A new dream

                

There are many things that people dream about, from fame and riches to far simpler things like a stable job or even a juicy steak.  But one dream rarely inspires us- to be holy.  To the modern ear, the word holy is dry and heavy, even stifling.  And what does it mean?  Does it mean to pray a lot, to keep quiet a lot, to fast a lot, and to wear a toga a lot?  Or is holy best used to describe a place where we talk in whispers and don’t make any jokes?

 From the Jewish perspective, holiness should be at the top, or at least near it, for our list of ‘dreams’ because that is what is ultimately mandated to us, ‘you shall be holy’[1].  This directive begins the portion that stands alone in the Torah as the only one where every single person was required to be there to listen to it directly.[2]  Other portions of the Torah were taught to the elders and slowly trickled down to the rest of the people.  So what is the Jewish vision of holiness and why should it inspire us?

                The common idea is that to be holy means to be set apart.  The image of an isolated mountain peak with a solitary human sitting in contemplation fits.  The problem with this conception is that the word ‘holy’ in Hebrew is Kadosh, whose variation Kedushin, is the first step towards marriage.  At a Jewish wedding we say the words, ‘behold you are ‘mekudeshet’ to me.   If we understand that holiness means to be ‘set apart’, then how could we say to our wife to be, ‘behold, you are set apart to me’.  The medieval commentators, therefore, state that it means that a wife is separate apart only for me.  [3] In other words, holiness is used to describe the most intense and fiery bond there is- between husband and wife at the peak of inspiration, the wedding.  It takes a relationship and makes it exclusive, thereby, creating passion.  And that is just the beginning.

                We find holiness every Friday night when we take a cup of wine and call it Kiddush, or holiness.  Why?  We are connecting all aspects of our self to an exclusive higher purpose, the Sabbath.  We intellectually think about what the day is all about as we testify to the Sabbath, and then we bring the connection to Sabbath into our emotions with the wine.  And lastly, this Kiddush can only be done at a place where we will eat a festive meal so that our body also connects to the Sabbath.  So not only is holiness a passionate connection as we see by marriage, but it implies a complete connection to a higher purpose. 

               

                Finally, the uniqueness of Jewish holiness is best expressed by the first commandment given to the Jewish nation, to sanctify time.[5]  We determine when the new month begins.  Why did this merit to be the first commandment? Unlike the scientific conception that links time with movement, Jewish time is linked with purpose and holiness.  The word for time in Hebrew is ‘zman’, which at its root means an invitation, as in a ‘zimmun’ or ‘hazmana’.  Each moment of time is an invitation for development- it demands of us something unique, namely, that we take the moment and connect it to purpose. 

                Now that we know what holiness is all about, an unwavering, complete, and exclusive connection to a higher purpose, we need to know how to get there.  Holiness comes about when we focus on a cause, or in other words, we separate from the trivial in order that our connection to that which is purposeful is strengthened.  Again, the separation is a tool, but not a goal.  And even then, it should be temporary.   Ultimately, our connection to purpose should become so electric that, rather than separate from the mundane, our holiness should transform the mundane into part of the connection. That is the ultimate in holiness, and that is only achieved after much toil and after all behavior expresses the purpose to some degree.  When that happens, the gift of holiness descends upon us along with the complete joy it brings. 

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[1] Exodus 19:2

[2] See Rashi to verse 19:1

[3] See Tosafos to Kedushin 2b

[4] Ethics of our Fathers 5:8

[5] Exodus 12:2

A dramatic night

For a long while, my life lacked major drama.  What drama could there be in a dry, academic environment? Granted, compared to most academia, Yeshiva is comparably rambunctious, but dramatic it is not.  Food prepared every night, my only real responsibility was to make my bed and be an astute roommate.   Marriage ups the ante a bit.  Here, another adult is living with you in close quarters and between the two a home needs to run.  At times dramatic, but at other times life flows without a hitch; each person learns what their responsibilities are, and complies with their best.   Then, a child comes along, and suddenly, everything is dramatic.  A bath, no! A bit overtired, watch out.  Food is not tasty, on the floor it goes.  Too full, too hot, too thirsty, too bored- what is going to blow next?  A child lives in the body, and then shouts from the heart with little filter to stop it.  But, they may be on to something.  When a child emotes, the whole world moves.  We spring to action to douse the fire, when appropriate of course.   Obviously, too much movement makes for a spoiled tyke and who wants that.  But, the beauty of that expressive heart is that it moves people so wonderfully- who else can make you spring out of a bed after a few hours’ sleep? 

                This is what Seder night is supposed to be, a call to action.  There is a silent epidemic of boring Seders across the world.  People regurgitate the story, or talk about intellectual points. But Seder night needs to be the most exciting day of the year.  It is heart across the board, inspiration to the umpteenth. By the end of the night, if you are not itching to change the world in dramatic fashion, something didn’t go right.  You were just saved from destruction, and that does not come for free, but for a responsibility.  There is something you are supposed to do for that dramatic rescue; there is a reason why you are here.  And if you haven’t felt saved in your gut, and ready to pounce to action, then another year has been wasted.  

                Everywhere we turn in the Jewish religion, Egypt follows us.  Like a shadow we can’t escape, Egypt lurks.  Before we step into our silent prayers, the last thing on our mind is that G-d redeemed me from Egypt.  Wait, if we are constantly, thinking about Egypt, why do we need Seder night?  We know the story- we said it last year and thought about it every day since then.  Because on Seder night, we are not ‘remembering’, זכירה, Egypt as we do every day, but we are ‘recounting’ םיפור, telling the story in dramatic fashion.  And just like a holocaust survivor’s story tugs at our heart each time we hear it, so too Seder night.  It does not matter that we’ve heard it time and again, because a story form is powerful. It uses details and the art of the question to tug us along.  Our goal on Seder night is to make drama, and the Haggadah is the dramatic child that moves us.   

Holy hair cut

It was not quite time for a haircut, though some hair was fast approaching the top of my ears, but the opportunity for an all American haircut was too much to pass.  In Israel, a friend or the local barber cuts my hair in a simplistic, yet effective way.  But, I decided to pamper myself with a more sophisticated haircut.  Several blocks from my parent’s apartment sat a Supercuts with over twenty stalls.  Despite the inconspicuous hour, right smack in the middle of the work day, I had a fifteen minute wait before my grooming.  Finally, my turn arrived and a plain looking fifty year old with a perfectly plain expression on his face, neither particularly happy nor particularly sad, and plain brown hair took the reins. 

                In the mood for a shmueze, I asked how long he’d been a hair dresser.  It turned out I was in very experienced hands, since 1986, and he had studied several years at beauty school (found out they even need to study anatomy there).  To my surprise, despite his education and experience, Supercuts required an extra education when he joined them many years later. Granted, Supercuts looked like a successful establishment, but I didn’t understand why such experience and knowledge of the human hair would be wasted at the equivalent of a fast food hair-cutting chain.   Wasn’t it time to move to the ritzy world of the beauty salon? 

When I asked him, the answer he gave surprised me. Indeed, he had dabbled in that world for a period of time, but he said she could not sleep at night knowing the truth.  He explained that there are five basic types of haircuts possible- that’s it! It is not rocket science, and to think that these salons should charge seventy five dollars for exactly the same thing he could provide at Supercuts for twenty dollars was not something he could tolerate morally.  Who knew such people still existed, especially given the following?

   It turns out, those mitzvahs we often do begrudgingly, if at all, are meant to come from a passionate place.  Why?  The root of the word Mitzvah, is צו, or inspired act.  We are introduced to this definition in this week’s Torah portion where the Priests are ‘commanded’ or ‘ וצו’ to bring the burnt offering.  On the spot, Rashi inquires as to the reason why the language of צו is used here as opposed to the myriad of other places were commands are given without this explicit language.  Rashi answers that the Priest loses money on this offering because he does not get a portion of meat; therefore, he needs to be reminded to act with inspiration, since inspiration to do the mitzvah will not come as naturally. 

Even the holy Priests needed to be reminded that it is not all about the money, but that doing the right thing itself is inspirational.  How refreshing it is to see that lived in the unlikeliest of places, Supercuts. 

                

Pregnancy and Purim

People associate pregnancy with an enhanced sense of smell, swollen feet, and an achy back more than with a month of the year.  But sure enough, while Gregorian years leap, Hebrew years become pregnant, and not just with an extra day, but an entire month. The real question is why this month, Adar, is the month picked to carry with it the potential for a birth of a second Adar (this year happens not to be a ‘pregnant’ one)?  Further, is it a coincidence that the month with the potential for pregnancy is also a time of enhanced joy and that the name of the month means ‘strength’? 

                If we look at Purim, the holiday that characterizes Adar, to put it mildly, it is strange.  You take a group of rabid intellectuals and tell them to turn it off for a day; turn off the mind and turn on the heart.  It is a time of giving each other gifts, eating and merriment.  How can we make sense of it?

  To begin, our intellects have a foreign feel to them.  In other words, our intellects play a decidedly small role in how we make our decisions.  We make decisions based on our feelings and we consult with our intellects to help shape our feelings in the right direction.  However, at the end the of the day thoughts are outside of ‘us’ and they can manipulate ‘us’ towards countless rationalizations to the point that we are no longer ‘us’. 

Strength is the ability to find an inner voice that transcends external influences, even our intellects.  It is the ability to do things because they are right even if we don’t understand the full ramifications of the decision.   It is no surprise that the month of strength is the month of joy, because joy comes from a feeling that I am not dependent on external forces for my mood- it is feeling that I am in control in spite of external circumstances.  So how does it tie in with pregnancy and Purim?

Purim is the time when a series of unlikely events transpired that didn’t make sense.  A former barber, Haman, suddenly becomes a man of power, means, and a thirst to destroy the Jewish nation.  A modest Jewish woman becomes a queen and a wise sage is put into a position to save the king.  Had any political pundits been around back then, this certainly would not have been the prediction for how the Persian Empire’s power structure would be set up, and that is precisely the point.  Even at times when things don’t fit into the neat molds our mind creates, we find a deeper voice that is unwavering and tells us to hang on.  The potential to create a mindset from within ourselves despite external factors is represented by pregnancy.  Obviously, pregnancy starts with two, but at the end of the day, pregnancy is the ability to create life from within. And that is the idea that resonates strength, creates joy, and saved the Jews on Purim- the ability to stay true to an inner voice that knows what is right even when our intellect may say otherwise.  

A baby's tale

My daughter has earned various nicknames, but perhaps the most accurate, is ‘crazy lady’.  Of her many pastimes, perhaps her favorite is to take her tiny stroller, and put either: a cell phone, doll, or stuffed animal in it.  Then she goes.  She only knows one speed, and that is as fast as her tiny legs can carry her.  She careens around corners, crashes into walls, and given that the stroller is not made for such speeds, it wobbles and shakes as if it had a case of tremors.  Unfortunately, as the wobble increases, she is prone to lose her balance and topple over.   Generally, the results are not so bad, she pops back up and goes on as if nothing had happened, but inevitably there will be those falls that are not easy to get up from.  There is a pause, and then the siren begins.  That is when it is time to swoop in and comfort. 

                That is the life of a child- constant growth and constant instability.  With so much instability in their life, there has to be an external figure that can provide a semblance of stability, and the child has no choice but to trust him or her for that is their only hope in getting through the growth process. Ideally, this is a parent, and the hallmark of a child is their trusting nature.  I am not sure my daughter would be apt to go full speed ahead if she didn’t know there was someone there to pick her up and comfort when the fall is a tough one. 

                It is no wonder, then, that on top of the holiest object and in the holiest place that there is in Judaism- the Holy Ark and Holy of Holies, respectively- there are two Cherubim.   The Talmud describes that these Cherubim had the face of a baby. Why?  Because these are faces of trust, faces that realize that they are in an unstable existence.   The result of living in an unstable existence is that you look up for a source of stability. 

                To live a life of growth requires trust. Necessarily, in any growth process there is a period of instability where you have left the previous stage behind and are about to land in unfamiliar territory.  This a time of vulnerability, and a person is beholden to trust an authority to get through the tumult.  For this reason, at the heart of Judaism is the trusting face of a child, for this is the face that shows a person what it takes to grow, trust in something higher.  

A limitless pleasure

There is something about five over the limit that feels so right.[1]  Limit means an end point that one must not overstep, yet everyone knows that there is an invisible plus five written visibly underneath the stated speed limit.  I remember that when I first learned to drive I had the gall to ask my driving instructor whether five over was acceptable.  He curtly replied, ‘no’.   But, that did not revoke the obvious- people have a need for five over. 

                So where does the veracity of the dictum ‘rules are meant to be broken’ come from?  As soon as there is a new rule, the mind conjures up expansions and exceptions to it.  Where does this abhorrence for limits come from? I asked a parachute instructor once about the attraction of jumping out of a plane at ten thousand feet.   He looked at me sheepishly and said, ‘it is better than relations with a woman’.  What is commonly viewed as the acme of human pleasures is in reality supplanted by one of the expressions of overcoming limits, jumping out of a plane.  This is the drive that humanity strives for more than any other; we want to live longer, be stronger, and run faster.  For humanity, the motivation for advancement is ‘limits are meant to be broken’.

                Here we meet a robust conundrum.  If it the Torah is a litany of ‘rules’ or mitzvahs, then why would the Jews say, ‘We will do and we will listen’?![2] Wait a second.  Humans hate limitations, as we just established, and these Jews were no different.  Perhaps, we need to reexamine what a mitzvah is?

                We need three axioms to move forward:   G-d is the only limitless entity in the universe.  A being’s will is his essence.  A mitzvah is an expression of G-d’s will.  With this in place, we can understand what the Jews realized back then.  Mitzvahs are not really rules, but a ticket to the ultimate pleasure in the world.  By doing a mitzvah, a person aligns his will with the will of a limitless reality, thereby becoming temporarily limitless.  These are the only rules in the universe that act this way, because these are the only rules that are really portals to a limitless reality, and hence, a pleasure that is beyond anything that this finite world can offer. 

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[1] Based on the Alter of Slabodka’s Pleasure of Mitzvahs Page 166 Part two of Or Ha Tzafon

[2] Shemos 24:8

What is in a kiss?

                As a teenager, a trip to Argentina meant two things: great food and great greetings.  Granted it was strange to be embraced and pecked on the cheek by complete strangers, better that than the plastic, ‘I am a bit too cool for a real greeting’ hand gestures I was accustomed to.  Argentinians love to take credit for whatever they can, from the heart bypass surgery to Maradona, but I don’t think they can take credit for this one. 

                An auspicious kiss is mentioned this week when Moses greets his father in Law.  There are various remarkable things to note about this meeting, not least of which is this kiss. It says that, ‘Moses went out towards his father in law, and he bowed and kissed him, and the man asked to his friend about his peace, and he brought him to his tent’.[1]  Bear in mind that according to various opinions, this took place after Moses spent forty days and forty nights without food or water in the divine presence receiving the Torah.  Still, Moses went out of his tent to greet his father in law.[2]  Generally speaking, when visiting the important people of the world, we go to them.  But, if that wasn’t enough, we have a bow and a kiss, though ambiguous in the verse, is ultimately attributed to Moses towards his father in law. But, if that wasn’t enough, we have a friendly ‘how are you? ‘Again, Moses just encountered the divine in a way that no other human being will or ever has, but before he goes into details about that encounter, he shows Yisro how much he cares about him.  After all that, he invites him inside and divulges the world’s secrets.  Any effective teacher has to show he cares about his students first.

                Now, why did the Torah have to tell us about this kiss?  The Torah does not tell us what shoes Moses wore, or how long they embraced, but the kiss was left in.  What is the importance of a kiss and when should we use it? Actually, the midrashim say that a kiss is appropriate in four places: when a person ascends to greatness, when a person sees a friend after a long time, when a person leaves for a long time, and when a person is family (I suppose the South American custom is rooted here).  But the depth of what is behind a kiss is the idea of the greatest love.  Love at its finest is the desire to help another person reach their potential.  And that is a kiss, a moment beyond words, where as one sage expressed, two souls meet.  What he means is that a kiss is a romantic CPR, it gives life to another person by showing that finite words are not sufficient to capture what I believe about the potential of this person. 

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[1] Exodus 18:7

[2] Insights by Rabbi Gershenfeld