Parsha Kedoshim: "Loving Your Neighbor" Also Means Loving Yourself

One of the most oft-quoted Biblical verses is "love thy neighbor" (Leviticus 19:18). When people say "love your neighbor," we have to remember that it's typically abridged, and the entire verse is "love your neighbor like yourself," or ואהבת לרעך כמוך. It brings up a good question: why didn't G-d just say "love your neighbor"? Why did He have to add the word כמוך (like yourself)? What is G-d trying to convey here?

I have two possible answers, the first being that implicit in this famous Biblical verse is that we are commanded to love ourselves.  People who love themselves are happier, which means they are able to better succeed in and enjoy life. If you're in bad shape, how much more difficult is it to have interpersonal relationships? As R. Joseph Telushkin brings up in his book A Code of Jewish Ethics, Vol. 2: Love Your Neighbor as Yourself (p. 10), "Think about your own behavior. Are you more likely to be patient, forgiving, and generous to others when you are feeling good about yourself or when you are feeling low or self-critical?"

The second possibility, which is not mutually exclusive with the first, is that the word כמוך is acting as a clarifier. Many individuals have a high opinion of themselves. Many individuals will still love themselves when they screw up. Many individuals also make sure are concerned about their own welfare. This is not to say that this sort of behavior is wrong. As Pirkei Avot 1:14 brings up, "If I'm not there for myself, who will be there for me?" But the verse doesn't end there. It goes on to say, "If I'm only for myself, what am I?" The Sefer HaChiniuch elaborates on Leviticus 19:18, and says that we are supposed to take the needs of others quite seriously, as if they were our own needs. Rabbi Israel Salanter was one to say that the physical and material welfare of another was indeed tending to one's spiritual needs.

We were not meant to be so altruistic that we neglect our own needs while we help others. Conversely, we do not live in isolation. "Love thy neighbor" means that the universe doesn't revolve around you, and that we are here to treat others in a fashion that would be comparable to how we would want to be treated if we were in the same situation. It means that when we screw up, we forgive others by giving them the benefit of a doubt (Pirke Avot 1:6), the same doubt that we would give ourselves. Even when someone is being cross or you're having a day, it still means treating them with dignity and respect because they are your neighbor, regardless of whether they are Jewish or not.  It's about not judging someone until you have been in their place (Pirke Avot 2:5), whether literally or figuratively. "Loving your neighbor" is about putting yourself in the other person's shoes and loving them as you would yourself. The next time you have an interaction with another (or even if you're dealing with yourself), ask yourself what would be the most loving course of action. Take it as an opportunity to realize that you have multiple opportunities a day to actualize what Rabbi Akiva called the single most important principle to fulfilling the Torah.

The Earthquake in Haiti and the Dignity of Man

This past Tuesday, an earthquake that measured 7.0 on the Richter scale devestated Haiti with massive loss of life.  I pray for those whose lives were lost, and for the families who lost loved ones in this natural disaster.  Looking for how the Jewish community reacted to this tragedy was interesting.  The American Jewish World Service, amongst many other Jewish organizations, came to the rescue with relief funds.  Israel was even one of the first nations on the scene to help out.  What was disconcerting was the Orthodox reaction, or lack thereof, to what is going on in Haiti. 

One of the negative stereotypes of Jewish people is that "they keep to themselves" or "they only care about their kind."  It's sad to say that there are some Jews, most notably from Hardeim communities, that feel this way about people who are not Jewish.  The Orthodox Union did not put out any statement [of prayer] whatsoever.  I was surprised to see that even an organization such as Uri L'Tzedek, an Orthodox organization for social justice, didn't even issue anything on the matter.  Chabad's attempt to respond was weak.  They only seemed concerned about getting kosher food to a select few (i.e., observant Jews), thereby perpetuating a steretoype that does not even apply to a grand majority of Jews.  There are millions going through devestating times, and you're worried about getting kosher few to a select few?!

Why should I be getting so uptight about this?  After all, I'm a libertarian who believes a [Haredi] Jew has the right to donate to whatever organization he'd like.  It is his right as an American citizen.  But that's not what I'm disputing.  I'm disputing the "us versus them" mentality that is primarily, but not exclusively, in the Orthodox community (especially the further to the Right you go).  These are the sort of people that won't acknowledge, let alone socialize with, a non-Jew. It makes me flinch so much because it is so anathematic to Jewish teachings.  In spite of what some might believe, Judaism believes in the inherent dignity of man and that being "created in His image" (Genesis 1:26) means that everyone, Jewish or not, should be treated respectfully.  Just a few examples from Jewish literature:

1) Genesis 1:26 states that Adam was created in His image.  This citation gives us plenty of insight.  This verse doesn't sway many in the frum community.  Texts, such as the Chassidic one entitled Tanya, states that only Jews have to deal with having their animal soul fight with their G-dly, implying that people who are not Jewish don't have a G-dly soul.  [Side note: I took a class at a Chabad about this text, and when non-Jews were brought up, I was told that "we don't have to worry about that because it's not of significance"....enough said]  Even with their meager attempts at spiritual elitism, they have an important fact to contend with: the Bible states that being created in His image began with Adam.  The fact that the concept of a neshama (soul) began with Adam is telling because Adam was not Jewish.  Chronologically speaking, the declaration that each individual is unique and has infinite value because he was created in His image was declared long before there were even a Jewish people to speak of.  If G-d had wanted to say that the Jewish people were superior to everyone else, He would have made such a declaration to Abraham, not Adam.  The fact that it was made to include the entirety of humanity, we cannot view this spiritual haughtiness as valid.

2) Midrash (Sanhedrin 4:5) states that Adam was created first and alone was because nobody could come and say that "my ancestor is better than yours."  We are all descended from the same man, and because of that, we are all related.  That fact is another important biblical point that ties us together.

3) Leviticus 19:18 states that "you shall love your neighbor as you love yourself."  There two sides to this discussion: one is that your neighbor is someone in the general vicinity, and the other is that neighbor refers to your fellow Jew.  The proponents for the former would argue that because we live in a multicultural world, our definition of neighbor has changed with the times.  The proponents for the latter say, "nope!" because all of our neighbors were Jews, and that's the mentality we have to maintain, even in the Diaspora.  For argument's sake, let's say that Leviticus 19:18 only applies with "fellow Jews."  Even if you try to justify not socializing or even talking to a non-Jew based on that reading, you're still commanded to love a non-Jew.  I'm sure many are figuring out how I came up with that one.  Here's how I came up with it:

כְּאֶזְרָח מִכֶּם יִהְיֶה לָכֶם הַגֵּר הַגָּר אִתְּכֶם, וְאָהַבְתָּ לוֹ כָּמוֹךָ--כִּי-גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם.

"The stranger that sojourneth with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God."           -Leviticus 19:34   

Interesting--this verse resides within the same chapter as "love thy neighbor."  Having grown up in a non-Jewish home, having my entire family not be Jewish, as well as most of my friends, it's strange to think of them as strangers.  But for those of you who aren't really keen on viewing non-Jewish as neighbors, i.e., viewing them as strangers, you're still commanded to love him.  I'm sure that the next response is, "Steve, גֵּר means convert, not stranger."  That's the interesting thing about Hebrew, like any other language.  A word can have more than one meaning, and based on context, we have to figure out which meaning works best.  So let's presume that in this verse, it means convert.  "The convert that dwells amongst you, you shall love him as yourself; for ye were converts in the land of Egypt."  Did that not make sense to you either?  That's the point!  That would be because "stranger is the correct definition in this verse.  It doesn't matter how you view someone, stranger, neighbor, family, or friend, you are still commanded by the Torah to love them. 

4) HaShem emphasizes His love for all of humanity, and this concept is well-played out in the book of Jonah.  The story of Nineveh, who were pagans, is so important.  It teaches about repentence and that HaShem cares about all humans.  "You cared about that plant, which appeared overnight.  And should I not care about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not yet know their right hand from their left " (Jonah 4:10-11).   This story of pagans repenting is so essential that it's part of the Yom Kippur service. 

5) The righteous of all nations, not just the Jewish one, have a share in the World to Come (Tosefta Sanhedrin 13:2). 

Needless to say, HaShem cares about all of His children.  When many are suffering in anguish, much like this earthquake we are talking about, we cannot just ignore it because "it's not a Jewish problem."  News flash: loving people is a Jewish issue!  Our hearts should be pouring out to these people like our hearts did with the Mumbai terrorist attack about a year ago.  I was relieved to read an article from Aish, an Orthodox organization, about Israel and Haiti.  I do like the fact that they pointed out that Israel has a stellar record when it comes to providing humanitarian aid, and that this incident was no exception. What was most intriguing was their response as to why Israel is so eager and responsive when it comes to humanitarian aid.  The answer: Torah!  Who is our role model for developing such empathy?  Moshe Rabbeinu, also known as Moses.  It wasn't enough for him to intercede when a non-Jew was treating a Jew badly (Exodus 2:11), or when two Jews were quarreling  (ibid 2:13).  It was the third test, the dispute between the Midian daughters and the harrassers depicted in Exodus 17.  Rabbi Benjamin Blech describes it as such:

He [Moshe Rabbeinu] was now in a foreign land. Neither the offending bullies nor the harassed maidens had any relationship to him. He knew not the victims or the assailants. Simply put, what was happening before him had no personal connection to his life -- other than the fact that fellow human beings were in danger and he was in a position to help. The third and final test was the one that we are faced with every time a situation arises when it is not our family, our people or our nation is threatened but only other human beings with whom we share but one thing -- our common creation in the image of G-d.  It was because Moses passed this final test of his character that he became our greatest hero. It is with this characteristic that he must also serve as our ultimate role model.

It was not enough for Moses to stop injustice against a Jew or a quarrel amongst two Jews.  His true test was caring for two parties of non-Jews that he didn't even know.  Passing this test was what merited him to lead the Jewish people.  His compassion for others reached people outside of his niche.  Moses realized that in order to be great, you have to realize that every man is good because he is created in His image.  And to actualize that in lives, we cannot just do nothing.  As R. Abraham Joshua Heschel said, "The opposite of good is not evil; the opposite of good is indifference. In a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible."  If the Jewish people possess the character traits of being merciful, modest and performing deeds of kindness (Yevamot 79a), we need to be able to transcend nationalistic borders and reach out to those in Haiti because when a fellow human being is in distress, can we really turn a blind eye and still think of ourselves as pious, or even ethically sound?  That is why I urge people to donate tzedakah, whether that would be to the American Jewish World Services' relief fund or to Red Cross.  A contribution will not only help out those in need, but also help Jews fulfill their mandate to be a light unto nations.

Parsha Mishpatim: A Jewish Obligation to Help the Stranger, the Refugee, and the Immigrant

It is a rare occasion when I mix Torah and politics, but this is one of those times. Donald Trump has only been President of the United States for about a month, and he has already gone for a refugee ban, a wall on the U.S.-Mexican border, and expanding the pool for those who qualify for deportation. Needless to say, it has not been a stance that has been friendly towards immigrants, refugees, or other foreigners who come on American soil. I hope Trump changes his stance, but until he does, I have to ask: What does the Torah have to say about refugees and the downtrodden? How is a Jew supposed to respond? What is the Jewish perspective that is most based in the sources? This week's Torah portion gives us some insight to that question:

וגר לא תונה ולא תלחצנו כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים.

And a stranger you shall neither wrong nor oppress because you were strangers in the land of Egypt. -Exodus 22:20

The Hebrew word גר (ger) came to mean "convert" in later rabbinical texts. I don't deny the ability for words to change meaning or take on new meaning, but the word ger in this context is "stranger" (also see Genesis 15:13; Genesis 23:4; Exodus 2:22). The subordinate clause of "because you were strangers in the land of Egypt" makes more sense when the word גר refers to a stranger rather than a convert.

Let's talk about those strangers for a bit. The Hebrew Bible mentions two types of strangers: the alien (גר) and the resident alien (גר תושב; ger toshav). The Hebrew word ger comes from the Hebrew word "to sojourn" (also spelled גר). The word toshav (תושב) means "to reside," which helps us distinguish between the two. We have a similar distinction in secular law, where the resident alien has a more permanent status of residency, such as a green card. Jewish law has a similar view. The ger is one who stays on a more temporary basis. The resident alien had a more permanent status in biblical-era Israelite society. Depending on your view, the resident alien either rejects idolatry or takes on the seven Noahide laws as binding (Avodah Zarah, 64b). When looking at Exodus 22:20, we are not talking about a resident alien specifically, but generally someone who is a stranger. A few interesting things when looking at the passage:

• In Exodus 22:20, it gives us two negative commandments about what not to do to a stranger. The first is to not wrong them [לא תונה], which Rashi takes as "don't annoy them about their status." The second is to not oppress them [לא תלחצנו], whether that is in the form of not robbing the stranger (Rashi) or putting the stranger into forced labor (Rashbam). The verse makes the point to not take advantage of the stranger in their vulnerable position.
• The reason that we are not supposed to wrong or oppress the stranger is equally interesting: "because we strangers in the land of Egypt [כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים]." What does this mean? Rashi says if someone vexes you about being a stranger, you can retort by saying that "you too came from strangers." Ramban said that because you were once weak and helpless in Egypt, you cannot oppress the weak without impunity, i.e., G-d hears the cry of the stranger and will exact punishment accordingly. 
• The common thread is that what the Jew experienced in the land of Egypt was being a stranger, being considered  completely "other." The stigma and marginalization of being considered a stranger did not only lead to physical abuse, but emotional and psychological abuse. 
• In Exodus 22:22, it says that afflicting the stranger [or any one else in society who is disenfranchised] leads to G-d's anger and wrath. Even more interesting about this verse is that it switches from "you" in the singular to the plural, meaning that if a community treats the stranger poorly, it leads to the whole community suffering punishment (Abraham ben Izra).

Let's go beyond this specific passage and look at it more broadly. When realizing the importance of how we treat the stranger in our midst, we have to remember that it not mentioned just once. The Talmud (Baba Metzia 59a) says that how we treat the stranger is mentioned in the Torah 36 times! The Torah is a concise text, so it doesn't repeat itself unless the message is important.

But wait, does this mean we have total disregard for national security? No. The land of Israel, even the biblical version, had borders that were protected. If our physical or financial security is at risk, we are not to endanger ourselves (Shulchan Aruch, Chosen Mishpat, 156:7). Ensuring secure borders is the national version of the Jewish concept of pikuach nefesh (saving a life), which is to say that we do not capriciously put our lives at risk. When looking at the case with refugees, and less so with undocumented workers, we are not carelessly putting our lives at risk, so these considerations do not apply in our current situation.

Unless there is some sort of excessive burden, we are not meant to turn away from the stranger. Quite the contrary! As R. Ismar Schorsch put it, "the bitter taste of slavery honed Israel's moral sense." Whether we are talking about a stranger, permanent resident, convert, or refugee, the underlining ethical imperative is the same. We are not to inflict that suffering unto others. We are not to stand idly by while it happens. More importantly, we are commanded to love the stranger (Leviticus 19:33-34; Deuteronomy 10:19), which is no easy task. It's difficult enough to love your neighbor. Being close to your neighbor in proximity means that you at least have an opportunity to get to know your neighbor. It makes more sense to be kind to a member of your in-group. It helps explain why the Torah mentions 36 times how to treat the stranger: it's more difficult, but still necessary. The stranger is more of an outsider, yet we are meant to love the stranger. Why? Because we know the heart of a stranger (Exodus 23:9), and thus identify with the experience of being a stranger, of being vulnerable, of having no recourse. Also, because G-d loves the stranger, we are to love the stranger as an act of imitatio Dei (Abraham ben Ezra on Deuteronomy 10:19).

No, I haven't suddenly become a liberal or a Social Justice Warrior. While I still identify as libertarian and can see certain libertarian aspects in Judaism, I realize that Torah is neither liberal nor conservative. After all, G-d being Transcendent Oneness means that He also transcends politics, which means the Torah also transcends political ideologies. This is not about where I lie on the political spectrum. As a Jew looking at the traditional sources, I can't help but react in such a manner. Jews have been physically tormented, psychologically abused, ostracized, stigmatized, and murdered because they were strangers. Jews have been treated as less than human beings with basic dignity stripped away. That is what happens to strangers when power is left unchecked or not held to a higher standard. Whether it was being in the land of Egypt, the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, pogroms, or the Holocaust, the Jewish people have a profound understanding of what being treated like a stranger feels like. How strangers and refugees are treated is decidedly a Jewish issue. The Jew has been and is the archetypical stranger, and as such, should stand up for other strangers.

Not only are Jews acutely aware of what being a stranger feels like (Ramban), but we are not to inflict that on others in part because Judaism is not about "might is right" (Abraham ben Izra on Exodus 22:20). How we treat the least powerful and most vulnerable is a great reflection of how we have internalized Jewish values. That idea goes all the way back to the first Jew: Abraham. He treated wayward strangers with the utmost respect. The Talmud (Beitzah 32b) goes as far to say that if a Jew is not compassionate, that individual could not possibly be a descendant of Abraham. If you contrast that to Sodom, Sodom treated outsiders and immigrants with enough discontent where helping the outsider was punishable under the laws of Sodom. What made a Sodomite despicable was not men sleeping with other men, but rather maltreatment of the poor and needy (Ezekiel 16:49).

While the enslavement of the Israelites as told in the Torah was centuries ago, we are still meant to remember that experience of what it was to be a stranger so we don't let history repeat itself. It is so that when all is said and done, we can remind ourselves that the stranger is not some outsider, but that we are all human beings created in G-d's Image and to be treated as such.

Parsha Tzav: How to Address Others' Misdeeds

There are some who can't help but derive pleasure from the misfortune of others in what psychologists call Schadenfreude. Not only that, there are also some who try to one-up others by making others' misdeeds apparent while deflecting their own. After all, it's much easier to point out everyone else's faults than one's own faults. What does this have to do with this week's Torah portion?

While describing the sacrificial system, G-d makes the following directive in the Torah: 

And G-d spoke to Moses saying: "Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying: 'This is the law of the sin offering. In the place where the burnt offering is slaughtered shall the sin offering be slaughtered before G-d; it is most holy.'" -Leviticus 6:17-18

The Jerusalem Talmud (Yevamot 8:3) states that the sin offering and the burnt offering were conducted in the same place in order to save sinners from embarrassment. With this policy in place, one does not know whether the individual was making a donation in the form of a burnt offering or an actual sin offering. The aforementioned Levitical text ends up being used as a prooftext for the Sages to institute the halacha that prayer, particularly when one's sins are confessed, be recited silently because it avoids the embarrassment for those who wish to confess their sins to G-d during prayer (Talmud, Sotah 32b). What R. Zelig Pliskin teaches in his book, Love Your Neighbor, is that the verse ultimately illustrates the lesson that "we must be very careful not to cause someone embarrassment or discomfort because of past misdeeds (p. 228)." 

Perhaps this sagely advice is incorrect. It is possible that by airing your dirty laundry in public, it would provide people with an incentive to to behave better in the future. Using the stick could very well work better than the carrot. However, not only is this assumption un-Jewish in nature, but it also ends up being a counterproductive approach. 

Ego makes it difficult enough for one to admit their shortcomings, never mind actually doing something to overcome them. If one is operating in a system that publicly humiliates people for erring, the most probable incentive is that one would become even more prone to hiding one's wrongdoings instead of confronting them. This perverse incentive would create a community of façades and moral devolution. If publicly embarrassing others is not the way to go, then what is?

I think the approach needs to be twofold. The first has to do with mentality. "There is no individual on earth so righteous that he doesn't sin (Ecclesiastes 7:20)." As tempting as it is to think that we can perform optimally 100 percent of the time, the truth is that we all have our off-days. Whether intentionally or not, we all make mistakes. Pirkei Avot gives sound advice when approaching others' misdeeds, such as "judge the entirety of a person in their merit (1:6)" and "don't judge someone until you have been in their place (2:4)." To quote King Solomon again, "a just person may fall seven times and rise (Proverbs 24:16)."

If we are to love our neighbor like we love ourself (Leviticus 19:18), we would want individuals to treat us in a loving manner with regards to our mistakes, which brings me to my second point. Rebuke is a necessary component of love, which is why rebuke is juxtaposed with love (Leviticus 19:17). "Love not accompanied by criticism is not really love (Genesis Rabbah 54:3)." Even so, there is a certain way of going about it. First, make sure that you're not guilty for the same wrongdoing. As the Talmud opines, "Correct yourself before correcting others (Bava Batra 60a-60b; Bava Metzia 107b)." Even if you are not guilty of the same wrongdoing, there is something to be said for doing it lovingly, patiently, and in private (Rambam, Hilchot Da'ot, 6:7), all of which increase the probability that the individual will change their behavior. 

While it's true that the sacrificial system is not currently instituted, the sacrificial system can still teach us basic, yet important, lessons about the human condition. With the right type of encouragement, we can both preserve human dignity and continue to foster the very sort of constructive character development that was one of the primary intents of the sacrificial system all those years ago.

Parsha Bereshit: A Genealogy Lesson In Love for Human Beings and the Golden Rule

After Cain murdered his brother, Abel, he tried to move on from the abhorrent sin he had committed. Normally, parents try to stick by their children through thick and thin, but something like Cain committing fratricide makes it difficult to the point where Adam had to disassociate. We see Adam starting anew after Abel's murder, most notably with the genealogy of the generations of Adam (Genesis 5). Throughout this genealogy, we see the Torah list ten generations from Adam up to Noah and his children, all the while not mentioning Cain a single time. Why does the Torah go through the trouble of providing us with a genealogical tree?

We are given a hint right at the beginning as to what is going on:

זה ספר תלדת אדם. ביום ברא אלהים אדם, בדמות אלהים, עשה אתו

This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day that G-d created man, in the likeness of G-d He made him [man]. -Genesis 5:1

According to Rabbi Akiva, the single most important facet of Torah is Leviticus 19:18, which has the famously quoted verse of "Love your neighbor as you love yourself." Ben Azzai actually disagreed with Rabbi Akiva and said that aforementioned verse of Genesis 5:1 is actually even more important than Leviticus 19:18 (Sifra). How is the preface to a genealogical entry more important than loving your neighbor? The passage is to show that we are all descendants of Adam (Nachmanides on Genesis 5:2). I don't want to get into a tiff about how G-d can prohibit incest when according to the פשט (more literal or surface reading) of this verse shows that mankind was conceived out of incest.

Like I typically do with hermeneutics, I like to go for a more figurative interpretation of the verse (דרש), which is what Ben Azzai did here. By tracing the entirety of the human race back to one human being, Ben Azzai was pointing out that we all have one Creator. As Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5 points out, mankind was created with one common ancestor so that no one can say that "My ancestor was greater than yours (also see Jerusalem Talmud, Nedarim 9)." We are not meant to simply care about those who live down the block or go to the same shul as us. We are supposed to care about other human beings because we are all created in G-d's image. It might be easier to care about those who are more similar to us, but the Torah is teaching us to transcend our human tendency to associate with those with whom we share more things in common and help someone, regardless of religion, because they are created in the likeness of G-d. Ben Azzai might have had a point: how could "the Golden Rule" make any sense "without the presupposition of the absolute unity and equality of the human race as created by G-d (JPS commentary, p. 41)?" Much like the biblical account of humanity having a single origin, the mitzvahs that Jews have to follow, particularly those of an interpersonal nature (בין אדם לחברו), have a single genesis, without which would strip Judaism of its ethical core.

Parsha Kedoshim: The Spiritual Goal of Furthering Equality

The Declaration of Independence states that "all men are created equal" and that they are endowed with the right to "life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness." In the First Article of the UN Declaration of Human Rights, the underlying premise that "all humans are born free and equal in dignity and rights" is laid out. Much since the Enlightenment, equality has developed into a much-valued ideal within modern society. However, the debate of what constitutes equality can be, interestingly enough, exemplified in taxation. A regressive tax would mean that everyone pays the same dollar amount, which causes debate because not everyone could afford the same. A flat tax means that everyone pays the same percentage, which means equal proportionality. However, those who criticize the flat tax because the rich can afford to pay more would prefer a progressive form of taxation. Another facet of equality can be viewed in terms of equality of opportunity (i.e., a meritocracy), equality of outcome (i.e., socialism and Communism), or a mix of something in between.

You must be wondering at this point what all of this political theory of equality has to do with this week's Torah portion. In Leviticus 19, which starts off Parsha Kedoshim, we come across a declaration that "you [the Israelites] shall be holy, for I, Hashem, am holy," followed by a list of commandments that is considered by many to be the crux of what is considered Jewish holiness. As Dr. Steven Kepnes points out, holiness is our spirituality. Chatam Sofer states that Leviticus 19 shows how we are involved within community, and he uses the text proof of Leviticus 19:1 that because G-d was speaking not just to Moses, but to the entire community at the time, the level of holiness can be attained by all members of Israel.  Rabbi Israel Salanter, the founder of the modern-day Mussar movement, on the other hand, brings a polemic that holiness is not meant to be found in heaven, but spirituality and holiness is to be found right here on earth that is oriented between relations with other human beings.

That still doesn't answer the question of what holiness has to do with equality, so where's the connection?

We live in a world of inequalities, whether those inequalities have to do with socio-economic class, gender, race, sexual orientation, height or weight differentials, intelligence, the list goes on. In Jewish life, there are even certain inequalities, including those between rabbi and congregation, the twelve tribes of Israel (i.e., Kohanim and Levi'im versus everyone else), between the Jew and non-Jew, and between parent and child. For the former three, the differences are in terms of differences of responsibility (e.g., the Jew is not superior to the non-Jew, but rather that the Jew is different because that Jew has additional responsibilities that the non-Jew does not have), whereas the latter is a true difference in how the child treats their parent, although we have to remember that every parent has to follow the same laws because they are also someone's child. Whether in religious or secular life, we have to contend with the reality that people are different from one another. When the Declaration said that "all men are created equal," it meant that each individual is created "in His Image,"and as the UN Declaration states, "we are created with equality in dignity." Let's take a look to see what that means in context of Leviticus 19 in as chronological of an order as possible, especially in light of what the Chatam Sofer and Israel Salanter have to say about Leviticus 19:

• Leviticus 19:2 talks about revering one's mother and father. To re-iterate, although a hierarchy is established between parent and child, all children, including those who are parents themselves, still have to show reverence to their parents.
• Leviticus 19:9 says that when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall leave the edges of your field to the poor. In the Levitical context [of an agricultural society], poor people did not even have a field in which they can grow food. In modern-day terms, this would apply to those who are exceptionally poor (e..g, those who are homeless). Judaism teaches us that property rights are not 100% absolute, and that part of what we earn goes to help out the poor.
• Leviticus 19:11, on the other hand, reminds us not to steal because property rights are nevertheless a relatively solid concept in Judaism. Although Judaism doesn't advocate absolute materialism, it does tie property rights to the dignity of man, and taking from the individual defames the individual's G-dliness.
• Leviticus 19:13 first states that you cannot cheat your fellow man, which goes along a similar vain with Leviticus 19:35 that says you shall use correct scales, measurements, and weights. The idea here is to eliminate information asymmetry.
• Leviticus 19:13 continues with the idea that a worker's wage shall not remain with you [the employer] overnight until morning. Why? 1) The employer typically has the advantage over the employee. 2) The livelihood of the employee is dependent on that paycheck. This law is to eliminate any potential abuses by employers. 
• Leviticus 19:14, you shall not curse the deaf or place a stumbling block before the blind. Although these individuals have lost one of their five senses, we should not actively make the inequality worse, but rather help them in providing more equal opportunity to successfully function in society.
• Leviticus 19:15 states that you will not commit a perversion in justice by favoring the poor (argumentum ad lazarum) lazy or honoring the rich (argumentum ad crumenam). The purpose is that justice be just, not corrupted by biases. In short, we are meant to be treated equal under the law. 
• Leviticus 19:18, a passage that is loved by many, tells us to "love your neighbor as yourself," as well as Leviticus 19:33, which states that we shall "love the stranger as you love yourself." The reason why these verses are vital is because they are the crux of human relations, and once again goes to show that regardless of interpretation, we are commanded to love Jews as well as non-Jews.

Although there are more verses that can be elucidated, I want to end with the following. The world has inequalities, but we are here to mend those inequalities with our fellow human beings as much as possible. To pursue equality and help others is holiness. 

שבת שלום!

Parsha Naso: The Mitzvah of Smiling

Having G-d command us to do things like don't steal, give tzedakah, or love your neighbor are standard mitzvahs that make a good amount of sense to us. But smiling? Who ever talks about a need to "put on a smiling face?" And what does this have to do with this week's Torah portion? A look at the Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24-26) can give us some insight:

יברכך יהוה וישמרך

יאר יהוה פניו אליך ויחנך

ישא יהוה פניו אליך וישם לך שלום

"May G-d bless you and watch over you. May He raise His countenance to shine over you and favor you. May He raise His countenance over you and grant you peace."

The latter two thirds of this blessing deal with His countenance and how "G-d makes His face shine upon you." Since imitatio Dei is such an important part of being a good Jew, what practical application does this concept have for us? Let's take a look at Pirke Avot:

Rabbi Shammai (Pirke Avot 1:15) tells us to greet every individual with a smile. Especially since Shammai was portrayed as stern, temperamental, and short of patience, why would he, of all rabbis, have given such an imperative? 

For one, first impressions matter. If you have a scowl on your face when you meet someone, there is a good chance that it will be your last interaction. It's not simply a matter of the initial contact. It helps in keeping a relationship going, as is implied by Proverbs 15:1 when it says "a gentle reply turns away wrath, but a galling word excites anger." We are not only supposed to avoid arousing anger in others (Rabbeinu Yonah), but making sure that we ourselves do not get angry because anger is considered an evil trait (Bertinoro). 

What happens if we don't feel like smiling? Although it would be great if we could be happy all the time, the fact is that we don't always do things in life because we want to do them. Sometimes, we are obligated to do so. Forcing ourselves to smile acts as an externality. Some might criticize this as acting phony. However, in Judaism, external actions are supposed to transform us internally (e.g., giving tzedakah is supposed to make us more voluntarily generous over time). Even when you are feeling glum, "faking it" helps keep your spirits up more so than wallowing in self-pity. 

Whether you are having a good day or not, keeping a smile on your face affects the mood of those around you. Think about it conceptually: are you happier when you are around happy people or sad people? Happiness is contagious, and using that externality makes a difference. Both the Torah and Rabbi Shammai provide us with a necessary tool for successful human interactions. Let's use it to live happier and more fulfilling lives!

שבת שלום! 

The Complexity of Jewish Speech Ethics

The notion of speech ethics seems to be a counter-cultural concept in this country.  In secular law, the only types of speech that are not tolerated are slander, libel, and harassment.  Short of that, the freedom of speech afforded by the First Amendment protects just about everything else.  In Christianity, the only questions that are asked are is it true and is it pure (e.g., is it vulgar, are you being "nice".....whatever that may entail).  Ironically enough, the only other religion I found, aside from Judaism of course, that deals with some of the quandaries in speech ethics is Buddhism (note the Eightfold Path).

For a man such as the Chofetz Chaim, whose works on Jewish speech ethics is well-known in the Jewish community, he pointed to the fact that לשון הרע destroyed the Second Temple and strongly believed that the Messiah's coming would be hastened by working on our speech ethics.  It's true, in a sense, especially if you think of a world without gossip and what that could bring.  Plus, you have to keep in mind that by reading Genesis 1, G-d created the universe with speech.  If the premise behind Judaism is imitatio Dei, we have to realize that although our words don't create universes, they certainly have a power to build or destroy. 

Judaism teaches us to speak the truth.  To give but one example, Proverbs 12:22 states that "lying lips are an abomination to G-d."  Judaism teaches us to distance ourselves from falsehood.  This seems to be a constant across the Jewish spectrum.  As such, Judaism makes such things as libel and slander forbidden.  The reason to forbid false speech should be self-evident.  But what about speech, even if it's true?  This is where things get complicated because in Jewish law, just because something is true, that does not give us the right to say it.  As we shall see below, speaking the truth is not an absolute in Judaism.

• "But it's true."  Just because something is true, we should not say it.  The laws of לשון הרע teach us that even if it's true, we are forbidden to say it if it harms, embarrasses, causes financial damage to, or lowers the status of the person being discussed.  As previously discussed, our words have the potential to cause damage.  Furthermore, an individual's concept of truth can be obscured by ego or lack of information that would render their "truth" more subjective than initially anticipated.  Judaism teaches us to be able to not only have the foresight to not be destructive with speech, but to not to use such speech.  Although there are 31 mitzvahs related to speech ethics in the Torah, the big one here is not being a talebearer (Leviticus 19:16).  In Hebrew, the word for talebearer, רכיל, has the same root as peddler, רוכל.  Both of these words have the same root.  Why is this?  Just as a peddler goes from house to house, a gossiper also goes from one person to another "peddling" intimate details to boost their own ego and self-worth.  The notion that gossip is forbidden is foreign to a culture in which gossip is a not only an everyday norm, but is sadly something for which enough people in this country strive.  
• "The dusts of לשון הרע."  This refers to verbal and non-verbal stratagems that lower one's reputation of an individual.  For example, someone asks you about such an individual.  If your response is "I don't want to talk about him because if I do, I'll speak לשון הרע."  Why is even this forbidden?  Because by saying such, you have lowered the status of that individual.  Even if you sigh and roll your eyes at the mere mentioning of a given individual, you have touched upon the "dusts of forbidden speech."  This would also include praising a friend in front of someone in the event that the listener that would probably take advantage of the praised individual's benevolence.  Even more notably, this would include sarcasm. 
• Listening to לשון הרע.  This is where it gets complicated.  The Chofetz Chaim sets such high standards in speech ethics that it is even forbidden to listen to לשון הרע.  
• Speaking לשון הרע about yourself.  You would think that ethics deals with interpersonal relations, you think that you could speak badly about yourself.  Wrong!  Because if you did, you'd violate "Love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18)."  How are you supposed to love others if you cannot even love yourself?
• Exceptions to speaking לשון הרע.  The main exception to speaking badly about someone is when not doing so would cause undue harm.  Two examples of this extenuating circumstance are entering a business venture with a dishonest, fraudulent man and marrying a deceitful spouse.  In order to speak לשון הרע, of course, one would need the proof to back it up.  Baseless accusations are falsehoods. 
• White lies and omitting the truth.  In other religions, lying is lying, no matter what.  Judaism, on the other hand, is surprisingly permissible of white lies.  This is evident with Hillel and Shammai's debate on complementing the bride.  We also see an example of this in Genesis 18.  Sarah is talking with G-d.  G-d tells her that she will bear a child.  Her response?  She laughs and says "After I have withered, shall I again have delicate skin?  And my husband is old (18:12)!"  When Abraham asks G-d what Sarah was laughing about, G-d says "Shall I in truth bear a child, though I have aged (18:14)?"  Notice that when G-d relayed the message, he did not mention Sarah's comment on Abraham's age.  From this, the rabbis concluded that even the Holy One, Blessed be He, modified the truth for the sake of peace (Talmud Yevamot 65b).  Although we do have a precedent for telling a white lie, we have to make sure our motives for doing so are pure.  For instance, you cannot tell a white lie to protect your honor [because ego is in the way] or make a lie about not giving charity simply because miserliness is kicking in that day.  As long as it is done with a good motive, Judaism permits white lies. 

Do you see how complicated this is?  I haven't even scratched the surface of the minutiae involved with Jewish speech ethics.  To learn more, I would recommend anything written by Chofetz Chaim on the topic since he is considered to be the most prolific legalist on speech ethics.  Also, try Positive Word Power or R. Yosef Telushkin's book on Jewish Ethics.   

My Favorite Reasons for Blowing the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah

As the late Aretha Franklin said, "Music does a lot of things for a lot of people. It's transporting, for sure. It can take you right back, years back, to the very moment certain things happened in your life. It's uplifting, it's encouraging, it's strengthening." Believe it or not, this quote is very relatable to Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. While there are multiple features to Rosh Hashanah, the single most important one is hearing the shofar because it is the only active mitzvah of the 613 mitzvot related to Rosh Hashanah (derived from Leviticus 23:24; Numbers 29). The shofar is an ancient musical horn, typically made from a ram's horn. The shofar has been used in multiple areas of Jewish history besides Rosh Hashanah, including announcing the New Moon (Psalm 81:3), announcing the jubilee year (Leviticus 25:9), for starting war (Joshua 6:4; Judges 3:27, 7:16, 7:20; I Samuel 8:3), the coronation of a king (I Kings 1:34, 39, 41), and was part of the orchestra that King David had when instruments were played during Temple services (Psalm 150:3).

But let's bring it back to Rosh Hashanah. I wanted to know why this mitzvah was so instrumental to the holy day celebrations. I looked through reasons provided by Chabad, Aish HaTorah, the Orthodox Union, a list of R. Sa'adiah Ga'on's ten reasons for the shofar (courtesy of Ohr Somaych), as well as books on my bookshelf, and this culminates the list of my favorites:

1. Spiritual Wake-Up Call to Repentance. The shofar makes a piercing sound that jolts us out of our lethargic state, much like an alarm clock. Rosh Hashanah acts as the beginning of the Days of Awe, the ten-day period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur during which one gets their affairs from the previous year in order and does teshuvah (repentance). Looking at Nevi'im (the Prophets), the shofar was a reminder of our admonitions and reminded us why we need to clean up our act. Teshuvah  was so important that G-d created it before the Universe (Talmud, Nedarim, 39b). By creating teshuvah, not only has G-d shown us mercy, but G-d has provided us with the opportunity to right our wrongs. 
2. Coronating G-d. Rosh Hashanah is to celebrate the creation of the universe. Since the shofar was used to coronate kings, what a better way to recognize G-d's Kingship and our purpose in the universe? Plus, G-d's Sovereignty is such a major theme is Rosh Hashanah liturgy. 
3. Transported Through Time. Aretha Franklin hit this one on the head. Listening to the shofar transports us to another time, such as when the shofar was blown on Mount Sinai when the Jews received the Torah. It was a simpler time, and that is not the only thing that was simpler.  
4. Simplicity. One thing I noticed about the shofar is the simplicity of the instrument itself. In contrast to the trumpet, trombone, or many other brass instruments, the shofar lacks a pitch-altering device (e.g., valves, telescoping slide mechanism). My theory as to why the instrument is so simple is because we are to return to a simpler essence when it comes to Jewish practice, a topic which I have previously covered. There is a place for understanding nuance because the world is a nuanced place. However, people can get so obsessed with the details that they forget the simple essence that permeates throughout Judaism. There are simple truths that dictate those complexities: G-d is One (Deuteronomy 6:4), love your neighbor like yourself (Leviticus 19:18), walk humbly in His ways (Micha 6:8). Perhaps this is a time to re-examine those simple truths and see how we can implement them in the upcoming year.
5. Awe of G-d. The sound of the shofar can be haunting, potentially so haunting that it inspires the fear of G-d. In the Book of Ecclesiastes (Ch. 3), King Solomon reminds us that there is a time for everything. Rosh Hashanah is a time for the fear of G-d. My understanding of fear of G-d is that we should not be so scared where we are paralyzed, which would make it more akin to awe than fear. Ideally, our relationship with G-d should be one of love, but that is not necessarily doable all the time. When love is not possible, we should still be awe-struck by G-d's power and capacity for many things, which is what the shofar reminds us.
6. Celebration. Rosh Hashanah celebrates another year, another period of time in which we can fulfill our potential. The shofar is meant to be blown when the Messiah arrives (Isaiah 27:13). Until the Messiah arrives, we can still recognize the salvation that G-d brings in our daily lives.

Aretha Franklin was spot-on by saying that music is a transformative experience. The shofar blown on Rosh Hashanah takes on that transformative experience, whether it is awe of G-d, a call to repent, to remind us of our true values, or a call to celebration. I hope that your experience with the shofar is one that transforms you.

שנה טובה ומתוקה!

Phil Robertson's Anti-Gay Remarks: Yes, He Got What He Deserved

I had to take a break from commenting on the Federal Reserve and monetary policy to weigh in on this issue. Last week, Gentlemen Quarterly published an interview with Phil Robertson, who is a TV personality on the A&E TV show Duck Dynasty. Robertson made incendiary comments, including how African-Americans were happy "pre-entitlement" and how a "lack of Jesus" brought about such things as Nazi Germany and the attack on Pearl Harbor. As offensive as those were, the comments for which Robertson received the most flack was his comments on homosexuality and gay people. These comments have resulted in A&E suspending Robertson from the show, although that suspension might be short-lived.

Conservatives would have you believe that Robertson is being punished for exercising his free speech and talking about Christian values. Ian Bayne insultingly analogized Robertson as the "Rosa Parks of our generation." If Robertson simply opined that "homosexual behavior is unambiguously prohibited in the Bible" (an opinion with which I vehemently disagree) and left it at that, he would have been fine. However, his comments about homosexuality went well beyond his interpretation of the Bible. Exhibit A. When asked the question "What in your mind is sinful," Robertson's response was the following:

Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men. Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers, they won't inherit the kingdom of G-d. Don't deceive yourself. It's not right.

The first thing that comes to Robertson's mind about what constitutes as sin is not avarice or injustice. It's the sexual acts committed by consenting, homosexual adults. And how in the world does homosexual behavior lead to bestiality?! The man's ignorance about homosexuality shows that he does not have the faintest idea of how sexuality functions. Furthermore, his statement of "they won't inherit the kingdom of G-d" also contradicts his later statement of "We never, ever judge someone on who's going to heaven, hell." But wait a second. You just said that you shouldn't judge people, but you managed to judge a whole group of people in a previous statement in the same interview. Whatever happened to "do not judge lest ye be judged (Matthew 7:1)?"

Exhibit B of just how disparaging Robertson's remarks were:

It seems like, to me, a vagina, as a man, would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She's got more to offer. I mean, come on, dude, you know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical.

Here's another example of "whatever happened to not judging people?" And how is such vulgar language about vaginas and anuses "Christian-like?" I thought the Christian Bible said such things as "let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth (Ephesians 4:29)," "if anyone thinks himself to be religious, and yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this man's religion is worthless (James 1:26)," and "every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment (Matthew 12:36)." Would this sort of language be acceptable in church? I doubt it. Also, regardless of whether you agree with Robertson's remarks, his remarks were hurtful towards other people, especially when it comes to ignorantly reducing homosexuality to a single sex act. Jesus taught that after "love G-d," the most important commandment is "love your neighbor as you love yourself (Mark 12:28-31)." Robertson should have had this in mind before he began the interview. No one is perfect, but if you're going to become an advocate for Christian values, you can't be chiding someone for sinning while sinning in the same breath. Such behavior is hypocritical, but should I be so surprised that conservative Christians in this country are defending his behavior rather than condemning it?

Robertson clearly made ignorant and insulting remarks. The fact that Robertson is more obsessed with the "sin of homosexuality" is reflective of how out of whack the prioritization of "Christian values" are in this country. However, was it so bad that Robertson should have been suspended in the first place?

Sarah Palin jumped in and said that Robertson's free speech was being violated. What conservatives conveniently forget is that the First and Fourteenth amendments apply to the government's infringement of free speech. As already illustrated, Robertson's comments went well beyond the opinion of "the Bible says homosexuality is a sin." Since Robertson is being suspended for specific comments that had nothing to do with religious belief, he can't even claim that A&E is violating Title VII of the Civil Rights Act.

More to the point, A&E, which is a private entity, made the decision to suspend Robertson after his interview violated the morals clause in his contract, a contract which he voluntarily signed. Robertson was not expressing his private views with his closest buddies at the bar. He was doing an interview promoting his show. The comments he made reflected poorly on A&E, and A&E thus had the right, nay, the obligation to enforce the contract.

Briefly, a word about being persecuted for his religious beliefs. Robertson is only being suspended. Anyone who is thoughtless or brainless enough to even think that "this is a sign that Christians are persecuted in this country" or there is a "war on Christianity" needs to pick up a book on the history of the Jewish people. Christians aren't being barred from celebrating Christmas or Easter. The government is not shutting down churches or forcing Christians to live in ghettos or to work in certain professions. There are no pogroms or inquisitions against Christians in this country. This is not a sign of Christian persecution. There is no inalienable right to be on A&E. This is a sign that people are becoming more accepting of homosexuals. Get over it, Religious Right!

Also, I love how conservatives clamor about how dissenting opinions are being punished in this country. However, do you think this is the first time someone has gotten punished for saying something offensive or idiotic? Alec Baldwin was just fired for homophobic slurs. What about Paula Dean, Helen Thomas, Michael Richards, Ozzie Guillen, the Dixie Chicks, and Don Imus? We now live in a society that is more accepting of the LGBT community. Saying such comments is comparable to any other racial slur. Actions have consequences. Speech is a form of action, and Robertson was most definitely exercising his freedom of speech when making his remarks. When you say something offensive, you pay for the consequences. Isn't personal responsibility a key feature of conservatism, or does that not apply to homophobic statements?

When the Chick-fil-a incident happened last year, the standard conservative response to naysayers was "this is the free market at work, deal with it." The shoe is now on the other foot. A private company is now making a decision that conservatives do not like. If conservatives are unhappy with the decision, they can either boycott A&E or petition to have Duck Dynasty aired on another channel that tolerates homophobic sentiments. Otherwise, conservatives are only showing that anti-gay bigotry is more important of a value of conservatism than free markets or personal responsibility. Much to the Religious Right's dismay, Robertson's suspension was well within the realm of free markets. Employers need to be given some freedom to run their business they way they see fit if there is to be a society built on freedom (see my take on anti-discrimination laws).

In spite of the progress that has been made with LGBT equality, Robertson's remarks are a reflection of how this country still has a long way to go in terms of shaping people's views of LGBT individuals. I hope that A&E doesn't cave into pressure and sends a message about how anti-gay statements do not belong in civil society.

Parsha Bereshit: The Entitlement Mentality and the Meaning of "Being Created in His Image"

People whose religious leanings are more inclined to the Left, whether they be Jewish or Christian, love to invoke the phrase "man is created in His image" about as often as they do "love your neighbor as your love yourself."  For the religiously liberal individual, being created "in His image" is a nice, feel-good way of telling a certain individual that he is innately good.

Allow me to express my skepticism that being "created in His image" simply means "being a Homo Sapien."  For starters, what do we do with all of the Hannibal Lecters, Hitlers, and the myriad of morally indefensible individuals that have existed throughout time?  I hope to touch upon this thought in a moment. 

But let us take a look at the two major religions that use this verse: Christianity and Judaism.  Christianity does not believe that man is innately good.  Au contraire!  Christians believe that Original Sin renders an individual innately evil, and that the only salvation for man is through Jesus Christ.  To best summarize Jewish thought on this topic, Judaism is skeptical about man's nature, but nevertheless that man possesses the potential to do good.

If neither Judaism nor Christianity advocates the innate goodness of man, then where is its origin?  Although many philosophers and theologians have debated the nature of man, the individual responsible for shaping this modern view is secular philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau.  Rousseau believed that man's nature was innately good, and that it was society that corrupted the individual.  This philosophical belief has been so piquant that it became a foundation of the modern-day Left.  And voilà, another example of how secular liberalism has become the religion for many on the Left.

But if "being created in His image" is not the equivalent of a spiritual welfare check, then what does it mean?  I am truly happy that I read Rabbi Marc Angel's D'var Torah this morning because it helped provide me an important insight to this weighty question.  As Rabbi Angel succinctly puts it:

Perhaps the Torah is teaching us an ideal concept about human potential. G-d created the first human beings, Adam and Eve, in "His image", as a lesson to subsequent human beings that they, too, can find this "image" within themselves. If they fully develop their human capacities, they will discover the "image of G-d" within themselves. But this "image" is not an automatic birthright: it has to be earned. It exists in potential, and it is our task to realize that potential (own emphasis added). Human beings who do not nourish the "image of G-d" within themselves thereby dehumanize themselves, and deprive themselves of their spiritual potential.

This adds a level of spiritual meaning to what I had already perceived of what it meant to be "created in His image."  To summarize my thoughts back in May on the topic, I had found that "being created in His image" either meant the endowment of free will in moral issues or the divinely given intellectual capacities that humans possess.  Rabbi Angel's commentary links these two Jewish interpretations together: both involve the potential that the human has.

The idea of potential addresses the more nefarious individual.  As Rabbi Angels states, "murderers and terrorists and hate-mongers are examples of people who have, in a profound sense, forfeited their 'image of G-d.' When the Torah teaches that humans were created in G-d's 'image,' this should be seen as a challenge and opportunity, not as an automatic gift that requires no further action on our part."  What Angel is saying is that there are certain individuals that are so spiritually off the deep end that they have stinted any potential for truly "being in His image."

I will conclude with these thoughts.  If I can't stand when a certain individual receives a handout from the government, do you honestly think I would advocate such a view in the spiritual realm?  Being good is not derived from passivity.  It is the culmination of actively pursuing good deeds.  G-d created us with faults, but He also created us with the ability to improve upon ourselves.  That is the purpose of life: to climb the ladder of spirituality to raise ourselves closer and closer to G-dliness.  It is a lifetime goal that needs constant pursuit.  By working on our own "image of G-d," we can refine ourselves intellectually, morally, and spiritually, which will ultimately translate into the prevailing refinement of society.

Should Jews Commemorate Yom HaShoah?

The Holocaust took the lives of over 6 million Jews, as well as 5 million non-Jews. The Holocaust not only wiped out a third of the Jewish population, but it has left its mark on the psyche of the Jewish people. The way we approach theology simply isn't the same anymore. "Where was G-d when this tragedy struck? How could an all-loving, all-just G-d allow for this to happen in the first place?" Since there are still Holocaust survivors out there, the wounds are still fresh. Also, if we consider the upward trend of anti-Semitism, particularly in Europe, and genocides that have taken place post-Holocaust, it seems like humanity could use a day to remember the Holocaust because a sizable portion of the world population has most decidedly not learned its lesson on how to treat others like human beings. That being the case, why do I even bother asking the question "Should we commemorate Yom HaShoah [Holocaust Remembrance Day]?" Rather than get swept up in some fervor, I would like to address my apprehensions, as well as get a better sense of what Yom HaShoah is ultimately supposed to engender.

One of my issues is when Yom HaShoah is observed. Originally, it was supposed to fall on the same day as the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, but that never happened because that would have meant observing Yom HaShoah on Passover. Instead, Yom HaShoah falls on 27 Nissan. Not only does the selection of this date come off as arbitrary, but in some ways, it's un-Jewish. For one, the month of Nissan is considered to be one of redemption and joy (at least International Holocaust Remembrance Day falls on January 27, which is the liberation of Auschwitz), which is why there is traditionally no established period of mourning. On the other hand, many Jews have mourned during the month of Nissan, so who am I to ignore the tradition of ignoring a tradition?

A better date that could have been chosen to line up liturgically with the Jewish calendar would have been Tisha B'Av, a time that mourns all the tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people. Conversely, one could argue that the Holocaust was so traumatic that it deserves its own day of commemoration. Plus, since Tisha B'Av traditionally implies a nationalistic level of sin and repentance, it's hardly palatable to suggest that the European Jews at the time were so spiritually devoid that they were responsible for their suffering during the Holocaust. On the other hand, there have always existed people that have tried to wipe out the Jews. Until we address genocidal proclivities and Jew-hatred, the chant "Never again" becomes as hollow as an egg shell.

I am also worried about what the current commemoration of Yom HaShoah conveys not only to the Jewish people, but the entirety of humanity. Take a look at the 2013 Pew Center survey on American Jews. When asked what is essential to being Jewish, you want to know what the number one answer was? It wasn't observing Jewish law, believing in G-d, or being a part of a Jewish community. What was the answer? Remembering the Holocaust. I take issue with the notion that the single most important factor in Jewish identity for American Jews is wallowing in victimhood. What kind of message does that send about the Jewish people? What sort of message does that send about Judaism? Judaism is not and should not be about persecution and oppression. In spite of what happens in life, Judaism has ultimately had a message of hope and redemption, a message that is obfuscated by the mythicization of the Holocaust.

Maybe my issue isn't so much with whether we should commemorate those who senselessly lost their lives during the Holocaust, but how that is being commemorated, and this doesn't necessarily even refer to the lack of consensus on rituals or traditions for Yom HaShoah. If this past Passover were a reminder of anything for me, it is that the past is something we should not forget, but by the same token, we shouldn't revel in it. If certain individuals feel they need to mourn, that's fine. King Solomon teaches us in Ecclesiastes (3:4) that there is a time to dance and a time to mourn. Jewish law provides us with the time to go through the mourning process, but we don't remain in the stasis of mourning for the remainder of our lives.

As I brought up a few years ago, the best way to honor the memory of those lost in the Holocaust, at least for Jews, is to live even more Jewish lives than before. Give tzedakah. Observe Shabbat. Study some Torah. Find more ways to love your neighbor like you love yourself. For those who are not Jewish (and even for those who are Jewish), live a life of tolerance, understanding, and love towards your fellow human being. Foster a sense of community and society that prevents another Holocaust from happening. That is the real way that their memory will forever be a blessing.

Pirke Avot 6:3: Judaism and How to "Keep it Simple, Stupid!"

K.I.S.S. "Keep it simple, stupid!" For someone who is a public policy wonk such as myself, trust me when I say I have an appreciation for the nuanced and the complex. However, sometimes the best explanation is the simplest, and sometimes, the simplest approach is the one that helps make your life most sane. That thought ran through my mind when I was recently studying Pirke Avot. In Pirke Avot 6:3, there is a discussion about respecting someone who has taught you even a single chapter, word, verse, letter of the Hebrew alphabet, or a single law. It then proceeds to say that "there is no reverence but Torah" (ואין כבוד אלא תורה). One of the proof texts they used was most intriguing:

ותמימים ינחלו טוב.

And the whole-hearted shall inherit good. -Proverbs 28:10

What my chevruta study partner and dear friend pointed out was that the word תמים can also mean "simple person." This would render the verse to say "[and] the simple ones shall inherit good." Going off this interpretation of the word תמימים, there is an equivocation with good and simplicity. In spite of all the nuances in Jewish law, is there something to be said for a simpler Judaism? And my answer to that is a resounding "Yes!" 

At least from my personal experience observing the more observant community, there is a trend in which one worships the halachic system instead of worshiping G-d. The halachic system was always meant to be the means to connecting with G-d, not the end unto itself. I analogize it to the Taoist concept of the Dao (道), or "the way." In Hebrew, the word הלכה (halacha) comes from the root word ללכת (to go). Regardless of how Jewish practice has evolved and continues to evolve, it should keep in mind this concept. R. Nathan Cardozo recently wrote a verbose, but stunningly spot-on critique of Orthodoxy in this vein, in which he says:

Today most of these [Orthodox] communities view themselves as observant, not model communities. An observant community is one that is primarily concerned with religious observance. As such, it views halacha and a proper Orthodox environment to execute its demands as a priority...It lacks the language and spirit necessary to be a model community conveying the great message of Judaism to all other Jews, and even Gentiles.

In being focused on the nuances, it's all too easy to forget the great message of Judaism. I'm not saying that we should necessarily ignore nuances because the world is a nuanced place. We should come to an understanding of the world around us with that in mind. However, we should still remember the simpler points of Judaism that form its profundity. What might those points be?

First is that G-d exists as Infinite Oneness. What does G-d expect from us? Although it is mighty difficult to summarize a religion as complex as Judaism into a sound byte or a single sentence or concept, the Rabbis nevertheless tried. For R. Hillel (Talmud Bavli, Shabbat 31a), it was "What is hateful unto you, do not do unto others. This is the entirety of Torah. Now go and study." For R. Akiva (Jerusalem Talmud, Nedarim 30b), it was "Love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18). The rest is commentary." The Prophet Micah asked this question. His response? "You shall act justly, love chesed, and walk humbly in all His ways (6:8)." Treating others the way you would want to be treated is a significant part of the great message of Judaism.

It should even play into how we view ritual practice. Ritual practice is not meant to be done for its own sake, but rather to invoke something and transform ourselves. In the Introduction of the Mussar text Orchot Tzaddikim (Path of the Righteous), it states that "if you do not have good traits, you do not have Torah and mitzvahs because all of Torah hinges upon the perfection of one's traits" (וכשאין בידך מדות טובות אין בידך תורה ומצוות כי כל התורה תלויה בתקון המדות). That is why ritualistic practice (בין אדם למקום) requires a bracha (a blessing, i.e., a statement of intent) before undertaking a mitzvah, and a mitzvah involving interpersonal relations (בין אדם לחברו) does not. Take tefillin as an example. When one wraps the tefillin on around the finger, the following is uttered:

 וארשתיך לי לעולם. וארשתיך לי בצדק ובמשפט ובחסד וברחמים. וארשתיך ליבאמונה וידעת את הי.

"And I will betroth you unto me forever. I will betroth you unto Me in righteousness, justice, loving-kindness, and compassion. And I will betroth you unto Me in faithfulness, and you shall know G-d." 

-Hosea 2:21-22

Since we are created in G-d's Image and are supposed to act imitatio Dei, we are meant to act in justice and kindness. How we perceive our actions and how we treat others should stem from that idea. If you're donning tefillin and that's not what is running through your mind, you're doing it wrong. If you're obsessing over minutiae such as not eating kitniyot on Passover instead of remembering the spiritual significance of chametz or why celebrating freedom on Passover is important, you're doing it wrong. If you berate and embarrass someone for not covering the challah on Shabbat, even though the purpose of covering the challah is to teach us the importance of not embarrassing the wine (and as an a fortiori inference, not embarrassing other human beings), you're doing it wrong. If you're praying not because it changes you into a better person or makes you more aware of G-d, but because you treat the rote recitation as a magic formula [or even less so], you're not doing it right. If you're not fasting on Yom Kippur because it spiritually awakens you to do teshuvah and to help out others, but because "it's what we've always done" or doing so for the sake of fasting, you're not doing it right. Rituals are a way to moment in time in which we establish a moment of G-dliness. If one's actions are contrary to these simple and basic meta-halachic principles, you're not doing it right.

Regardless of the mitzvah, we should ask ourselves what the greater spiritual meaning behind the mitzvah is instead of acting by rote. We should be able to discern the underlying principle behind what we do. Whatever complexities there might be behind the Jewish law, we should remember why we do what we do and ask ourselves if we are transforming ourselves in the process. In summation, when performing mitzvahs, we should keep it simple.

Pirkei Avot 3:13: Jewish Ethics > Jewish Rituals

Judaism has a reputation for being a religion of nuance and complexity. Looking at Jewish texts such as the Talmud or Shulchan Aruch, you can see nitpicking and attention to the smallest detail. That can help explain the adage of "two Jews, three opinions." With a religion that can be as complicated as Judaism, one would think that succinctly summarizing the essence of Judaism would be difficult. Some of the rabbis of yore have tried. Hillel summarized Judaism on one foot by saying "Do not do others as you would have done unto yourself. The rest is commentary (Talmud, Shabbat 31a)." Rabbi Akiva (Sanhedrin 38a) used the positive dictum of "love your neighbor as your love yourself (Leviticus 19:18)" as the guiding principle of Judaism. In a similar vein, this mishnah reaffirms this underlying message:

כל שרוח הבריות נוחה הימנו רוח המקום נוחה הימנו. 

וכל שאין רוח הבריות נוחה הימנו אין רוח המקום נוחה הימנו.

If the spirit of one's fellow is pleased with him, the spirit of the Omnipresent is pleased with him; but if the spirit of one's fellows is not pleased with him, the spirit of the Omnipresent is not pleased with him. -Pirke Avot 3:13

What R. Chanina ben Dosa was illustrating here is the importance of making an impact on the light of another. The ethical, interpersonal mitzvot are a directive from G-d to take care of His children. This would extend to all of His children, not just His Jewish ones, hence the usage of the word בריות. I also found it interesting to see what was not listed, and that is the more ritualistic aspects of Judaism, such as Shabbat or keeping kosher.

This is not to say that ritual does not have a role in Judaism. Rituals are a way in which Jews connect to G-d. Rituals are actions that define the particularistic aspect of Judaism. Rituals are supposed to invoke something in us and help us connect to G-d. However, as I've argued before, rituals are the means to a more spiritual life; rituals are not performed for their own sake. If rituals are meant for us to get closer to G-d, then much like parents who is most proud when their children get along with another, the best form of knowing that we're doing a good job is G-d being pleased about how His children treat their fellow human beings.

But if mitzvahs between G-d and men (בין אדם למקום), as well as mitzvahs between man and man (בין אדם לחברו), are both directives from G-d, why would the latter be the one that causes G-d to be pleased with us?

While both are directives of G-d, when an interpersonal mitzvah is violated, it's a double violation. With interpersonal mitzvahs, it's a proverbial smack in G-d's face [because a directive has been violated] and it harms another individual, and that individual is created in G-d's image. Interpersonal mitzvahs are the way that one can be both good in the eyes of G-d and man (Proverbs 3:4). Look at how atonement on Yom Kippur works (Chavot Yair). To atone for one's sins that are בין אדם למקום, one has to recite Kol Nidre. For sins that are בין אדם לחברו, however, G-d will only forgive those sins if the individual seeks forgiveness from the one that has been wronged. The way that we make teshuvah for our sins in Jewish practice should tell us plenty about which one is more important in G-d's eyes.

If we want to connect to G-d, one of the best ways to do so would be to do that which makes Him happy, and that is because a sound metric of a relationship's success, whether that relationship is with family, friends, or G-d, can be measured by the extent to which one is pleased with the other in the relationship. From what we have here, how we treat fellow beings is more important than ritual, and if G-d is pleased when we act ethically, that should give us pause as to how we should view our Judaism.    

שנאת חינם: The Power of Baseless Hatred

Tisha B'Av, which is coming up in less than a week, commemorates a plethora of cataclysmic events that have befallen the Jewish people on the 9th of Av.  The two most important ones are the destructions of the First and Second Temples.  The Bablyonian Talmud, and more specifically Yoma 9b, goes into why each Temple was destroyed:

The First Temple was destroyed because murder, idolatry, and giluy arayot (commonly translated as licentiousness or sexual immorality) were rampant.  The Second Temple, however, was brought down by שנאת חנם, or baseless hatred.     

First, I would like to propose whether the hatred of individuals can provoke the destruction of a Temple.  It can, and it did, especially when that hatred permeated to the highest levels of society and touched the institutional levels.  Right before the destruction of the Second Temple, there was such fragmentation amongst the Jewish people.  Sectarian quarrelling could not even allow one Jew listen and understand their fellow Jew.  Yoma 9b states that the Second Temple should not have fallen because Jews were occupying themselves with Torah, observing the mitzvot, and practicing charity."  However, the hatred was so strong and so prevalent that both from theological and historical perspectives, they brought the demise of the Second Temple. 

I would like to point something out.  First of all, the destruction of the First Temple took three sins.  And these aren't any three sins: these are the three for which, traditionally speaking, one would martyr himself rather than commit it (Sanhedrin 74a).  The Second Temple, on the other hand, took just one sin: שנאת חנם.  Again, the Jews of this time were immersed in Torah and mitzvot (Yoma 9a), but that didn't save them from the ugly fate that came with שנאת חנם. The fact that שנאת חנם is just as powerful as murder, idolatry, and sexual immorality combined shows the immense power of שנאת חנם.

Let's take that a step even further.  Not only do we feel the intensity in the fact that שנאת חנם is as powerful as three grave sins.  The length of the exile caused by each destruction is even more telling.  After the destruction of the First Temple, the Jews were without a Temple for 71 years.  But how about after the destruction of the Second Temple?  Wait a minute......I don't ever recall there being a Third Temple in our time.  As a matter of fact, we have been without a Temple for 1,960 years, and we are still counting.  As of date, the second exile has been going on nearly 28 times longer than the first!
 
Whether you take this Talmudic passage at face value or not, one thing should be clear--שנאת חנם can have tremendous effects on the world.  We have been in exile 28 times longer than our ancestors who experienced the first exile, and we still can't get it right.  This level of needless, baseless animosity is not healthy for the individual, and it's not healthy for the Jewish people.  We can take this lesson in many ways.  Love your neighbor (Leviticus 19:18). You shall not hate your brother in your heart (ibid 19:17). 

On a day of national mourning, one that is supposed to bring us in touch of national consciousness, we need to realize that this lesson applies to all Jews. When Jews, as a collective whole, can strip away the שנאת חנם, whether it would be with family quarrels, inter-denominational bickering, or even how some Jews feel about non-Jews, when we strip away baseless hatred from ourselves, we can become the "light unto nations," and when we do that, we can hasten the construction of the Third Temple and help bring about the Messianic redemption that we Jews have been desiring for so long.