The Killer Spotlight (San. 14)

Being a leader is hard work. You are always in the spotlight, always scrutinized and always criticized. I haven't developed a thick skin yet so every and any comment phrases me and subsequently, I obsess about it.

On Saturday's Daf (San. 14a) we get a great characterization of a reluctant leader. We read that R. Zeira would always avoid being ordained. When others would get ready to pursue lives as Rabbis and judges, Zeira would find an excuse not to come to ordination. When asked about this he said, "One should always be in the dark and if he stays there, he will live." 

Rashi explain that Zeira's statement is a call for us all to stay out the limelight and shun publich office because being a leader "buries a person". This isn't a new idea. Pesachim 87b also teaches "T. Johanan said: ‘Woe to lordship which buries [slays] its possessor, for there is not a single prophet who did not outlive four kings. " As it turns out, kings like Rabbis have their work cut out for them.

However, R. Zeira didn't shirk leadership forever. Instead he changed his mind when he heard a statement by Rabbi Elazar, "No person rises to a position of greatness unless [heaven] forgives all his sins." When he heard this Zeira sought to be ordained.

Here's what I love about Elazar's statement. In essence the statement speaks to the reward of leadership. Doing good and helping people are not always enough. Next to stress, heart attacks, and headaches, personal satisfaction doesn't fair so well. So what did the Rabbis do? They developed a doctrine that says that if one rises to a position of greatness all their sins will be forgiven. Now that's a reward!

Today we too can't rely just on personal satisfaction. While we don't have a doctrine that promises us forgiveness if we rise to power, we do have money. In the book Crashing the Gate Jerome Armstrong (and others) speak about how many liberal young Americans are choosing not to work for Washington non-profits because coming from good schools they won't be compensated for their talents and movement into the Washington spotlight (this is the opposite of the Republican party that does shell out the money for talented young people). While some graduates do go into this work (and are wonderful at it) many more go to Wall Street where they can make more money.

As we debate salaries and question financial decisions I think our daf today is a wonderful reminder of the true costs of leadership and the need to provide meaningful rewards to those who step into the spotlight. 

A Tale of Two Haftarot - Haftarah Zachor

Either:
I Sam. 15:1-34 or
Esther 7:1-10, 8:15-17

This week is Shabbat Zachor. On this Shabbat, we remember the command to blot out the memory of Amalek. Somewhat counter-intuitive, but a commandment nonetheless:

You shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under the heavens. Do not forget!
- Exodus 17:19

The traditional Haftarah for this parasha comes from I Samuel. However, the Reform movement reads from Esther. The connection is that Haman (BOOO!) is said to be descended from Amalek.

So…what are we supposed to do here? I am continually working through my opinions of what to do with a text the Reform movement has decided not to read. Keep in mind, that these texts are not excised or considered less than the other texts. They are merely replaced with another text whose message is more appealing. Apparently, a description of an Israelite total war, wherein they are asked to destroy men, women, children, and animals is too much to be read publicly on Shabbat. In this sense, I agree. The reading is counter to our values and our understanding of the way nations should interact.

The Esther passage is not much better, however. Esther, tells the king that Haman wants to kill her and her people. This leads to Haman being killed. The part of chapter 8 that is missing, however, from the reading, is the part where the Jews take all of Haman’s possessions. Also missing, the rampage that the Jews go on in revenge.

Which passage makes more sense to read? Can we just skip a piece of history that causes us discomfort?

Neither of these readings is very positive. They are both about war and revenge and the price that is paid.

The Samuel chapter ends with Saul losing his kingship because he didn’t destroy the livestock (on top of a number of other issues with listening to God) as God had commanded. Saul wanted to save them and offer them to God as a sacrifice. This is not what God asked for. Destroying the Amelkites, in this case, destroys the King. His sons will die and his line will be no more.

The Book of Esther is filled with many things. One thing it doesn’t have…God. The Jewish rampage leaves God out of the picture. The Jewish revenge on Haman is brutal, seemingly unnecessary, and yes, out of character. They destroy the ten sons of Haman (chapter 9). His name is literally blotted out of our reading with loud noises.

In their downfalls, Saul and Haman appear to have more in common then we might think.

Saul is removed from the favor of God::Haman is removed from the favor of the King.
Saul’s sons are killed::Haman’s sons are killed.
Saul meets an early death on the day of battle::Haman meets an early death on the day of battle.
Saul is replaced by David::Haman is replaced by Mordechai

What can we learn from these two examples?

What, also, can be learned from the fact that Amalek, who we are commanded to blot from our memory in Exodus, is mentioned many times again in the Tanakh (from Torah to Chronicles)?

What is our Amalek? What would we like to forget but cannot? What would we prefer not be a part of our history?

Perhaps the Esther story and the rampage that follows is something in our history that we would rather forget. And yet, the calendar puts these two in proximity, every year as a reminder of our greatest triumph, surviving the wilderness against difficult circumstances and enemies, and our moment of zeal when God is forgotten. Moreover, we celebrate with raucous readings of the Megillah, carnivals, games and prizes, costumes, and drinking so much that we can’t tell who is our enemy and who is our friend. When we do all these things, are we hiding from our past? Are we blotting out the bad? Or, are we saying that if I can’t tell who is my enemy, I’ll treat everyone like they’re my friend? (The drinks help with that, too.)

This year as we blot out the name of Haman, our enemy, perhaps we should consider what it means to blot out our history, and if we ever can. We may not like what happened in the past, but are we therefore free to forget it? Can we skip over something that makes us uncomfortable?

Moreover, should we?

Right Down to the Wire (San 13)

As someone who has to spend a large chunk of the summer planning for the High Holy Days, I understand that sometimes the Jewish calendar isn't always fair. Yesterday's Daf  (San 13) gave me a fascinating insight into why that is.

There are 12 months in a Jewish calendar. These months go on the lunar cycle. Subsequently a Jewish year has 11 fewer days than our calendar. If uncorrected this means that we would be celebrating our holidays earlier and earlier until we were eating Matzah in the fall and building Sukkot in the spring.

However, the Torah explicitly says that we need to celebrate Passover in the spring and Sukkot in the fall. In order to do this we add a month every once and a while called Adar Sheni to fix this. Today's Daf asked the question: when do we add this month and when do we not?

As with most things the Rabbis can't agree. Some say that if the fall equinox does not occur by the time that the intermediate days of Sukkot start then we add the month. Others say it's toward the end of Sukkot. Others say it's actually determined by whether passover falls in the spring. So to find out who wins this debate I looked at Maimonidies (turns out there's no citation for this in the Shulkan Aruch).

Here writes:  

[An extra month is added,] making the year full, because of three factors: a) the vernal [spring] equinox; b) the ripening[of the barley crop], and c) the blooming of the fruit trees.
What is implied? When the court calculates and determines that the vernal equinox will fall on the sixteenth of Nisan or later, the year is made full. The month that would have been Nisan is made the second Adar, and thus Pesach will fall in the spring. This factor [alone] is sufficient for the court to make the year full; other factors need not be considered.

Here's where it get's tricky. The vernal equinox this year falls on March 20, 2010. This year, the 16th of Nisan falls on the 31st of March. This means we're fine for this year but that next year (taking away 11 days) we'd be right down to the wire. Then we'd have to return to the big question that was posed in yesterday's Daf: is the equinox the first day of spring or the last day of winter.

Lucky for us we'll add another month before that. Moreover we have a system in place to decide the months. So I guess we're back to the drawing board about how to get Rosh Hashannah later this year. The Rabbi's said that if the infrastructure wasn't in place (roads and bridges after the winter) to allow pilgrims to offer their passover sacrifices in the Temple we could add the extra month to help them get there. Will my unfinished sermons count for an extra month?

Kitzur Chapter 34- The Laws of Charity

Being that this is my first post on the blog, I just wanted to thank Marc for encourage me to document my thoughts as I study the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch. I've been studying for a couple of months now and am looking forward to posting on a somewhat regular basis.

Jill - your post made me think a lot about the chapter I just studied, so here are my 2cents..

I just finished chapter 34 of the Kitzur which deals with laws of charity and giving tzedakah:

Living in New York, those in need constantly approach us in the subways and on the streets for money. I generally follow the advice of Mayor Bloomberg and tell myself that I will give to organizations and not to the homeless person on the street. Tradition teaches, however, that it is "forbidden to turn a person away empty-handed," citing Psalm 74:21 which states, "Let not the oppressed turn back in disgrace." When we do feed the hungry person, it should be the best and choicest food at our table. If we have nothing to give the beggar than we should console him or her with words.

I must admit that I have not developed a practice of how to give to those who ask on the street. The halacha makes a lot of sense actually - treat people with dignity. If you can, provide them with the best meal that you can. In the least, say a kind word to them and console them through words. Like Jill said, I often do things out of convenience or if I feel the person asking seems "deserving." Sometimes I give to performers if I like their act, other times I want to give but only happen to have a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket so that person that might have gotten my dollar misses out on a hot cup of coffee.

It's easy to say that we as Reform Jews take social justice seriously, and I know many of us feel like we've had this conversation before, but for me at least, it usually ends at the conversation, and while I always think about it every time someone asks me for money, I've never developed any kind of serious practice as to giving in the street. Maybe it's as simple as keeping some dollar bills or quarters always on hand so that I might be able to fulfill this law of giving to those who ask. Maybe it's simply looking people in the eye as I say "I'm sorry, I don't have any change." If there is one new piece of Jewish law that I can take on and take seriously, it is this one.

Intercalation: In its own time? (San 12)

Today’s daf includes a heated debate about questions related to “intercalation.” Who can determine a leap month? Where? When? For what reasons? One of the overriding themes of this elaborate discussion is that intercalation must take place in its own time. In other words, there is a time and a place for determining a leap year…

The place: Judea (11b3)
The time: After Rosh HaShanah and before the 30th of Adar

Of course, there are exceptions...If, for instance, you are concerned that the ruling government in your land might outlaw intercalation proceedings in the coming year, you may determine a leap year before Rosh Hashanah. If this is the case, it is advisable to send a message in a secret code so that the government doesn’t figure out what’s going on… An example of such a secret code may be:

“a pair was returning from Rakas and an eagle captured it” (12a2).

This obviously means that this year should be a leap year. Duh.

Joking aside, some of the reasons for determining the calendar “in its own time” are both practical and compelling. If, for example, the community were experiencing a famine one should not declare a leap year, for such a decision would force the people to delay the harvest of Passover an extra month (12a1)

Additionally, we are taught that we should not determine a leap year this year for the benefit of a future year (12a2 footnote 30). In other words, we shouldn’t declare a leap year in order to “fix” the future calendar for matters of convenience or personal preference.

These reasons actually make a lot of sense to my modern mind. It goes without saying that we should put the needs of the hungry in our midst before issues of the calendar. The “convenience” argument discussed in 12a2, however, is one that I think many Reform Jews are struggling with today. In the process of determining what elements of Jewish tradition are relevant in our lives, there is a great temptation to fall into the trap of “convenient Judaism.” I often wonder if some of the practices I have adopted are meaningful and mindful attempts to bring Judaism into the modern world, or if they are just more convenient.

Shockingly, or not, today you can simply ask Google what the calendar will be like, in oh, lets say the year 9999 (6238 on the Gregorian calendar). Note: you can also export this calendar to Outlook, Apple Ical, Google, etc… In creating this calendar, we have actually done exactly what the Rabbis in Sanhedrin are warning us not to do!

Though I am not advocating going back to the method suggested in Sanhedrin, I think the Rabbis have a lot to teach us about mindfulness and the value of making decisions “in their own time.” Though we might be able to determine the lunar cycle years in advance, we have no way of determining when there will be hunger in our midst or a bad agriculture season. Today, the rabbis taught me to make an effort to step outside my own prescribed calendar of Jewish practice, and try to live and experience each moment.

Check it out

Interesting posting by John in response to my gossip article

Click here to read!

Did I ever tell you about Gossip? (San 9)

One of the big movements in Jewish summer camps and religious schools is to teach kids about the importance of avoiding lashon hara (often translated as gossip).

We read in Bava Batra (164a) that lashon hara is a sin for which a person engages everyday.

Here is an article that comes down very hard on gossip.

However, I wonder about this. I want to point to two cases where gossip said to do good. The first we find in todays daf (San 9). Here we learn that if a women is suspected of adultery and there are no witnesses, we shouldn't rule out that witnesses will not come forward eventually. Word of mouth is a powerful thing and after the news spreads like rapid-fire that a certain women is on trial, anyone who might have information will know to come forward.

The other case is similar. We read in the third chapter of Bava Batra about a concept called chazakah. This concept says that if I live in a property for 3 years and no one complains that I have stolen it, it is mine by presumption. The reason for this is that even if the owner is in a far off land, people like to gossip and he will learn soon enough about the stolen property. 3 years will give enough time for him to find out and get back to his property to kick me off.

Jews have a name for people who deal in gossip (yenta) and it's often a derogatory term. Today Rosalind Wiseman has coined a new term in queen bees and wanna bees , the Banker, who deals in information and uses it as social capital.

Nevertheless, we learn from these two examples that just like torture the Rabbi didn't take a definitive stand on gossip. That is, unless we've been translating lashon hara wrong in our camps and schools and it means something more nuanced than gossip...

If we learn anything from the ethics of lashon hara it might be that when it smells of corruption maybe its your job to gossip about it. Thoughts?