PARSHAT VAYERA

 (5770)

 

DOES GOD NOTICE?

 

“The Lord took note of Sarah as He had promised, and the Lord did for Sarah as He had spoken.”                                               (Genesis 21:1)

 

            There is a story about an elderly man, well into his eighties, who used to go to synagogue every day.  Suddenly he stopped going.  The rabbi called to see if he was all right, and he answered, “Rabbi, I am fine.  I am getting old, I have lost many of my friends, and I kept waiting for God to take me.  As the years went by, I thought that maybe God forgot about me.  I am perfectly happy that way.  I stopped going to synagogue because I do not want to be in a place where God notices me.”

            Does God notice us?  Does God care about us?  Part of this week’s Torah reading is also read on the first day of Rosh Hashana.   It speaks of God noticing Sarah and blessing her with a baby son.   One of the great themes of Rosh Hashana is called zichronot – remembrances.  God remembers us, cares about us, needs us.  Each of us has a role in God’s plan for the world.

            One of the great modern theologians of Jewish life was Abraham Joshua Heschel.  Unfortunately I never had the opportunity to study with him.  He died as I was going through the interview process to enter the Jewish Theological Seminary, where he was teaching.  But I certainly read his books, and his influence was powerful among the rabbis who learned at the Seminary.

            Heschel’s theology is built on the idea of divine pathos.  God, if I can use such language, is emotionally drawn towards the human beings God created.  God needs us and desires us as much as we need and desire God.  In fact, one of Heschel’s most important books was entitled God in Search of Man.   It is not the classic medieval image of a theistic God, unchanging and unmoved by what happens in the world.  It is not the deist God who set the world into motion, but afterwards does not care.   Rather it is an image of a deeply emotional God who calls out and waits for humans to respond.

            The Bible is filled with images of God calling out and people responding, “Here I am.”  It is a God Who cares deeply.  Of course there are moments when it appears that God’s face is hidden.  There is even a Hebrew term for such moments – hester panim – literally hiding the face.  I must use the analogy of parenthood.  There are moments when parents must let go of their children, leaving them to their own devices.  But parents still have a deep pathos, an emotional bond to their children.

            The Biblical view of the world is that God needs us.  We must do God’s work in the world.   I recently had a conversation with someone who had been through painful tragedy in her life.  She often cried out, “Where is God?”   She said she soon realized that God was there for her, in all the people who came forward to help her during difficult times.  God waited for people to come forward.

            In our portion God remembers Sarah.  But God also remembers Hagar, the Egyptian bondwoman Sarah drove out of her household.  At the end of the portion, as Abraham is about to offer his son Isaac as an offering, God remembers Isaac.  Over and over we share the image of a God who looks down and notices, a God who remembers and cares. 

            There is a Hasidic story of a little boy who runs home to his parents crying.  His father asks him what is wrong.   The boy replies, “I was playing hide and seek with my friends.  I found a really good hiding place.  But soon I realized that although I was hiding, nobody was seeking me.”  The father hugged his son and replied, “No matter how hard you try to hide, there is always someone seeking you.”

            There is always someone seeking us.  We simply have to answer, “Here I am.”

           

           

 

 

PARSHAT VAERA

 (5769)

 

DOING THE RIGHT THING (CONTINUED)

 

“So Moses and Aaron came before Pharaoh and did just as the Lord had commanded.”

                                                            (Exodus 7:10)

 

            Last week I wrote about “doing the right thing,” even if it is inconvenient or difficult, even if it is dangerous.  I spoke about the midwives who were willing to ignore Pharaoh and spare the Israelite baby boys, and I also spoke about Moses who was willing to stand up to evil when he saw an Egyptian man beating an Israelite slave.  This week centers on the ongoing confrontation between Moses and Aaron on one hand and Pharaoh on the other.  Plague after plague, Pharaoh hardens his heart and refuses to let the Israelites go.  Yet, Moses and Aaron continue to confront Pharaoh, speaking out for justice while ignoring any danger to themselves.

            The brothers’ confrontation with Pharaoh is a classic example of the often used phrase “Speak Truth to Power.”  (I always thought this phrase was Biblical in origin.  It was actually first used by the Quakers a few generations ago.)  The idea of someone standing before those in authority and speaking out does reach back to Biblical times.  One thinks not only of Moses and Aaron but of Nathan standing before David after the king committed adultery and murder.  It became a basic tactic of the great literary prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord before the kings, even when it meant endangering their own lives.

            Where does one get the courage to “speak truth to power?”  Last week I wrote of the philosophy of Immanuel Kant and his great categorical imperative.  Through our own mind, we have an understanding of how we ought to act.  “Act only on that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”   Kant was searching for a secular basis for universal ethics.  His philosophy has become crucial in understanding Western thought.  And yet there is a major problem with Kant, and with any attempt to convince people to do the right thing without God in the picture.

            How often do we humans know what we ought to do?  And yet we do not do it.  The mind knows but hand does not follow.  It takes more than knowledge to do the right thing when there is inconvenience or possibly danger involved.  Many people have remarked how the righteous gentiles who risked their lives to rescue Jews during the Holocaust were often deeply religious Christians.  I believe that religion at its best is crucial to motivate people to do the right thing.

            Religion is based on the notion that there is a watching eye over what we do.  We are help accountable in some kind of cosmic way.  In the end we will be judged.   The Jewish religion teaches that when we get to the next world we must give an accounting for the decisions we made in this life.  However one understands how such an accounting takes place, there is a deep sense that our actions have consequences that affect us not only in this world but in some kind of world to come.  Religion teaches that what we do matters.

            Human beings, when confronted with a difficult decision, must look at themselves in the mirror.  But they also need to consider that there is a God who is holding them accountable.   Rabi taught in Pirke Avot that “[…every person] should contemplate three things and then will not come within the power of transgression: know that above there is a seeing eye, a hearing ear, and all deeds are recorded in a book.”  (Avot 2:1)   Even for those who do not take this literally, it is a powerful image.  God cares what we do.

            When confronted with a moral issue, I believe it is vital for each of us to ask the question: “What would God want me to do in this situation?”  In the religious perspective, disagreeing with the ancient Sophists, “man is not the measure of all things.”  Belief in a God who is watching and judging our actions is a major motivation for each of us to “do the right thing.”

           

 

 

PARSHAT VAERA

 (5768)

 

DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR – PART 1

 

“Yet Pharaoh’s heart stiffened and he did not heed them as the Lord said.”

                                                            (Exodus 7:13)

 

            The scene plays itself out over and over again in this week and next week’s portion.  Pharaoh stubbornly refuses to let the Israelites go out from slavery to freedom.  God brings plague upon plague on the Egyptians, Pharaoh briefly relents, but each time he refuses to let the Israelites go.  At first the Torah teaches that Pharaoh hardened his heart.  After a while, the language changes to God hardened Pharaoh’s heart.  It is as if the destructive behavior became a habit, built into Pharaoh’s very nature. 

            Some people seem hard wired for destructive behavior.  Some people do the wrong thing over and over so often that the destructive behavior becomes part of their very nature.  It is as if the wiring in their brain leads to inappropriate behavior.  Pharaoh certainly knew intellectually that keeping the Israelites as slaves would bring suffering on his nation and his people.  But his foolish pride prevented him from doing what his intellect told him he should do.  Eventually his stubbornness became part of his inner being, so that he was unable to change his behavior.

            Why do people continue on paths of destruction when they ought to know better?  Why do people continue to abuse substances, whether drugs or alcohol, when they see that such substance abuse destroys careers and marriages?   Why do people practice inappropriate sexual behavior, even if it leads to disease, unwanted pregnancies, and destructive relationships?   Why do people refuse to control their anger even when they are destroying the people closest to them?  Why do people spend money they do not have, smoke tobacco when they know it is harmful, and overeat even when they are not hungry? 

Few of us are immune from some of these behaviors.  We all seem to have some area of our lives where habits overwhelm will power, where our minds tell us “don’t do it” but our appetites want what they want.  Pharaoh was a paradigm of destructive behavior.  The story is so powerful because it continues to play itself out in every generation.   Every one of us can use a strong dose of self-control in some area of our lives.

The Rabbis of the Talmud taught that destructive behavior is caused by the yetzer hara, usually translated “evil inclination.”   “Ben Zoma taught, Who is strong?  Whoever can control his inclination.”  (Avot 4:1)  But the Rabbis also teach that the yetzer hara begins as a spider web and soon becomes a heavy rope.   It begins as a casual visitor to our home and soon becomes the master of the house.  Destructive behavior begins as a choice but soon becomes a habit, part of our very nature.  Even if we know better, we are unable to control our destructive behavior.

There is the famous quote, "The definition of insanity is: 'Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result'".  Some attribute this to Benjamin Franklin, others to Albert Einstein.  But if this is a definition of insanity, then we are all insane in some area of our lives.  We all do things that are destructive and hope that next time the result will be different.  Bad habits are part of our nature.

So we ask the question, can people change?  Can we overcome addiction?  Can a pattern of destructive behavior be replaced?   Can Pharaoh learn not to harden his heart but rather do the right thing before the most destructive plagues destroy Egypt?  Can we moderns give up behavior that is destroying our bodies, our relationships, and our families?  Can a new heart and a new spirit be placed within a human being?  This is the question I hope to answer when I continue this message

 

PARSHAT VAERA

 (5766)

 

NAMES

 

“I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself know to them by my name Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey.”                                    (Exodus 6:3)

 

            Shakespeare said in Romeo and Juliet, “What’s in a name?  That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”   From a Biblical perspective, Shakespeare was wrong.

            Names are vital.  To know a name is to know something about the essence of someone.  And to actually do the naming is a powerful act.  That is why, in the creation story at the beginning of Genesis, Adam is given the right to name all the animals.  It shows his power over the animal kingdom.  But note that following the act of naming, Adam is still lonely.   The animals live on a different qualitative level of being; they are not the equals of humanity.  That is why God takes Adam’s rib (or if you are a mystic, splits Adam in half into masculine and feminine parts) and creates another human. 

            We humans have the right to name our children.  As a rabbi, I believe the question that my members ask me more often than any other regards the giving of Hebrew names.  What name should we choose?   How do we keep both sides of the family happy?   Can we honor grandpa so-and-so with the English name and grandma so-and-so with the Hebrew name?  Can we translate the name from Yiddish into Hebrew?  These questions occupy a huge amount of my time.

            God also has a name.  In this week’s portion, God reveals that name to Moses for the first time.  The name is spelled with the four Hebrew letters Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey, coming from a Hebrew root being “to be.”  We humans cannot know God’s essence.  We can only know that God is, God exists.  Jewish tradition also teaches that God’s four letter name reflects God’s attribute of mercy.  At this time, with the Israelites enslaved in Egypt and Moses doubting his role as rescuer, God needed to show God’s merciful face.

            By knowing God’s name, we humans have a certain power that we would not have otherwise.  That is why we are warned so strongly, do not use God’s name in vain.  The third of the Ten Commandments is not speaking about swearing or writing G-d, it is speaking about the human misuse of God’s actual name.  Traditionally, Jews do not use it; in fact, we no longer know how to pronounce it.  Only the High Priest on Yom Kippur, when he went into the Holy of Holies, actually pronounced the holiest word in the Hebrew language, the name of God.  In their day to day prayers, Jews say Adonai, literally My Lord, instead.   In simple conversation, Jews simply say HaShem, the Name.   God has shared God’s name with us, and with the knowledge of that name comes an awesome responsibility.

            The Bible considers a change in name to be a change in the essence of a person.  Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, and Joshua all go through name changes in the Bible.  These happen at key moments in their lives.  In Jewish tradition, when a person is sick or when they wish to direction in their lives, they change their Hebrew names.  Some people actually go to court and legally change the name they were given at birth.  It is a way of saying that I am reborn as a different person.

            Of course, people do not name themselves.  We recently had a discussion in my Torah Corps with the teenagers about names – what are their Hebrew names, why were they chosen, whom were they named after, and what does it mean?  What name would they choose for themselves?  The young people began to discuss a name every one has chosen – a screen name to use on email.   There were some fascinating stories on why particular young people chose particular names.  They were trying to say something about who they are, and whom they dream about becoming.

            Shakespeare was wrong about names.  Perhaps a much more accurate view is the one in the Midrash, “Every person has three names; one his father and mother gave him, one others call him, and one he acquires for himself.”

 

 

PARSHAT VAERA

 (5764)

 

PRIDE

 

"The Lord spoke to Moses, Pharaoh is stubborn, he refuses to let the people go."                                            

(Exodus 7:14)

 

The story of Moses, Pharaoh, and the ten plagues contains some deep human insights.  Pharaoh certainly knew that enslaving an entire people was wrong.  If he did not know it before the plagues struck, he certainly knew it after his nation was smitten with blood, frogs, lice, etc.  Yet time after time, through ten painful plagues, Pharaoh refused to yield and let the Israelites go free.

At first the Torah teaches that Pharaoh hardened his heart.  After awhile, it teaches that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart.  Eventually stubbornness and pride became second nature, as if it were actually built into Pharaoh’s personality.  According to the Midrash, in the beginning, the evil inclination is like a spider web; it is easy to step out of its grasp.  After a while, it becomes like a heavy rope.  Pharaoh was a proud man who could not give in nor admit he was wrong.  In the end, Pharaoh's pride almost destroyed Egypt.

In classical literature, pride was considered one of the seven deadly sins.  In the wisdom literature, a great teacher (Jewish tradition understands him to be King Solomon) taught, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."  (Proverbs 16:18)  How often does pride prevent us from doing the right thing, taking action that will help correct a situation.

I was speaking recently to one of the teens in our synagogue.  She confessed to doing something quite nasty to a fellow student she disliked at school.  She felt bad about her actions but was not sure what to do.  I recommended that she speak to this student privately, confess what she had done, and apologize.  It would be the right thing to do.  Her response to me was very strong, "Why should I apologize to her?  Let her apologize to me first."  We call this standing on ceremony.  It is pride blinding the eyes, and preventing someone from acting properly.  This is how estrangement occurs within a family or between friends.  People hurt each other, and their pride prevents them from saying those simple words, "I was wrong and I am sorry."

One of the deepest teachings of my tradition is that we need our evil inclination, including the inclination for pride.  Without it, people will act like doormats, allowing people to walk all over them.  Without the ability to stand tall and be proud, a person's self confidence and self-esteem will be destroyed.  People will become a shmata ("dishrag"), to use the Yiddish phrase.  We need pride.  But we also need a strong dose of humility and self-deprecation, the willingness to say that "I am wrong.  I am sorry."  Tradition teaches that Moses was the most humble man of his generation.  If a great teacher like Moses can practice humility, certainly the rest of us can occasionally lower our pride when necessary.

There is a Hasidic teaching that every human being should carry two pieces of paper in his or her pocket at all times.  When one is feeling down and lowly, he or she should take out the paper that says, "What is man that you should be mindful of him... You have made him little less than angels."  (Psalms 8:5-6)  And when one is feeling proud and boastful, he or she should pull out the paper that says, "I am but dust and ashes."  (Job 42:6)        

There are times when it is appropriate to exhibit pride.  But too often pride blinds us from doing the right thing, setting ourselves aside and saying, "I was wrong and I am sorry."  Pharaoh's pride almost destroyed Egypt.  May our pride not destroy us.

 

                                                                       PARSHAT VAERA

                                                                                (5763) 

 

GOD’S NAME AND CLONING

 

“I appeared unto Abraham, unto Isaac, unto Jacob by the name God Almighty, but my name Adonai I did not make known to them.”

(Exodus 6:3)

 

For the first time, God made known God’s actual name, spelled by the Hebrew letters yod - hey - vav - hey.  According to Jewish tradition, we do not try to pronounce God’s actual name (with the exception of the High Priest on Yom Kippur, when the Temple in Jerusalem was still standing.)  Instead we say Adonai, literally my Lord.  And in casual conversation we simply say HaShem the name.

By sharing God’s name, God shared part of God’s power.  That is why we are commanded to “not use God’s name in vain.”  This commandment is not about cursing, not about writing G-d, but about using the power of God’s name for an inappropriate purpose.

As I read these laws, I think about the classical medieval legend of Rabbi Judah of Prague building an artificial man, called a Golem.  Rabbi Judah used the four letters of God’s name to give life to the Golem.  He wrote God’s name and placed it in the mouth of his creature; some say he placed it on the forehead.  With God’s name, the Golem had the power to protect the Jews of Prague from their frequent attackers.  However, eventually Rabbi Judah realized that the Golem he made was out of control, and he removed God’s name.  A modern version of the Golem story reset in New York was recently released in the movie Snow in August.

I thought about the Golem last week as the news broke about the cloning of a baby girl.  Obviously this baby is not a golem but is quite real.  (That is assuming the story is true and not simply a hoax.)  By creating a new human being using the dna of her mother, we are using the powers of creation God shared with us.  Some would say we are playing God.  It does raise some difficult and perplexing ethical questions.  By cloning a human, are we using the powers God agreed to share with us to create a better world?  Or by cloning a human, are we using the powers God agreed to share with us to challenge God, perhaps to play God?  Have we humans crossed a line that we should not have crossed?

At the bottom of the evolutionary ladder, bacteria create a new generation by splitting in half and making carbon copies of themselves.  Animals and especially human beings are much further along on the evolutionary ladder.  We are able to reshuffle the genes in each new generation.

God created a world in which the father and the mother’s genetic material are mixed up in creating a new generation.  This creates a new unique human being, unlike anyone who has existed previously.  Sometimes in the womb, an embryo splits and two identical twins are born who share genetic material.  This is an accident of nature.  No one can deny that two identical twins, although alike genetically, are unique in their personalities, life experiences, or as tradition may put it, have unique souls.  At the center of the Biblical view of the world is the uniqueness of every human being.  Perhaps most important, parents must embrace the uniqueness of their children.

Cloning changes in a fundamental way this God-given scenario to create a new generation.  A woman gives birth to a daughter who is her own identical twin.  It is an attempt to create a carbon copy of herself.  It is the precise opposite of embracing the uniqueness of our children.  It seems a step backwards, down the evolutionary ladder.  I feel deeply sorry for any child placed in the world for the sole purpose of duplicating his or her parent.

If using God’s name means using God’s power, then we have to ask, does cloning use God’s power in vain?  By creating carbon copies of ourselves, are we overturning God’s purpose?  Are we creating a modern day Golem, releasing a new technology we are unable to control?

God shared God’s name, and with it God’s power with us humans.  Today, as we release new technologies into the world, we must ask, are we human beings worthy of possessing God’s name?

 

Parshat Vaera

(5762)

 

Are Other Religions True?

 

“The Lord, the God of the Hebrews, sent me to you to say, Let my people go that they may worship Me in the wilderness.”                            (Exodus 7:16)

 

The great confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh was not simply about slavery and freedom.  It was also a confrontation about religion.

To Pharaoh, there was only one true faith.  In Egypt Pharaoh was God and there could be no other god before him.  Moses did not say, “Let my people go so we can be free.”  He said in the name of God, “Let me people go that they may worship Me in the wilderness.”  Pharaoh’s first reaction was, “Who is the Lord that I should heed Him and let Israel go?  I do not know the Lord, nor will I let Israel go.”  (Exodus 5:2)

Pharaoh could not accept another religion as true.  The same question haunts us today; can we accept the truth of another religious faith.  As a rabbi, I am convinced of the wisdom, beauty, and dare I say it  - truth, of my own faith, Judaism.  Must I say that if my faith is correct, then other faiths must be wrong?  Or can I see wisdom, beauty, and truth in other faiths, in Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Mormonism.   How far does pluralism and tolerance go? 

I am reading a wonderful new book by Yossi Klein Halevi entitled, At the Entrance of the Garden of Eden.  He is a practicing Orthodox Jew living in Israel, who wrote of his for spiritual meaning in Judaism’s sister faiths, Christianity and Islam.  Halevi writes in his introduction, “I am a religious pluralist who believes that all the great religions are in effect denominations in one great religion, which teaches the primacy of the unseen over the visible and of unity over fragmentation.  For me, the test of whether a religion is true is in its capacity to turn ordinary people into decent believers and extraordinary people into saints whose presence affirms the reality of God.  By that measure, Christianity, Islam, and Judaism - and Hinduism and Buddhism - are all true faiths, regardless of their conflicting theologies.”  I wish I had written these words.

One reason a love religion in general is that I am convinced religion at its best makes people better.  Unfortunately, we have all seen over these past months how religion can also make people cruel.  There certainly is a powerful strand in Islam that sees a war between believers and non-believers, between the Islamic world and the Western world.  However, there are also moderate, tolerant voices within Islam that condemn cruelty and seek to live at peace with the Western world.  Our prayer is that these voices be heard throughout the Moslem world.

There are also voices of intolerance within the Jewish world.  We must condemn those who have made a sacred shrine of the grave of Baruch Goldstein, who murdered more than a score of Moslems in Hebron while they were at prayer.  We must condemn those rabbis who claim that Jewish souls are superior to non-Jewish souls, or who teach that Jews have no obligation to help their non-Jewish neighbors.  There are voices of intolerance and cruelty in every religious faith.

Dare I judge another’s religious faith?  I am willing to declare another’s faith as true if that faith turns its adherents into more ethical, more spiritual human beings.  Does this faith make people better?  Does it help them to observe the fundamental principles, to love God and love their neighbor?  Does it add a spiritual dimension to their life and give them a sense of purpose as they live in this material world?  If another faith does this, I am prepared to say that faith is wise, beautiful, and true.

 

PARSHAT VAERA

(5761)

 

DOES GOD HAVE A BODY?

 

“Go unto Pharaoh in the morning, as he goes out towards the water, and you shall stand by the river's brink to meet him, and the rod which was turned into a serpent shall you take in your hand.”                                                                                                                                                                   (Exodus 7:15)

  

Moses met Pharaoh down by the Nile River at the crack of dawn and threatened to turn the water to blood.  A well-known Midrash asks how Pharaoh happened to be down by the river so early in the morning.  Don’t kings like to sleep late?

Pharaoh tried to pose as a god.  He did not want people to believe that he had bodily needs like everybody else.  So each day Pharaoh would sneak out of the palace early each morning before others were awake to take care of his needs by the Nile.  Moses, who knew of Pharaoh's habit, was waiting for him there.  (Exodus Rabbah 9:8)

Moses meeting Pharaoh drove home the point that Pharaoh was not a god.  He was a human being, with a human body like everybody else.  Our bodies makes us mortal.

The Torah teaches that "God formed man from the dust of the earth, and He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being."  (Genesis 2:7)  There are two aspects to our existence as humans.  We carry the breath of God (the Hebrew word for soul neshama literally means breath); we are spiritual beings.  There is a part of us that is eternal and unchanging.  We have a soul, and it is the soul that connects us to that part of the universe which is eternal.

We also were created of the dust of the earth.  We are physical, material beings, subject to the natural laws of physics and biology.  Like all physical entities, our bodies must wear down and eventually die.  According to the scientific laws of entropy, all physical things must eventually fall apart.  Or, as W.B. Yeats wrote so powerfully in his poem The Second Coming:

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."

All physical things must fall apart eventually.  Entropy must increase.  The sun itself will eventually run out of fuel.  According to scientists, the entire universe will one day die a heat death.  We humans are material beings who live in a physical world.  Eventually we too will die.  Our mortality is part of what sets us apart from God, Who is immortal.

Jews believe God has no body, and exists in a dimension beyond the realm of time and space.  God is not material, not subject to the laws of entropy.  We sing in the yigdal prayer on Friday night, ein lo demut haguf v’eino guf – “He has no likeness of a body, and no physical body.”   The second of the Ten Commandments forbids us from making a graven image of God, or associating God with any material thing in this world.

Christians differ from Jews in this belief.  Christianity teaches the principal of incarnation, at one point in history God did take on a physical body and live on this earth in the form of Jesus.  Even for Christians, this was a unique event.  They believe that today God lives beyond the material world.

What is the practical outcome of this very ancient teaching?  The Torah rejects pantheism, the view that identifies nature with God.  The material world is God’s creation; it is not co-equal with God.  And we humans are God’s partners in creation, living partly in a material and partly in a spiritual world.  We have been placed in this world to perfect God’s creation.