Finding My Hallelujah

Much has been said and written about young Jews feeling alienated from Judaism and Israel.  Much has been said and written about young people of all faiths feeling alienated from their families as they try to figure out who they are and if and how they fit in.

A few weeks ago I had a minor epiphany about all of this that I want to share with you.  One of those moments when the clouds part and you say to yourself, Gee, I think I’ve figured something out.

It didn’t happen outside, though, so I couldn’t actually see the clouds parting.  I was inside on our stationery bike, doing a Spin routine...

The very last song in the routine, just as I was about to give up, was a song I'd never heard before but subsequently discovered is quite popular.  It's called "Good to Be Alive," by Andy Grammer.

"Good to Be Alive"

It’s to music what snickers bars are to chocolate, really addictive.  And it actually gave me the oomph to finish the routine.

The premise is that someone who’s been down on his luck is experiencing a turnaround and the chorus is “I think I’ve finally found my Hallelujah!”  followed shortly thereafter by “Good to be alive right about now.”

When the routine was over I was thinking, Hmm.   Familiar concept.  Sounds a bit like She'heheyanu, the blessing where we thank God for being alive.

And for a brief endorphin-addled moment I considered singing the song with bar and bat mitzvah families on Shabbat mornings instead of reciting She’heheyanu. 

Of course there’s a difference between the I-infused “I think I’ve finally found my Hallelujah” and the us-ness of She’heheyanu.  Thank you for keeping us alive and sustaining us and enabling us to reach this sacred time. 

But the two are related.  And while I'll stick with the old-time religion when it comes to saying She’heheyanu, I will say this:

The success of the Jewish community moving forward will depend upon our ability to demonstrate that a connection with a strong, moral, responsive “We” is critical to producing a strong, moral, responsive “I.”  The more I feel connected to my family, my community and my people, the deeper, more sustainable and more sustaining my own Hallelujah will be.

The Wicked Child Asks the Best Question

Soon we’ll be reading about the arba’ah banim, the four children, at the Seder.  I’ve always felt that the רשע rasha, the so-called wicked child, gets treated unfairly.  On closer reflection I actually want to intensify my reaction to say that the rasha asks just about the most important question there is.  He, she – deserves a careful answer.

What’s the question?  Invoking the words of the Torah (Exodus 12:26) the rasha asks מה העבודה הזאת לכם Ma ha’avodah hazot lakhem.  What does this mean to you?  This ritual, this worship, this whole enterprise – what does it mean to you?

A contemporary artistic rendering of the four children

According to the Haggadah, because the child removes him or herself from what’s going on and denies God, we’re supposed to say to such a child, this is because of what God did for me when I left Egypt.  Implication – had the child been there, the child would not have been redeemed.

What’s going on here?  First of all, assumptions.  The child is removing him or herself.  The child is denying God.  Then an answer that, if anything, is going to move the child further away.

We may find it more comfortable to hear the question of the hakham, the wise child – "what are all the things I have to do?"  

"What do I do" is an important question, but it probably won't have the same degree of traction unless it comes with a deep, personal understanding of why.  In 2016, can you think of a more important question than a child, of any age, frankly – turning to someone of previous generations and asking, “Why do you do this?  What does all of this mean to you?”  

Rice and Beans for Jewish Unity - In Defense of All Jews Eating Kitniyot on Passover

This is the sermon in which I say, as senior rabbi of Temple Israel of Great Neck, in front of hundreds of people from multiple backgounds, that all Jews, from all backgrounds, who consider me as a rabbinic authority in their lives are permitted to consume rice, corn and legumes (kitniyot) on Passover.

This is the sermon in which I describe how the custom (followed by many Ashkenazi Jews) of not eating these foods on Passover evolved and how, according to Jewish law, those who have followed this custom are free to change their practice if they so choose.

I’ll get there shortly.  But first I want to say why I think this issue is important.  It’s not just about rice and beans.  Several of my colleagues in the Rabbinical Assembly, whose recent response on the matter I’ll describe in some detail, indicated that one of their considerations in permitting everyone to eat kitniyot was a lack of sufficient healthy eating options on Passover, especially for vegetarians.  Great reason.  The addition of foods that many have avoided provides for a healthier diet during this holiday. 

Another reason given is that the holiday is supposed to be about joy; it’s not supposed to be about self-denial.  Another great reason.  We shouldn’t be suffering on Passover.  It’s not Tisha b’Av.  It’s not even Yom Kippur.  It’s a time of joy. 

A third reason they gave has to do with expense.  Failure to consume rice, corn and legumes helps the cost of kosher for Passover foods to skyrocket.  The holiday is not meant to be a financial burden.  Yet another great reason.

But the reason that is most important, in my view, is that we should do everything we can to remove unnecessary barriers between people – not to eliminate differences, but to remove impediments to people being together, eating together and celebrating together. 

While this is a lofty universal goal, we should start by trying to remove barriers that separate Jews.

In past weeks we have witnessed numerous, intense public statements that aim to drive wedges between people of different faiths and people of the same faith.

Trusting Ourselves to Find and Nurture Love

Recently my Waxman Youth House high school class invited two distinguished guests to speak with us.  Topic?  An honest look at marriage.  To prepare for our conversation, we took a look at Biblical stories about marriage to find positive and negative models.  We discussed what qualities we might look for in a romantic partner, and ultimately in a spouse.  And we spoke about what Judaism might teach us regarding what to look for and how to handle such a relationship overall.

I’ll tell about our guests and the conversation we had shortly.  (The photo below will hopefully tide you over until I do).

Drs. Ellen and Milton Rosen with Waxman High School Students

First, I want to reflect on the teachings of a rabbi who lived over half a century ago who had much to say on this topic, among others.  Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler was born in Europe, moved to England with his parents and was the leader of two famous yeshivot – one in northern England and, years later, another in B’nei Brak, Israel. 

He was part of the Mussar movement, following a tradition of rabbis who emphasized strict ethical behavior as a major element of the religious enterprise.  As a Rosh Yeshiva in England, he taught numerous students who were orphaned during the Holocaust and moved to England subsequently to rebuild shattered lives.

One of Dessler’s primary themes was the power of the יצר הרע yetzer hara, literally translated as the “evil inclination” – which has been understood to include pride and lustfulness.  He believed that a human being is constantly at war with his or her yetzer hara.

Among his prolific writings, he wrote a letter to two 17-year old students defending why a person cannot be trusted to choose a proper spouse and ought to leave that important task to someone else.  To leave it to someone else is to acknowledge the power of one’s yetzer hara and to embrace appropriate fear of God; to try to do it yourself, by contrast, is the height of folly and pride.

Rabbi Dessler wrote, “The simple truth is that when a man chooses a wife for himself he finds, once the first intoxication has worn off, that she is not at all as he thought and that he has made a great mistake.  Even those lustful people who go out whether their friends of the opposite sex day and night for years, and imagine that they have come to know them well, still know nothing of their character and nature; never once do they find after they are married that she is exactly the kind of person they thought she was.” 

And then he wrote the following to drive the point home to his young charges:  “Those who were truly wise…knew very well that no one can rely on his own judgment in these matters and they purposely arranged for other people to make the decision for them; for in a matter on which one cannot trust one’s own judgment one has to seek the advice of others, and if he doesn’t rely on them he will most certainly do the wrong thing.” (Strive for Truth, vol. 1, part 1, p. 213-14)

The essential issue here, as I see it, is the issue of trust.  In general, to what extent can human insight be trusted?  Specifically, for the present conversation, to what extent can we be trusted to make important decisions about the most essential aspects of our lives?

Reflection is Not a Luxury

My colleague and friend, Rabbi Jonathan Spira Savett, got wide and well-deserved recognition for asking a question of one of the presidential candidates at a town hall meeting before the primary in New Hampshire. 

He asked Hillary Clinton how she balances confidence and humility as a leader.

Without getting into the substance of Clinton’s response, it is clear that she used the question as an opportunity for reflection.  She shared insights into the dynamics of leadership that she probably would not have shared, had she not been asked the question.

I want to discuss possibilities and ultimate value of being reflective about ourselves – not just in professional settings, but personally as well.  Without opportunities to reflect, we are far more likely to feel depleted and to suffer burnout.

I'd like to look at Moses’s life for insight into the dynamics of reflection and to suggest ways that a community ought to encourage helpful reflection for people of all ages with special emphasis on teenagers, who desperately need healthy opportunities to reflect.

Learning from our "Sparring Partners"

One of the most moving tributes composed for the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia was written by Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  By now it’s well-known that they were friends.  They socialized, went to the opera together – even road an elephant together while visiting India. 

As part of her tribute she wrote:

“From our years together at the D.C. Circuit, we were best buddies.  We disagreed now and then, but when I wrote for the Court and received a Scalia dissent, the opinion ultimately released was notably better than my initial circulation.”

When she was writing a landmark case in the area of gender equality in 1996, Scalia gave her an advanced copy of his dissent which enabled her to refine her arguments.  

She said that Scalia “nailed all the weak spots — the ‘applesauce’ and ‘argle bargle’ — and gave me just what I needed to strengthen the majority opinion.”

Rabbinic Judaism has a concept that I want to explore – it’s called בר פלוגתא bar p’lugta.  A bar plug’ta is like an intellectual sparring partner – so the Mishnaic sage Hillel was the bar pl’ugta for Shammai and vice versa.  The Talmudic sage Abaye was the bar pl’ugta for Rava, and vice versa.  

A bar p'lugta is someone who often has a different ideological perspective or orientation than you, but who you are in conversation with, and ongoing conversation leads you and your bar p'lugta to a sharper iteration of whatever the issues are.  Interestingly rabbinic texts point out that many of these pairs did actually socialize.  They didn't go to the opera together, but we are told that Hillel and Shammai ate together and married off their progeny to one another.

I see this concept in my parents’ generation more than in my generation.  In this synagogue, I see my parents’ generation far more willing to have vociferous debates across ideological lines and far more likely to have friends across the ideological spectrum.  There seem to be a bunch of reasons for this which can be the topic of another conversation.   

For now, I want to use myself as an example of how we might learn from people who see things differently than we do.  

The Crucial College Years

On Thursday, February 11, Temple Israel of Great Neck hosted Rabbi Julie Roth, Executive Director of the Center for Jewish Life (CJL) at Princeton University.  Given the many reasons why Jewish life on campus is important to understand as deeply as we can, I’d like to provide a summary of her comments in this forum for those who were unable to attend.

Rabbi Julie Roth speaking at Temple Israel

Rabbi Roth addressed four major issues as they've been approached on the Princeton campus:  BDS (Boycott, Divest and Sanction), Jewish pluralism, relations with other faiths and the mental health of college students.

During the past academic year, the Princeton CJL leadership opposed a divestment effort launched by a member of the faculty.  Rabbi Roth summarized the main developments, including the divestment proposal, the opposition of CJL to the proposal, the criticism leveled toward the opposition and the response of the CJL at various junctures.  Two main outcomes resulted.  The divestment proposal was ultimately defeated.  In addition, the CJL established a new student group called Tigers Together, described as "a coalition of Princetonians committed to promoting trust and partnership between Israelis and Palestinians by supporting projects that both build mutual trust and make immediate impact on the ground today. "

Rabbi Roth addressing a group of students at CJL

The CJL actively seeks to foster a spirit of pluralism among Jewish students, one which affirms and actively creates context for a wide diversity of religious observance.  In keeping with universal Hillel practice, religious services routinely include Reform, Conservative and Orthodox options.  Rabbi Roth shared a specific example about how the recitation of Friday night kiddush is conducted so as to accommodate a range of practices and beliefs.  

Rabbi Roth is involved with the Office of Religious Life, which oversees programming for individual religious groups and actively promotes opportunities for interfaith dialogue and engagement.  Among other interfaith initiatives, she and the Campus Imam recently led a group of Jewish and Muslim students on a trip to Spain.  She shared with us that while dialogue with Muslim students so far has largely avoided political discussions by design, she hopes that there will be constructive ways to include politics in the conversation moving forward.

Lastly, Rabbi Roth identified the increasing role that Hillel professionals at Princeton and elsewhere are playing in responding to students' mental health needs.  As she indicated, the college environment places significant stress on students as a result of academic and social pressures.  More and more, she and her colleagues recognize the importance of providing a comfortable space for students to unwind and to speak openly about issues of personal concern.  

We are well aware of the significance of the college years in helping to form identity, hone intellectual skills and establish patterns of behavior that will likely have lifelong implications.     For Jewish students, the college years provide an opportunity to broaden and deepen Jewish identity and commitment.  

Considering the many challenges that Jewish students face and the remarkable potential that exists, it is gratifying to know that Hillel professionals of the caliber of Rabbi Julie Roth are committed to their sacred task.

Originally written for the Temple Israel Voice, February 2016