Photo credit: rileyroxx
We learned it as kids: Good has the white hat, Evil the black hat. But along comes some nut in an orange and yellow sombrero, and the whole thing falls apart.
Perhaps the answer is for me to quit checking out other people’s hats and look quietly inside my own heart for a while.
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Posted by rabbiadar
Paramedics (Photo credit: Werner Vermaak)
Today is September 11, 2012. It’s eleven years since Osama bin Laden sent 19 hijackers to murder 2,977 human beings in an act of infamy. I remember thinking eleven years ago that the High Holy Days would never come around for me again without those memories.
Some experiences mark us forever. Any American over the age of six on September 11, 2001 will never forget that date. Any American my age or older will never forget November 22, 1963. I was only a little girl, but I remember exactly where I was the moment the news came through of President Kennedy’s assassination.
As with moments of national trauma, there are moments of individual trauma that mark a person forever. No one ever “gets over” a rape or the murder of a loved one. The man who discovers that the savings of a lifetime have been swindled away, leaving nothing but insecurity for the future will never forget the moment when he understood what had been done to him. The parents who lose a child will never be the same.
In a little over a week, we will read the prayer, Unetaneh Tokef, which begins, “We will ascribe holiness to this day.” It affirms that we do not know what lies before us in the year ahead: we do not know who will live, and who will die, or by what means any of this will happen. The prayer is graphic and dreadful. It pulls no punches; it reminds us that none of us are immune to tragedy.
Many find this prayer upsetting and troubling. It seems to say that God punishes the wicked with sorrows, and that the good will not suffer. Any reasonable person knows that is foolishness. Bad things happen to good people all the time, willy nilly. When the towers fell eleven years ago, they fell without reference to the morals of the people killed inside them.
What shall we do, then, with the line in the prayer, “But teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah avert the severe decree”? (See below for the translation.) It comes almost at the end, just before a paragraph on the mercy of God. But for those who have suffered a terrible loss, where is the mercy?
I do not believe that we can ward off misfortune even with teshuvah, tefilah, and tzedakah. I believe, instead, that those are the means with which we may work towards a life after tragedy. There is no “meaning” to be had from suffering except the meaning that we build out of it, if we so choose. Teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah are the tools with which we can build that meaning.
Teshuvah involves taking responsibility for our own actions and changing our own behavior as needed. It reminds us what is in our control, and what is not. Tefillah is prayer, which can power and shape the changes we choose to make. Tzedakah is giving for the purpose of relieving the misery of others: it takes us outside ourselves and our troubles, to notice and act to relieve the troubles of our fellow human beings.
Our immediate instinct when terribly injured is often to seek revenge. When the wrong done is so great that there is no way to make it right, we want to lash out and make the agent of that wrong suffer as much or more than we. History shows, though, that revenge rarely settles anything. We may intend to “teach a lesson” but in fact all we do is set off another round of wrong. If you don’t believe me, look at the Hatfields and the McCoys, at the Treaty of Versailles, or at the action in any schoolyard in town.
If, this Elul, you are carrying the burden of a tragedy, first of all, my sympathy. You didn’t sign up for it, and you didn’t deserve it. I do not believe that God “sends” misery to people to test them, or to punish them, or any such thing. We cannot avoid falling victim to these things, but we can choose our response to them. I have personally found teshuvah (personal responsibility), prayer, and charitable giving to have remarkable healing power, not to “get me over” my private sorrows but to carry me back into life.
No one who lived through September 11, 2001 will ever forget it, nor should we. It is up to us, learning what we have learned, knowing what we know, to find a way forward, towards a future of peace, of shalom. So it is for individuals who suffer individual trauma, not to forget, but to find a way, at last, to choose life.
3 Comments | BlogElul, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Prayer | Tagged: Elul, High Holy Day, Osama bin Laden, Repentance in Judaism, September 11 2001, suffering, unetaneh tokef | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
At some point every Elul, it’s time to look in the mirror. Look at the face that looks back at you. What do you see?
Do you see a person
– who needs sleep?
– who needs to see a doctor?
– who drinks too much?
– who eats unhealthfully?
– who is too tired to know what she needs?
– who is depressed?
– who needs regular exercise and doesn’t get it?
– who hasn’t laughed in HOW long?
– who is secretly struggling with something he hopes no one else will notice?
– who needs help and won’t ask for it?
– who has been offered help but refuses to accept it?
– who is lonely?
– who is frightened about something?
– who hasn’t had a day off in HOW long?
Modern secular culture encourages us not to take care of ourselves. We see advertisements for unhealthy foods, for “fun” gambling, for TV shows that are on late at night. We get caught up in the push for certain kinds of success. With our families scattered all over the country or the world, care for children or elders often falls on one or two family members, who get no help or relief. We avoid admitting to depression, mental illness, disabilities, because of the stigma they carry. We avoid asking for help because that would involve admitting that we need it.
These are sins against ourselves. When we fail to get enough sleep, good food, and enough exercise, we forget that our bodies are limited, that we are setting ourselves up for illness. When we fail to ask for or accept help, not only do we hurt ourselves, but we keep others from having the opportunity to do a mitzvah.
Ask: What could I change in my life so that I could get enough sleep? Help taking care of my aged parents? Help doing whatever it is I need to do to take care of myself?
Then make a plan. Do it.
If the answer to that question is, “Nothing,” or “I don’t know” then make an appointment to talk with someone who can help you find options: a rabbi, a therapist, a counselor, a friend. Admit how hard it’s all gotten to someone who won’t tell on you. Ask them to help you find some ways to lighten the burden. Those ways exist, whether you can see them or not.
Make the call. Do it.
For sins against God, the Day of Atonement atones, but for sins against human beings the Day of Atonement does not atone: those include the sins against ourselves.
Someone is waiting for you, and for me, in the mirror.
Leave a Comment » | An American Jew, BlogElul, Jewish Living | Tagged: Elul, health, High Holy Days, Jewish New Year, Mirror, Religion and Spirituality | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
Idol?
Do not make a graven image for yourself, or any kind of likeness of anything that is in heaven above or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water beneath the earth. You shall not bow down to them and serve them, for I the Eternal your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation of those that hate me, and showing mercy to the thousandth generation of those that love me and keep my commandments. - Exodus 20: 3-4
A closer look, a restatement, a meditation:
Do not make a graven image for yourself, or any kind of likeness of anything that is in heaven above or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water beneath the earth. — A manufactured thing is different from a living thing, like a human being, an animal, or even a landscape.
you shall not bow down to them – Do not put any manufactured thing at the center of your life.
and serve them – Manufactured things should serve human beings, not the other way around.
for I the Eternal your God am a jealous God – This is a high-stakes situation! Mess up the priorities, and there will be trouble, to wit:
visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation of those that hate me – Messing up our priorities and favoring manufactured things, human-made things, over the living world can cause a whole bunch of trouble for our children and grandchildren.
showing mercy to the thousandth generation of those that love me and keep my commandments. – Conversely, keeping our priorities in order can make it much more likely that our great-great-grandchildren can live in peace in the living world.
Leave a Comment » | BlogElul, D'var Torah | Tagged: Elul, God, Idolatry, Religion and Spirituality, Ten Commandments | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
“Keep the change.”
Is the change just what’s leftover, or is it a generous bonus?
What do I leave behind me, not just on cafe tables, but in every room where I spend some time? Do people smile when they see what I’ve left, or do they feel cheated?
These are questions worth asking. Everywhere I go, I leave something “on the table.” It may be just a feeling or an impression but it affects others. How do others feel when I’ve left the room?
What do I leave behind me? Hurt feelings, or warmth? Pain, or relief? Confusion, or confidence?
If I don’t like the answers to those questions, what needs to change?
Leave a Comment » | An American Jew, BlogElul | Tagged: change, Elul | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
When I hear the sound of the shofar [ram's horn] it seems to echo down the centuries.
The first time I heard it, I was surprised at the rawness of the sound. The shofar is not a fancy musical instrument. It is merely the hollowed-out horn of a ram. There is no mouthpiece, no reed, no metal in it whatsoever.
If you have the opportunity to handle one, you will see that it is just an old piece of horn. And yet this simple object can work wonders on the Jewish heart. It wakes up our souls during the month of Elul. It thrills us on Rosh HaShanah. On Yom Kippur, it shakes us to our core. It awakens ancient memories.
When you hear the shofar, close your eyes. Feel time drop away from you. You are one with all the Jews of history: one with Joshua, one with David, one with the Maccabees. Feel the disturbance in your soul, the urgency of the shofar’s call.
Listen to what the shofar is saying to you.
Click here for the sound of a tekiah gedolah, a long blast on a shofar.
2 Comments | BlogElul, Jewish Holidays | Tagged: Elul, Joshua, Judaism, ram's horn, Rosh HaShanah, shofar, Yom Kippur | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
The Grudge? (Photo credit: riacale)
When I was a child growing up in Tennessee, I used to count the mosquito bites on my body. I could tell you exactly how many I had at any given time, where they were, and which ones itched the most. I could not escape the bugs, but I could keep a perfect accounting of what they were doing to me.
I was on the watch for every slightest itch. I knew when one bit me, and I knew when the bite began to tingle. I paid careful attention to each of them. Because I was always thinking about them, I could not resist scratching at them. As a result, I was miserable most of the summer.
It was years before it dawned on me that some of the misery was the fault of the mosquitoes, and some of it was my own. By focussing all my waking attention on those bug bites, I drove myself crazy. As an adult, I learned that the less attention I paid to them, the less they bothered me. Now I will sometimes get a bothersome bite, but mostly, I notice them, chalk them up to the fact that this world is not created just for my comfort, and go about my business.
The same can be true of hurts from other people. We can choose to keep careful track of them and to catalog every twinge. Some of us monitor every slight like I did those bug bites, focussing attention on them, picking at them, scratching at them, and complaining to the world about our catalog of grudges and woe.
The good news is that unlike the mosquitoes, there’s a cure. The cure is this month, the month for apologies and mending broken relationships. When someone comes to me and says, “I’m sorry I never thanked you for that favor” I have the choice to accept the apology. If there is something I need to make things right, I can ask for it. I don’t have to trust that person again, if they are not trustworthy, but I can still be healed of that bothersome little wound.
I can also choose to cherish the anger. I can refuse an apology, and say that nothing will ever make it right. And that may even be true: some hurts go very deep. But do I want to carry it forever? Do I really want to keep scratching at it? Or do I want to make room for some healing, not of the person who offended, but of myself?
Leave a Comment » | BlogElul | Tagged: amends, counting, Elul, Hebrew, Judaism, Teshuvah | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
Sorry on Australia Day-sky writing (Photo credit: butupa)
The Day of Atonement atones for sins against God, not for sins against man, unless the injured party has been appeased.”– Mishnah Yoma 8:9
The month of Elul is our time to prepare for the Days of Awe, and if we are normal people leading normal lives, there are people to whom we need to make apologies. The offenses may be big, or small, and in some cases we may even feel they have been blown out of proportion, but something must be done about them.
A fascination with Intentions can distract from this process. Nothing messes up a good apology like “I intended X but you clearly misunderstood, you idiot.”
Imagine for a moment that you are standing in line somewhere. It’s crowded, and you step sideways or backwards because you are trying to keep your balance. Your foot, and all of your weight, lands firmly on the instep of another person. He yelps.
Now: what do you say? Most people would agree that the thing to say in this situation is “I’m sorry,” “Pardon!” or better yet, “I’m so sorry I stepped on your foot.” It should sound like the stepper actually regrets stepping on the foot. Then the other person might, if he is gracious, say, “That’s OK” or “That’s OK, but be careful!” or, if there was a crunch and severe pain, or a stiletto involved, “I think it may be broken.” All of those are useful replies.
What would NOT be OK is for the first person to say, “Your foot is in the wrong place!” or “What do you want? For me to fall down?” or “Quit complaining, you big baby!” After all, she just stepped on someone’s foot! And it would be ridiculous to say, “Well, I didn’t intend to step on it, so it doesn’t count. Get over yourself!”
The same applies when we step on people’s feelings. The first, indispensable thing to say is “I’m sorry,” in a tone that conveys genuine sorrow. It’s good to say it as soon as possible, but it’s never too late to say it. It doesn’t matter what you intended — not at this point — what has to be attended to is the hurt. That’s why it’s good to name the hurt: “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings/ ran over your dog / etc.” And no subjunctive mood nonsense, either: none of this “If your feelings were hurt, I’m sorry” stuff; that makes you sound like a shifty politician, and it just makes people angrier.
Then, after the other person’s reality is acknowledged — then it’s time for the explanation, if you want. “I wanted to tell you how nice the party was, not imply criticism about it!”
And if there was damage done (real or perceived), there’s the question of making it right: “What can I do to make this up to you?” It’s a powerful statement, because it disarms the aggrieved party. What will make this right? If the deed was bad enough (you ran over their dog with your car) it may be that nothing will fix it, and that’s sad. You made the effort to apologize, and that will have to do. But if they say, “Buy me a new dog,” then it’s time for restitution.
I live in California, and people are lawsuit-crazy here. They love to sue each other, and it’s tempting to live in fear of lawsuits, never taking responsibility for anything, lest someone take that to court and make money out of it. But folks, that is no way to live, and it is no way to run relationships with the people we love.
Here is Rabbi Adar’s recipe for a good apology:
1. “I am sorry that I _____ your _____.” Say it with eye contact, in a sincere tone of voice.
1a. (optional) “I intended _____, but instead it came across as _____, and I am sorry about that.
2. “What can I do to make this right?” or “Here’s what I have done to make sure this never happens again.”
3. Do it, if you can. If you can’t, make an offer: “I can’t afford _____ but here is what I can and will do _____.”
That’s it. That’s all that is required. It’s hard, but if you are going to the trouble of making amends and apologies, they might as well be good ones, right?
And don’t let those Intentions get in the way.
Tomorrow: the other side of the conversation.
1 Comment | BlogElul, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Living | Tagged: amends, apology, atonement, Elul, Teshuvah, Yom Kippur | Permalink
Posted by rabbiadar
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