This past Yom Kippur I mentioned a friend whom I envied when I was elementary school. I envied him because he would get more expensive presents from his parents on Hanukkah than I did. When I went over to his house once during Hanukkah, he showed me the amazing train set that his parents got him. He asked me what I got the night before, I mentioned something that I’d gotten - I think it was a book. And he said, only a book? And then, to drive the point home, he said to me, “I guess your family isn’t as religious as mine.”
A question that we ask ourselves from time to time is, what makes a person religious? I’m often intrigued when people tell me, as a rabbi, that they’re not religious.
As in - Rabbi, I don’t like to pray. I’m not religious. Or - I don’t keep all the rules. I’m not religious.
I'm not sure exactly what people intend to convey when they say that. Maybe they feel bad and are apologizing. Maybe they are feeling superior, and saying something like, “I’m sophisticated enough not to worry too much about all this stuff.”
This morning’s Torah portion ends with a description that is often associated with “being religious.”
A group of male leaders up on a mountaintop see a vision of God, complete with sapphire and light. The Torah says ויחזו את האלהים Vayehezu et ha’elohim. They saw God.
But I would argue that the rest of this morning’s parasha, most of the parasha, presents a different approach to "being religious" that is at least as significant. Not up on a mountain trying to envision God, but in the world, trying to do what’s right by God's creatures. So here are a few examples, as well as a word about the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Ben Franklin who had some worthwhile things to say about the religious enterprise.
The Torah portion primarily speaks about laws that enable people to live together appropriately, justly. In the marketplace, in the courtyard, where people go to encounter one another and not to escape one another.
If a man opens a bit and does not cover it and an ox or donkey falls into it, the one responsible for the pit must make good financially. (Exodus 21:33-4) The Torah teaches us that being religious means being being responsible for not causing harm.
If two people are fighting and a pregnant woman gets pushed there is capital punishment if the woman is killed and merely a financial penalty if she loses the fetus. This passage has become one of the bases of signifiant subsequent discussion about the status of the fetus vis a vis the mother. This is a complex topic which has lately emerged once again in the political world, but for now I’ll just say that being religious means prioritizing values - in this case, the status of the mother, the status of the fetus.
ושוחד לא תקח V’Shohad lo tikah. You shall not take a bribe, because a bribe clouds vision and distorts judgment. Being religious means not allowing your judgment to be clouded when you are responsible for determining what is just.
לא תהיה אחרי רבים לרעות lo tihyeh aharei rabim l’raot - you shall not follow the majority when they are doing evil. (Exodus 23:2). Perhaps your peers are making disparaging comments about others based on their religion or gender or sexuality or race or perhaps they are cutting ethical corners. Being religious means standing up for what you know to be right even if the majority is saying and doing what’s wrong.
(Ex. 22:20-21) וגר לא תונה ולא תלחצנו כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים V’ger lo tone v’lo til’hatzeinu kee gerim heyitem be’eretz mitzrayim - you shall not oppress the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. Being religious means not taking advantage of those who are vulnerable - to the contrary - it means looking after them.
As demonstrated in these week’s parashah and elsewhere in the Torah, being religious is not merely about going up to a mountain and envisioning God; the definition of being religious that receives more emphasis pertains to acting responsibly and compassionately toward other people as well as all of God’s creatures.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe. Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, was once surrounded by hundreds of his chasidim and he told a story about a rabbi who lived over a century before him, the Alter Rebbe, or Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi.
It was Yom Kippur afternoon. The Alter Rebbe was praying, surrounded by his community, and he suddenly had the sense that someone in the community who was not there was in trouble. He left the synagogue and started walking through the edge of the town and ended up at a house inside of which was a pregnant woman in need of help. She was cold and needed the fire restarted which the rabbi did, something that under normal circumstances violates the laws of Yom Kippur. And the rabbi violated other laws as well in order to help this person.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s father-in-law originally told him that story and he told his son-in-law why he was sharing the story with him. He said, you will always find people who claim that they cannot respond to someone in need because they are caught up in higher realms. They are involved in prayer or ritual, for example. To those people you can say: If the Alter Rebbe on Yom Kippur left the higher realm he was in to help someone in need, then so can you. So should you.
To broaden this a bit, Walter Isaacson, in his biography of Benjamin Franklin, summarized the Founding Father’s attitude toward religion as follows:
“His support for religion tended to be based on his belief that it was useful and practical in making people behave better, rather than because it was divinely inspired.”
By the way, Franklin on principle contributed to each Christian group in Philadelphia and he also gave money to Congregation Mikveh Israel for its new synagogue in 1788.
The mystical is part of our tradition and it involves connecting with that which we cannot see. Going up on the mountain, literally or metaphorically. But so is the practical.
Seeking what we cannot see is part of being religious, but at least as important is taking responsibility for what we can see. The person or creature who may injure himself/herself/itself due to our negligence. The woman who must make a difficult choice about her pregnancy. The people who are expecting us to render a just judgment. The person who is vulnerability and ripe for mistreatment for whatever reason.
The four words we say direct toward God every day as part of our prayers provide an apt statement of what our goal should be each and every day:
נקדש את שמך בעולם
Nekadesh et shim’kha ba’olam.
We will sanctify Your name in the world.
As I often say, I know nothing definite whatsoever about God. But it gives me pleasure to imagine that God cares at least as much about how we impact what we can see, as God cares about how we try to envision what we can’t see.
I’m all for closing our eyes as we pray, allowing our spirits to experience hidden realms. But it seems to me that in order to be truly religions, we need to keep our eyes open.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on February 2, 2018
As in - Rabbi, I don’t like to pray. I’m not religious. Or - I don’t keep all the rules. I’m not religious.
I'm not sure exactly what people intend to convey when they say that. Maybe they feel bad and are apologizing. Maybe they are feeling superior, and saying something like, “I’m sophisticated enough not to worry too much about all this stuff.”
This morning’s Torah portion ends with a description that is often associated with “being religious.”
A group of male leaders up on a mountaintop see a vision of God, complete with sapphire and light. The Torah says ויחזו את האלהים Vayehezu et ha’elohim. They saw God.
But I would argue that the rest of this morning’s parasha, most of the parasha, presents a different approach to "being religious" that is at least as significant. Not up on a mountain trying to envision God, but in the world, trying to do what’s right by God's creatures. So here are a few examples, as well as a word about the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Ben Franklin who had some worthwhile things to say about the religious enterprise.
The Torah portion primarily speaks about laws that enable people to live together appropriately, justly. In the marketplace, in the courtyard, where people go to encounter one another and not to escape one another.
If a man opens a bit and does not cover it and an ox or donkey falls into it, the one responsible for the pit must make good financially. (Exodus 21:33-4) The Torah teaches us that being religious means being being responsible for not causing harm.
If two people are fighting and a pregnant woman gets pushed there is capital punishment if the woman is killed and merely a financial penalty if she loses the fetus. This passage has become one of the bases of signifiant subsequent discussion about the status of the fetus vis a vis the mother. This is a complex topic which has lately emerged once again in the political world, but for now I’ll just say that being religious means prioritizing values - in this case, the status of the mother, the status of the fetus.
ושוחד לא תקח V’Shohad lo tikah. You shall not take a bribe, because a bribe clouds vision and distorts judgment. Being religious means not allowing your judgment to be clouded when you are responsible for determining what is just.
לא תהיה אחרי רבים לרעות lo tihyeh aharei rabim l’raot - you shall not follow the majority when they are doing evil. (Exodus 23:2). Perhaps your peers are making disparaging comments about others based on their religion or gender or sexuality or race or perhaps they are cutting ethical corners. Being religious means standing up for what you know to be right even if the majority is saying and doing what’s wrong.
(Ex. 22:20-21) וגר לא תונה ולא תלחצנו כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים V’ger lo tone v’lo til’hatzeinu kee gerim heyitem be’eretz mitzrayim - you shall not oppress the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. Being religious means not taking advantage of those who are vulnerable - to the contrary - it means looking after them.
As demonstrated in these week’s parashah and elsewhere in the Torah, being religious is not merely about going up to a mountain and envisioning God; the definition of being religious that receives more emphasis pertains to acting responsibly and compassionately toward other people as well as all of God’s creatures.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe. Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, was once surrounded by hundreds of his chasidim and he told a story about a rabbi who lived over a century before him, the Alter Rebbe, or Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi.
It was Yom Kippur afternoon. The Alter Rebbe was praying, surrounded by his community, and he suddenly had the sense that someone in the community who was not there was in trouble. He left the synagogue and started walking through the edge of the town and ended up at a house inside of which was a pregnant woman in need of help. She was cold and needed the fire restarted which the rabbi did, something that under normal circumstances violates the laws of Yom Kippur. And the rabbi violated other laws as well in order to help this person.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s father-in-law originally told him that story and he told his son-in-law why he was sharing the story with him. He said, you will always find people who claim that they cannot respond to someone in need because they are caught up in higher realms. They are involved in prayer or ritual, for example. To those people you can say: If the Alter Rebbe on Yom Kippur left the higher realm he was in to help someone in need, then so can you. So should you.
To broaden this a bit, Walter Isaacson, in his biography of Benjamin Franklin, summarized the Founding Father’s attitude toward religion as follows:
“His support for religion tended to be based on his belief that it was useful and practical in making people behave better, rather than because it was divinely inspired.”
By the way, Franklin on principle contributed to each Christian group in Philadelphia and he also gave money to Congregation Mikveh Israel for its new synagogue in 1788.
The mystical is part of our tradition and it involves connecting with that which we cannot see. Going up on the mountain, literally or metaphorically. But so is the practical.
Seeking what we cannot see is part of being religious, but at least as important is taking responsibility for what we can see. The person or creature who may injure himself/herself/itself due to our negligence. The woman who must make a difficult choice about her pregnancy. The people who are expecting us to render a just judgment. The person who is vulnerability and ripe for mistreatment for whatever reason.
The four words we say direct toward God every day as part of our prayers provide an apt statement of what our goal should be each and every day:
נקדש את שמך בעולם
Nekadesh et shim’kha ba’olam.
We will sanctify Your name in the world.
As I often say, I know nothing definite whatsoever about God. But it gives me pleasure to imagine that God cares at least as much about how we impact what we can see, as God cares about how we try to envision what we can’t see.
I’m all for closing our eyes as we pray, allowing our spirits to experience hidden realms. But it seems to me that in order to be truly religions, we need to keep our eyes open.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on February 2, 2018
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