I Didn’t Deserve It

What a thrill it was for me to be awarded the prize for the “Best Sermon Preached in the College Chapel” during graduation exercises at Hebrew Union college in Los Angeles long ago. My joy was dampened just a bit when a professor shared with me, “I thought you and Jerry Winston should have shared the prize.”

“But you were not even there the day I spoke,” I answered. “How can you tell?”

“I read your sermon so I have a very good idea how it sounded.”

“No, you don’t,” I said to myself, very glad I had won the prize … outright.

Jerry Winston was unique in those days, a man in his forties who decided to be a rabbi after a successful career as a writer in Hollywood. He was gentle and kind. He is gone now, but I will never forget him or his sermon.

He addressed the then controversy about what rabbis should wear on the pulpit, robes or no robes, tallit, or no tallit, kipah or bare head? He skillfully tied the discussion to this week’s portion, Tetzaveh, containing elaborate descriptions of the garments worn by the ancient priests.

As he finished, he stepped in front of the pulpit and said words I’ll never forget:

“And if you are concerned about what you should wear on the pulpit, wear the Torah. And if it doesn’t quite fit, don’t worry. You’ll grow into it.”

Jerry, I hope it would please you to know that I have been trying to do what you said for 45 years. And just for the record, I think you should have won that prize … outright!

Beschämt! Translation of “Mortified!” by Pastor Ursula Sieg

Die Tora-Lesung dieser Woche beschreibt detailliert die kunstvolle Kleidung unserer Priester alter Zeiten. Sie bringt mir eine lebendige Kindheitserinnerung vor Augen: Ich werde nie den Tag vergessen, als ich als Sechstklässler beschloss in Khaki – Hose und Turnschuhen zur Sonntagsschule in den Tempel zu gehen. Ich wäre nie auf die Idee gekommen, so auch am Schabbat in die Synagoge zu gehen. Trotzdem war meine Mutter entsetzt: “So kannst du nicht losgehen! “, bettelte sie, “Du siehst aus wie ein Lotterheini! Und was willst du dem Rabbi sagen, wenn er sich so sieht?”

“Mach dir keine Sorgen,der Rabbi wird mich nicht sehen, weil ich mich durch den Hintereingang reinschleiche.”

Mama entschied, dass diese Angelegenheit einen Krieg mit ihrem eigensinnigen Sohn nicht wert wäre. Als ich mich durch den Hintereingang in den Betsaal schlich, stand der Rabbi da: “Turnschuhe in der Synagoge”; bemerkte er unglücklich, “sehr schön!”

Natürlich schämte ich mich und überlegte ob meine Mutter Hellseherin geworden war.

Die Zeiten haben sich geändert, aber…

Seit diesem lang zurückliegenden Tag haben sich die Bekleidungsmaßstäbe sehr geändert. Jetzt kommen Kinder im Fußball Trikot, zerrissenen Jeans und T-Shirts. “Freu dich, dass sie überhaupt hier sind!”, ermahnen mich die Leute. Ich freu mich ja! Aber wundern tu ich mich doch:

Was wäre eine gute Idee um sich für die Synagoge ein klein wenig hübscher anzuziehen als sonst? Klar: Ordentliche Khaki – Hosen und Turnschuhe wie die, die ich damals trug, wäre grade richtig!

Purim für Erwachsene (Purim for Adults)

For my German readers, my dear friend, Pastor Ursula Sieg, Director of Church-School Relations in Northern Germany, with whom I have worked so closely, has graciously translated my essay on “The Adult Issues of Purim.” I hope you will find it meaningful and instructive. Thank you, Ursula, for this wonderful gift!

In den vierzig Jahren als Gemeinde-Rabbiner entwickelte sich Purim für mich vom einem netten Fest beinahe zu einem dritten Hohen Feiertag.

Wir lesen die Megillah Esther nicht mehr einfach um Esther zu bejubeln und Haman auszubuhen. Mittlerweile erwarten wir ausgefeilte Choreographien und sorgfältig eingeübte Purim-Spiele mit gewitzten Reimen gesungen zu Popsongs oder Showmusik. In der Gemeinde Beth Israel ist die clevere Lyrik von Pattie Weiss Levy legendär. Jede Gemeinde hat ihren eigenen Barden.

Wunderbar! Als Rabbiner freue ich mich über alles,, was die Beteiligung am Synagogenleben fördert und die Festfreude steigert. Um den Purim-Effekt voll zur Geltung kommen zu lassen, brauchen wir allerdings mehr als gute Musik, Rasseln, Kostüme, Karneval, Lärm und Fröhlichkeit. Wir müssen die Purim-Geschichte auf das Leben beziehen – sowohl als Kinder wie als Erwachsenen – weil sie bei näherem Hinsehen sehr lehrreich ist. Hier sind drei Beispiele:

Der Mut der Vasti

Wir sollten den Mut der Vasti bedenken, König Ahasveros’ erster Frau. Die Geschichte beginnt damit, dass der mächtigste Mann der Welt ihr befiehlt, ihre Schönheit vor seinen betrunkenen Freunden zur Schau zur stellen. Sie aber weigert sich. Sie muss natürlich für den weiteren Verlauf der Geschichte die Bühne verlassen. Aber wir sollten sie mit Standing Ovations hinausgeleiten.

Vasti ist ein wichtiges Beispiel für alle Frauen. Ihr Verhalten ist ein guter Ausgangspunkt für Diskussionen darüber, wie Frauen häufig behandelt werden, und wie sie darauf reagieren können. Vasti weigert sich, bloßes Sexobjekt zu sein, selbst wenn es sie den Thron kostet. Vasti ist ein herausragendes Beispiel einer Person, für die Berühmtheit und gesellschaftliche Stellung weniger wichtig sind als ihre Würde als Mensch.

Vorurteile

Eine lebenswichtige Lektion über Vorurteile wird uns mit der Weigerung Mordechais geschenkt, sich vor Haman zu verneigen. Haman ist verärgert, doch das Buch Esther berichtet: “… es war ihm nicht genug, nur Mordechai zu strafen, denn sie hatten ihm von Mordechais Volk erzählt.” (Esther 3,5). Nein! Wegen seines Ärgers über einen Mann trachtete Haman nach der Vernichtung aller Juden.

Gefühle gegenüber einer Person auf eine ganze Gruppe zu verallgemeinern, ist ein Beispiel aus dem Lehrbuch für Vorurteile. Traurigerweise wurde unser Volk durch die ganze Geschichte hindurch oftmals mit Vorurteilen wie im Buch Esther konfrontiert und in erschreckender Regelmäßigkeit tauchen sie wieder auf. Viele andere Gruppen werden auch mit Vorurteilen konfrontiert. Rassismus, Sexismus, Seniorenfeindlichkeit und Homophobie sind nur einige der typischen Vorurteile die der Welt heute zu schaffen machen. Die Purim-Geschichte bietet uns ein lebensnotwendiges Beispiel dieses Phänomens, das wir gewinnbringend diskutieren können.

Bestimmung des Menschen

Eine weitere lebenswichtige Lektion behandelt die Bestimmung des Menschen, den Sinn des Lebens. Als Mordechai Hamans Erlass las, der alle Juden zum Tode verurteilt, schickt er eine Nachricht an Esther, sie solle sich für ihr Volk einsetzen. Esther antwortete, dass sie sich nicht traut vor dem König zu erscheinen, weil er sie nicht gerufen hatte. Ungebeten beim König zu erscheinen, könnte das Leben kosten. Als er sie drängte hin zu gehen, stellt er Esther eine Frage, die wir uns auch stellen sollten: “Wer weiß, ob nicht wegen dieser Zeit in diese Position gekommen bist?” (Esther 4,14)

Mordechai fragt tatsächlich uns alle: Sind wir nur auf dieser Erde um Ärger zu vermeiden und das Leben zu genießen? Ist unser Komfort der vorrangige Zweck unseres Lebens? Die jüdische Tradition und das Buch Esther sagen: Nein! Esther hätte ihr Leben in Luxus genießen und das Elend ihres Volkes ignorieren können. Aber Mordechais Frage hat Esthers Gewissen genügend angestachelt, so dass sie alles riskierte um die Juden zu retten.

So wie Esther haben wir alle Momente im Leben, in denen es auf unser Tun und Lassen ankommt. Wir können diese Momente ergreifen oder uns von ihnen abwenden. Weil Esther ihre Angst überwindet und tut, was der Moment fordert, inspiriert sie uns alle.

Wenn wir also auf Purim zugehen, lasst uns mehr vorbereiten als Spaß, Spiele und tolle Musik. Den Mut der Vasti verkörpern, Vorurteile wahrnehmen und im entscheidenen Moment unsere Bestimmung erfüllen macht die Geschichte der Esther zu unserer Geschichte, eine Geschichte, die unsere jüdischen Seelen noch lange nach dem Fest bereichern kann.

(Rabbiner Stephen Lewis Fuchs ist der Autor des Buches “What is in It for Me? Finding Ourselves in Biblical Narratives. Er war President der Weltunion für progressives Judentum und Rabbiner an Congregation Beth Israel.)

Should Christians Convert Jews?

When I was 5 years old, my mother gave me a precious gift. I can still see that 78 rpm record, with its turquoise-blue label in the center spinning round and round on my little Victrola, playing over and over again songs entitled “Little Songs on Big Subjects.” One of my favorites was and is the one that went like this:

“I’m proud to be me, but I also see
You’re just as proud to be you.”

I have always been proud to be a Jew. I have always tried to respect the religions of others.

It was indescribably hurtful to Jews some years ago when the Southern Baptist Convention announced a concerted effort to bring Jews to belief in Jesus. In contrast, how proud I was to write a letter to the editor of a local newspaper expressing my support and my appreciation for two Southern Baptist ministers who disavowed publicly their movement’s attempt to convert Jews. These ministers bravely affirmed the legitimacy of religious diversity. They affirmed the legitimacy of different paths to the one, true God. Thankfully, many other Christian scholars have written in a similar vein.

Unfortunately, from my perspective, fundamentalist Christians talk of their unavoidable claim to follow the “Great Commission” of the 28th chapter of the book of Matthew and other passages in the New Testament to bring the word of Jesus to all the nations. But, according to my friend and my teacher, Prof. A.J. Levine, the “Gentile nations” is the reference in Matthew 28. The Greek word often translated as “nations” has a similar connotation to the Hebrew word goyim, which means all of the nations except the nation and the people of Israel. I commend these interpretations to evangelicals, and hope they will find their way to them.

People often ask me, “Why do Jews for Jesus campaigns cause you such pain? Why do you feel a need to respond so forcefully. I believe that attempts to bring Jews to Jesus is, at best, motivated by misguided love. One only need take a quick look at history and see the results–the inevitable results–of this so called love as it has played itself out over the centuries. In country after country after country, Christians have lovingly expressed their concern for our salvation and invited us to accept Jesus. Over and over and over again, when we refused that invitation, that love has turned to venom and hatred. Often it has led to expulsion and death.

The outstanding contemporary Jewish philosopher, Emil Fackenheim, of blessed memory,  put it this way. “The Holocaust was the culmination of a 2,000-year campaign by the Christian world against the Jews. It began early on with them telling us, `You cannot live here as Jews.’ And in country after country, they forced us to convert. Later the message became, `You cannot live here.’ And in country after country, they forced us to leave. Hitler’s message was, `You cannot live.’ And they exterminated one-third of our people.”

When a Jew accepts Jesus as his or her Messiah, he or she fulfills no biblical prophecy. When a Jew accepts Jesus as Messiah, he or she becomes a Christian and leaves the Jewish religious community. One cannot be both Jew and Christian at the same time. So it has been for more than 1,800 years, when our religions split and went their separate ways. So it remains today.
If one wishes to be a Christian, I hope that path brings him or her spiritual fulfillment. But he or she cannot be a Jew at the same time.

If the campaign to bring Jews to Jesus meets with its ultimate success, if it reaches its ultimate goal and every Jew becomes Christian, then the end result will indeed be as if Hitler had won the war. There will be no more Jews. That, in a nutshell, is why these campaigns cause such pain.

Four thousand years ago, Abram left the pagan world, along with his wife, Sarai, to teach of a single, good, caring God who wants us human beings to use our talents to create a just, caring, compassionate society. Christians call that justification by works, and they are absolutely 100 per cent correct. That is exactly what it is, and that is one of the fundamental differences between Judaism and Christianity. We justify ourselves, not so much by what we believe, but by what we do. I understand and I respect fully that Christians see it differently, but I know how much good the world has derived because we Jews have insisted on following our unique and particular path to God.

My plea is that different faith traditions can live side by side in mutual respect and peace. Mutual respect precludes belittling the integrity of our religion as it is. If Jesus brings fulfillment and satisfaction and meaning in life to Christians, I say it again, I am happy for them. But Jesus plays no role, no role whatsoever in the religious thinking of the Jew.

Why? There are three major claims which Christians make for Jesus which Jews categorically reject:
1. That the martyr’s death that Jesus endured in any way effects atonement for the collective sins of humanity or the sins of the individual.
2. We reject the idea that God became or is likely to become incarnate in any human form, making any human being a suitable object for worship.
3. We reject that, as Paul contends in his epistles, the life and death of Jesus rendered the elaborate system of Jewish law and observances functionally useless. If you believe that any one of these claims is true, then you may be a Christian, but you are not a Jew.

By the time Jesus lived and died, Jewish messianic expectations were really quite clear. The Messiah our people expected would do four things, also on your sheet:
1. End the Roman oppression of the Jews.
2. Restore a descendant of King David over a reunited Land of Israel.
3. Bring about the miraculous return of the scattered exiles to the Land of Israel.
4. Inaugurate an endless era of peace and harmony in the world.

Put quite simply, Jesus did none of these things. Therefore, he cannot be the Jewish Messiah.
Bible-believing Christians often quote passage after passage in the Hebrew scriptures which they say point unmistakably to events and circumstances of Jesus’ life which the New Testament recounts. “How could this be,” they ask, “if Jesus were not the Messiah of whom the prophets spoke?”
“How can this be?” I answer. “It is very simple. The 18th-century preacher, Jacob Krantz, the famed Maggid (storyteller) of Dubnow in Poland, told a story which answers the question.

Once there was a man riding through the countryside in his wagon. He came upon a long barn, and on the side of the barn were several targets. Right smack in the middle of the bull’s eye in each and every target was an arrow.

The man stopped his carriage and said, “I must meet this person who shoots so perfectly every time.” So he stopped his carriage and found the owner of the barn. He asked him, “How is it that you never miss hitting the dead center of the bull’s eye every time you shoot your arrow?”
“It’s quite easy,” the man answered. “You see, first I shoot the arrow into the barn, and then I draw the target around it.”

How do New Testament writings show that Jesus’ life and actions comply with predictions in Hebrew scriptures? It’s easy. New Testament writers wrote their stories so that their accounts of Jesus’ life would match the prophetic passages which they knew so well from Hebrew scriptures.

A Jew for Jesus is every bit as much a contradiction in terms as a Christian Not for Christ. Make no mistake. Jews for Jesus and Messianic Judaism are big businesses backed by big money. They take out full-page ads in Newsweek, in Time, in The New York Times. They are on television almost every hour on every day of the week. There is a magazine called Charisma. In one issue, with a so-called Messianic Rabbi on the cover, they tell those who would lure Jews away from Judaism what to do and what not to do.

The article says, “Do be a friend. Create a sincere friendship first. Don’t just try to convert the Jewish people. Do say `Messiah.’ Don’t say `Christ.’ Do say `believer.’ Don’t say `Christian.’ Do say `New Covenant’ or `Old Covenant.’ Don’t say `New Testament’ or `Old Testament.’ Do say `congregation.’ Don’t say `church.’ Do say `completed’ or `fulfilled.’ Don’t say `saved’ or `born again.’ Do say `Messianic Jew.’ Don’t say `Christian.’ ”

It is a subtle and crafty and carefully contrived campaign to lure those Jews who don’t really know what it means to be Jewish into another religious faith. When I hear how Christians claim their tradition compels them to witness aggressively to Jews, out of their love for Jews, I think every time of the story of the Hasidic disciple who approached his rebbe and exclaimed, “Master, I love you!”
And the rebbe responded, “Do you know what hurts me?”
The disciple answered, “No, Rebbe, how can I know what hurts you?”
The Rebbe answered him, “If you do not know what hurts me, you cannot love me.”
For me, that is the bottom line. You cannot love me, you cannot truly be my friend, if you do not acknowledge what hurts me so deeply and desist from inflicting that pain.

One woman, in response to some newspaper articles in which I was quoted, wrote me a letter that said, “Rabbi, how can we not proclaim Jesus to you? If you had cancer, and I had the cure for cancer, would it not be an act of friendship and love for me to share my cure with you?”
With all due respect, I do not have, thank God, cancer! I have a faith which sustains me. I have a faith which I cherish. I have a faith which makes me a better person than I otherwise would be. I have a faith which is full and complete, and it is in no need of any cure or any outside savior.

If I wanted to put the argument in biblical terms, I would do it this way. Did God make a covenant with Abraham? Of course, God did. God promised the Jewish people protection, progeny, permanence as a people, and property, the Land of Israel. In return, God stipulated that we, the children of Israel, had to be a blessing in their lives. (Genesis 12:2) We have to walk in God’s ways and be worthy. (Genesis 17:1) We have to be teachers and examples of justice and righteousness. (Genesis 18:19).

Those were the terms of the covenant in the book of Genesis that God established with Abraham and us, Abraham’s descendants. Is that covenant irrevocable? Of course it is. Christian scripture says it over and over again. Is God a liar? Of course not. So I say to any Christian who would be my friend: We have our covenant with God. It is complete. It is irrevocable. God is not a liar. We have no need for Jesus. If you cannot respect our faith, then please simply leave us alone.

If we really understand the meaning of Abraham’s covenant, we understand too that the entire Christian metaphor of God sacrificing his son on a cross is antithetical to Jewish teaching. On Rosh Hashanah each year, we read of how God called Abraham to take Isaac to Mount Moriah to sacrifice him. At the crucial moment, though, God called to Abraham, “Stop! Do not lay your hand upon the boy, and do him no harm.” The lesson is that no true religion requires human sacrifice in its name. The lesson is that human sacrifice is abhorrent to the God we worship.

For Jews human sacrifice is in God’s eyes an unforgivable act. The gospel idea that God would sacrifice his son is antithetical to Jewish teaching from that day to this. It should surprise no one, therefore, that Jews do not accept Jesus as Christians do.

There was profound wisdom in the words of the song on the record my mother gave me so long ago: “I am proud to me, but I also see you’re just as proud to be you. It is just human nature, so why should I hate you for being as human as I? We’ll give as we give, if we live and let live, and we’ll both get along if we try.”

A Life Changing Event

It happened three years ago today!

slfuchs's avatarFinding Ourselves In The Bible

A little over two years ago I was on my way from Fort Lauderdale to speak at Kabbalat Shabbat services at Temple Judea in Coral Gables, Florida, I suddenly realized that I was hearing nothing in my right ear. I thought it would pass. It did not, and it has not since.

The ear specialist had no explanation. He believes it is inner ear nerve damage and that it is permanent. An MRI showed a virus, but still there was no explanation. “Sudden complete hearing loss in one ear is unusual, ” the doctor explained, “but it is not unheard of.”

Life has been different ever since. Crowd noises are deafening. Large gatherings of people are no fun, and most of the time if I want to hear what someone says to me, I must look straight at their lips.

As I continue to adjust to the reality of having…

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One Suggestion to Enhance Shabbat Eve Worship

When Dr. Helen Glueck, widow of the renowned archaeologist and former President of the seminary, Nelson Glueck, delivered a masterful ordination address at the Plum Street temple in Cincinnati more than forty years ago, she said in effect to the about to be ordained rabbis, “You are not social workers, you are not facilitators … You are Rabbis and your job is to be teachers and examples of Torah’s highest ideals.”

So much has changed in Reform Jewish life since the 70s. Services have become less formal, and rabbis have become less ego-centric, less judgmental, (in many cases) and more accessible. All of that is to the good.

But there is one change that I question. Many congregations that I have observed have forsaken the ritual reading of Torah on Shabbat Eve. Not too many years ago, the center piece of the Friday night service was—and in my view should be again—a thoughtful Torah reading, backed by a meaningful explanation of its context by the rabbi and a sermon or Drash that connects the Torah portion to the lives of the worshippers.

Back when I was a student, we never left for our student pulpit without a Tikkun (a Torah text with both vowels and no vowels from which to practice our readings) in our luggage. Before we left, we practiced our Torah readings for the Friday night services we would lead with each other. We practiced some more on the plane headed toward our hinterlands destinations. We knew that our congregations went to great expense to bring us in, and we knew why! We were their source of Torah, and we did not want to let them down.

Speaking as a reform rabbi and as a lifelong Reform Jew, I believe that a Shabbat service-–even a family service—should include serious (and of course, age appropriate) engagement with Torah.

Engagement with Torah to me necessarily includes a well-prepared presentation-–either read or chanted—with interlinear translation so that the text is both presented in the original and made intelligible to the congregation. Such presentation differentiates Torah from Shakespeare or the latest TV commentary, or Internet article that a rabbi might well bring into his or her D’var Torah.

It also strikes me as desirable to take and replace the scroll to the ark with readings and songs that emphasize Torah’s centrality in our lives as Jews.

I freely admit: I do not have all the answers to what will bring Jews back into the synagogue to worship with both keva and kavanah, with both regularity and a deep sense of spiritual directedness.

I do believe, though that when we make the presentation and teaching of Torah the top priority in the worship we lead, we will be on the right path.

Will You Bow at the Altar of Football Violence?

Tomorrow, much of our nation will bow at the idolatrous altar of football violence as the Superbowl unfolds!  I plead with you now:  Please join me in doing something else, anything else!

A few days ago two former Vanderbilt football players were convicted of multiple counts of sexual assault against another student. The case absolutely sickens me!  For four years, while serving as Senior Rabbi of Congregation Ohabai Sholom in Nashville, I studied the values of Biblical literature at Vanderbilt before earning my Doctor of Ministry degree in 1992. For that reason I feel an extra measure of revulsion over the actions of Cory Batey and Brandon Vandenburg,  the two former Vanderbilt football players, who were both convicted on all of the counts of sexual assault with which they were charged, I hope they both spend many years behind bars for their crimes.

Sadly, though, it was not an isolated incident. One can only guess how many other women were sexually assaulted on college campuses and other places in the two years between when the Vanderbilt rape occurred and the day the guilty verdict was read. It is only because of the enormous courage and fortitude of the victim that justice was done in this case. How many hundreds of others have gone and will go unreported?

A lengthy letter to the Vanderbilt community by Chancellor Nicholas S. Zeppos begins this way:

“Earlier this week, a Nashville jury found two former Vanderbilt students guilty of a vicious attack against a fellow student. The victim showed exceptional courage and strength in pursuing justice through the criminal trial. At this time, we are called upon again to consider as a community how we can ensure that what happened to the survivor of this terrible crime never happens again.

The heinous conduct described at trial was not the product of Vanderbilt’s culture. On the contrary, such conduct is the very opposite of the values Vanderbilt stands for and our students hold dear. We abhor sexual misconduct, and we subject every student to the same standards.”

But you don’t “subject every student to the same standards,” Chancellor. Elite athletes live by different rules. And you know it!

Without question the actions of Vandenburg and Batey are the antithesis of what Vanderbilt and every university stand for. And yet it is clear to me that the culture of “King Football” which reigns on university campuses across the United States is complicit in the crimes.

Athletes who play major college sports are courted to come to their institutions and coddled while they are there. People have told them since they were children how great they are, and so they feel entitled to do whatever they want whenever they want to whomever they want.

In addition, violence spews out of our television, movie and–perhaps worst of all–our computer screens. Why should people think it is wrong to abuse another human being, when they have seen hundreds of thousands of images of such abuse by the time they reach adolescence?

The combination of limitless violence and limitless adulation for student athletes is a lethal combination, and the game of football is the most visible result. Each week during the season millions of people watch highly trained athletes risk life and limb for their entertainment. Too many studies have shown that even when these gladiators walk away unscathed from their weekly combat, the effects accumulate in an alarming percentage of participants.

Look at the studies that reveal how many former NFL players die young. Look at the percentage of those who live out their lives after their short years of glory are over with life-long painful injuries. Look at the numbers who succumb to Alzheimer’s disease at an early age. These figures are shocking. But we don’t care!

We claim that in a free country, these people make the choice to take these risks, and who are we to stop them? We claim that we don’t condone censorship, so we dare not even ask the entertainment industry to tone down the violence that our kids see every day.

The New York Times has an “ethicist,” Chuck Klosterman.” Now, nothing in the man’s resume or education suggests any special training or expertise in ethics. So let’s accept that his column is for entertainment value only. Still, he has a very large stage and when asked about the ethics of watching football, he wrote:

“Any adult involved with football is aware of the risks associated with playing a collision sport … every head-to-head collision generates imperceptible ‘sub-concussions,’ slowly damaging the brain without the victim suffering the symptoms of an acute trauma. This means the players are being injured on almost every play … Football is a brutal activity …”

But that’s OK says Klosterman …”We love something that’s dangerous. And I can live with that.”

Well, when I see the effects of football both in the culture of entitlement it creates for players on the one hand and the devastating effects on their bodies on the other hand, I cannot remain silent. I don’t watch football any more.

Tomorrow they will play the biggest game of all, the Superbowl. Never mind that one of the teams participating, the New England Patriots, cheated to get there. We can’t jeopardize the biggest sporting event of the year over a little thing like that, can we?

I don’t watch football anymore because I realize now, after decades of watching, that each one of us is either part of the problem or part of the solution. We either contribute to the culture of violence that causes untold damage to minds and bodies or we do our small part to reverse it.

Which choice will you make?

Crossing the Sea! Excerpt from “What’s in It for Me? Finding Ourselves in Biblical Narrative”

In Exodus 14:10-14, the Children of Israel see the Egyptians bearing down on them as they stand at the banks of the Sea of Reeds. The people panic and blame Moses for their plight, saying, “Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us taking us out of Egypt?” (Exodus 14:11-12).

Moses responds that the people should have no fear. God will protect them (Exodus 14:13-14).

At this point, God speaks to Moses, saying, “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward” (Exodus 14:15). The rabbis interpret Moses’ response to the Children of Israel as a prayer to which God responded that there is a time for prayer and a time for action. This was the time for action. In the words of the Midrash,

God said to Moses: “There is at time to shorten prayers, there is a time to draw them out. My children are in dire distress, The sea has fenced them in, and the enemy is pursuing. So, how can you stand there and multiply prayers?! Tell the children of Israel to go forward.” (Exodus 14:15) (Shemot Rabbah 21:8)

In rabbinic literature, there are conflicting traditions as to how the Israelites respond to Moses’ command to go forward. The rabbis never perceived a need to resolve these conflicting views. They taught that a text can have many meanings and teach many lessons.

One interpretation is that everyone argued about who would have the honor of going in the water first. After much contention, the tribe of Benjamin succeeded in entering the water before the other tribes; according to this tradition, God rewarded them by having the temple built in their territory (B. Sotah 36B-37A). The story also explains why a member of the tribe of Benjamin, Saul, was chosen to be the first king of Israel.

A more familiar and contradictory tradition is another etiological account written to explain why the tribe of Judah became the dominant tribe and the only one that ultimately survived. It helps us understand, once again, why we have taken the name Jews. The text reads,

Each tribe was unwilling to be the first to enter the sea. Then sprang forward Nachshon ben Amminadab (chieftain of the tribe of Judah) and descended first into the sea. (B. Sotah 37A)

A third view, and my favorite interpretation, contends that God did not part the waters until the Israelites as a group showed their faith in God’s power. The Midrash states that the sea was divided only after Israel had stepped into it and the waters had reached their noses. Only then did it become dry land (Shemot Rabbah 21:10).

Here, the rabbis teach us all an important religious lesson. The deliverance from Egypt was not accomplished only because of God’s will and God’s miracles. Our salvation was a covenantal partnership requiring not only God’s power, but Israel’s faith as well. From a biblical perspective, God simply parted the sea. From the rabbinic perspective of this Midrash, however, the Israelites as a group demonstrated their worthiness for redemption by wading into the water up to their noses before the sea parted.

Jewish tradition does not question the validity of God’s actions in drowning the Egyptian pursuers. Still, while we rejoice in our freedom, we take no delight in the destruction of our enemy. The Talmud states,

When the Egyptian armies were drowning in the sea, the ministering angels broke out in songs of jubilation. God silenced them, saying, “The works of My hands are drowning in the sea. How can you sing praises in My presence?!” (B. Sanhedrin 39B)

At the Seder meal that celebrates Passover, participants traditionally remove a drop of wine from their cups as each of the ten plagues against Egypt is recited. Wine is a symbol of joy in Jewish practice. By taking wine out of our cups, we diminish our joy in recognition of the suffering of our enemies.

An important figure in modern Jewish history expressed a similar sentiment. Israel’s troops were not fully prepared for the Egyptian invasion, which was launched on Yom Kippur in 1973. Even though Israel managed to thwart the military challenge, there was no rejoicing in the Jewish state. There was instead a lingering feeling of sadness because of all the casualties suffered on both sides. In the aftermath of Israel’s victory, Prime Minister Golda Meir spoke in a manner reminiscent of the Talmudic passage above when she said, “You know, the Arabs’ greatest sin is not making war against Israel and killing her sons. We can forgive them for that. Their greatest sin is that they made us kill them” [Margaret Davidson, The Golda Meir Story, rev. ed. (New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1981, p. 206)].

Why Did God Harden Pharaoh’s Heart?

“For I have hardened his (Pharaoh’s) heart and the hearts of his servants … “ (Exodus 10:1)

On my list of most frequently asked questions is: Why does God harden Pharaoh’s heart? Why did God not simply “soften” Pharaoh’s heart, show him the error of his ways, and bring about the emancipation of the Hebrews in a peaceful and loving way?

Without question, Pharaoh’s arteriosclerosis is a complex subject. Traditional Jewish commentators point out that early in the encounters between Moses and Pharaoh, the text states: “Pharaoh’s heart stiffened,” (Exodus 7:22; 8:15) or “Pharaoh became stubborn” (Exodus 8:10; 8:28). Later, (beginning with Exodus 9:12) the text begins to say, “The Eternal One stiffened Pharaoh’s heart.”

This shift, according to the commentators, reflects the view that inertia—the unchecked hardening of Pharaoh’s heart (his stubbornness)—took the matter out of Pharaoh’s hands, and evil took on a life of its own.

In Studies in Shemot, Nehama Leibowitz parallels the unchecked acts of evil that Pharaoh committed, to those of Macbeth. At first, Macbeth is reluctant to do wrong. He certainly fears to lay hands on his King, Duncan. With each succeeding murder, though, the voice of his conscience wanes until it can exercise no control over his treacherous impulses.

When in Act III, Lady Macbeth, who first encouraged her hesitant husband to kill the King, voices her reservations about Macbeth’s reign of terror, Macbeth responds: “Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.” (Act III, Scene 2, line 55) In other words, the evil has taken on a life of its own; Macbeth can no longer control himself. So it was with Pharaoh.

Rabbi Akiba (second century C.E.) foreshadowed Shakespeare’s insight in Macbeth when he described the inclination to do evil this way: “At first it (the inclination to do evil) is like a spider’s thread and at last it is like a rope of a ship.” (Genesis Rabbah 22:6)

Rabbi Akiba was reflecting the Cain and Abel story.

God implores Cain not to kill his brother, but he does anyway. Cain did not check his anger and jealousy, so it took control of him, and he did a horrible thing.

Rabbi Simeon ben Levi said: “The evil inclination of a person waxes stronger day by day.
It seeks to kill him. If God did not help, a person could not overcome it.” (B. Kiddushin 30 b)

Implicit in this text is the notion that a person must enlist God’s help to fight the inclination to do evil. God will not do it for us unless we consciously make the effort.
In other words, only through diligent effort and appeal to God for help, can humans overcome the inclination to do wrong.

When we persist in evil, when we ignore God’s will, evil takes on strength greater than we can control.

Those uncomfortable with such direct references to the Almighty, but who still seek guidance from traditional texts, might choose to substitute, “appeal to the voice of our conscience” for “enlist God’s help.”

In Pirke Avoth (3:19) we find one of Jewish thoughts most enigmatic teachings: “All is foreseen. Yet free will is given.”

As the rabbis understood God, the Almighty knows exactly what will happen. At the same time, the rabbis uphold the ability of human beings to make moral choices of their own volition. So, for the Rabbis, the fact that God announces that the Almighty would harden Pharaoh’s heart (first in Exodus 4:21 and again in 7:3) does not mean that God is responsible for Pharaoh’s evil. The point is that Pharaoh was in not open to God’s guidance.

God, then, did not actually harden Pharaoh’s heart. God allowed Pharaoh to continue on the course that he had chosen.

God allows all of us to do the same. Although most of us, at times, have wished that God would step in and change people, such action would rob us of the free will that gives life meaning.

Acting on Principle

I switched my Rx’s to CVS
I felt that I must
It’s not about ease
It’s all about trust!

It’s less convenient
And parking’s not free
Unlike at the other
Big pharmacy!

There’s no drive through
On cold winter days
And by comparison
The store is a maze.

But these things
Matter less to me
than the fact CVS
Is TOBACCO FREE!