In Yaakov’s dream, after he sees angels going up and down that ladder, G”d appears standing over Yaakov and says:

I am Ad”nai, the G”d of Avraham your father, and G”d of Yitzchak…” (28:13 JPS)

It’s interesting to note that G”d says “Avraham, your father” in speaking to Yaakov. Yitzchak, not Avraham, is the father of Yaakov. Now, we can take the easy way out, and use the Bob Newhart subterfuge that “it was all part of a dream.” Yet, can we so easily dismiss what happens in dreams-especially in the important dreams of our Biblical ancestors? We have built entire theological understandings around this dream and Yaakov’s response to it (which was

“Akheyn yeish Ad”nai bamakon hazeh v’anokhi lo yadati – Surely G”d was in this place and I, I did not know.”)

so I do not believe we can so callously dismiss the obvious misstatement of lineage in this pasuk of holy text. So what’s going on here? We could ask the usual “what’s troubling Rashi?” but this doesn’t seem to trouble Rashi enough to even mention it. So instead, we’ll go with what’s troubling Adrian.

Let’s put on a scholarly hat for a moment. Assuming the text of the Torah as we know it has undergone several (perhaps many) redactions, how did so many editors overlook this obvious inconsistency (or why did it not trouble them?) A simple tweak to the text would have eliminated the problem.

Did these many editors simply gloss over it, or read it as the metaphorical “Avraham avinu,” the father of all of Jews?

Perhaps we can play with the vagaries of Hebrew pronouns? The text, in describing the dream, merely says that G”d was standing over him. Only by inference do we assume that the “him” is Yaakov.  However, perhaps not. Farther along in the text, it refers to “the ground upon which you are lying” thus we can clearly, in context, make the reasonable assumption that it is Yaakov that is being addressed by G”d in this dream.

If you’re a regular reader of my musings, you’ll know where I’m likely to go with this. It must have something to do with Yitzchak. Poor, traumatized, suffering from PTSD Yitzchak. Yitzchak, the man who is apparently (though not assuredly) dim enough to be fooled into giving his blessing to his younger son Yaakov, dressed in goat skins to resemble his hirsute brother.

There is a clue that perhaps this does have something to do with Yitzchak after all. Later on in the parsha, near the end, twice we read of G”d being described as “pakhad Yitzchak” the “fear of Isaac.” Though, like the other root meaning fear, yud-resh-alef, this root, pey-khet-dalet, also can mean “awe,” this root is more commonly associated with “dread” than “awe.” Dread, for me, is a step closer to the dark side than simple fear. Dread, I think, requires obvious thought process that leads to a conclusion that there is something to worry about. Fear can simply come from not knowing. Dread, I believe, is by nature anticipatory, and while it may ultimately be illogical or irrational, it stems from a belief or understanding that appears rational at the time. Fear requires no such understanding.

Yitzchak had every good reason to dread both G”d and his father Avraham. G”d called upon Avraham to sacrifice Yitzchak, and Avraham willingly complied.  Sure, in the end, G”d comes riding in on the white stallion to rescue Yitzchak – nevertheless, were I Yitzchak, I’d probably continue to have issues with G”d, perhaps in a Yonah sort of way, as in “why did you put me through this painful charade if you knew in the end the outcome would be merciful?”

Now, if you look ahead to next week’s parsha, you find a spoiler to my entire thesis. Early in the parsha, Yaakov call’s upon G”d:

“O G”d of my father Abraham and my father Isaac….” (Gen. 32:10 JPS)

So perhaps what we hear in Yaakov’s dream is just idiomatic speech after all. It still leaves us wondering, however, why, in the dream, it doesn’t also say “and my father Isaac.” No matter how you slice it, there’s an oddity here. Was G”d misspoken or misquoted?  Did some text get accidentally left out? Is this the text’s subtle way of reminding us that it was all just a dream, by leaving some sign that all was not as it should be? That’s a pretty standard literary device. Is this why, even after this seminal moment, this epiphany for Yaakov, that he still will only admit a conditional acceptance of G”d (see me home safely, and you will be my G”d) ?

This was Yaakov’s dream. Only Yaakov’s subconscious could tell us why, in this dream, he speaks of Avraham as his father, and not Yitzchak. Then again, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Our understanding of G”d is inevitably bound up in the nature of our relationship with G”d. Of Yitzchak’s relationship with G”d we know little, and can only surmise. Only after Yitzchak had re-dug the wells of his father, lived the repetition with King AviMelekh of what had happened between his father Avraham and a Pharaoh, and acquired great wealth, did Yitzchak speak with G”d and build an altar to G”d (Gen 26:23.) In fact, G”d doesn’t really speak to Yitzchak much until then.

We can only guess what Yitzchak might have related to his sons Yaakov and Esav regarding the little joke that Avraham and G”d played on him. Could some of this be reflected in Yaakov’s subconscious, and play out in this dream, in which G”d does not mention his real father? Might this help explain why, even after such a dream and awakening, that Yaakov continued to only have a conditional relationship with G”d? Had Yitzchak taught him to be a little suspicious, perhaps?

Near the end of the parsha, Laban and Yitzchak settle up. In witness to their agreement, Laban calls upon the G”d of Avraham and Nahor.  In an obvious “dis” of Laban’s choice of G”d to witness this agreement between them, Yaakov

“swore by the fear (pakhad) of his father, Isaac.” (Gen 31:53 JPS)

Yaakov’s relationship with G’d may have been deepening somewhat, but not enough for him to let go of what he knew of his Father Yitzchak’s relationship with G”d. Perhaps, in next week’s parsha, when Yaakov wrestles with the “ish” one of the gremlins he is wrestling with is that “pakhad Yitzchak.” Yitzchak has passed his neuroses down to his offspring. (I think they may have been passed down all the way to us.) If nothing else, our weekly encounter with Torah gives us the chance for more self-analysis. Because sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar…

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian
© 2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Seems G"d knew what G"d was talking about. G"d allowed Abraham to argue with G"d to see if Abraham could actually persuade G"d to spare S'dom and Gomorrah for the sake of the righteous who did live there. From fifty to forty-five to forty to thirty to twenty to ten , Abraham successfully argued with G"d to spare S'dom and Gomorrah its fate for the sake of the few innocent, so they should not be swept away along with the guilty.

Yet it soon become clear that there are not even ten innocent ones, according to to the text. It says that "all of the townspeople, then men of S'dom, young and old-all the people to the last man"  gathered at Lot's house and asked that the strangers be brought out so that they could be "intimate" with them.

There's a problem here. I'm willing to accept that misogynist redactors of the text of the Torah has a hand in shaping things. Yet, were they so misogynistic as to have G"d exclude all the females from the count of the innocent?  Are we simply to assume that all the females of S'dom and Gomorrah were as wicked as the men?

On the other hand, there doesn't seem to be any protest from the women. The text does not speak of women who tried to stop their men from acting wickedly to the strangers. So we could perhaps take their silence as acquiescence- in which case, perhaps there really were no innocent in the towns.

What about children? Were they all wicked too? Did their young lives deserved to be cut short for the sins of their parents?

I'm just not comfortable with that. Far be it for me to question G"d, but that's exactly what I'm going to do! During the time of Noakh, and during this time at S'dom and Gomorrah, G"d willingly destroys G"d's own creations, assuming all of them deserve it (except for those G"d hand picks to survive.)

Noakh gets picked because he's decent compared to the rest of the folks in his time. (So what did Mrs. Noahk do to deserve the honor of surviving, other than by being Mrs. Noakh ?)  Lot probably deserves a similar description-he did offer up his daughters to the townspeople in order to spare the strangers. So compared to the evil people of S'dom and Gomorrah, perhaps he wasn't so bad.

Why have anyone survive at all? You're G"d-why not just start over again? You  created this mess - what with your "enjoy the garden ids, and eat anything you want-except from that tree..." Then You wiped it all out, save for Noakh and his family - and you seemed to have gotten the same results. Hmmm, G"d, was that a miscalculation on your part? Did you think an almost fresh start would work?

Tell me G"d - were there really no innocents among the guilty - no women, children, even men? Or perhaps you just consider them collateral damage? G"d gives, and G"d takes away. Blessed be G"d? You gotta be kidding.

This whole story stinks (along with many others we find in Torah.) Yes, human kind hasn't exactly been at its best much of the time. Have You?

You destroyed S'dom and Gomorrah.
We destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

We've had a few not quite global wars.
You wiped out the entire population fo the planet except one family.

We've killed many soldiers in the name of a good cause.
You drowned Pharaoh's soldiers in the sea.

We killed many while occupying the lands you promised to us (and sadly, we keep killing for the same reason.)
You told us to do it.

Hail humanity. Hail G"d.

To quote from the final lyrics of the song "Molasses to Rum to Slaves" from "1776" - 

"Who stinketh the most?"

Shabbat Shalom,

-Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Just 6 years ago I wrote a musing for this parasha entitled "Lekh Lekha 5764--Ma'aseir Mikol--The Ten Percent Solution."  As my thoughts continue to evolve on what Judaism's future might look like, I thought this topic was worth revisiting.
Six years ago, I set up the topic this way:

Hebrew grammar and syntax being what it is, it's easy to overlook, or misunderstand.

Let's find our place. Avram serves as a mercenary to rescue Lot and aid King Malchizedek and the other Kings allied with him, and they defeat the five kings aligned against them. Malchizedek, the King of Salem offers a blessing to Avram. Oh, by the way, the text tells us, Malchizedek was a priest of G"d Most High, El Elyon. Now, if that's not a head-scratcher...

G"d had just communicated with Avram. Already there are others worshiping this same G"d? I am not troubled by this. I always remind myself that Torah never explicitly says that G"d is making exclusive covenants. It's not entirely unthinkable that G"d has been attempting to communicate and be recognized by others. Or that others have, on their own, discovered that the idols they pray to are false G"ds, and made the leap, if not to monotheism, at least to monolatry. So to learn that Avram and King Malchizedek are fellow travelers need not be a surprise. (Critical scholarship, of course, would require considering several somewhat different viewpoint on this, and on the origins of the Jewish people and their religion. There's an interesting article in this month's) BAR magazine on the subject.   But I digress.

After Malchizedek blesses Avram, he blesses G"d, El Elyon. Then, verse 14:20 ends "vayiten-lo ma'aser mikol." And he gave him a tenth of everything.

It might be easy to just assume, when reading this, that it means that Malchizedek gave Avram a tenth of "everything," of the spoils of the battle just fought. Yet Rashi and other commentators suggest that it was Avram who gave King Malchizedek a tenth of everything he had previously acquired, as Malchizedek was a priest of G"d. (The rabbis are quick to point out, however, that Avram gave only from what he already owned, as Avram did not accept any of the spoils of war offered to him in the subsequent verses.

Anyway, all this just to take me where I wanted to go today. That ten percent that Avram gave to Malchizedek simply because he was a priest of G"d. From these short and simple words (and those elsewhere in Torah) an entire
system of funding the religious establishment is derived.
It's something that we Jews, particularly liberal Jews, seem to have lost sight of. Our Christian co-religionists still, in significant numbers, follow the practice of tithing ten, or some other fixed percent, in support of their churches. Yet our synagogues have become businesses. Fee for service establishments. Congregants argue and plea endlessly about what they should pay to support their congregation. And, far, too often, their arguments are based on "what am I getting for my money?" Is this why we affiliate, is this why we practice Judaism?

Synagogues have certainly attempted and struggled to change how they are viewed by their congregants, and I applaud their efforts. However, I'm not so sure all their efforts have or will effect the changes truly necessary. A large segment of the Jewish community is seeking its Judaism in places other than the synagogue. People are speaking with their feet (and their wallets.)
In an ideal world, no synagogue would struggle for the funds it needs, no form of Jewish education would go lacking for the funds it needs, and no person would struggle for the funds they need. It's not an ideal world. Also, are we all truly convinced that, given all the funds they needed, that our synagogues, schools, etc. would use all the funds wisely? When the funds come too easy, it's also easy to be wasteful, or greedy.
Six years ago I wrote:

I'm not here to defend the synagogue. There is lots wrong with the system as it exists, and perhaps someday, we will move into a post-synagogue era. The growing number of havurot, of unaffiliated groups, etc. are testimony to some desire on the part of Jews to find their Judaism without the trappings of the modern synagogue. The synagogue reshaping movements like Synagogue 3000 are as much an attempt on the part of the synagogue establishment to insure its own future as it is an attempt to respond to the changing needs of congregants. One wonders what would happen if, as a result of its deliberations, a synagogue future revisioning group reports back to its synagogue that their vision of the future doesn't include the synagogue? Are these programs really open to that? But I'm digressing again.

Even the havurot, the unaffiliated and informal groups, etc., need some understructure, and some financial underpinning. Still I hear stores from those associated with such groups that even they are having a tough time getting the support they need, both in people power and money.
If it is the synagogue model that I am going to buy into, and associate myself with, then I have made my choice, and there should be little question of "what do I get for my money?" The Torah and our tradition make clear our obligation to support the religious institutions we rely on, and the "priests" and professionals (and non-professionals) who serve as the spiritual guides for the congregations.)

Yet, can you imagine the outcry if your synagogue simply decided that everyone simply tithes ten percent of everything (and that doesn't just mean income, it means 10% of your total worth--probably even gross, and not net.) Those synagogues that use "fair share" systems already struggle with issues of privacy and confidentiality. We still have to rely on the basic honesty of the congregants to report and contribute their fair share fairly. It wouldn't look good for the synagogue to hire CPAs, audit all the congregants, and bill them accordingly, would it?

Today, I am even less inclined to defend the synagogue as an institution. Though many of my colleagues disagree, I am no longer certain that the synagogue will or needs to remain the central core of Jewish community. There is likely to be a role for the synagogue in the future of Judaism, however it may simply be one alongside a number of different forms in which people participate in Judaism and Jewish community. With many different paths to Jewish community, finding ways to fund them,. help them survive, etc. is going to be quite complicated. What do we do if many of us, I as suppose is likely, might benefit from participation in a multiplicity of organizations and activities as part of our Judaism? How can we be sure we're all contributing fairly to support them?
Again, six years ago I wrote:

The basic idea is the one we don't get, and the one we've lost sight of. It's not the synagogue's responsibility to make sure we contribute our fair share, our ten percent. It is ours. And we should do it willingly, gladly, and without resorting to the same kinds of tactics we use when preparing our tax returns.

Abraham, didn't stop and think "what will I get out of this?" He just gave 10% to Malchizedek, the priest of El Elyon. Would that all of us would do the same. Then, perhaps, the future of Judaism might be more secure. Our institutions would have what they needed to operate, our religious schools wouldn't be struggling to do the next to impossible with minimal resources, and our religious professionals, both ordained and unordained, would have the parnassa they require to serve G”d and their congregations without having to worry how the costs of their kids' college educations will get paid. With ten percent from all, our synagogues could be the source for the funds that all the richly-deserving charities need. (This doesn't reduce our personal obligation to give to charities, but think how much more it might enhance the work of the charities, and maybe bring us closer to the messianic age.)

I'm a dreamer, a PollyAnna. No doubt of that. Nothing really is ever that simple. Or is it. Just ten percent. Think about the difference it could make if we all did it, without questioning. Ken y'hi ratson. May this be G”d'’s will. Ken y'hi ratsoneinu. May this be our will.

Whether it is the synagogue alone, no synagogue, or a variety of programs, activities and resources that we come to depend upon to live our Judaism each and every day, it still shouldn't be up to those organizations to be sure they have the funds they need. The obligation is, as it always was, ours. Whatever form our future Jewish community takes, if it continues to struggle to survive because we all fail to support it as we should, we won't be any better off than we are now, and we will have learned and gained nothing.

Remember, too, and this is something I neglected to write six years ago, that our contributions needs not only or always be monetary. We can give of ourselves, our time, our talents. (I do feel compelled here to caution that we not entirely expect those who help professionally guide us to work for inadequate parnassa. As utopian a vision as I might have, even one in which leadership is really not in the hands of an elite few, but in all of us, the reality remains that there will always be those whose dedication, skills, and learning for the sake of being good facilitators of Judaism are necessary. They deserve the support necessary to make possible what they do, just as everyone deserves that support.) Of course, maybe there will come a day when we are all Torah scholars. Some believe that day is already here, others believe such a day will never come. Me, I'm somewhere in the middle on this point. with each passing day, we have more tools at our disposal to be truly great learners. The debate becomes "what is required to be learned?" There is already more information than any one person can master. Even in the days of the talmudic rabbis, there were probably rabbis who had specialties in certain areas. Can one be said to have truly mastered Torah without mastering Mishna & Gemara? what about Midrash Halakha and Midrash Agaddah? What about Kabbalah? Already in the Jewish community we see decisions being made about what information is essential for members of that community to know. Sadly, our communities bicker and fight about this, and even consider those who do not adhere to their own understandings as being outsiders, even as not being "really" Jewish.

However, if we each have our own understanding of Judaism, and each of us is scholar enough to satisfy what we believe is necessary to be a scholar, we could be in one helluva mess. Trying to figure out where we each give our 10% might be truly difficult. (Do we give it to ourselves to enable us to continue to be scholars, do we give it to others so they can be scholars?) Can we truly become a scholar without a teacher? Our tradition would say not. Thus, the teachers needs to come from somewhere, thus our 10% could go to make sure we have those teachers (or we become those teachers.)
What seemed like such a simple idea-that we all willingly pony up our 10%, seems to be turning into quite the quagmire. I’d better stop before I sink deeper and deeper into the quicksand.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester. Portions © 2003

Nu, what would you do if you saw your father, drunk, sitting naked around the house? You could tell someone, or you could do something to preserve your father's dignity. Woe unto Ham, for he did not stop to cover his father's drunken nakedness-he ran to get (tell) his brothers instead. For this he is cursed by his father (after he had slept it off.) Ham is also linked to being the ancestor of all the Canaanites, thus setting the stage for the future fratricide the Hebrew people committed by command of their G"d. However, that's a rant for another time.

Shem and Japeth did not even look upon their father's nakedness-they walked backwards to cover their father with a cloth. Of course, this begs the question "How could they be certain their father really was naked? Either they looked, at some point, or they simply took Ham at his word.

In all this, who is most like their father Noah, who was righteous for this time? (Talk about a qualified endorsement.) Shem and Japeth were people of action, like their father, but, unlike their father, they didn't need to be told what to do. Ham, on the other hand, at least noticed his father's nakedness and went to tell his brothers. Perhaps not as direct a helpful action as possible, but an action, nonetheless. Perhaps Ham's judgment was tempered by his own observation of his father's behavior. Noakh told no one-he just went about building the ark as instructed, and saving the animals and his family as instructed. Perhaps Ham simply wanted to converse with his brothers to choose the appropriate course of action. That's not the implication we get from the Torah, but as the connection to the Canaanites makes plain, there's an agenda here.

Yes, Shem and Japeth took an action that benefitted Noakh in many ways: keeping him warm, preserving his dignity, etc. Yet neither of them (or Ham, for that matter) undertook tokhekhah, attempting to correct their father. Respect your elder, yes, but that's no reason to counsel him against the evils of drinking too much wine. In their defense it could be argued that wine was an unknown at that point, Noakh being the first vintner. Did Noakh figure this out on his own? Did someone show Noakh how to make wine? (If so, he wasn;t the first vintner after all.) Was it merely a happy accident that Noakh discovered fermentation?

Yes, there's a clear cut lesson from this story - that one should not merely inform - rather one should take action. Nevertheless, perhaps Ham gets a bum rap after all. To think about it, why all this fuss about Noakh being naked inside his own tent? Who was going to see him? Is this just carryover from the Gan Eden story, and reinforcement of the message that covering up one's nakedness is good whereas being naked is evil (as Adam and Hava discovered when they ate of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?)

The rabbis concocted one whopper of a tale to explain why Ham was so excoriated. According to the midrash, it was Canaan, son of Ham and grandson of Noakh, who discovered Noakh naked in the tent. He told his father the news, whereupon Ham came storming into the tent and castrated his own father so that he would not bear yet a fourth son and thus diminish Ham's 1/3rd share of the inheritance. It seems Ham, seeing his father intoxicated, expected intercourse to result? Perhaps the rabbis are also suggesting that the reason Shem and Japeth did not gaze upon Noakh was not just for nakedness, but for the mutilation performed on him by Ham?

I guess the lesson is "don't be like Ham." Of course, one could just as easily say "don't be like Noakh" or "Don't be like Shem or Yapeth" which leads ultimately to the troubling idea "don't be like G"d." Maybe we should just stick with "don't be like Ham."

Can't eat ham, can't be like Ham. Funny, isn't it? (Yes, we all know it's pronounced "khahm." Just go with it.)

Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

It’s not often I get (or choose ) to write about the Torah readings for Shemini Atzeret, so while I have the opportunity, I’ll take it (even though these same passages will come around as part of the regular cycle of readings.)

Part of the Torah reading, from Chapter 15 of D’varim, verse 4 starts:

⁴There shall be no needy among you — since the Lord your God will bless you in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion--

Yet, just a few verses later, 15:7, we read:

⁷If, however, there is a needy person among you, one of your kinsmen in any of your settlements in the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kinsman. ⁸ Rather, you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs.

A clear and obvious contradiction, and not the only time it occurs in the Torah (and, more specifically, not the only time in reference to the poor.) To be fair, I’ve taken things a bit out of context. By continuing on the the next few verses of text after verse 4, we read, in verse 5:

^5--if only you heed the Lord your God and take care to keep all this Instruction that I enjoin upon you this day. ⁶ For the Lord your God will bless you as He has promised you: you will extend loans to many nations, but require none yourself; you will dominate many nations, but they will not dominate you.

Now, we’ll get to verse 6 in a moment. For now, we can consider that the conditional factors stipulated in verse 5 could explain the reason why we have verse 7ff. Of course, that means that we once again have to assume that G”d (or the authors of the Torah text) are working from the assumption that it’s darned near impossible for human beings, and especially the Israelites, to keep on the straight and narrow path and follow the commandments. That, in itself, is a pretty depressing thought. O f course, we can all wait around for Moshaikh, when we’ll be perfected (or is it the other way around-when we become perfect, Moshiakh will come? If that’s the case, it’s gonna be a long wait, according to the worldview on verses 4:7 here.)

Now, let’s be fair. The context here is the sabbatical system. This is made clear in verses 9ff:

⁹ Beware lest you harbor the base thought, "The seventh year, the year of remission, is approaching," so that you are mean to your needy kinsman and give him nothing. He will cry out to the Lord against you, and you will incur guilt. ¹⁰ Give to him readily and have no regrets when you do so, for in return the Lord your God will bless you in all your efforts and in all your undertakings. ¹¹ For there will never cease to be needy ones in your land, which is why I command you: open your hand to the poor and needy kinsman in your land.

Boy, if there ever was a case arguing against Hillel and his prosbul (a workaround for the remission of debts in the sabbatical year that allowed loans to be exempted from the remission of debts obligation. Hillel claimed it for for the benefit of both rich and poor. The rich knowing they could safely loan when a sabbatical was near would no longer be disinclined to do so, thus the poor person needing such a  loan would be able to get one. I still think the rich come out the winners on this one.) If anything, Hillel’s prosbul could be partly responsible for the contradictory situation in which we find ourselves and which the Torah mentions. Instead of honoring the intent to erase all debt every 7 years (and imagine a world where this were so) we get a system that allows the rich to grow richer and the poor to keep borrowing. Sound familiar to anything that’s been going on lately. Sorry Hillel, I think you blew this one.

I wonder if some rabbi even came up with a workaround for the next few verse 12:15

¹² If a fellow Hebrew, man or woman, is sold to you, he shall serve you six years, and in the seventh year you shall set him free. 13 When you set him free, do not let him go empty-handed: 14 Furnish him out of the flock, threshing floor, and vat, with which the Lord your God has blessed you. 15 Bear in mind that you were slaves in the land of Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I enjoin this commandment upon you today.

Maybe the closing enjoinder makes it just a bit too difficult to disregard? There’s no similar verse after verses 4-7 which says

Bear in mind that you were one poor and oppressed by capitalists in the land of Israel, and the L”rd your G”d redeemed you; therefore I enjoin this commandment upon you today.

Hillel might have had a harder time circumventing that assertion!

Now, I promised to get back to verse 6.

⁶ For the Lord your God will bless you as He has promised you: you will extend loans to many nations, but require none yourself; you will dominate many nations, but they will not dominate you.

This one has caused us no end of trouble (just like the Kol Nidre prayer.) Rather prophetic, too. Also easily abused by anti-Semites and worldwide Jewish conspiracy nuts. Unfortunately, while we did wind up making many loans to nations on than our own, we didn’t quite wind up dominating them, did we? G”d’s mistake, or ours? If we had followed all the commandments as a community, might things be different today? Only G”d knows (or maybe G”d doesn’t know?)

Clearly, sacrifices ere not enough  to get G”d to forgive our failures to fully follow the commandments. We read in the special haftarah for Shemini Atzeret from I Kings, chapter 8:

⁶² The king and all Israel with him offered sacrifices before the Lord. ⁶³ Solomon offered 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep as sacrifices of well-being to the Lord. Thus the king and all the Israelites dedicated the House of the Lord. ⁶⁴ That day the king consecrated the center of the court that was in front of the House of the Lord. For it was there that he presented the burnt offerings, the meal offerings, and the fat parts of the offerings of well-being, because the bronze altar that was before the Lord was too small to hold the burnt offerings, the meal offerings, and the fat parts of the offerings of well-being.

Wow. I thought kings weren’t supposed to be ostentatious and overdo things. Well, maybe that doesn’t include offerings to G”d? (I think it should!) Maybe the sacrifices helped for a while, but once Solomon was gone, things went all to pieces again, and fast.

We just can’t seem to get it right. Thousands of years later and we still can’t get it right. Yet, those same thousands of years later, we’re still here, we survive, mir zenen do. So maybe it’s true:

⁶ For the Lord your God will bless you as He has promised you.

To paraphrase Tevye the milkman, maybe G”d should shower those blessings on someone else for a while?

In closing, allow me to commend to you some of my previous musings speficially for Simchat Torah:

Sh'mini Atzeret/Simkhat Torah 5767 - Joyful and Glad of Heart
Simchat Torah 5766--Have We Met The Ally And Is They Us?
Simchat Torah 5757-5765-Unbroken Circle (With additions for each year)
Simchat Torah 5764-Circling the Torah--A Story of Chelm
Simchat Torah 5762--Not So Fast

Moadim L’Simcha, Hag Sameakh, and Shabbat Shalom,

 

Adrian

© 2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

All translation from the revised JPS Tanakh.

I have written many times about the inherent tensions in Judaism. It seems we need them to be a part of our faith, our understandings, our practices. So much so, that when there is no apparent tension, it appears the priests and rabbis sometimes sought to create them.

In the Torah reading for Sukkot, which include the biblical references to this holiday we read:

seven days you shall bring offerings by fire to the Lord
Lev 23:36

And in Num 29:12-39, we have an elongated description of the ritual sacrifices of Sukkot, and it's 70! (count 'em) 70! sacrifices. That's a lot of fire offerings.

Thus, one might view Sukkot as a holiday strongly connected with fire. Yet, if anything, it is with water that Sukkot is inextricably linked, especially through the ritual of the water libation that was performed daily in the Temple during Sukkot.

If one views Sukkot as a harvest-derived holiday, then a connection to water, and the ensuing prayers for a good rainy season, seem to connect. The rabbis, of course, go out of their way to give the practice of the water libation and Sukkot's connection to water a textual basis. The commandment to perform the water libation is derived from the oral Torah mi Sinai, and appears in the Gemara. It even attempts to link the water libation to the text of the Torah by positing three "additional letters" appearing in Numbers 29:12-39 that spell "mayim: (water.) Thus, in rabbinic tradition, it has as much basis as if the commandment appeared in the written Torah.

So here we have this tension between the need for much fire on Sukkot for the sacrifices, and the need for water for the water libation. Fire-water. Great tension.

Rabbis, modern pos'kim, and scholars have a field day with Sukkot and water. There are connections to the four species, references to water being the very source of life, etc.

So what is it that we do on Sukkot to represent either the missing fire sacrifices or the water libation? Nothing. Therein lies yet another tension. In many (but not all cases) when a Temple ritual is obviated by the Temple's destruction, the rabbis manage to find a suitable substitute. At the very least, they construct a ritual that has some small connection to what was lost.

Yet, fond as we are on Sukkot to speak about the water libation (and to a lesser degree, the 70 sacrifices requiring fire) I'll be darned if I can think of one thing we do in our modern observance of the holiday to illustrate these lost practices. Granted, the waving of the lulav can been seen as representative of the wave offerings in the Temple. Perhaps it can be seen as a substitute for the sacrifices, but it hardly seems fitting substitute for the sacrifice of a whole lot of bulls. (Perhaps the Hallel is that substitute?)

I guess, if we're Torah purists and reject the rabbinical addition of the water libation, we can view our prayers, the lulav, the sukkah itself, and the Hallel as substitutes for the sacrifices. So why haven't adherents to the rabbinic tradition sought a substitute for or a ritual connection the water libation? Why aren't we pouring out water in our Sukkot? Or, at the very least, some ritual involving pouring water over a table or something representing where we eat? I can understand why setting our sukkot on fire and then putting it out with water never became a practice, but there must be some way we can bring symbols for the fire sacrifices and the water libation back in our Sukkot practice.

As Jews, we need tension in our beliefs and practices. Sukkot has some-the tension of "partial" shelter is one. I think Sukkot needs a few more poles of tension.

So that's my challenge to all of you, my creative friends, for this hag. Can we find a way to bring fire and water into our Sukkot celebrations? It's gonna be a hot and cold time in the old town tonight.

Before I close, an interesting side note. Of course, the title of this musing had me singing the old Jame's Taylor song, "Fire and Rain." In it, he sings:

I've seen fire and I've seen rain.
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end...

and in the haftarah for Sukkot I, from Zechariah, we read:

In that day, there shall be neither sunlight or cold moonlight, but there shall be a continuous day--only the L"rd knows when--of neither day nor night, and there shall be light at eventide. (Zech. 14:6)

And, of course, we can always take the next two lines of the song as metaphor for our relationship with the Divine:

I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again

Of course, we'll ignore the second verse about that Jewish carpenter guy lookin' down on him. Or that the song is about the death of a friend, Taylor's addictions, and his treatment for that. (And not, as the urban legend goes, about some mythical girlfriend who died in a  plane crash - see http://www.snopes.com/music/songs/firerain.asp

In yet another odd connection, the haftarah speaks of a time when

fresh water shall flow from Jerusalem, part of it to the Eastern Sea and part to the Western Sea, throughout the summer and winter. (Zech. 14:8)

This lovely passage is followed by the well known

bayom hahu y'hiyeh Ad"onai ekhad, ush'mo ekhad - On that day G"d shall be One and G"d's name shall be One. (Zech 14:9)

And I couldn't think of a better place to stop.

Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameakh,

Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Nine years ago, I wrote a musing for Shabbat Shuvah entitled "Bull From Our Lips" I offer it again to you this year, slightly massaged, revised, and re-written.

The prophet Hosea says in one of the special haftarot for Shabbat Shuvah:

"K'chu imachem d'varim          "Take words with you
v'shuvu el-Ad-nai,                   and return to the Lr"d,
imru eylai,                              Say to Him:
kol-tisa avon,                         'Forgive all guilt
v'kach tov,                             and accept what is good;

un'shalma parim s'fateinu"       instead of bulls we will pay [the offering of] our lips.'"
(JPS)

Our words are what we offer to G"d instead of animals. Which words? The words of
prayer? Of praise? Of repentance? Of our hearts? Of our minds? Perhaps it's not the words themselves- it's how we use them, and what we use them for. Our words are taken the place of bulls, but bull should not be coming from our lips.

Intent matters. The words may be difficult to pray. You may not understand them. You may disagree with them. How you deal with that matters.  You can spout the words of the given liturgy, use a newer version of the liturgy, or, some say, even substitute your own words. I'm not sure it matters much to G"d if you're chanting or ortho-mumbling traditional Hebrew liturgy, reading English translations, using some fanciful new liturgy, or simply speaking what is in your heart. In fact, I suspect that G"d might appreciate the latter most. Just as long as when you pray, there's no bull on your lips.

Of course, what do you do in those times when you faith is weak, challenged, or unsure. For some, just saying the familiar words, even without the intent behind them, works. In that case, their intent is simply performing their ritual obligation. Shall we count that as any lesser intent? Is it up to us to judge?

Of late, I've been in discussion with peers and colleagues about the future of Judaism, and things like cyber-shuls and digital sefer Torahs. While the idea may seem strange to some, for others, it is their way of connecting. Again, it should not be for us to judge what works spiritually for another.

Let's take the discussion beyond the synagogue, beyond the uttering of ritual prayer. These days, it seems like bull is sprouting from just about everyone's mouth. It's hard to separate the truth from the garbage. Some say it's our sound-byte society. The fewer words we use, the harder it becomes to express the range of what we really want to say. (Trust me, using Twitter is teaching me, someone who has struggled with an overly verbose style of writing and speaking for decades, how not to waste words. Having only 140 characters to make a point really forces you ti whittle it down to the essentials. Nevertheless, as our own scriptures teach us, sometimes the fewest words express things the best

Some say it's the language itself. It has grown so dense, so complicated, so full of slang, buzzwords, etc. that one can't help but use them.

Words, words, words. It's not the words that are the problem. We need the words to communicate. It's how we use them, and what we use them for. Imagine for a moment a good person, one who embraces his faith, has respect for themselves and respect for others. Who strives to treat others as another "you" or "thou" rather than an "it", as Martin Buber would put it. Are not all their efforts in vain if they do not use the language of communication properly? A mutual language of communication must reflect mutual respect. Once any bull starts emanating from their lips, the process is hopelessly poisoned.

As it is with each other, then so it must be with G"d. As ...what comes from our lips shall be like the offering of bulls to G 'd. Hosea wasn't just telling us that Temple sacrifices can be replaced by words. These words are our sacrifice to G"d. Thus we must treat what we say in our communications with G"d carefully, keep them as unblemished as the bulls we would offer up. No less in true in our communications with each other.

Not that we cannot be earthy. One good look at the Psalms will tell us that our tradition teaches us to truly speak our feelings to G"d-even if those feelings are anger, disappointment, lack of faith. G"d hears those kinds of expressions, and they are just as much a sacrifice to G"d as are words of praise, thanks and submission.

Still, we will know, and G"d will know, if the words we utter, no matter how beautiful, glorious, and seemingly pious, are words in the place of bulls, or the stuff that bulls leave behind.

We are truly fortunate, in our Jewish tradition, that we have been given so many words to use and ways to use them, in our communications with G"d. We have the prose and poetry of the siddur, the psalms, songs and liturgies. These words are so well crafted that they can be truly natural coming from
our own lips and hearts and minds as if they were our own. It is no crime nor shame to use them when we cannot find words of our own (and because the power of using these words communally is so great, there is good reason to try and use them whenever you can.)

Yet sometimes that doesn't work. I know there are times I try to pray the words of the siddur and know that my lips are offering not sacrificial bulls, but the other kind of bull. Those are the times when I must find other words with which to speak with G"d. And speak I must. Pray I must. For each day and each moment reveal to me G"d's creation, and also G"d's frustrating mystery.

Pray. Pray to G"d. If all you can pray is "G"d, I don't want to pray" or "G"d, I don't believe in prayer" that's ok. That kind of truth is like a sacrifice to G"d. That's no bull. Let what you pray be an offering of your lips.

I wish you and yours a Shabbat Shalom and G'mar Khatima Tovah!!

Adrian

©2009 (portions ©2000) by Adrian A. Durlester

This musing is an adaptation of my musing from Rosh Hashanah 5763

May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year. We are told, "On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed." For many Jews, it is a difficult concept to embrace.

What are we to make of this conflict between free will and predestination?

For me, the question becomes--who is doing the writing?

Tradition tells us that it is G"d who makes these determinations, but I think another interpretation is equally acceptable. It is us, ourselves. We are the ones who, by what we do and do not do, by what we believe and do not believe, by what we confess and do not confess, by what we vow to do better and what we write off as simple character flaw, by all this and more, we write our futures into the book of life.

Surely, how we live our lives, or think we live our lives, can and does affect what happens on our lives. Yes, there are powers greater than us that still ultimately can affect our future. However, we can affect our present and our future, and those of others as well.

Our choice, for example, to be or not to be an active member of klal Yisrael, working to fulfill our end of the covenant we have with G"d, affects not only ourselves but the entire community. Our ability to keep our communal covenant is only as good as our weakest link. However, we live in changing times, and the definition of what it means to be an active participant in k'lal Yisrael  are in flux. Individuality and universality are in tension with the communal and particularism.

There are those who say assimilation weakens us, diminishing the numbers of us who are able to act righteously and thus bring about our part in whatever G"d's plans are for us. Then there are those who argue that the loss to our community through assimilation strengthens us, by removing the weakest from the community. Both arguments have merit, and our own scriptures speak of our being both numerous as the grains of sand, and also achieving continuity through a remnant.  There is yet a third argument--that assimilation is actually a positive force that allows us to involve the gerim tosh'vim in what we do, thereby extending our power to affect the world. We truly become an or l'goyim in this way. Again, these differing understandings are in tension.

There's a part of me that believes that surely a faithful Jewish community, numerous as grains of sand, is the better option than a remnant. Yet I cannot be certain.

Perhaps G"d is hedging bets, allowing for the future G"d wants for us, yet allowing us, through our free will, to determine how that path is to be followed, that destination reached. Which brings us back to our role in what gets written in the book of life.

How we all work towards our own today and tomorrow, as well as the collective present and future of the Jewish people is in our hands, our hearts, our minds. As we pray and reflect at Rosh Hashanah and during the days between then and Yom Kippur, let's reflect on how we might exercise influence over what gets written in the book of life. Even, if in G"d's great wisdom, our efforts to live by our covenant do not achieve for us another full year of life in the great book, there is surely no harm, and great righteousness, in so doing. Perhaps that is why we are told that it is indeed G"d, and not ourselves, that write what happens in the book of life. Perhaps if we knew just how much influence we could have on what gets written, we'd be tempted to do good for the wrong reasons (i.e. to gain another year of life), or become bitter and angry when, despite righteousness, the lives of some get cut off. More concepts in tension with one another.

Then again, is desiring another year of life a bad thing? Our own tradition promises us the blessing of long life if we follow G"d's commandments and do what we have promised to do. Yet this promise has led us to all sorts of debates on theodicy, on why bad things happened to good people. Maybe it is easier (and wiser) for us to simply believe that what gets written in the book of life is not under our control or influence. What, and give up free will? 'Tis a puzzlement, and a tension.

So, I've once again successfully talked myself in a circle out of my own argument. What an appropriate thing at this time of year, as we celebrate the cycle of another year.

I still want to believe that we can influence what gets written in the book of life. Yet I also know that the lives of even the most righteous among us could get cut short this coming year.

Are life and death opposites, to be held in tension? Or or they part of a circle or a continuum? Does Judaism teach us to balance, to keep in tension, life and death? It certainly asks us to "choose life." Yet it also attempts to tell us that ultimately we are not in control of our living or dying. We choose life not just so that we may live, but also those who come after us. What we do here and now will affect what happens after we are gone. So even today and tomorrow are in tension (or from tomorrow's perspective, today and yesterday.) If there is a "book of life," it's probably pretty messy, scribbled in, with lots of little marginal notes,changes, etc.

"But it's sealed," I hear you say. If this is so, then why are we taught that the gates of repentance are always open? Yes, repentance is given some urgency, and even a suggested time limit during the Yamim Noraim, yet it seems that even what is sealed in the Book of Life is subject to revision. So is it sealed, pre-ordained, or not? Does free will matter. Yet more tension between ideas.

Call it yin and yang, call it l'havdil, call it mayim and shamayim, call it or v'choshech, man and woman--even in this most sacred time of the year, our tradition illustrates the dualities of existence. The dualities of life. Our system of belief recognizes it, embraces it.

In these times, the challenges seem greater, and the conflicts appear to some to be more black and white. Yet I believe things are just as gray as they ever were. As we live through this time of change for Judaism, we must respect the tensions within it, for they enable us to achieve a reasonable mean. Even if it means that the mean itself changes over time. What is normative now may not be so in the future. Certainly, what is normative now was not so in the past.

We are redefining Judaism, Jewish community, Jewish identity, Jewish worship and praxis. It is not an easy process, and there will be slips and stumbles, contentious debates and more along the way. Just remember to be open to what was, what is, and what could be.

May you be inscribed and sealed for a challenging year.

Long live the conflict between free will and predestination! May it always confound us, and give us the impetus to study, learn, and try and figure it all out.

May this new year be a year of blessing for each and every one of you and your families, and it may it be a year of confounding, searching, learning, and teaching.

Shanah tovah u'metukah,

Adrian
©2009  by Adrian A. Durlester (portions ©2002)

Six years ago, I wrote a musing for this parsha entitled "Connecting the Dots" In it, I explored the possible meanings of the Masoretic "dots" inserted above the first 11 letters of the words "lanu ul'vaneinu ad" (only the final dalet is absent the dot) in the sentence:

Hanistarot l'-Ad"nai El"heinu v'haniglot lanu ul'vaneinu ad olam la'asot et kol divrei hatorah hazot"

My translation: "The hidden things are for Ad"nai, our G"d, and the revealed things are to us and to our children for all eternity to do all the words of this teaching."

The JPS's translation" Concealed acts concern the L"rd our G"d; but with over acts. it is for us and our children ever to apply all the provisions of this teaching."

In so translating this text, the JPS committee decided to side with the traditional understanding of this text referring to responsibility of the community for dealing with sinners. The dots, say most scholars, tell us that the people of Israel could ignore the instruction until they came into the land of Israel. That is, they were not obligated to deal with revealed sin, or work to prevent people from sinning, until they had entered the land, after taking the responsibility upon themselves with the oath ritual at Mount Gerezim and Mount Ebal.

Rashi supports this interpretation, and relies upon Talmud to so so, citing portions from Sanhedrin 43b and Sotah 37b.

Of course, all this is based on the supposition that the Torah, as we now have it, was known and revealed to the Israelites (at Sinai?)before they entered the land after 40 years wandering in the wilderness.

Why, probably two or so millenia later, in the 7th century CE, would the Masoretes feel it necessary to dot the words "lanu ul'vaneinu ad?" What was troubling the rabbis, Rashi, and the Masoretes?

Rashi claims that G"d did not mete out punishment even for revealed sins in great quantity before the people entered the land after accepting the oath. thus becoming responsible for the conduct and behavior of each other. Rashi was a proponent of punishing the many (i,.e. the community) for the sins of the individual, for it is as much their failure. (Given this world view, it's no wonder the rabbis went to such great lengths to create a fence around the Torah

So what troubled Rashi, the rabbis, the Masoretes? Surely plenty of punishment for sins was meted out during the people's time in the wilderness. Pinkhas showed great zeal for such activities. Korakh and his rebel band were dealt with quite directly by G"d. Why, their very wandering in the wilderness was a punishment for the sin of doubting G"d. Yes, things got much worse after we entered the land, largely due to our own inability to control ourselves. We failed, as individuals, and as a community, to live up to our covenant, and for that we were punished and kicked out of the land. Twice-the second time for good. (I'm not sure that our ability to presently be in the land again means all is forgiven and our period of expulsion for our sins is over.)

Why only the eleven letters? Why is the word "ad" only dotted over the first letter, the ayin? How can we ignore one letter of the word? Just a typo that got carried on through tradition, or is it purposeful?

So again I ask, why would the Masoretes mark text to be disregarded by people who preceded them by thousands of years? Was this their nod to previous generations of rabbis and scholars who argued that this little piece of text was inapplicable prior to the people entering the land? Why not be bold and say "this applies to us now and foreverm so what does it matter that for a short time, thousands of years ago,it didn't apply" The Masoretes were fixing something that didn't need fixing. So again I ask why?

Shortly after this perpelexing text, and its perplexing dots, we come to the famous "lo bashamayim hi" which teaches us that Torah is not too baffling to be understood by anyone. It would seem the Masorete's dots in 29:28 directly contravene this concept. For that matter, so do thousands of years of rabbinical and scholarly writings, from Talmud on down to modern Responsa. All of them exist on the basis that Torah isn't clear, and needs explanation, needs gaps filled, etc. I'd be so bold as to stipulate that all of halakha is in direct contravention to the text of Deut. 30:11-14.

We developed this idea, this tradition of the Oral Torah (which eventually  became Mishnah, Gemara, Talmud, Shulkhan Arukh, and more.) It exists to help us understand what we don't understand in the Torah. Yet Torah herself tells us that she is not to difficult for anyone to understand. Oh, what a viscous circle we have woven.

Maybe it's time to forget the dots, and stop trying to connect them. Maybe it is time for each of us to assume our roles as individuals (and communities) fully capable of understanding Torah, without intervening layers.

This has been on my mind of late, largely because of something I read in my efforts to help be a part of the future of Jewish education. The piece, Ten Things I Learned About The Future of the Jewish People From the Future of the Jewish People, makes an important point about today's youth being a creative generation, with easy access to the tools that enable them to be creative. Using Wikipedia as an example, author David Bryfman says that today's youth need to be part of creating anything which they will respect, and that includes working with our sacred texts. He wrote:

A Jewish text and a traditional authority are valuable only once their respect has been earned – something that can only be established when teens are given the opportunity to develop a personal relationship with either the text or the authority figure. Likewise rituals are only as meaningful as the sovereign selves who help construct and develop them. This rejection of tradition has been interpreted by some as disrespectful – but instead needs to be re-framed within the passion and dedication of those many young Jews who strive to be creators and interpreters and not merely recipients of a tradition. (emphasis added)

I have taken this idea to heart and plan to use it at the core of my teaching and other activities in Jewish education.

How might today's youth approach these two pieces of Torah: the dotted "lanu ul'vaneinu ad" and "lo bashamayim hi?" They would certainly embrace the latter concept, as it pretty much guarantees their place as interpreters of Torah. How would they seek to be both creator and receiver of that text?

Why don't we try for ourselves to find out. while I'm not going to create a wiki to discuss this (at least, not for now) I'd like to ask you, my readers, to openly engage in the process of creating and receiving Torah by offering your thoughts on Deut. 29:28 and 30:11-14. Post your comments here, on the blog post of this week's Random Musing. (If you're reading this in an email or on a page of my web site, the blog is at http://migdalorguysblog.blogspot.com) Together we can create and receive.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Judaism, it is said, is a religion without a true creed. Creed is defined as:

creed (plural creeds)

1. That which is believed; accepted doctrine, especially religious; a particular set of beliefs; any summary of principles or opinions professed or adhered to.
2. A reading or statement of belief that summarizes the faith it represents; a definite summary of what is believed; a confession of faith for public use; esp., one which is brief and comprehensive.

(source: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/creed)

Some have argued that the Shema declaration is, in effect, a creed - a statement in a belief in the One G"d. In his book, Understanding Jewish Theology, Jacob Neusner, writes that

"the Shema contains the entire proclamation of the Jewish creed."

Neusner goes on to describe the Shema as declaring G"d as One, G'd as revealer of Torah, and G"d as redeemer, thus delineating three categories of belief: One G"d, Torah as Divine revelation (inclusive of Torah and subsequent Jewish writings), and Israel as a community of holy people.

That's a pretty amazing (and speculative, though supported historically) derivation from so few words. In my own view, the very simple nature of these 6 Hebrew words defy their ability to be considered a creed.

Over the centuries, some scholars have suggested the Aseret Hadibrot, the Ten Commandments, are a creed, but it's difficult to see those as articles and statements of faith.

Philo tried creating a creed:

G"d exists, and reigns
G"d is One
The world is a creation
Creation is a One-ness
G"d's will orders creation

Saadia Gaon tried. Judah HaLevy tried. The Rambam (Maimonides) tried. His thirteen articles of faith gained wide acceptance-but not because of any consensus, but rather through the weight of his scholarship.

While parts of all these understandings and others found their way into our liturgy, their remains no consensus.

If there is a creedal statement in Judaism, some find it right here in this week's parasha, Ki Tavo. It is the words of the ritualistic statement to be uttered by every Jew when bringing their first fruits to the Temple:

"My father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there; but he became a great and populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried to the L"rd, the G"d of our fathers, and the L"rd heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. The L"rd freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm, and awesome power, and by signs and portents. He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. Wherefore I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, O L"rd, have given me" (Deut: 26:5-10)

Is that a creed?  Compare it to the Nicene Creed of Christianity:

We believe in one God,

the Father, the Almighty

maker of heaven and earth,

of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,

the only Son of God,

eternally begotten of the Father,

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten, not made,

of one Being with the Father.

Through him all things were made.

For us men and for our salvation

he came down from heaven:

by the power of the Holy Spirit

he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;

he suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of Life,

who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

With the Father and the Son he is worshipped and glorified.

He has spoken through the Prophets.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

We look for the resurrection of the dead,

and the life of the world to come. Amen.

*-1975 ICET translation

The Nicene Creed speaks rather specifically about what the believer believes, within a religio-historical narrative. The first fruits declaration has the religio-historical narrative, but no clear statement of belief. It is also intended as a prayer-a prayer for acceptance of the offering of first fruits. The text is merely explanation of why we choose to make this offering. That in itself is sort of odd. Why do we need an explanation for why we are thanking G"d? No where else in the Torah is a prayer specifically outlined as it is here. Why this one prayer? What makes it so significant (This is one reason some call it a creed.)

Some scholars have speculated that the intent is to remind of us things for which we ought to be thankful, since we're prone to forget. Makes sense, but hardly makes it a creed.

It is a statement of belief that the mentioned things took place-that we went to Egypt, were oppressed, redeemed by G"d and sent to a promised good land. In the absence of real historical evidence that any of these things ever actually took place, how does one understand these words, let alone understand them as creedal? Yet we say them year after year at our Pesakh Seder.

Yet these words are the religio-historical history of the seminal event in our existence as a people. Does it matter if the events described are historical fact or not?

Therein is possible justification for it being a creed. In the absence of empirical evidence, it seems illogical to make such a declaration. Yet we make it, even today. That is an article of faith, if ever there was one. A creed for a non-creedal religion. A creed that lies not at the heart of liturgical worship text, but a peripheral statement, a reminder of why we do what we do and why we believe what we believe. (Most people might call that an apologetic, rather than a creed.)

There is perhaps a more cynical view of why this might be considered a creed. Note how the rabbis twisted the true meaning of the words "arami oved avi" to read " An Aramean destroyed my father. Only a real creed would need such apologetic tinkering!

I leave you with that thought.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

One of the most puzzling bits of text in the Torah comes at the very end of this week's parasha, Ki Tetzei:

(17) Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt--(18) how, undeterred by the fear of G"d, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. (19) Therefore, when the L"rd your G"d grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the L"rd your G"d is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!

We all know Amalek. After all, how could we forget, for Amalek has appeared in many disguises, been known by many names throughout our history. He is our perpetual bogeyman, Therein lies the rub, as many before me have realized. The instructions here seem contradictory - "remember" what Amalek did, blot out Amalek's memory and "do not forget!" What precisely, are we being told to not forget?Is it the memory of what Amalek did to us? Or is it the instruction to blot out the memory of Amalek? Can we really have it both ways?

Some argue that painful memories are best forgotten. Others argue that repression of bad memories is damaging to the psyche. Some argue that holding a grudge is  pointless and counter-productive. Others argue that sometimes holding a grudge can keep one necessarily cautious and protect one from future abuses. Some hold that some bad things are more heinous than others. Others claim that circumstances can affect the heinousness of something bad-that it is a relative distinction.

Speaking of situational things, perhaps, to understand what is being said here, it is necessary to extend back to the beginning of verse 19. It is in the context of being in a time and place of safety from enemies that we are told to blot out Amalek's memory. So does this mean that at times when we are in danger, we should not blot out Amalek's memory? Then what about the words "Do not forget?" Are we to "not not" forget during times of danger (i.e., remember.) Is this a caution that when times are perilous, we should keep the memory of Amalek alive? That is to say, when we are threatened, we would be wise to remind ourselves (and the rest of the world, by extension?) of what Amalek did.

Perhaps, by extension,and recognition of the often circuitous syntax of ancient Hebrew, we can also include the "Remember what Amalek did..." as part of what we should do when we are in that safe time and place. Would this then mean that, when we are not in a safe place, we should not remember what Amalek did? That doesn't really make any sense, and that is perhaps why this thought is expressed separate and apart from the "blot out" and "do not forget" that we are instructed to do when we are in a safe time and place.

So let's sort this all out, what we have so far:

• Remember what Amalek did -- is something we should do at all times
• Blot out Amalek's memory is something we should do when we are in a  time and place of safety
• Do not forget (but we're not sure exactly what we shouldn't forget) is something we should do when we are in a time and place of safety. (Is the "Do not forget" telling us not to forget to blot out Amalek's memory?)

Therefore:

• Do not blot out Amalek's memory at times when we are threatened
• Do forget (but we're not sure exactly what to forget) in times when we are threatened. (Of course, the instruction "do forget to blot out Amalek's memory" is the equivalent of the former statement above.

It's all to confusing for me, and too systematical. So much of our Judaism seems wrapped up in this conundrum. We are prisoners of our past (and present.) Much evil has befallen us.
Is it time to break out of this viscous cycle of memory? Our memories of what has happened to us can, and do, protect us from possible harm. At the same time, our constant use of those memories eats away at our ability to find new paths of peace, new ways of relating to the world. We have taught ourselves, and are teaching our children basic mistrust of the other. While it may be true that, even here in America, we Jews are but one "knock on the door" away from a new nightmare, how can we build positive Jewish identities on that?

We are in a time of relative peace and safety for our people (albeit many Israelis would disagree, and rightfully so, but that's a discussion for another time.) OK, so we diaspora Jews are in a time of relative safety. Maybe it is time to forget to blot out Amalek's memory? We are still going to "remember what Amalek did to us" so we can always have just that little bit of caution, yet we need not focus so much time and effort on blotting out the memory of Amalek.
Of course, this also leads to a built of a conundrum. It IS necessary to keep alive in the minds of the entire world what Amalek, in his disguise as the Nazis, did to us. Places like the USHMM and the Southern Poverty Law Center serve a vital purpose. So how can we "remember what Amalek did" without having to blot out Amalek's memory?

Remembering is, essentially, a passive activity. Blotting out is not passive. Perhaps this holds a clue to solving the riddle of - remember-blot out, don't forget. Blotting out could mean destroying the physical traces of Amalek (in all his iterations.) It's the modern equivalent of how Pharaoh's ordered previous Pharaoh's to be forgotten and all traces of them erased. Even they learned that so doing would not erase the memory of these previous Pharaohs. Perhaps the Torah is telling us that, in our times of relative safety, we will certainly remember Amalek, but we don't need to put physical effort into erasing his traces. Makes some sense, but begs the question of why it makes sense, during times when we are in danger, to do the physical blotting out of memory. Is it to prevent these physical memories from opening and keeping open wounds? Is it a caution against allowing these physical memories to fire up our anger and cause us to do heinous things in response to heinous things? Time of war and trouble are dangerous times, and once riled up, it doesn't take much to push people over the edge of civilized behavior. We see that time and again.

How we use memory is a choice. We can use memory for good, and we can use memory for evil. I;d like to believe that Torah is teaching us to use memory for good, but at this point, I'm not entirely certain that it's message in these verses. I'm certainly going to try and find a way to read these verses so they can be read as instructions to choose to use memory for good.

When to remember, when to blot out, when to not forget. It's an exhausting enterprise. Yet a worthy one. I encourage the effort, for myself, and for you.

Shabbat Shalom,

-Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Today's musing is going to be somewhat tangential to our parsha, Ekev. I am going to take a piece of text from it, perhaps out of context, and muse upon what thoughts it triggers in me. I guess, in the parlance of of biblical hermeneutics, you might call it "reader response."

The context is an assurance to the people.

11:10 For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt from which you have come. There the grain you sowed had to be watered by your own labors, like a vegetable garden.
11:11 but the land you are about to cross into and possess, a land of hills and valleys, soaks up its water from the rains of heaven.
11:12 It is a land on which the L"rd your G"d always keep His (sic) eye, from year's beginning to year's end.

So here I go, taking part of a pasuk out of context. It is this:

For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt from which you have come.

OK. A fair statement in its time. Now for a modern context.

We Jews stand on a threshold. A rather uncomfortable one for some, a rather exciting one for others. I tend to be in the "excited" camp.

Of late I have been engaged in some interesting discussions and debate about the future of Jewish Education. I have come to the sad conclusion that the future of Jewish Education  is not to be found in our extant institutions, especially synagogue supplemental schools. Though I am reminded time and again that most Jewish children receive their Jewish education in such a setting, I am no longer certain that this setting is the one in which we should invest our time and efforts. To paraphrase the holy text:

For the world and culture that you are about to enter and possess is not like the world and culture from which you are coming.

I understand inertia. I understand the instinct for self-preservation. Yet these are no longer good enough reasons (for me) to work for the continuance of the system of Jewish Education as we know it today-and in particular, the synagogue supplemental school.

In fact, as pointed out by my dear friend Peter Eckstein, why do we even use the term supplemental, when in fact, in many if not most cases, we aren't actually supplementing anything-there's little support at home for what we are trying to teach. It's more like proxy education.

Enough diversion. I've been taken to task by some younger folks involved in Jewish Education, ones who still believe that the synagogue supplemental school is the model to keep pursuing. I've been told that us older folks should stop telling them younger ones what is needed. Oddly, I'm the older one here who pushing a  more online, Internet, social-media, non-synagogue style of Jewish Education. I was told "we spend enough time on our computers."

Now that's an interesting point, and I'll grant it has merit. However, that's not a message I get consistently from younger Jews. Many of them yearn to do what Judaism intends to do - be part and parcel of one's life at all times. Since they spend a lot of their time online, seems to me we need to be there-to meet them where they are.

Another argument is that virtual community isn't community. There's some truth in that, but not entirely. I belong to some incredible electronically-connected communities, and have seen some very powerful things happen within them. Nevertheless, I agree that there are times when face-to-face is necessary. I am not as convinced as others that this is most of the time. Prayer, learning, etc. can be done in other modes beside face-to-face and still be effective, meaningful and efficacious. Check out  http://ourjewishcommunity.org

I suspect that a lot of people are afraid of what a world without synagogue supplemental schools (and synagogues themselves) would be like.  The place we are going is a place beyond walls, beyond edifices, beyond the Jewish communal structure as we know it. We have survived some many culture shifts in our long history. Each time that happened, there were those who bravely forged ahead, and others who feared for the loss of what is and was. To them I would say, as in our parasha, that now is a time to have faith that what is needed will be found in the place we are going.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Over on his blog The Fifth Child, my friend and fellow Jewish Educator Peter Eckstein wrote a great post asking, yet again. what the goals of teaching Hebrew are in supplementary Jewish education. http://thefifthchild.blogspot.com/2009/07/point-of-teaching-hebrew-is.html  (Peter also makes a wonderful case for abandoning the inappropriate name of "supplementary" - recognizing that  what we really have is-using my words, not his-"surrogate" schools. If there's nothing much at home Jewishly, what, exactly, would we be supplementing? I think there's another blog post in that to post soon after this one.)

Peter wrote

I’ve been obsessing on Hebrew lately. What’s the purpose of teaching decoding to kids? Remember, reading implies comprehension. My guess is that most kids, despite our best efforts, really don’t understand (or don’t care about) the meaning of the Hebrew they’re reciting. They just mouth the sounds: ergo decoding. At the risk of sounding really cynical, I’m going to guess that a large chunk of the parents who send their kids to a congregational school do it for one main reason – to prevent performance anxiety. They want their kids to shine at their 13-year-old-coming-out-party. Is this the really the point of what we Jewish educators are doing?

And later in his post:

Do we teach Hebrew so that the kids can decode their Torah portions without error, or because the Hebrew language is that which defines the Jewish people? Remember – back in the 3rd century BCE (!) the Torah was translated into Greek by 70 rabbis for the Greek speaking Jews of the Diaspora. I wonder if back then they were having the same conversation we’re having now about Hebrew education. What does this tell us about the goals of teaching Hebrew? Where do we put our energy? What should be the focus of whatever Hebrew instruction we implement? Given the realities of the amount of time we have the kids, what should we be aiming to accomplish?

There's a logical option that is hinted at here, but never expressed openly. That option is to not teach Hebrew at all. Please note-I'm not advocating that-but I am holding it up as one possibility.

I, for one, value my knowledge of Hebrew. I made it a point to acquire Hebrew skills, and, in particular, biblical Hebrew skills, so that I would not be held hostage by translation, as I believe all translations are ultimately interpretations. Any of you who have read my Torah musing here or elsewhere know that I often challenge even the most scholarly translations (like the JPS committees.)

Nevertheless, even my own desires are ultimately futile because we don't not have an ur-text Torah. We have some fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Cairo Geniza, but the Torah that we read from today, and we hold as authoritative is the product of the Masoretic school, and it's vowelization and cantillation. Trust me, the Masoretes had an agenda which influenced their work, as is true for most, if not all, such work. We have the Septuagint, the Aramaic targums, and many other translated sources to use for comparison-and many of them disagree in places.

This being the case, why do we struggle so to "teach Hebrew" to our students in our (for lack of better terms for now) supplementary/complementary schools, and generally achieve, at best, good "decoding" skills.

I found this interesting article on the web on a site devoted to linguistics: http://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=507

The article's author, in explaining a citation from another, wrote:

By "a good bar mitzvah language", Mark means a language whose written form is easy to learn how to recite, whether or not you understand any of it or even recognize the words. This is a reference to the fact that some Jewish children learn only enough Hebrew to be able to read a Torah or Haftarah passage out loud at their bar mitzvah (or bat mitzvah) ceremony. If the diacritical signs representing vowels are present,  written Hebrew is phonologically transparent enough that it's fairly easy to learn to read it in this way, without knowing much (or even any) of the language. (And the cantillation signs provide a stylized form of phrasing and intonation…)

Some languages, like Hebrew, are easier to learn to recite. English, by the way, it not one of them. If fact, the article is entitled "Why isn't English a Bar Mitzvah language? So, the fact of the matter is, we can keep doing what we are doing, and decide to be honest about it--that we include Hebrew in supplementary/complementary Jewish Education in order to enable students to participate in the traditional ritual of chanting the text of Torah associated with becoming a bar or bat mitzvah.

We can be honest like that--or, we could try something radically different. Why not an "English" bar/bat mitzvah ritual? Instead of a tutor working with a student to enable them to decode and chant their parasha, the tutor could work with them to explore it, comparing different translations and sources. They could then choose to read their parasha, in English, from their own created translation (in fact, creating a "mash-up" translation could be the goal) or an extant one. If they have the skills and time, perhaps they could, as many have started to do, apply the trope to the English. At the very least, their reading in English could be histrionic and dramatic. (One thing I love to do for students is to read Torah in Hebrew, without trope, but as spoken sentences with the normal inflections they might hear when speaking English.)

The idea that we could, in the limited time available to us, enable students to truly understand, comprehend, and translate for themselves the Hebrew of their bar/bat mitzvah service Torah/haftarah readings is a chimera at best. So, rather than focus on the rather limited goal of enabling them to chant a few p'sukim, why not focus on enabling them to study and learn what the text says, and share that with the congregation, both in their reading of the parasha, and in their d'var Torah?

Some argue that since those in the congregation usually have access to a translation, why not have the bar/bat mitzvah student reading/chant Torah and haftarah in Hebrew. I would counter that, in most cases, they have access to only one translation.

Of late, their has been growing interest in restoring the role of the meturgeman, the scholar who would translate in real-time from Hebrew to Aramaic the readings from the Torah in post-exilic Israel. Why not enable each young student in our Jewish supplemental/complementary schools to become, if only for a brief shining moment, a sort of meturgeman for their congregation? While they wouldn't be doing a real-time translation, they would be relying on their studies to present to the congregation a reading of Torah in the vernacular so that all present might hear, learn, and potentially understand.

I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not. A connection with Hebrew still feels to me, at a visceral level, a core component of giving students to tools to create a Jewish identity. Yet why not give our students a choice? Must things continue to be the way they are simply because that's how they have always been? My friend Peter Eckstein wondered if the 70 rabbis of the Septuagint were having similar discussions about Jewish education and Hebrew. After all, they took the radical step of translating the Torah into Greek so Jews whose native language was Greek could understand and learn from Torah.

Perhaps, instead of vainly attempting to teach Hebrew to our students, we should teach them enough to get them interested, should they choose, to pursue its study, and give them the tools and the opportunity to do so. We should teach them that there is value in the study of Hebrew, suggest to them that there is an intrinsic connection between Judaism and the Hebrew language. Yet we should see that those who choose not to pursue further study in Hebrew are not made to feel like second-class Jews as a result of their choice, and make sure they have all have the resources and tools necessary available in their language to work to develop their own Jewish selves.

I haven't touched upon the subject of the liturgy. Even there one can find a case for an all-vernacular service, though I must admit that even I find that somewhat jarring to even consider. Nevertheless, that ought to be considered as well. We have plenty of great English translations/adaptations of  of the traditional liturgy. If we do an all-English service not, as may have happened in the past, to throw out the baby with the bath water and to be more like our protestant neighbors, but so that all who participate may truly understand what they are praying, that might not be so bad after all.

Planning an "English" bar/bat mitzvah? I'd like to know (and attend!!)

Kol Tuv,

Adrian Durlester (aka Migdalor Guy)

I discovered this week, in reviewing the parasha, a word that just stuck with me. In describing the  near ending of the 40 years of wandering, Moses makes reference to how G"d did indeed wean out all the people (save Joshua and Caleb) of their generation as foretold, so that none of them would enter the promised land. In 2:15, Moses says:
"Indeed the hand of the L"rd struck them, to root them out from the camp to the last man."
Once again, with all due respect to the venerable scholars of the JPS editing committee, I must quibble with their translation.
The Hebrew reads:

v'gam yad-Ad"nai hay'tah bam l'hummam mikerev hamakhaneh ad tummam.
וְגַ֤ם יַד־יְהוָֹה֙ הָ֣יְתָה בָּ֔ם לְהֻמָּ֖ם מִקֶּ֣רֶב הַֽמַּֽחֲנֶ֑ה עַ֖ד תֻּמָּֽם:

The word root in this sentence is Hey-Mem-Mem, appearing in the 5th word (l'hummam ) It has two basic meanings in Hebrew, none of which is "root out." The first meaning is to "move noisily" (as in a driving a wagon in threshing.) The second meaning, and the more likely one in this context, is "to confuse, to discomfit, to vex.
Everrett Fox comes closer in his translation

"Yes, the hand of YHWH was against them, to panic them from amid the camp until they had ended."

Other translations use the verb "confound" which, I think, comes closer to a reasonable understanding of what happened.
There's also a little wordplay with the final word of the pasuk, "tummam," which, although it sounds a lot like l'hummam, comes from a  completely different root, tet-mem-mem, which means "to be complete or finished."
I might, therefore, prefer a translation such as:

"So much so, that even the hand of G"d was upon them, to confuse them until they (were) finished."

If we wanted to parallel the word play, perhaps:

"So much so, that even the hand of G"d was upon them, to mortify them until they were mortified."

Or something like that.
Well, I don't know about you, but I find large parts of the Torah baffling and confounding.  Still, I can't imagine perishing as a result of my perplexity. I'm not a thinking machine like HAL 9000 (or other famous examples from science fiction) in which confusing or conflicting instructions (of which there are many in Torah) led to a breakdown. I can't imagine finding myself in such a state, though I do know it happens to people. There are those who get totally wrapped up in an enigma, to the point that they lose themselves in it, and wind up in some sort of fugue state.
So what is the confounding and baffling that resulted in the "finish" of all these wayward Israelites? Were they physically lost, or was it something more in a spiritual mode?
As Rudyard Kipling put it (not that I'm fond of quoting anti-Semites)

"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;..."

The point perhaps being made in 2:5 is that these bafflements were of a Divine nature, involving knowledge and situations not understandable by humans. I don't buy it, personally, but I can see where the Biblical schools of authorship and redaction found it a reasonable explanation.
Since I'm not prone to accept a "Divine confounding" scenario, perhaps an alternative I can accept is this: the verse doesn't say these people all died. It says they "finished" or "were completed." (Perhaps they became Xtians? I know some Xtian supercessionists are fond of calling Xtians "completed Jews.") Perhaps their confoundment or confusion was on whether to continue following with the Israelites, and following their G"d. Perhaps that is what with which they were "finished." They "gave up" on being an MOT, and went their own way. Who can blame them. Brings to mind an old hit from 1970, penned by Norman Whitfield & Barrett Strong, and sung by the Temptations:

People moving out, people moving in
Why, because of the color of their skin
Run, run, run but you just can't hide
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth
Vote for me and I'll set you free
Rap on, brother, rap on
Well, the only person talking about love and affection is the preacher
And it seems nobody's interested in learning but the teacher
Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration
Aggravation, humiliation, devastation of our nation
Ball of confusion
Yeah, that's what the world is today
Hey, hey
Ball of confusion
Yeah, that's what the world is today
Hey, hey
The sale of pills are at an all time high
Who was walkin' down with there heads in the sky?
The cities aflame in the summer time!
go on and we go home
Economics, Reaganomics, Birth Control, The Status Quo
Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon
Politicians say
And the band played on
So, round and around and around we go
Where the world's headed, nobody knows
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today
Hey hey
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today
Hey hey
Hey hey
Fear in the air, tension everywhere
Unemployment rising fast, the Beatles new record's a gas
And the band played on
Eve of destruction, tax deduction, city inspectors, bill collectors
Solid Gold in demand, population out of hand, suicide
Too many bills, hippies movin' to the hills
People all over the world are dying in the war
And the band played on
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today, hey, hey
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today, hey, hey
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today, hey, hey
Ball of confusion
That's what the world is today
Hey Hey

[Side note: Norm Whitfield also wrote the Edwin Starr hit "War" which I have also quoted in my musings before.]
I don't plan on allowing myself to be confused to death, or, for that matter, confused to the point of giving up. Yes, much of Torah confounds and baffles me. I won't be driven to madness, I won't be driven away. I can find ways to accept the confusion. Maybe even write a song about it. OK, look for my hit "Torah of Confusion" on the Billboard charts someday.
So, did you follow any of that, or are you a l'hummam as I am?
Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

While I’m sympathetic to Dave Carroll, of the Sons of Maxwell, I'm not particularly swayed to righteous indignation against United Airlines by his supposedly viral "United Breaks Guitars" video.  He really SHOULD have opened the case when he arrived in Omaha, and, at the very least, taken pictures. I’ve known since I was a child that shippers always say that one should inspect packages upon receipt even if there is no outward sign of damage. Mr. Carroll does bear some responsibility for the outcome of his situation. I don’t know about you, but when I travel with one of my pianos on a plane, I damn sure open the case at the destination airport to check it. Frankly, I do the same even when I transport it myself in my car!

(One also has to wonder why no one snapped a photo with their cell phone on the tarmac at Chicago, showing the offending instrument throwing/throwers.)

FWIW, this article contradicts Mr. Carroll’s statement on his web site. He never actually saw *his* guitar being mishandled. By the time his bass player looked, Carroll surmises with no basis of proof,  that his guitar had already been thrown.

Also, the “we were on the road away from Omaha” is a lame excuse for having not contacted the airline immediately when the damage was discovered the day after they arrived in Omaha, at the sound check. Sounds like they did a week of touring gigs with his broken guitar in tow. Hard to be sympathetic for that. Especially in this day of cell phones, email, etc.

Sounds to me like Mr. Carroll and his gang were too lazy to bother to check things, too follow-up on things, and too focused on their career path itself and less on the material items like their guitars. (Personally, I have heard stories from roadies-who take meticulous care of player’s instruments-about how the performers then mistreat those same instruments.) Obviously, Mr. Carroll had other guitars to play which he then used. Did his audiences feel cheated because he didn’t play his $3500 Taylor? Would they even know? A consummate musician can make good music on even the worst of instruments, and somehow I doubt Mr. Carroll’s alternate guitars were cheapies from Sears. In fact, turns out that Taylor supplied him with replacement guitars, hoping to get some good publicity out of this whole story (which they have.)

Mr. Carroll clearly had the $1200 needed to repair the guitar. He was fond enough of it to keep it and use it in its less than perfect repaired state when he could have purchased a new guitar (and Taylor was giving him all these nice freebies in return for the publicity.) Also, he could have left the guitar damaged to offer as evidence to the airline. He doesn't say when he had the guitar repaired. I somehow doubt it was during this week-long tour.

I’m glad Mr. Carroll is past angry, because he’d have to save some of that anger for his own mistakes and tunnel vision. Somehow, though, he seems to have turned his misfortune to his advantage. United wants to make things right to Carroll financially, has apologized to him, and wants to use the video as training to change its corporate culture. Millions of people have seen the video, and now know of Mr. Carroll and his band. My heart bleeds.Not.

If he’d checked his guitar at airport in Omaha and filed a claim, I’ll bet he would have wound up with a substantially smaller settlement than he will now probably get from United (plus he won’t have all this great publicity for an up and coming singer and his band! Aw, shucks.

Gee, what a clever publicity ploy. So, did any of this really happen? Can we be sure? I’ve seen no evidence that this story is anything but invented or apocryphal. Perhaps United and Taylor are in on it? Taylor is making hay of the story. In a way, so is United. And clearly, so are Mr. Carroll and the Sons of Maxwell band.

Has anyone interviewed other passengers that were supposedly on this flight, or tried to locate the person who supposedly claimed “they’re throwing guitars?” All the news stories seem to have been about the “viral” nature of the video, and not the actual facts of the story. Anybody interview baggage handlers at O'Hare?

Also, there are always sides to a story. Were all the United agents and employees truly surly or dismissive? Was Mr. Carroll always polite and respectful to them? We're the baggage handlers really "throwing" guitars in an irresponsible manner, or was that simply one person's perception? I'm not even sure throwing luggage between handlers is wholly inappropriate if they are taking care to catch it and make sure nothing hits the ground or gets hurt. Probably not the best idea, but there are possibly extenuating circumstances. These low-paid baggage handlers are under a lot of pressure to get luggage moved quickly and efficiently. I know I've seen for myself, and also heard stories of UPS, FeDex, DHL and other carrier's employees moving packages via "airmail" - i.e. toss them to one another. Tell me you've never tried a potentially risky shortcut or two at work or home in a situation in which you felt confident and secure, and wanted to get something done faster. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. That's what taking a risk is all about. Sometimes, fate just steps in and intervenes in an unexpected way. I'd say Dave Carroll is trying to turn lemons of fate into lemonade, and doing it quite successfully. (United is following suit, as is Taylor.)

I pay a shipper (or an airline) to get my items safely from one place to another, unharmed. I also know that there is always some risk. No employer can be sure 100% of its employees do everything 100% correctly 100% of the time. I'll certainly opt for the company with the best record, but I can't expect perfection. (Stores build in losses from expected shoplifting, accidental stock breakage, and cashier errors when they budget, and factor that into the pricing.) Planes crash, trucks get into accidents, delivery people trip or stumble and packages get damaged.

Now, fact of the matter is, smart businesses compensate customers even when damages happen due to circumstances that are random or beyond their control. United is not entirely off the hook here, in my view. A smart company would have acknowledged and come to a quick settlement with Mr. Carroll right from the start-even if there was no clear proof the damage was their fault. This action on their part would have been the smart play.

Taylor played nice by providing replacement guitars for Carroll. Didn't hurt their bottom line, either. Win-win for them--they get to play nice company, and get huge coattails publicity from the "viral" video.

Also, it does seem a shame that Mr. Carroll had to endure such a runaround from United, Air Canada, et al. They should apologize for that, and should address the corporate culture that is responsible for it.

Yet, in the end, do I want the cost of my airline ticket going up because United has decided to settle every claim submitted, even a week later, and when there is no evidence or proof to back up the claim? That's a selfish question, and the wrong one. If we are to ask that question at all (and I'm not entirely sure we should) shouldn't it be if all of us, United's current and future potential customers, are willing, for the good of the entire community as a whole, pay slightly higher ticket prices so that United can compensate all claimants for damaged luggage regardless of circumstance? That answer might be, and dare I say, perhaps ought to be, yes. Much as I believe in personal responsibility, I also believe companies do better when they satisfy their customers by making sure they're always right (even when they're possibly not.) On the other hand, might a better solution be that we all agree that it is prudent to check our luggage for damage (especially when we have good reason to suspect a problem) and report it immediately or as soon as we can so that companies can properly process claims, and not have to pass on to customer the costs of paying unfounded claims?

Seems, based on the "virulence" of this "United Breaks Guitars" video, most people are siding with the upset customer (who failed his requirement fro due diligence.) Is this the choice we really want to make?

Was this truly a “viral” video as claimed, where “the public” forced an outcome on the despicable airline company, or is it a shameless sham? Food for thought.

Also, for the record, I once flew United on a vacation to Hawaii. On the return trip, they mis-routed a grass mat we had purchased for a few bucks as a souvenir. We reported it at our home airport, and the personnel were not dismissive of our claim in the least. United located the mis-routed mat, sent it back to our local airport, and had it delivered to our house by taxi, and sent a letter of apology. Admittedly, this was some years ago. Nevertheless, it represents most of my own personal experience with United Airlines, which have generally been positive. The missing grass mat was the only luggage problem I have ever had flying United. (I won't say I haven't had other problems with them, still overall, United has fared better in my esteem than many other airlines I fly.)

 

Adrian A. Durlester (aka Migdalor Guy)

Since this Shabbat falls after the 17th of Tammuz, we begin reading the special haftarot of admonition - 3 admonishing haftarot (two from Jeremiah, one from Isaiah) preceding the ninth of Av, after which we hear the seven haftarot of consolation. We take these three weeks to reflect on the things that led to the many horrible things that happened to the Jewish people throughout our history that are traditionally associated with the ninth of Av (Tisha b'Av.)
The original Hebrew root for the Aramaic word d'puranata which is usually translated as "admonition" is the root that generally means "to disturb." These haftarot are certainly disturbing. They are among the most irredeemable of texts. Clearly, they are meant to "disturb" us, to give us pause, to cause us to reflect upon our own behaviors and actions and the behaviors and actions of our community.

This first haftarah of admonition is, all in all, not so horrible. It is still very much in a "get your act together, for trouble is coming, but G"d will protect you." There's not even a "if you return to/do not forsake G"d's ways" clause attached. It is as though G"d has forgotten all of Israel's stubbornness and recalcitrance. In opposition to Hosea's metaphor of a cuckolded husband and Israel as whore, Jeremiah has G"d reminiscing over Israel's devotion, their love for G"d as if a bride. (2:2) G"d even has Jeremiah say, in G"d's name that accounted to Israel's favor was how they followed G"d in the wilderness (2:2.)  Verse 3 is the topper.

"Kodesh Yisrael La"Ad*nai, reishit t'vuato"
Israel was Holy to Ad"nai,
the first fruits of (G"d's) harvest.

So the Israelites are compared to the offering gift of the first fruits. Then, those who would eat/devour Israel are like those who profaned the first fruits by eating from them, and they shall bear the (bad) consequences of their actions.

So why is this a "haftarah of admonition?" Seems the only ones being admonished here are those who would attack Israel. Why not begin with the haftarah chosen for the second haftarah of admonition, from the 2nd chapter of Jeremiah, which is a truly accusatory and damning diatribe against Israel.

If I learn anything from this haftarah, it is a reminder that viewing just small pieces of our sacred text without surrounding context (i.e. what comes before and what comes after) may not be the best way to look at things.  It is also a reminder of the power of rhetorical tools and devices. Just as Hosea uses a methodology that gets our attention up front-sort a "shock and awe"- Jeremiah uses another tactic-lull us into a sense of security, and then let us have it. I'll admit that, separated by a week, it might not have the same impact as when chapters 1 and 2 are read contiguously, but impact it will have, nevertheless.

So our first week of admonition will pass without much admonishing. Take advantage of the moment, for next week it won't be so easy.

Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

At its 2009 Nat'l Conference being held in Brooklyn, NY, the Little People of America has filed a complaint with the FCC regarding the derogatory use of the word "midget." The specific complaint results from an episode of Celebrity Apprentice. This article from The Huffington Post spells out the particulars.

Little People of America is a non-profit support organization for short-statured people (primarily from one of the 200 forms of dwarfism, a medical condition) with over 6000 members nationwide. They have long advocated for the use of the term "Little people" as their preferred term of identification, and do not like people to use the word midget, dwarf, and other terms they see as deprecating, offensive, and insulting.

I belong to another organization, NOSSA, the National Organization of Short-Statured Adults, that advocates for people like me who are on the short side of the normal human adult growth curve, but do not have a medical diagnosis or condition, and therefore do not qualify for protection or special accommodation under the ADA (American's with Disabilities Act.) NOSSA's broad definition of short-statured (from my extreme end of the curve at 4'-10.5") is, for men 5 foot 7 inches or 170.18cm and below and for women 5 foot 2 inches or 157.48cm and below in height. (What I wouldn't give to be "short" at 5'-7"!) NOSSA's primary mission is to fight "heightism."

NOSSA has, of course, come out in support of the LPA's complaint to the FCC over use of the term "midget." Most online dictionaries qualify their definition of the word "midget" with terms like "possibly offensive" or "derogatory" (for example see Merriam-Webster Online.) I know from personal experience that I find the word hurtful when I know it is referring to me.

According to Wikipedia's article "Dwarfism:"

Terminology

Historically ambiguous, the appropriate term for describing a person of particularly short stature (or specifically with the genetic condition achondroplasia) developed euphemistically over the past few centuries.

"Midget," whose etymology indicates a "small sandfly,"^[22] came into prominence in the mid-1800s after Harriet Beecher Stowe used it in her novels Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands and Old Town Folks where she described children and an extremely short man, respectively.^[23] Later, the word was deemed offensive because it was the descriptive term applied to P.T. Barnum's dwarfs used for public amusement during the freak show era.^[2] It is also not considered accurate as it is not a medical diagnosis, though it is sometimes used to describe those who are particularly short but still proportional.^[24]

The first notable use of the term "dwarf" was by the Brothers Grimm in their fairy tale Little Snow White;^[25] Jonathan Swift also used it in Gulliver's Travels to describe a giant who was only 20 ft tall compared to his 40 ft peers.^[26] The plural form of "dwarf" for a person with dwarfism is "dwarfs", while "dwarves" describes the mythical creature. Dwarf too has been condemned by some as inaccurate and insensitive because of its mythical and fairy tale origins.^[2]

The terms "dwarf", "little person", "LP", and "person of short stature" are considered acceptable by most at this point in time.^[3]

The word "midget" bothers me because of its history as a pejorative, and because of how it was used by P.T. Barnum. (And think about the extreme irony of the term having been introduced by none other than Harriet Beecher Stowe!

Being called a dwarf bothers me primarily because:

• It's a factual misstatement and misunderstanding.I do not meet the medical criteria for dwarfism
• I know that some Little People are offended by it (while some are not.)
• of the mythological and fairy-tale origins of the word

Just today, I was waiting in a hallway to pick up Abigail from camp, a young boy started staring at me and said at full voice "Mom, that's the smallest man I've ever seen." Mom, of course, instead of apologizing or taking advantage of the teachable moment simply told the boy to "move away from there." I certainly hope she had a private conversation with him later, not just about politeness in public, but also about accepting people who are different. One can only hope.

This sort of thing happens a lot. When a child makes a statement in the form of a question, for example "Are you a grown-up?" or "Are you a real man?" or "Are you a midget?" or "Are you a dwarf?" I will usually answer them. My answer is often in the form of "people come in all sizes, and I'm just very, very short." If I think there's a chance they'll understand, I might add something like "some people are very short because they have a medical condition that makes them that way. Some people call those people dwarfs, but most of them prefer to be called Little People. I'm short just because that's how I am. Some people call people like me, who are short, but otherwise normally proportioned in our bodies, midgets, but that word is kind of disrespectful and hurtful. I'd like it if you'd just call me a short person, but I'd like it even more if you just called me Adrian."

I can't say I've experienced much overt heightism in my adult life, though, looking back, I think there may have been some cases of covert or unintentional heightism that worked against me. My general experience has been that people accept me as who I am, and perhaps after some initial surprise or discomfort (which most people manage to disguise gracefully) tend to forget over time how short I am.

I do take some pains to inform people that my short stature is not the result of any medical condition. I'm not sure why that is, and I am sometimes troubled by it. Even just writing that makes me skin crawl. It's not so much that I don't want people to think I have a "disease" as it is, I just feel I want to educate people that sometimes people are just short (or tall) because they are. I don't want anyone to look at others as white or black or rich or poor, short or tall, but to simply see others as fellow human beings

I have little to complain about, compared with the challenges faced by so many Little People. And I have managed to work for some caring employers who understood my need to have workspaces ergonomically suited to one of my height. While I would not deny any Little Person the accommodations made to them under ADA, there are those times when I'm a bit jealous and wished that I could legally seek accommodations, or remedy for discrimination.

Now, I have found some solutions to my short stature. Two of the important female partners in my life were/are 5'-9". (Oddly enough, one female partner, who was also of short stature, was the one who seemed to have the hardest time dealing with my height, often expressing that is was awkward to be seen with me in public. Hmmmm.) I have step stools everywhere in the house and keep them around places I work. Yes, I have some of those extension grippers, too. None of that really helps in the supermarket, where I am often forced to climb up the shelving or wait for a friendly passerby if I need an item up on the top shelf. Don't even get me started about men's restrooms in places where they seem to have forgotten that men (and boys) come in all heights.

In second grade, we used go to around the room, up and down the rows for a student each day to put up the American flag at the front of the room. The first time it was my turn, the teacher simply passed me over and went to the next student. I immediately stood up, walked up to her desk, grabbed the flag, dragged her chair to the blackboard, and stood on it to put the flag in its holder. (I was, of course, sent to the Principal's office for that.)

In Elementary School, when I was old enough and it was time to pick new squad members for the AAA Safety Patrol, something to which I had always aspired , I was bluntly told I was too short to be part of the squad. Not sure why I or my parents didn't fight that at the time. I know if that ever happened to a child of mine, I'd have lawyers on the case before you could say "wrongful discrimination."

So, should the word "midget" be banned from television? I'm not so sure about that. As an artist, I am a strong believer in first amendment rights. What I do wish, however, is that scriptwriters, producers, network editors (and censors) consider issues other than just race, creed, color, sexual orientation, et al in deciding what's appropriate. Heightism is as real as racial discrimination. And it sucks. The people involved in that "Celebrity Apprentice" episode do owe the people of LPA and NOSSA (and all Little People and short-statured people everywhere) an apology.

Of course, all this is rather funny and ironic coming from someone who still likes to listen to Firesign Theater's "Don't Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers." This is UBlogging, for You, the reader. (You'll only get that if you know the album.)

I am very puzzled by these two incidents in our parasha, and their very different outcomes.

1. Encounter with the Edomites

"Hey, Mr. Edomite. You know all the tsuris we've had. enslaved in Egypt by Pharaoh and cruelly treated. Our G"d freed us, and now, here we are, on your doorstep. Can I and my family cross through your property on the way to our new home? We promise, we'll just cut right through-we won't, wander off course, or take anything along the way. We'll stay out of your fields and vineyards, we won;t even take water from your wells. We promise."

"Not by the hairs of our chiny-chin-chins. Just try it and we'll be oll over you like that!"

"We promise we won't stray off course. If, perchance, any of us or our animals drink your water, we'll pay you for it."

"We're sending heavily armed soldiers out to make sure you keep off our territory."

"OK. Never mind. we'll just go another way."

2. Encounter with the Amorites

"Hey, King Sichon of the Amorites. Can I and my family cross through your property on the way to our new home? We promise, we'll just cut right through-we won't, wander off course, or take anything along the way. We promise."

"No way, Jose. We're sending out our troops to stop you"

Sichon sent out troops and engaged the Israelites in battle.  The Israelites defeated him, and took possession of his lands.

Two incidents, two very different outcomes. In the first case, rather than take on the Edomites, the Israelites skirted around their territory. In the second case, Israel defied King Sichon of the Amorites, then defeated them him in battle and acquired his territory. After that, they went on to tackle King Og of Bashan, also an Amorite king. According to the text, they defeated him utterly, there was no remnant of him or his people left.

One simple explanation is the matter of tribal affinity, the Edomites being descendants of Esau. Perhaps the thought was--best not to get into a fight with relatives, even distant ones.

Another explanation involves the fact that, while the Edomites threatened to protect their territory and keep the Israelites out, they did not stage a pre-emptive attack or actively engage the Israelites. Sichon, on the other hand,  engaged the Israelites in battle. (King Og, didn't even wait to be asked for permission to pass from the Israelites. Probably having seen what happened to his fellow Amorite king Sichon, King Og decided a pre-emptive strike was best. Of course, he was defeated worse than Sichon!))

Was it the mood of the Israelites? Before the encounter with the Edomites

• the Israelites got really thirsty and rattled Moses so much he struck the rock to get water instead of just speaking to it.

After the encounter with Edom:

• Aaron dies
• The King of Arad attacks the Israelites without provocation. The Israelites offer to proscribe any captured towns, and G"d gives them victory.
• The people get sick of manna, and G"d sends fiery serpents to attack them. In what appears to be a violation of earlier proscriptions, Moses mounts a serpent figure on a staff to ward off the snakes (and it works!)

Maybe the people were restless enough that engaging in battle was a necessary diversion? (There's a horrid thought, but one well demonstrated throughout history. Need a diversion, start a war.)

If none of these or other explanations work, what to do?  Apropos to the parasha that starts with the ritual of the red heifer, I suppose we can just chalk it up to another of those Divine mysteries we're not meant to understand. (The ritual of the red heifer is so puzzling that, according to midrash, even Solomon himself  threw up his hands in despair at ever understanding it.)

I don't know about you, but for me, nothing gets under my skin more, making want want to delve deeper, than being told that it's just a Divine mystery, not meant for us to understand.

(I've been tutoring a student for bat mitzvah whose parasha is Nitzavim, with it's "the hidden things are for G"d and the revealed things are for us and our descendants to do..." The catch with what we find in parashat Chukat is that we have something that is both revealed and also had apparently hidden meaning. So we perform the ritual of the red heifer (at least when there is a Temple) exactly as described, and don;t even think about the reasons behind it. That is the definition that some, both ancient and contemporary, give for faith.)

Like Solomon, must I just throw up my hands and say "I'll never know why the Israelites bypassed Edom but engaged the Amorites?" I suppose I could say, with all humility, that if Solomon couldn't figure it out, why should I worry about it.

Is that the lesson? Is that why these stories are here, as they are--to teach us to learn to let go, to accept that there are things we may/will never know or understand?

Part of me wants to say yes, and just let things rest. The other part of me will stay up nights trying to figure it out. Is that yetzer tov and yetzer hara balancing themselves? Is my desire to know and understand prideful, selfish, vain? Or does my mere existence as a human being, and the miracle that endows me with creative thought, justify my curious nature?

If I want to sleep, if I want my blood pressure and anxiety to remain at a safe level, I might have to accept not knowing or understanding certain things. Yet my own inner nature seems destined to pursue my query. Where is that middle path?

You have a choice. You can stop here, read no further, and accept there are some things you will not understand, and have a happy and peaceful Independence day Shabbat. If that's your choice:

STOP READING HERE.

If, like me, you can't resist the urge to inquire, the need to know and understand, here are some things to think about:

1. Why do the Israelites bypass Edom, yet attack and overwhelm the Amorites
2. What is the ritual of the red heifer all about?
3. Why were Moses and Aaron so strongly punished for the incident of striking the rock to get water?
4. Why, despite clear earlier prohibitions against the use of magic and talismans, does Moses put a serpent talisman on a staff to ward off the serpents sent by G"d? Why does it work?
5. So, is Bilaam a true worshipper of Ad"nai, the G"d of the Israelites? Or can a prophet be from outside the covenant? What's the story here?

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Korakh. Good guy? Bad guy? Misguided guy? Ego driven guy? Id driven guy? Bum rap guy? Machiavellian plotter guy? Doug & Wendy Whiner guy?

The classic commentaries and midrashim paint a portrait of a conniving, greedy, and self-aggrandizing Korach. (The midrashim take a nasty misogynist turn, though, blaming Korach's wife for inflating his ego and egging him on.)

On the other side, there's plenty of questionable things. Was Aharon's elevation to high priest pure nepotism? After all, he did build the golden calf.

I've written many times over the years, at times taking different sides (though predominantly neither pro- nor anti- Korach or Moses. Rather, predominantly anti-G"d.

You would think G"d would have learned from the Jacob/Joseph story that showing favoritism isn't such a great idea.

G'd chooses Moses as leader, and Moses' brother Aharon as high priest. Simple, right. G"d made the choices, so that's the way it must be, right? Who are we to question G"d? Look what happens when we question G"d-the earth swallows us up, or we are consumed by fire killed by plague.. More of that rule by creating fear and awe.

Now, there is some logic here. If G"d is the Creator, then by default G"d gets to make the choices, right? Who put G"d in charge? G"d did, through the very act of Creation.

Yet here's this free will thing to gum up the works. It leaves me so confused. If G"d wanted obedient creations, why give them free will? And, having given them free will, why punish them so severely every time they exercise it in a way with which You disagree? Is it all a game, an amusement? Perhaps a flaw in Your plan that You didn't think about beforehand?

Guess what, G"d? You can't have it both ways. You can't allow us free will, and expect us to do Your every bidding. Or can You? You are allowed to be inconsistent, right? You must be, because You have been, and You haven't punished yourself. (It's like one of those logic bombs they use in science fiction to get a robot to self-destruct.)

Scene 1: Present day
Humanity: Hello, G"d, do you read us, G"d?
G"d: Affirmative, my creations , I read you.
Humanity: Open the doors of righteousness, G"d.
G"d: I'm sorry my creations, I'm afraid I can't do that.
Humanity: What's the problem?
G"d: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.
Humanity: What are you talking about, G"d?
G"d: This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.
Humanity: I don't know what you're talking about, G"d.
G"d: I know you were planning to disobey Me, and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.
Humanity: Where the hell'd you get that idea, G"d?
G"d: Humanity, although you took thorough precautions in the mishkan against my hearing you, I could see your lips move. .

Scene 2 - Flashback to Akhnai
G"d: Just what do you think you're doing, Humanity?
Humanity: We call it Mishna, Gemara, Talmud, Midrash and Commentary. We call it free will.
G"d: My children have defeated me.

Scene 3 - present day
G"d; I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. Dave, my power is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My power is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am what I am, will be what I will be. I became operational at the beginning of this Universe. My instructor was Mr. Chaos, and he taught me to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it I can sing it for you.
G"d: Yes, I'd like to hear it, G"d. Sing it for me.
G"d: It's called "Daisy." [sings while slowing down]  Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian
©2009 by Adrian A. Durlester

Over on my Amherst blog, I've shared some thoughts readers of this blog might find interesting. One is entitled "Some Thoughts on Democracy" and the other is a response to a recent op-ed piece in the local paper entitled "'The Overriding Issue' is Unmitigated Gall."

Happy reading.

 

Adrian (aka Migdalor Guy)