There are questions that people ask when they have experienced great disappointment. One such question, a theological one, is, “What did I do to deserve this? What sin have I committed that warrants such a painful punishment?”
For the past several weeks, this column has addressed a challenge that we all face during Passover, Pesach, which is now barely two months away. The challenge is posed in a passage in the Haggadah, which ultimately derives from a Mishna in the tractate of Pesachim. The text reads, "In each and every generation, one is obligated to see himself, lir'ot et atzmo, as if he had personally left Egypt."
Since back in early autumn, when we began reading the Book of Genesis in the synagogue, we have been reading one long story. It has been a very dramatic story, extending over many centuries.
Our tradition teaches us to avoid using the divine name. We are instructed not to pronounce it in vain, and not to refer to it directly in writing. Some permit the name to be spelled out in languages other than Hebrew, whereas I personally follow the stricter opinion and use other terms to designate the deity.
I have been asked questions about my Jewish faith since I was a very young boy. Back then, it was the tow-headed children of the Irish family in whose large summer home we spent our summers who pestered me with questions about the yarmulke on my head and the tzitzit dangling from underneath my shirt . Later, the questions were addressed to me by college classmates, mostly non-Jewish, but sometimes Jews who had little knowledge of our mutual religion and its beliefs and practices.
Our tradition teaches us to avoid using the divine name. We are instructed not to pronounce it in vain, and not to refer to it directly in writing. Some permit the name to be spelled out in languages other than Hebrew, whereas I personally follow the stricter opinion and use other terms to designate the deity.
Sometimes we feel inspired. We may be working hard, but we don’t seem to mind, because we love the work we are doing and believe in it.
Sometimes we feel inspired. We may be working hard, but we don’t seem to mind, because we love the work we are doing and believe in it.
I recently was interviewed by one of my great-granddaughters. She is a high school student and was assigned to interview one of her ancestors. After responding to her questions about the different stages of my many careers, she commented, “Wow! You had some very colorful experiences!” Among those “experiences” were my various encounters with non-Jews who took their Bible seriously. They included famous politicians such as President Bill Clinton, college professors of philosophy, and Christian clergyman. They also included students of biblical criticism.
In preparation for this week’s parsha column, I did a search for famous quotes about success. I found hundreds of examples of high-sounding praises of success, ranging from Winston Churchill’s, “Success consists of going from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm,” to Benjamin Disraeli’s, “Success is the child of audacity.”
This week's column follows up a thought that I shared with you last week. I suggested that one of our most difficult religious tasks is to "see ourselves as if we had personally left Egypt." I stated that it required a skill of imagination which most of us lack.
“They don't make them the way they used to.” We have all heard this comment with reference to all sorts of things. Despite all the technological advances from which we benefit, we often are convinced that certain things were of superior quality in the old days.
There was a time in my life when I was fascinated by the works of the great psychoanalytic thinkers. Chief among them, of course, was Sigmund Freud, whose attitude towards his Jewish origins piqued my curiosity.
Over the course of the past several years, we have had some marvelous opportunities to visit places where I had once lived. My wife and I had moved away from some of these communities ten or twenty years ago, and in one case, forty years ago.
Over the course of the past several years, we have had some marvelous opportunities to visit places where I had once lived. My wife and I had moved away from some of these communities ten or twenty years ago, and in one case, forty years ago.
Those of you who have come to know me during my current stage of life will be surprised to learn that I once had athletic ambitions. But I did. It was especially during my teenage years when I was a student at RJJ, Rabbi Jacob Joseph High School on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. My favorite sport was basketball, and I spent more time perfecting my jump shot than doing my homework.
We know him as Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Master, Moses our Teacher, Moses our Master Teacher. Such a title certainly tells us a great deal about Moshe and qualifies him for the title “Person in the Parsha.”
Each parsha, for the next many Shabbatot, provides us with a not-to-be-missed opportunity to prepare ourselves, intellectually and spiritually, for the wonderful holiday which lies ahead.
The two old men couldn't have been more different from each other. Yet they both taught me the identical life lesson.
Can you sleep at night? There is so much trouble in the world. Violence, wars large and small, natural disasters, disease. We all personally know many who are suffering at this very moment.
I was always taught of the advantage of simplicity in language. My favorite author during my adolescence was Ernest Hemingway, and I remember reading comments that he made criticizing those who used multi-syllable words when shorter words would suffice.
I often find myself disagreeing with the phrase, "It's just a footnote in history". I have found some of the most interesting and important facts buried, unseen by most people, in the footnotes of the books I read.
Can you sleep at night? There is so much trouble in the world. Violence, wars large and small, natural disasters, disease. We all personally know many who are suffering at this very moment. Some are friends and acquaintances living in plain sight. Others are individuals in the media, people whose pain we see portrayed daily on the evening news.
The two old men couldn't have been more different from each other. Yet they both taught me the identical life lesson.
Chanukah is now more than a week behind us, so I figure that I can share with you some of the sequels of the Chanukah story. Sorry to say that even though we have all recently glorified the martial, spiritual, and political successes of the Chashmonaim, or Hasmonaeans, all did not go very well in the long run.