot back: וַיָּ֨רֶק אֶת־חֲנִיכָ֜יו. Rashi explains the word “Chanichav”:

it [חֲנִיכָיו] is an expression of the initiation (lit. the beginning of the entrance) of a person or a utensil to the craft with which he [or it] is destined to remain.”

Something new must have been created as a result of Chanukah. Rav Lichtenstein notes that in the aftermath of the Chanukah story, a new formal obligation of Hallel and thanksgiving was instituted to thank Hashem for enabling the Greek defeat at the hands of the Maccabees. While on other holidays we recite Hallel, Chanukah is the only holiday on which Hallel is intrinsic and integral to the definition of the holiday. As we say at the very end of the Al Hanisim prayer for Chanukah, our Rabbis “designated these eight days of Chanukah to thank and praise Your great Name.”

While lighting Chanukah candles in our homes may seem like a reenactment of the restoration of the Menorah service in the Temple, there are major differences between the two. For instance, while the Menorah was a seven branched candelabra, our Chanukiyah has nine branches.  Also, the Menorah was only lit in the Beit Hamikdash, and we light our Chanukah candles at home. Ner Chanukah belongs to an exclusive list of Mitzvot D’Rabbanan, commandments instituted by the Rabbis. We consider these mitzvoth to be binding just like a Torah-sourced mitzvah. We see this from the fact that we recite a bracha over lighting Chanukah candles in which we say “You, God, have sanctified us with mitzvoth and commanded us to light Chanukah candles”. The power and importance of Rabbinic Judaism is a second innovation created by Chanukah.

Third, Rav Lichtensetin notes that after the Chanukah victory, the Jewish People enjoyed Jewish sovereignty over the Jewish homeland for over two centuries. While there may have been problems with that Jewish Commonwealth, it is an accomplishment to be celebrated. It was also a new era for the Jews, one which had not existed in Israel for centuries.

The story of Chanukah as a celebration of both renewal and inauguration, of both continuity and change, resonates with me at this particular juncture in the history of our kehillah. Our mission is to be true to our values while being open to innovation and change. We should celebrate our past and embrace changes that will allow us to shine even brighter in the future.

No Job is Unimportant When It Comes to Doing Our Part

 As a child in New Haven, CT, I was encouraged and called upon to be an active participant and contributor to synagogue life in ways that would probably seem foreign, even bizarre, to our youth today. Some things stay the same, like leading Yigdal/ Adon Olam. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Here are three of my strongest memories related to my childhood shul experience:

1) Setting up the Kiddush after davening and cleaning up afterwards. Not just throwing out my cup and plate (which I encourage everyone to do at our shul as well). I mean taking herring out of the jar in the shul kitchen and sticking a toothpick in it. I mean cutting up Entenmann’s cake and plating it.  I mean schlepping the garbage can out to clean up and then bringing it back into the shul kitchen.

2) Getting ready for the High Holidays and Pesach: helping to hang the white parochet. Cleaning out the pews, not just the pew where I sat (which I encourage all of us to do) but going from seat to seat to remove candy wrappers, tissues (some clean, some unfortunately not) and any other garbage that might have accumulated. Putting out (and then putting back) the Machzorim for Rosh Hashana and then for Yom Kippur.

3) Using a sledge hammer. The Sisterhood decided to refurbish the front lobby and put in new tile. In order to save money a group of youngsters, myself included, was commissioned to rip up the linoleum in preparation for the new floors. We used scrapers and a sledgehammer to get the job done.

In our small town shul, I learned an important lesson through these experiences: You need to appreciate the unique and irreplaceable contributions that you can make for your shul, for your community, for your world. And if you don’t do it, no one else will. It just won’t get done.

Many of the opportunities that I encountered are not available in a congregation like ours. The size of our shul coupled with a commitment from the membership and lay leadership affords us the opportunity to have professional and dedicated administrative and building staff who work very hard to ensure that our logistical needs are taken care of. The size and scope of our operations makes it highly unlikely that our teenagers will be called upon to work on renovations or expansion projects when they occur (may they start speedily in our days).

But absent hands-on experiences, I fear that people begin to think that they are expendable; that it’s Ok if I don’t participate or contribute, because things will get done without me. There is a risk that people start to think: There will be a Minyan for those who need to say kaddish whether or not I come on time (or come at all). The leining will get done – whether I volunteer or not. Jewish communal life in Hollywood will roll on whether I participate and contribute my unique abilities or not.

Rav Moshe Feinstein notes that before we read about Yosef the dreamer and Yosef the man destined for leadership, we read that Yosef was a shepherd alongside his brothers (37:2). Rav Moshe suggests this comes to teach us the humility of Yosef. Before he utilized his unique talents for leadership, he contributed in his unique way to herd sheep alongside everyone else. Yosef teaches us that there is no such thing as an unimportant contribution to our family/ community/ world. Yosef also teaches us that we develop into the people we are destined to become by always looking for ways to participate, no matter the size or prestige of the task at hand.