by Ner Tamid | Jul 28, 2024 | Sermons
I tend to keep my phone with me up until a minute before I run to shul on Friday night. When calls come in within an hour or two before Shabbos, they are almost always emergencies. I say ‘almost’ because once in a while I will get a call to see what time candle lighting is or if there is a kiddush in shul. Last Friday, I received a call about two hours before Shabbos that was not necessarily an emergency, but it was certainly an urgent matter.
The call was from a friend who received a fundraising call from Keren Olam HaTorah. Keren Olam HaTorah is a mega-fundraising campaign on a mission to ensure that the Charedi community in Israel, which is losing its government funding, will be able to survive without those funds. Their goal is 107 million dollars. They already have 84 million dollars worth of commitments from major donors, and they are now raising another 23 million dollars to close the gap, of which they already raised 12 million.
Someone had reached out to my friend, asking him for a substantial donation, and he was not sure what to do, and was asking me for my opinion. Should he donate to this campaign supporting the Charedi community to allow them to continue to study Torah without serving in the IDF, or not?
Let’s review a little history: Before the formation of the State of Israel, David Ben Gurion wanted the support of the Charedi community and so he struck a deal with the Chazon Ish allowing anyone in the Charedi community to receive an exemption from serving in the army so that they could study Torah uninterrupted. Presumably, Ben Gurion’s thinking at the time was that the Charedim would eventually disappear, there is no way such a “backward” group of people would live on in the modern State of Israel, and this would not be a long-term issue. A less cynical take was that people recognized, after the Holocaust, there was a need to rebuild Torah Jewry, and therefore there was little if any pushback.
Well, as we all know, things did not go as Ben Gurion planned. The Charedi population has exploded. They now make up 13% of the country. Their poverty rate is at about 41%. The community is propped up by charities but also by the government, which creates an incredible financial strain on the government. To make matters worse, due to the ongoing conflicts in the North and South, the Israeli government voted to extend the amount of time reservists need to serve while the Charedi community is not serving at all. Unsurprisingly, the Supreme Court recently voted to revoke the funding they have been providing for decades to Charedim who are in yeshiva, and to start drafting Charedim into the army. (There is broad consensus that there would be a carve-out, enabling many Charedim who are fully devoted to Torah learning continue to do so.)
And it seems to many like a no-brainer.
Of course, Charedim need to share the burden of defending Israel against her enemies!
Of course, we cannot rely on Torah study alone to protect us. We have never taken such an approach in all of our history; from Moshe through the Maccabees, while we place an absolute premium on Torah study and prayer, relying on a miracle is not our way!
The government should probably do a much better job negotiating with the Charedi community, they should probably slow down a little, be less threatening, provide genuine accommodations to Charedim joining the IDF, and they would probably be much more effective. But yes, it seems like a no-brainer that a good portion of the Charedi community should take part in some form of national service.
But that was not the question posed to me; the question was if this man should give a donation to enable the Charedi community to continue their way of life.
The answer, in my opinion, is not so simple.
First of all, I told him this is quite similar to any given meshulach who comes to your door. The individual who may be very bright and capable, never got a well-paying job because he did not serve in the IDF and did not have access to a whole host of jobs. Now, he has a family emergency, they are unsurprisingly broke, and they come to you for money. On the one hand, it’s ridiculous. Why didn’t you go to the army? Why didn’t you get a normal job? And at the same time, they were born into a system. They are standing before you, impoverished, with a starving family at home. They are, despite your many differences, your brother. When my brother makes a stupid decision, I am still in his corner. No matter what. So, I pull out my checkbook and give this person some money. And now, it is not one or two or ten meshulachim, but an entire society that was not ready for this change (even if they should have been). Are we going to let our brothers and sisters starve so that they’ll serve in the army? Heaven forbid.
But there is something else, something quite uncomfortable and complicated that we would be wise to acknowledge. The typical argument to Charedim is that they can still maintain their religious observance level in the army. The proof is the Religious Zionist community. The community of people that I imagine most of us identify with; kippah serugah, they go to Hesder Yeshivot where they learn for a few years and then serve for a few years, they embrace the secular world. Why can’t you Charedim be just like them?
A few years ago, a study was published by Chotam. Chotam is a religious Zionist thinktank. The study concluded that only 46% of Religious Zionists young adults are fully observant. More than half of their youth are not maintaining the values they were taught. If Religious Zionism were a company, they would be forced to shut down. Those are not normal numbers. That is an abject failure. By contrast, the study concluded that despite some high-profile Charedim leaving the fold, the Charedi attrition rate is negligible.
To put it differently, the Charedi world, for all the complaints that we may have about army service, is doing something right. They are doing something that is needed for the future of the Jewish People. They are keeping Jews practicing Judaism.
In 1975, Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm, probably the most outspoken advocate of Modern Orthodoxy gave a speech about zealotry. Though we are a religion of peace and pleasantness, Pinchas, the protagonist of our parsha is celebrated for his zealotry. “Unquestionably,” writes Rabbi Lamm, “zealotry is a valuable sentiment. Without [it], without this passion, commitment is at best superficial. Zeal involves self-sacrifice and earnestness of purpose.”
He goes on to write: “This is why I am not overly anxious for our camp, what we call “Modern Orthodoxy,” to cut off from the “right wing.” “The Yeshiva world,” and the “Hasidic world” are reservoirs of passionate commitment, without which we are wishy-washy, wan, weak, and wavering. Of course,” he writes, “I am unhappy with many of their policies and their… rhetoric. But our very survival may very well depend on the degree to which we can become inspired by their zeal and learn to bring passion to our own commitments, no matter how much we disagree with them on specific issues.”
If you want to understand what he means, drive up to Lakewood, New Jersey, on any given weekday and join them for a Mincha Minyan. They will pray with more passion than many of us do on Yom Kippur. Go into any Beis Medrash in our community at 8 PM and you will find it packed with people learning Torah after a long day of work, while many Modern Orthodox shul’s lights are off. And go look at the numbers of Tzedakah dollars or Chesed organizations coming from those on the right compared to those down the middle, and you will see a community of people, in Israel and in the USA who are doing something right; there is a passion, a zeal, a self-sacrifice that no one else has come close to.
Should Charedim serve in the IDF? I think so. They have an absolute responsibility to do their part in defending the Jewish People. Full stop.
But will pushing them to serve, even with all the accommodations, impact the future of Judaism? It just might. Do we have what to learn from this community? We most absolutely do.
And so, with a few hours left before Shabbos began, I encouraged my friend to donate to Keren Olam HaTorah – and I donated as well.
We are in the midst of the Three Weeks of Mourning, a time during which we reflect on the destruction of the Temple caused by infighting. More Jews died in the fall of Jerusalem by the sword of their brother than by the Romans. Let’s be fiercely proud of and profoundly grateful to the Religious-Zionist community who have been bravely fighting at the front line, giving their lives to defend us. Let us hope and pray that they can be joined by more Jews who can help them carry their crushing burden. And let’s be open-minded to the incredible value and the lessons we need to learn from our Charedi brethren.
by Ner Tamid | Jul 21, 2024 | Sermons
Have you ever been out in public, maybe at a baseball game, and you see a guy with long peyos, a beard, tzitzis hanging out… and a baseball hat. In his mind, that baseball hat is somehow preventing everyone else from knowing that he is Jewish. In his mind, despite his black pants and white shirt, that baseball hat allows him to magically blend in. He is no longer Yoily from Boro Park; he is Bob, Bob O’hare from Arkansas.
I’ve always laughed at “that guy.” But last Shabbos, “that guy” was me. I was walking down El Camino in Palo Alto dressed like this with this on my head (put on baseball hat). I wonder if they noticed the OU symbol on the side of the hat…
I think I’ve shared with some of you in the past that I am not very good at hiding my Jewishness. About twenty years ago, I was backpacking through Europe, trying very hard to blend in and look “not Jewish,” with a baseball hat. One day, I was standing outside the Coliseum in Rome about to take a picture with these big hulky guys dressed as gladiators when one of them took his sword, placed it by my waste, and said, “Hey chabibi! Ata rotzeh od brit milah? Do you want another circumcision?” I could be wearing a stormtrooper uniform and they would take one look at me and say, Jew.
The reason I was wearing this baseball hat in Palo Alto and trying to not draw attention to my Jewishness is not that funny at all. A few days earlier, in California, we bumped into some friends from Baltimore who shared with us a harrowing story. They were staying not too far from where we were, and they took an Uber. When they got in the Uber, the husband was not wearing a kippah, but after having a nice conversation with the driver, he felt comfortable enough to put it on. At that point, the driver pulled over his car, in middle of nowhere, and told the couple to get out of his car. Antisemitism is alive and well on the West Coast. Hence, my baseball hat.
Now I know if Meimei would have heard this Uber story, she would have not only not worn a baseball hat, she would have grabbed her IDF sweatshirt and worn it with swagger. Meimei Polun goes to a school with a bit of an anti-Israel bend, and yet, that does not stop her from being loud and proud about her support of Israel. And the truth is, as I was walking down El Camino, I thought about that, and decided I was done wearing a baseball hat. The next day we went to Stanford University, home of some of the vilest antisemitism, and I wore my kippah without a hat, thanks to you.
My experience is fairly emblematic of the experience of many Jews living in the US since October 7th. Watching what has transpired on the streets of major cities or on college campuses has triggered fear causing many Jews to recoil and hide. And then, like me, many of these people have decided instead of hiding, we are going to be loud and public about our Judaism; kippot, necklaces with a Magen David, Israeli flags, dog-tags with the names of hostages, ‘I stand with Israel’ swag, you name it. We want to look like Jews.
It’s nice, maybe even beautiful, but the truth is, it’s a little superficial. What does it mean to ‘look like a Jew?’ Yes, the gladiator outside of the Coliseum may have picked up on something, but do I really look Jewish?! As I was writing this, I googled pictures of Hungarian people. Guess what? That’s what I look like. We’ve spoken about this so many times but it’s worth repeating – If I were to go back in time to our ancestors in the desert on their journey from Egypt to Israel, I, and many of us would stick out like a sore thumb. Or to be more accurate, like a white thumb on a brown body. Our ancestors were from the Middle East, they were dark skinned. The one exception was Moshe’s wife. She was black. There was not a single white person in ancient Israel! Jews are not defined by their looks; there is no Jewish look. We are defined by something else entirely.
In one of the most exciting passages in the Book of Bereishis, Yaakov poses as his brother, Eisav. He covers his arms with a lot of hair, and he tries his best to impersonate Eisav. Yitzchak, his blind father, who Yaakov is trying to trick, falls for it. But Yitzchak is also confused. “Hakol kol Yaakov, v’hayadayim y’dei Eisav. Your hands feel like Eisav, but your voice sounds like Jacob.” Rashi explains that Yaakov and Eisav sounded the same. When you called their home and one of them would pick up the phone, you would not know who you were speaking to. What Yitzchak meant when he said that the man in front of him sounded like Yaakov, he was not referring to Yaakov’s voice but his mode of speech. The man in front of him said, “please,” he spoke softly, he spoke humbly, he invoked G-d, he used words of refinement. What distinguished Yaakov and Eisav was not their looks, it was their speech.
The Medrashim tell us that this is why the king of Moav hired Bilaam to come curse the Jewish People. He wanted to attack the Jews with a dose of their own medicine. “Ein kochom ela b’peh. The strength of the Jewish people is their mouth.” Speech is our defining feature.
And so instead of asking ourselves if we look Jewish, I think we need to ask ourselves if we sound Jewish? And no, I do not mean if we sound like Fran from the Nanny. You know what it means to sound Jewish?
A Jew does not gossip. A Jew does not use foul language. A Jew humbly acknowledges G-d. A Jew compliments and lifts people up. A Jew uses his or her words to connect, never to destroy.
Some people say that Shabbos – taking a break from technology and the rat race – is the greatest gift that the Jewish People can give the world in this century. I disagree. The greatest gift we can give the world today in 2024 is positive and refined speech. Research has drawn a direct line between hateful rhetoric and seemingly random acts of violence. We may not ever know why Thomas Matthew Crooks tried to kill former President Donald Trump, but we do know that the words we use to describe people make an impact on how they act; violent rhetoric leads to violence. In Nazi Germany no one woke up one day and said, “Kill the Jews.” They said the Jews are ruining our society, and then they said the Jews are subhuman, and then they said the Jews should be put away, and yes, eventually, they killed 6 million Jews. Words are powerful. Words can destroy.
And that’s where one of Judaism’s greatest contributions to society comes in – Judaism elevates speech to the highest stratosphere. The very first time a sentence is uttered in the Torah, they are words of positivity; “Vayehi ohr, let there be light.” The first Jew to live among gentiles, Yosef, is described as constantly invoking G-d’s name whenever he spoke; “To commit adultery,” he said, “is bad in the eyes of G-d.” Or when he stood before Pharaoh and took no credit for his dream interpretation, “It all comes from Hashem.” When the Torah describes animals that are not kosher, instead of saying, ‘dirty,’ the Torah chooses the more refined term of ‘not clean.’
Let me share with you a story. There is a high-end investing firm that does very well and is run by an observant Jew who lives locally. He recently sent a letter to his investors after an exceptionally good quarter. And I quote: “After November’s strong performance the question remained the same: what are you doing differently that the fund has such a strong month of performance? … the answer to the question … [is] Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
We have been doing nothing different throughout this whole period. We have been … sticking ever so closely to our strategy and research process… It was because G-d made us outperform. It was not me, not my partners, not the traders, nor being super smart, nor all the hard work.”
In a world filled with so much bluster, so much ego, aren’t this man’s words music to the ear? Yes, I just made you rich, but G-d runs the world, not me. Think about the impact those humble words have on his investors who look up to him for his brilliance.
Or take Ari Schonbrun, former Chief Administrative Officer at Cantor Fitzgerald – that’s a big position in a big firm. He decided at one point in his life to no longer use any four-letter words. Ask anyone on Wall Street and they’ll tell you that’s like deciding to speak in Cantonese. Everyone curses on Wall Street. And yet, when Ari is at a meeting, not only does he not curse, but no one curses in his presence. Think about the impact his refined speech has on his coworkers.
And then there are the beautiful laws of Lashon Hara; a prohibition against gossiping. What a world it would be if people kept their opinions to themselves! Think of all the drama we could avoid if only we would stop ourselves before saying anything, and asking, “Do I sound Jewish?”
And to be clear, not speaking Lashon Hara does not mean we cannot criticize politicians. We need to learn how to disagree with someone without dehumanizing them. Not speaking Lashon Hara does not mean cover-ups for people engaged in poor behavior or lying to people asking about a shidduch. Not speaking Lashon Hara does not mean being naïve, it means being refined.
Dog-tags, Israeli flags, kippahs, they are all great. But if we really want to look like a Jew, if we really want to be recognized as a Jew, let’s use our Jewish voice. Do I sound Jewish?
Meimei, your name Meira means light, like the first words out of G-d’s mouth. May you and all of us be a light onto the nations, not only through what we wear, but by how we speak because speech is our true superpower. Hakol kol Yaakov; we are the people of the voice. A voice that does not use foul language, a voice that refrains from gossip, a voice that is humble, a voice that elevates and connects. That’s how we fight back against antisemitism and that’s how we change our broken world.
by Ner Tamid | Jul 7, 2024 | Sermons
Allow me to paint a fictional picture of two political candidates. As you listen, I want you to think about which one of these candidates you would vote for.
Imagine the scene – Imagine that on this stage, there are two people vying for the role of leader. One is wealthy; self-made – we’ll call him… D. The other has been involved in politics for decades – we’ll call him… J.
One of the candidates, J, the politically connected candidate, is over 80 years old.
D begins the debate by pointing out that J had one campaign promise, and he has not fulfilled it. J agrees; he doesn’t argue.
D argues that the elite are taking over the nation. J does not really have an argument… we do not know what his beliefs are because he does not respond.
Which one of these candidates would you vote for? J or D?
To clarify, I am NOT talking about Joe Biden and Donald Trump. This political showdown I just described to you might sound a lot like current events, but it is actually a description of today’s Torah portion; the showdown between Korach, a 62-year-old, wealthy, charismatic man, and Aaron, the High Priest, an 83-year-old who was appointed to his role by his brother.
Aaron and his brother Moshe promised the Jewish People that they would enter the land of Israel, but as Dasan and Aviram correctly point out, they did not follow through with their campaign promise.
As the debate gets more heated, Moshe challenges Aharon and Korach to an incense-burning competition, which as crazy as it sounds is far better than fighting over who is a better golfer.
(That debate was really something.
I have never been so embarrassed to be American and I’m Canadian.)
Back to the Biblical debate. Korach is rocking it. He has broad support from the masses and from the establishment. He has some valid arguments; “Why are we not in Israel already?” And, “Are we not all holy? Why do you, Aaron, take the mantle of leadership for yourself?”
How does Aaron respond to these strong-sounding arguments? Do you know what he says?
Not. A. Word.
Throughout the entire Torah portion, Aaron is silent.
Not because he is 83 and forgot his lines. He is silent on principle. He is silent because his silence, explains the Sefas Emes, is what demonstrates that he is the true leader of the Jewish People.
Let me explain. The Western world has a leadership problem. And no, I do not mean the lack of solid presidential candidates though what I am about to describe may be a symptom of this issue. The leadership problem that I am referring to is that we are obsessed with leadership.
Go look at the classes being offered in any given business school. A good portion of them will be some variation on how to become a great leader. The vast majority of books written on the topic of business are all about leadership. It’s not just in the business world; it’s in the not-for-profit and Jewish world as well. If there is a mission to Israel, it’s not just a mission, it’s a leadership mission. If a federation wants to start a new program, there is a 9/10 chance that the world leader will be part of its name. Even some of our greatest Jewish educators got into this leadership craze – search ‘leadership lessons from the Torah’ and you will be overwhelmed.
Why is this a problem?
First of all, there is a technical problem. If everyone is a leader, who exactly are they leading?
But it’s much deeper than that. Listen to the way Korach describes leadership and compare it to how Moshe describes leadership. When Korach describes leadership, he uses the term hit’na’asut, which means to be above everyone else (“Madua tit’nasu al k’hal Hashem?”). Moshe describes leadership as sheirut – service – la’amod lifnei ha’eidah l’sharsam, to stand before the nation and serve them. Korach saw leadership as being elevated above others; Moshe saw leadership as being beneath everyone else, holding them up.
There is nothing wrong with leadership per se, but it depends on the type of leadership. Judaism promotes leaders who do not see themselves at the center of the action; they are there to facilitate the growth and success of everyone around them – a servant. This is why greatness, in Judaism, is associated with humility. Think about the terminology we use to describe special people in Jewish society. The holiest gurus are not described as ‘Spiritual Masters,’ but rather as Ovdei Hashem, those who serve G-d. The greatest scholars are not described as ‘Grand Teachers,’ but rather, Talmidei Chachamim, students of wisdom.
Aharon, explains the Sefas Emes, was worthy of his position, precisely because he kept his mouth shut during the rebellion of Korach. Aharon was quiet not because he had nothing to say, but because he truly did not want the honors bestowed upon him. While Korach was yelling and screaming for attention, Aharon tried to make himself disappear.
This showdown between Korach on the one side and Moshe and Aharon on the other repeats itself every day and in each and every one of our lives.
Do we act like a servant or like someone who wants to be served? Do we act like Aharon, making ourselves small? Do we act like Moshe, serving those who need us? Or do we act like Korach, grabbing all the attention in the room?
We are going to go to kiddush and have a chance to socialize; will we try to make sure we share that amazing story that happened to us this past week or our brilliant insight, or will we step back and listen to the people we are speaking to?
Do we engage with our colleagues and friends because they can help us in some way, or do we engage with an eye towards how we can help them?
Are we waiting for compliments, or do we give them out?
I wonder what our world would look like today if we acted a little bit more like Moshe and Aharon, if our culture promoted silence and service, instead of status? I wonder what our world would look like if we were not admired by how many likes our posts receive but by how many we give out?
We are a culture of Korachs and that’s why the real J and D are up on that presidential stage. A culture of self-centeredness, of attention-seeking, of not being able to make space for others, that is a culture, our parsha makes clear, that gets swallowed up by the ground and self-destructs.
***
It’s July 4th weekend, a time to celebrate the birthday of this great country. It’s a country that rebelled against the idea of a monarch, of a Korach-like leader, and introduced to the world the idea of a leader who was truly a public servant. It’s a country that was born with the words, ‘WE, the people’ – not ‘I,’ but ‘we.’ It’s a country that didn’t ask what the country can do for her, but what she can do for her country. We hope and we pray that the United States of America can reclaim the ideals upon which she was founded.
by Ner Tamid | Jun 23, 2024 | Sermons
For all those in denial, the AI revolution is here. This past week, stock for Nvidia, the company that produces chips for AI, surpassed the value of all other companies. If you own stocks in Nvidia, I hope you enjoy them. At least until AI overruns the world.
For over a year, people have been suggesting that I have AI write my weekly sermon. A number of rabbis did this; they got up and gave a sermon, and then at the end of the sermon, they told their congregation, “Guess what? That sermon was written by AI.”
Now I would fire such a rabbi. Not because they’re lazy. But because if your sermons are such that AI can write one for you and no one could tell the difference, that’s a problem.
Let me share with you what I mean. I prompted AI to write in the style of Yisrael Motzen and this is what I got.
And I quote: “In [parsha name], we encounter the narrative of [briefly summarize key events or themes of the parsha]. This pivotal moment in our history holds within it a tapestry of lessons, weaving together faith, obedience, and the enduring covenant between the Almighty and His chosen people.”
I do not use any of those terms. And I’d be asleep by the time I got to the third sentence.
But it gets better. AI continues:
“One of the central themes that Rabbi Yisrael Motzen, of blessed memory, (!!!) often illuminated for us is the concept of [insert theme, e.g., faith, compassion, gratitude].”
You see, they really are trying to kill us off!
Truth be told, I am sure there will be a day when Chat GPT will write an excellent drasha and will take over a wide range of jobs currently held by humans. But I think – and I could be wrong – there is one thing that Artificial Intelligence will not be able to do, and that is feel embarrassed, vulnerable, or ashamed. After I had Chat GPT write me a sermon, I asked it to tell me Chat GPT’s flaws. Within seconds it listed ten flaws. Things like limited understanding, potential for bias, lack of contextual reasoning. These are real flaws. Imagine if I were to ask you to list ten of your flaws. “Well, sometimes I am too nice to my spouse.” Sometimes, I get too involved my work.”
Us humans have defense mechanisms that prevent us from focusing on all of our flaws. Those are important defense mechanisms. Imagine we would be walking all day cognizant of all the areas we fall short in; it would be overwhelming. And so, G-d gave us these great mental tools that blind us to some of our flaws, or at the least, helps us not think about them all the time. In doing so, it allows us to move forward.
Untiiiil, someone comes along and bursts those bubbles, and they criticize us. And then one of two things happen, we become defenseless little puppies crying on the floor until we are soothed by our critic, or, we pull out four hundred samurai knives and started slashing away at our critic.
Moshe, in our parsha, takes the first approach. The Jewish People complain, and they complain a lot – about the mann, about the many restrictions of the Torah, and Moshe understands, though they don’t say it explicitly, they’re actually criticizing him. Moshe crumbles; “Forget it. I’m out.” And he tries to exit the stage until G-d brings him back in.
Criticism is not a bad thing per se. On the contrary, it’s in that push and pull between being honest about your friend or spouse and looking the other way, between being defensive and being vulnerable, it’s in that in between space that we navigate the contours of human relationships. That push and pull, that dance, is something AI cannot do.
The question is how we criticize. Can it be done in a way that enhances and deepens a relationship instead of destroying one. Too much criticism or too much harshness in our criticism and the only friend we’ll be left with is Chat GPT.
And so, to kvetch is human, but how we kvetch will make or break the relationships we have. So allow me to share with you two lessons from this week’s parsha on how to kvetch like a mentch.
#1 – The term the Torah uses to describe the Jews who complain is very telling. It does not say the Jews complained. Rather, it describes the Jews as kvetchers, as complainers vayehi ha’am k’mis’on’nim. That was their identity. There’s an old joke of a waiter in a Kosher restaurant who goes from table to table asking the guests, “Is anything okay?”
We often don’t realize how kvetchy we are. In one study, parents were asked how often they criticize their children. 77.3% said they rarely criticize their children. Then the researchers observed their interactions with their children and what they found is that within a span of 15 minutes, the average parents shared 3 praise statements and 8 critical statements.
So check yourself. Are you a complainer? Are you a kvetch? We often don’t realize how critical we are.
Relationship experts suggest ensuring that there should be a 3:1 ratio. 3 positive comments to our loved ones for every one negative comment. It’s also okay to be generous. No one was ever hurt by 4 or 5 positive comments.
So rule #1 – Kvetch away, but don’t be a kvetch.
Rule #2 – The Ramban observes that when the Torah describes them as complainers, it throws in an extra word; They were “like complainers; k’mis’onenim.” Now the Torah is not a teenager; it would not say, like, for no reason. Why are they “like” complainers?
The Ramban explains that the truth is the Jewish People were in a lot of pain; they had been traveling for a long time in the Sinai desert. If you think it was hard to get to shul, imagine how these people left without central air! They didn’t have a gala kiddush waiting for them; food was limited. They were truly suffering.
But if that is the case, it begs the question, why then was G-d mad at them for complaining? Why do they get punished?
There’s a story told of a chassid who had a very difficult life. This chassid came to his Rebbe for advice. The rebbe said, I can’t help you, but go to Rav Zusha, he can help you. So the Chassid travels to Rav Zusha to ask him for advice. He comes to the address he was given; it’s a dilapidated shack in the worst possible neighborhood. He knocks on the door and Rav Zusha answers the door, dressed in rags. He looks behind him there is no furniture. Nothing.
The chassid tells Rav Zusha why he’s there. “My rebbe sent me to you because I am going through a really hard time and I want to know how to have a positive attitude.”
Rav Zusha gives the man a hug. “I am so sorry that you are going through a hard time. But I don’t know why your Rebbe sent you to me. I have never really gone through any hardships in my life. I have everything I ever needed.”
Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, another Chassidic Rebbe, was also known for his positive attitude. In his commentary on the Torah, the Kedushas Levi, he explains that the reason we put our heads down when saying Tachanun, the prayer that pleads from G-d to save us from all our hardships, is because if we would not put our head down and instead, we would see the whole world around us, we wouldn’t be able to beg Hashem for mercy. We’d be so overwhelmed by all the goodness in the world.
And so the Ramban explains that yes, the Jewish People were going through hardships, but how could they have been so blind to all the good that they were also receiving?! Sometimes it’s not about addressing the issue, it’s about seeing a bigger picture, it’s about realizing how much good there is. Whether that’s in our relationships with G-d – acknowledging all the incredible good that He gives us and allowing that to overwhelm the bad. Or in our relationships with our loved ones, stepping back and appreciating all that they do for us or simply being grateful for having them in our lives.
Kvetching is not only what makes us Jewish; it’s what makes us human. It’s in the delicate give and take of giving and receiving criticism that relationships are formed. But can we remember to criticize and not be a critic, to balance 3 or 4 positive statements for every redirect? And can we learn from Rav Zusha and Rav Levi Yitzchak to not bury our head in our hands? We sometimes go through difficulties and it could feel overwhelming. But can we look up? Can we look around – at the world around us, at the people around us? There is so much to be grateful for.
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by Ner Tamid | Jun 14, 2024 | Sermons
The timing could not be worse; the 250th day of captivity, the 249th of war, over 100,000 people are displaced due to rocket fire in the north, tens of thousands are in reserves, leaving their jobs and families in the lurch, international pressure continues to intensify, and locally, though the colleges are on break, the antisemites have taken to protesting outside of the most non-political exhibition possible – the Nova festival exhibit in New York – all in the name of “anti-Zionism.”
At this precarious time, with so many external threats, the Israeli government looks like it is about to implode, leading to yet another election. The main reason behind the departure of Benny Gantz is what he describes as the lack of a plan for the future of Gaza. But the catalyst for him to leave, and the catalyst for Gallant, a coalition member of Netanyahu, who is now likely to leave as well, is the Charedi Draft Law.
Since the establishment of the State of Israel, men who dedicate their life to Torah study have been exempted from army service. Of course, back when Ben Gurion came to this agreement with the Chazon Ish, the Charedi community was a tiny fraction of its size. For much of the history of the State of Israel, having hundreds of thousands of Charedi soldiers would actually be a burden to the government. But today, with the Charedi community numbering at almost one and half million, today, with a war in the south and an almost inevitable war in the north, a lack of manpower is actually a very big deal.
What does our tradition have to say about Torah study and warfare? How do we balance the two? Physically protecting ourselves on the one hand and spiritually protecting ourselves on the other?
The very first person and the first generation who are instructed to study Torah day and night are none other than the first Jewish army and their general. Joshua, or Yehoshua, the leader and general of the first Jewish army, is instructed, “V’higisa bo yomam valaylah, you should immerse yourself in the Torah every day and every night.”
You would think that it would be Moshe, the first teacher of the Jewish People, the man who brings the Torah down to earth, who is instructed to study Torah day and night, but no, it is the warriors, the generals, the lieutenants, the privates, that are told to somehow find the time to ceaselessly study Torah. This is not a coincidence. War can be blinding; we can so easily lose ourselves in the desire for revenge. And so, it is specifically those who face the greatest risk of losing sight of their values that G-d instructs to engage in His Torah.
There is a practice among soldiers of the IDF to write a letter to their family in case they do not come home. It’s an opportunity to share with one’s family, of course, but it serves a second purpose, very much aligned with what we just said. It gives the soldiers an opportunity to clarify for themselves why they are going into battle.
Allow me to read a note written by Yaron Eliezer, a 23-year-old Givati soldier from Ranana, to his family.
“To my precious and beloved family, who is supposed to teach children of [just] 23 years old to write letters like this?
What a unique country we live in! I feel privileged to take part in the protection of this country. I feel like I am a part of the history being written here.
Thank you for educating me to sanctify G-d’s name, to do kindness, to love the land.
All of this is in your merit and for you!
I love you so much. Am Yisrael Chai!”
Yaron was killed in battle on December 27th.
This young man, who barely started his life, knew what he was fighting for. Throughout so much of our history, when our enemies attacked, we hid our Jewish identity. But Yaron and so many like him, are not running from their Jewish identity, they are embracing it. Through his Torah education he knew what the land of Israel represents. Through his Torah education he lived for values greater than himself, willing to give his life to the Jewish People and to G-d.
We have a lot to learn from them. We may not be gearing up for battle, but we are all under assault, and it’s so easy to lose sight of anything beyond survival. It’s so easy to just make this a fight between those who want to kill us and our mere survival. But it’s more than survival. V’higisa bo yomam valaylah, the commandment to learn Torah was given in the midst of a battle for our existence. Like Yaron, we need to engage with our history, we need to deepen our connection to our tradition, in the midst of war, a war which we are all waging, we need Torah study today more than ever.
In the fifth chapter of the Book of Yehoshua, we find Yehoshua walking by himself at night, and he is confronted by an angel. The angel has his sword drawn, indicating to Yehoshua that something is wrong. The Talmud’s interpretation of this interaction (Megilah, 3a) is that the angel was conveying to Yehoshua G-d’s displeasure with the soldiers being asleep. Now the reason they were asleep was because the next day they were going into battle. But nonetheless, the angel told him, they should have been spending the night… you guessed it, studying Torah. It is not enough to write a note to one’s family clarifying our purpose. It’s not enough to have a Torah class. The Biblical model of balancing Torah study and warfare is to not balance it at all. The soldiers of the original IDF were expected to not sleep, but to study, and to somehow find the strength to then wage war.
Now obviously this is not a very practical model. We cannot, in 2024, have an army that does not sleep. The precision, the alertness, the training needed to run missions like the one they ran this past Shabbos, sleeplessness is not an option. And so, the State of Israel is faced with a dilemma; we need soldiers fighting our wars, and we also need students studying our Torah. We need generals and we need Torah giants. We cannot rely on miracles, and we cannot rely on our own strength either.
I was discussing this dilemma with my father. My father’s father fought in the War of Independence. My father served in the IDF, and his brother fought in the IDF and was killed in battle. Needless to say, he has strong opinions about this topic. But you know what he told me? He said, “Sruli, this doesn’t impact you in any way. You’re not voting, your children are not being drafted. No one in Israel cares about your opinion. It’s not relevant to you.” And he’s right. But let me tell you what is relevant to each of us. In Israel they have to choose between these two incredibly important values. In Israel they have to pick one over the other. But we, though we are undoubtedly busy, are also not running secret ops in middle of Rafah. We are not fighting at the border of Lebanon. We are not waging war and so we only have one option available to us. What’s our excuse to not immerse ourselves in Torah study?
Our brothers and sisters in Israel, they need us.
***
Gilad Nechemia Nitzan, 21, from Shiloh, wrote the following message before he went into his final battle:
“Thank you, G-d, for the path you sent me on.
I will not stop at this point; I will continue forward with all my strength!
The ultimate purpose is to be a true servant of G-d. And it is a very long and increasingly difficult path that gets progressively harder. But I have power and faith to persevere and advance in my personal growth in order to make a good impact and to lift people up. And at the end we will be successful.”
Gilad and his friends are giving it and gave it their all; we need to do the same.
Shavuot is a time that we celebrate the giving of the Torah. It has been a complicated relationship from day one. The Talmud wryly observes the connection between the name Sinai and Sinah – hatred. From the day we became a nation, we have been hated.
But in addition to the hate, we are living in an incredible time in history. Today, this ancient hate is not causing us to flee, it is causing us to double down. Like Yaron, like Gilad, like so many young men and women who went into battle with their heads up high. We are holding our heads high because we stand for something. Many of you, over the past weeks studied chapters of Tanach, of our Torah, in memory of a soldier, Michael Eliyahu, a proud policeman who knew exactly what he was fighting for. We deepened our connection to the stories of our past, to the prophecies that describe not just the future, but the present; we deepened our connection to our values. This is exactly how a Jew wages war.
***
I imagine a scene up in Heaven where our loved ones are greeting these holy soldiers, lining up to shake their hands, to say thank you. And these holy soldiers do what every self-respecting Jew does, they play Jewish geography. And these soldiers say, “I know you!”
Me? How do you know me?
“Your child, your spouse, your parent, they are learning Torah for me. They were partnering with me when I went into battle.” “They are learning in my memory because I cannot learn anymore.”
***
May we not be intimated by our enemies and may we hold our head up high. May we not lose sight of our purpose and may we continue to engage in G-d’s Torah. Let the Israelis argue over who should enlist in the IDF and who should learn Torah. But in America, there is no question. May we do our part in waging this war, and in that merit, may all of our brothers and sisters come home in safety.
