"Do not light a fire in any of your habitations on the Sabbath day." (Exodus 35:3)

This is the perfect week to speak about technology. Most of the portion describes the detailed building of a tabernacle, a portable tent which the Israelites carried through the desert. Of course, the tent was handcrafted; there were no advanced technological methods available to the ancient Israelites. Nonetheless, there are lessons that apply even today.

Rabbinic tradition sees a parallel between the Israelites building a tabernacle and God's original creation of the world. The same Hebrew words are used for both. Building the tabernacle was the ultimate technological feat for its day and age. Humans imitated God as creators. The tabernacle became a paradigm for human ingenuity and creativity.

In the Bible, fire is the symbol of creative power. Afterall, light was the first thing God created. How does God feel about our technological prowess, of our using fire? To the ancient Greeks, technology was the realm of the gods. When Prometheus stole the fire, he was trespassing on property not permitted to him. Fire, and by extension, all technology, was not for humans.

The Biblical view is very different. Fire is given to us humans to use. We are permitted to use our technological prowess, to create and build, to imitate God in making things for this world. At least, we are permitted to do so six days a week. Once a week, we leave fire alone, we remember where it came from we remind ourselves that we are not God.

The tower of Babel story contains the same message. The people built a giant tower "to make a name for themselves." The moral of the story is not that skyscrapers are bad. Quite the contrary, the city of New York is a technological marvel (when it works.) Rather, the moral is that building a skyscraper to challenge God is wrong. God gave us the brain to use our creative skills, but we must remember that we are not gods. We are human beings.

How are we to relate to the technological achievements of our own day? How ought we to view modern medical instruments? Nuclear power? Genetic engineering? Space travel? Artificial Intelligence? Are these good or bad?

Technology itself is morally neutral. It is neither good nor bad. It all depends on how it is used. Farmers use technology to increase crop production and feed the hungry. The Nazis used technology to destroy human beings more efficiently. Genetic engineering can cure diseases. Genetic engineering can also bring out the worse of eugenics, creating designer babies. Nuclear power can light up a city. Nuclear power can also destroy the world. Artificial intelligence can help us use computers to predict killer storms. Artificial intelligence can also be used to argue that if computers can imitate humans, than we humans are no better than sophisticated computers.

On the seventh day we are not to build the tabernacle, not to light a fire, not to use our technological prowess. It is a reminder that these are gifts from God. Whenever we develop a new technology, we must ask a question: Are we using this technology as partners with God? Or are we using this technology simply to make a name for ourselves?

"When Moses had finished the work, the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. (Exodus 40:33-34)

Last week we spoke about God's gift of technology. The ancient Greeks believed that we humans stole our technology from the gods. The Bible teaches that technology is a gift from God, to be used for ethical purposes. Technology itself is morally neutral. It all depends on what we do with our God given creative power. This week I want to dig deeper into that question.

The building of the ancient tabernacle that the Israelites carried through the desert required great technical skill. Rabbinic legend saw it as equivalent to God creating a universe. The chief designer was Bezalel, who was given wisdom, understanding, and knowledge. According to the rabbis, Bezalel received the gift of God's secret creative power. (Berachot 55a) He created a technological marvel where God's presence rested.

In discussing this issue, the Talmud raises a fascinating question. Is there a limit to our technology, a line we humans should not be allowed to cross? For example, if we humans have the ability to create a human being, should we be able to do it?

The Talmud says that Rabbah actually created a "man." (Sanhedrin 65b). He sent the "man" to Rav Zeira who spoke with him and received no answer. Rav Zeira then said, "You are a creature of the magicians. Return to the dust." Out of this Talmudic story grew the legend of the Golem. According to this classic legend, Rabbi Jacob Loew of Prague created an artificial man, known as the Golem to protect the Jews. He used God's name to give the man his power. When Rabbi Loew realized that his creation was out of control, he took away his power and sent him back to the dust.

Obviously, the creation of an artificial person is not just a Jewish legend, but a human legend. Mary Shelly wrote her novel Frankenstein just when scientists were discovering the power of electricity within the human nervous system. Two questions are asked even today: Could we build a human being? And if we could, should we?

Today there is serious computer research in the area of Strong Artificial Intelligence. Could a computer be built that can totally simulate a human mind? Could a computer know and do everything a human can? If so, could we build such a computer? Or to put it differently, could we build a robot with a soul? Some scientists claim that no computer, no matter how sophisticated, could imitate the mind of a human being. (I have used a theorem in mathematics called Godel's Incompleteness Theorem to try to prove this point.) Others say that we humans are sophisticated computers, and someday we will create a human.

This raises deep ethical questions. If we could create a human being, would that human being be created in the image of God. Could we then destroy it if it no longer works. Afterall, when my computer no longer works, I throw it out. Or perhaps, if we humans are mere machines, when we no longer work we can be thrown out. There are forces in society today that want to throw out people when they no longer can function. Is there a difference between a human and a machine?

I raise these questions although they have no simple answers. God gave Bezalel, and by implication, all of us, part of God's creative power. It is our job to use it wisely.

"The Lord spoke to Moses saying, Speak to the Israelite people thus, When a person unwittingly incurs guilt in regard to any of the Lord's commandments about things not to be done..." (Leviticus 4:1-2)

This week we begin a new book, Leviticus. Much of the first half of the book is difficult for us moderns, dealing with such arcane matters as sacrifice and purity laws. Nonetheless, there are issues as relevant today as they were when the book was written over three millennia ago.

For example, there are a number of laws regarding sin offerings. All of them come down to one question - when we go wrong with our lives, how do we get ourselves back on the right path? How do we become at one with God once again? (Atonement means at-one-ment.) How do we deal with our guilt?

There are some who say guilt is not a good thing. I hear from psychologists how guilt is destructive to our self esteem. I hear from some new age religious thinkers how God loves us and forgives us no matter what path we are on. All we have to do is love ourselves, develop high self esteem. Anything that makes us feel less good about ourselves must be bad.

One of the lessons of the Torah is that guilt is a good thing. It is like the pain we feel that makes us go to the doctor for a check up. Guilt is a pain in our psyche that causes us to realize we are on the wrong path, we have done wrong, we need to take action to become at one with God. Guilt and remorse are the impetus towards self improvement. It allows us to change our path, to remove pain, to become at one again with God.

Perhaps it is useful to compare two emotions I often see among people who come to me for counseling - guilt and shame. As I mentioned, guilt can be healthy and constructive. Shame on the other hand, is destructive.

What is the difference? Guilt is when we say "I have done bad." Shame is when we say "I am bad." Guilt judges our actions. Shame judges our very being. Guilt says "what I did was unworthy." Shame says "I am unworthy." Guilt can put us back on the right path. Shame says we are beyond hope, we cannot get back in God's good graces.

We are human beings, created in the image of God. We are worthy by our very existence. I have had people come to me for counseling who have said, "Rabbi, I am so ashamed. I feel like I cannot even sit in your office, let alone stand before God." I tell such people that, just as a parent never stops loving a child, God never stops loving us. "As a father has mercy on his children, so the Lord is merciful with those who His worshippers." (Psalms 103:3) There is never a need for shame.

We are humans beings, given free will and capable of making the wrong choices in life. When that happens, guilt is a healthy emotion. It is the realization that we have done wrong, that our lives are out of alignment. Out of guilt comes the ability to change and grow.

Our ancient ancestors were concerned with how to overcome guilt and get back in God's good graces. They chose animal sacrifice. We have the same concerns today. We no longer sacrifice animals. But we have the ability to change our behavior, to feel remorse and find our way back to the proper path. The ability to change and grow is what makes us fully human.

"The Lord Spoke to Moses saying, Command Aaron and his sons..." (Leviticus 6:1-2)

I walked into our morning service, and found two worshippers involved in a heated discussion. The first insisted that the word mitzvah means "good deed". The second answered, no the word means "commandment". Back and forth they debated. I finally replied, "you're both right. Mitzvah in our common usage has come to mean a good deed. But the word in every traditional source means "command ment."

The gentleman who insisted that mitzvah meant good deed strongly told me, "Rabbi, what do you mean commandment! I remember in my previous synagogue going one morning a week to our daily worship services. It meant waking up an hour earlier than usual. I did it because I knew they needed me to insure a minyan (ten required to hold services). It was a good deed."

I replied, "did you feel that God commanded you to pray and participate in the services?" "No, it has nothing to do with God," he said, "I went because it was a good deed."

In this little argument lies the essence of the difference between Orthodox and liberal Judaism. For Orthodox Jews, a mitzvah is a commandment ordained by the living God. To most liberal Jews, whether they affiliate with Conservative, Reform, or Reconstruction ist congregations, a commandment is simply a good deed. We may perform it out of our commitment to the Jewish people, to our fellow human beings, or to our own spiritual growth. But there is no sense that we are submitting to the will of the greater, commanding God.

As we read this portion, my question is not to Orthodox Jews. They know that God is a commanding God. My question is to the vast majority of us affiliated with the various liberal movements, eclec tic in our observance. Do we keep any religious practices because we believe God commanded us? Or do we only observe those items we consider good deeds?

I recently asked my teenage study group, "Do you believe there are actions that God wants you to do? Do you believe there are actions that God has forbidden you to do? Is there anything you do - or do not do - not because you want to our your parents told you, but because God told you?" "Did God command you to honor your parents? Not to commit murder? To keep the Sabbath? To fast on Yom Kippur?"

Rabbi Hanina taught that to perform a mitzvah because we are commanded is higher than performing a mitzvah simply because we feel that it is a good deed. (Kiddushin 31a) This sounds strange to modern ears. We value autonomy and choice - picking those mitzvot we find spiritually meaningful, that we consider good deeds. In our celebration of freedom, we no longer hear the voice of the commanding God.

As we read these ancient commandment regarding the sacrificial offerings, each of us should ask ourself - what modern observance do I keep, not simply because it is a good deed, but because it is truly God's commandment?

October Message   November Message   December Message   January Message