Parshat Ki Tissa

Since we cannot meet in person at the moment for Shabbat and Festival services, or study together, we thought that even if there is physical distance, there does not have to be spiritual distance (as noted by several of my colleagues this week) and so I wrote a brief comment on the weekly Torah portion, Ki Tissa in the book of Exodus. We posted the Italian version already - here is the English just in case. 

Via San Giacomo today. The banner reads "andrà bene", it will get better.

Parashat Ki Tissa

Greetings from Modena! As we enter Shabbat, here is a thought that came to me while looking at the Torah portion.

“When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, ‘Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has happened to him.” (Exodus 32:1)

This week, while Moses is up high on the mountain, receiving instructions from God for the life of the community, the people lose hope. Moses has been gone a very long time, and the Children of Israel fear for their future. They cannot wait for him any longer, and decide to make their own god, a god that they can see and touch. This Golden Calf does nothing for them, except get them into trouble.  When Moses does come back down the mountain, and sees what they have done, he smashes the two tablets of stone into pieces. He melts their calf of gold, and makes them drink it. Then, God sends a plague upon the people as punishment for what they had done. Ultimately, they are forgiven, and God offers to replace the tablets of the Law that Moses had broken.

I absolutely do not believe that a pandemic such as Covid19 is in any way a punishment from God for anything any human beings may have done. I don’t think that is the way things work. I cannot give you a reason for why this virus began. But, rather than wasting time looking back and trying to place the blame somewhere, I prefer to think about what we can do now. I think the Children of Israel definitely needed to do something. The problem was that they made a bad choice. We too are waiting. We are also anxious, and  frustrated. So what can we do? What choices will we make?

Later in our portion, God comes down in a cloud, and stands together with Moses saying:  “Adonai! Adonai! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness.” (Exodus 34:6). These words tell us all we need to know.

Our tradition teaches that human beings are made in the image of God. Like God, let us be compassionate and gracious. Let us be slow to anger, and abounding in kindness. If we go to the supermarket, and must wait 47 minutes before it is our turn to enter, let us not show our frustration in how we behave with the other customers and the people at the checkout counters. If we are staying home, let us reach out to others by internet and telephone. Do you know an older person, or someone who lives alone? Give them a call and ask how they are doing. Above all let us try to be patient, and follow the instructions that are designed for the life of our communities, of our country.

We are together. We are Or ‘Ammim.

Shabbat shalom

Rav Ariel, LiOr & Sara the Cat

(if you'd like to see the Italian of this, click here. Thanks to LiOr for all her help!)

A Perennial Problem for People, but Kindness is the Answer

I hope you can listen to this clip from Laura Whitmore's BBC Radio 5 Live show today. If not, she was speaking about the death and life of her friend Caroline Flack, who is believed to have taken her own life yesterday at the age of 40. 

Whitmore, and others today, are trying to open our eyes to the power that mean people have on social media and in several forms of journalism. Several people feel strongly that, while Caroline Flack may have had mental health issues and other pressures about which none of us know, the various media posts and articles highlighting her problems were unkind, unnecessary, and might have contributed to her desperation. It is certainly true that there are many cowards who hide behind their keyboards spewing vitriol anonymously at public and private people. There is also the tabloid mentality, that preys on our weakness for gossip, for which we too need to take some responsibility.

It so happens that while catching up on my Daf Yomi today, I came across the following statement by the rabbis of the Talmud in yesterday's section:

“it is preferable for one to throw oneself into a fiery furnace rather than humiliate another in public.” (Berachot 43b)

It stands out for me today for two reasons:  first of all, it is not new that humans seek to humiliate each other in public. It is only the medium that may have changed. And if our ancestors thought it necessary to teach such a teaching, that suggests it was getting out of hand for them also.

Secondly, when will we learn? If public humiliation has been a perennial problem for people, and humans have always suffered and inflicted suffering in this way, when is it going to stop? Could it be that WE are the ones who finally sort it out? 

Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. And if you are already a kind person, thank you, and is it possible to be even kinder? 

Have a Beautiful Afternoon in Your Neighbourhood

Tom Hanks as Mr Rogers with Daniel the puppet (AP Photo)

I just watched the film A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood starring Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers. Although I did not grow up with the TV show, I lived long enough in the USA to know who Mr Rogers was. For those of you who never heard of him, this Guardian review will give you a good introduction. On the Graham Norton chat show last New Year's Eve, Tom Hanks shared 3 rules for a better life, as taught by Mr Rogers:

1. be kind.

2. be kind.

3. be kind.

It's a depressing day for many of my friends today. If you are mourning the UK exit from Europe, or  are incredulous that witnesses will not be allowed to testify at the impeachment, or in any country you are horrified at the choices made by your elected representatives supposedly on your behalf, and the future seems bleak, please, watch this movie. Its teaching is simple, and the message is one of lovingkindness. It is worth 90 minutes of your time.

Moving On 1

Some boxes in the garage

Boxes. Cardboard boxes. Cardboard boxes with all the flaps still present, rather than ripped off in haste by whoever had to stock the shelves. I decided to go with wine boxes, the ones that held 6 bottles. I figured that even when they were stuffed with the heaviest books, if necessary I would still be able to carry them.

The guys in the Majestic Wine shop keep a wall of empty boxes ten or so high to use instead of shopping bags for customers. When the wall was at least 6 boxes high, once a day they would let me take as many as I could carry. That would be 7. After a few days of this, someone asked me if I actually even liked wine. I explained that I am kind of allergic to alcohol (true - albeit mildly. It makes me feel like fire ants are crawling across my scalp. The ants are ambling, rather than fighting. Still, it's not very pleasant. The same thing happens to me with chilli).  I didn't mention that I mostly drink Palwins Number 10. Say no more. It took me several days to dare to ask the grumpy one if I could use one of their shopping trolleys instead of my hands. 

Actually, people can be so lovely. As I tried to push a laden supermarket trolley of vari-sized boxes over the cattle grid leading to the main road, the security guard forbade me. "The trolleys do not leave the car park!" After explaining my situation, promising to return it within 30 minutes and a bit of a chat to find out more about him, M. let me go. Upon my return, S. in the wine & beer section said if I came back the next day, he'd flatten and save me a few more. Over the next 3 days I got c. 75 boxes from this lovely man. And, as I plodded up and down Ballards Lane, trying to control a trolley that clearly had vertigo, various people offered me more containers, or names of people to ask for in other supermarkets. And all this during the worst of the heatwave. So so kind. Nu, I made sure to call the manager to name-check the guys who were so helpful, although I did not give details in case M. got into trouble for letting a trolley out of bounds!

The best part? Instead of the companies paying money to destroy these boxes, we were recycling. Evviva! 

So, for two weeks I was obsessed with boxes. And packing tape (the cheap kind doesn't stay stuck in the heat). And freebie newspapers with which to wrap, and stuff crevices (one day in the far future I shall unwrap a Rosenthal soup tureen and wonder who on earth Clare Balding was). So far I have packed 170+ boxes. Who knew that somebody like me would have so many books? & photographs? slides... -ves ... papers ... STUFF.

Shabbat is nearly here. Cannot wait for a bit of a rest.

Parshat Vayechi

Here's my latest Thought for the Week for the Liberal Judaism website. Shabbat shalom!

What does darkness mean to you? Is it the cloak for unknown danger? Does its cover give an advantage to your enemies? We feel vulnerable in the dark, and for those of us in the Northern hemisphere, there is little natural light at this time of year. Tradition teaches that we invite the sun to return to the physical world by lighting the lights of Chanukah. We begin gently, shyly, with a single light for the first night. Each night we add a light, building on what was there in order to push the darkness further and further away, ending with a glorious fiery statement of rededication.  And then that great star, without which our earth would perish, turns her face towards us once again.  As my late father used to say to me, “it works!”

Yet Chanukah is past, the miracle of the oil has been exposed as a myth, and the darkness is still with us. Ritual and science may bring us physical light, but we cannot forget that our souls also need a beacon to show the path. We need energy to turn ourselves to the world, and the world to healing. We need hope to move ourselves forward. For those of us for whom the miraculous cruse no longer shines, where may we find the first candle to light our way?

In this week’s Torah portion of Vayechi, Jacob is on his deathbed. He wishes to put his affairs in order, and calls for his favourite child, Joseph. Jacob asks Joseph to treat him with chesed ve’emet. He wants Joseph to swear that he will not be buried in Egypt, but that his bones will be returned to rest with his ancestors in the Cave of Machpelah. Joseph makes this promise, and fulfills it as soon as the days of mourning for Jacob are completed. The medieval commentator Rashi highlights the phrase chesed ve’emet. He translates it as true kindness[1], teaching us that since it can have no reward, a kindness done for the dead is the ultimate kindness. Such a deed is considered to be the highest form of a mitzvah, and Joseph does not hesitate to perform it, thus becoming an exemplar from generation to generation.

In our search for inspiration, could chesed be the first step on our spiritual journey? At its basic level, kindness is simply the desire to help others - how might this heal the world? What about Faith, or Love, or Justice? Look, we are just at the beginning. Let us start with something doable.

Our world is utterly hectic as we rush from commitment to responsibility with eyes firmly focused on our next appointment. However, there is always time for a small act of kindness. And if you compliment a person in the lift on their cool snow-boots, if you wave at a child in a pushchair as they pass you on the street, if you ask a checkout person how their day is going while they are ringing up your groceries – to what do such acts lead? You have seen this person. They have been seen. Kindness shines a light upon the other. To know that you are seen is a sign that you are no longer in the dark. And the energy that this experience gives you will, in turn, have a positive effect on the next living being you encounter. Such reciprocity sets up a chain of chesed[2], building on what was received, and pushing the darkness further and further away.

2017 has shown us once again that when terror and disaster strike, our first impulse is always altruistic. From the bravery of those who run towards danger, to the generosity of those who offer shelter and supplies, our instinct is to help each other. We just need to learn how to do it better on a daily basis, and without the drama! As the Twelfth Time Lord said, “Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind.”

May we be inspired by Joseph’s chesed ve’emet, and add our kindness to the light. May this rededication of our souls invite Shechinah to turn her face towards us once again.  Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek!

---

[1] A hendiadys, i.e., the expression of a single idea by two words connected with ‘and’, when one could be used to modify the other.

[2]  A thought developed after listening to Rav Leo Dee’s podcast on this portion at webyeshiva.org

Dorrit F Friedlander z"l

Today marks four years since my beloved Auntie Dorrit died.

It is a night I shall never forget - sitting with some of her dearest friends around her bed, telling stories about her adventures. She left the world to the sound of love & laughter, on a cushion of joyous memories.

Of course I miss her dreadfully, but she is still able to let me know her opinion on a variety of subjects!

Someone recently asked me what it meant when we say that someone's memory should be for a blessing. I replied that knowing what our loved one valued in life may inspire us to express and share those same values. Thus our memory of that person is a source for the good deeds that we continue to do.

My aunt was one of the kindest people I have known. All three siblings - Dorrit, Charles and Albert - had kindness in their DNA. This is the blessing I want to share as I remember Professor Dorrit F Friedlander, aleha hashalom.

[NB this was posted on 14th of November London time, not quite the same day yet out west]