The seductive sway of self-interest: Shelach Lecha 5784

This week’s parsha raises the age-old issue of human behavior: altruism versus personal interest. While we all pay lip service to the ideal of altruism when dealing with public affairs and the general good , we all remain human beings at heart and the Talmud long ago posited that “a human being is first and foremost closest and prejudiced in favor of one’s own self-interest.”

 The conflict between the general good of the many and the private benefit of the few—or even of a single individual—is the stuff of politics, government, power and influence. Throughout history this it has been a core element in human existence. Our sense of rectitude and our consciences are constantly buffeted by self-interest and personal factors. We are born as selfish grasping individuals, and the challenges in life that follow all revolve about our ability to recognize and modify this basic human instinct.

 One may say that all the commandments of the Torah come to enable us to counter this primal instinct. This is what the rabbis meant when they taught us that the “evil instinct”—our innate selfishness—is with us from our first breath on this earth. The struggle to include others—family, community, fellow Jews and human beings generally—within our worldview is the story of our lives.

 The Torah recognizes Avraham’s victory in this struggle and it is he, above all others, who is seen as our father and role model, the founder of God’s people.

 One of the explanations offered by the commentators to the negative behavior and damning report regarding the Land of Israel is that the spies, who were the leaders of their tribes, were aware that, when the Jews entered the Land of Israel, new leaders were to be chosen and that they were at risk of losing their titles and positions of power and influence. This awareness preyed upon their minds and prejudiced their view of the Land of Israel.  

They valued their personal interests in a manner that overwhelmed their view of the general good of the people they were supposed to serve. This has always been a problem for communal leadership, when hubris and self-service dominate the sight of the leadership so that one is unable to distinguish between public good and private interest.

 Even worse, many times the private interest of the leader is disguised as the public good. Dictators have always stated that “I am the state!” The great prophet Shmuel is characterized in the same category as Moshe and Aharon because of his selflessness in leading the Jewish people. The tragedy of the spies, and of the Jewish people of that generation generally, is this inability to rise over personal interests and view the general picture of Jewish destiny and accomplishment.

 Like many leaders blinded by their own agendas, the spies soon descended into falsehoods and slander to make their case. The tragedy in cases such as this is that the people often follow this flawed leadership, bringing calamity upon one and all. We should always be wary of the true motives of those who profess to lead us for the alleged public good.

  Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein   

 

A nation of complainers: Beha'alotecha 5784

A terrible personality trait is that which is possessed by the complainer. It is hard to live with complainers at home, in the workplace, and in the community. In this week’s parsha we are made aware of the dismal consequences of complaining. Rashi points out that the complainers in the desert had no real basis for their complaints. They were just generally dissatisfied, so they complained against Moshe and eventually against God.

 Moshe, in his final oration to the Jewish people in the book of Devarim, will himself complain that the people of Israel are unnecessarily quarrelsome, a bunch of complainers. There is a Jewish joke, more ironic than funny, about three Jewish matrons eating lunch at a restaurant in New York: the waiter approaches them in the middle of their meal and asks them “Is anything alright?” 

Rashi’s interpretation of the lack of justification for complaints in the desert portrays a serious character defect within the Jewish people. They are chronic complainers but, for the vast majority of the time, their grumbles are baseless. The many complaints in the desert follow the usual pattern: food, Moshe’s leadership, the unfairness of life and how hard it is to live up to the role of being the chosen people. 

All through First Temple times we find that the prophets of Israel were barraged with moans about their mission and words. Though their prophecies actually provided the solution to Israel’s troubles, the people asserted that it was they who were the problem. Their unjustified criticisms brought destruction and exile in their wake. 

I am not a mental health professional by any stretch of imagination. Yet my instinct tells me that chronic complainers are not happy with themselves and that they project that dissatisfaction outwards on events and on people who are not the cause of their original dissatisfaction. 

There is something deep within us that requires self-justification and self-empowerment.  When that need is fulfilled, we are happy, and optimistic. When that ingredient in our psyche is absent, we carp, we become sad and sometimes destructive. We recite daily in our morning prayers how fortunate we are to be the special people that God has chosen to lead the world in service to Him. We may all recite that prayer—but how many of us are really convinced in our heart of hearts of its truth? 

The rabbis of the Talmud harshly disdained the chronic complainer: “Is it not sufficient for you that you are alive?” Nothing is perfect in life, but that is no justification for complaining. We are bidden to deal with problems to the extent that we can—not to dwell on them and let them fester within our heart. We have to seek an inner peace that will allow us an optimistic attitude and an avoidance of complaints. Our parents, schools and society should somehow concentrate on achieving this goal with our coming generations.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

 

The Simchat Torah Project

We are participating in an important Simchat Torah Project. We are committing to dedicate a Torah Mantle in honor of the Kedoshim who sacrificed for us. If you are interested in participating with us in this project and you can donate 360 or 500 NIS, please inform Rabbi Paul Bloom: pdbloom1@gmail.com. 

אנו משתתפים בפרויקט חשוב של שמחת תורה. אנו מתחייבים להקדיש מעטה תורה לכבוד הקדושים שהקריבו למעננו. אם אתם מעוניינים להשתתף איתנו בפרויקט זה ותוכלו לתרום 360 או 500 ₪, אנא הודיעו לרב פול בלום: pdbloom1@gmail.com.

For more information click here.

Watch our Yom HaAtzma'ut celebrations!

 Thanks to our recently-joining member Heshy Engelsberg we have a most enjoyable link to his recording of the Beit Knesset Hanassi Yom HaAtzma'ut celebrations, as well as a most thought-provoking link to Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg's Yom HaAtzma'ut breakfast presentation. Enjoy!

Gregarious monasticism: Naso 5784

The idea of the nazir always raises questions and problems, since monasticism is certainly not a basic Jewish value. Just the opposite seems to be true from the ideas and statements of the rabbis in the Talmud and from Jewish behavioral patterns over the centuries.

 Jewish society, in its divisions and manifestations, is vitally and socially gregarious to the extreme, with a brashness of involvement in all fields of human endeavor, thought and progress. Yet the Torah describes for us in vivid detail the need for some form of withdrawal, be it permanent or temporary, from Jewish life and social activity.  However, even the restrictions on a nazir are not intended to separate him from active participation in communal life.

 Shimshon, the prime example of the nazir in our Tanach, is nevertheless the leader of Israel, its chief judge and commanding warrior. Halachic restrictions are placed upon the nazir, but locking oneself away from Jewish society is certainly not one of them. There are restrictions regarding retaining purity and cutting one’s hair, avoiding any sorts of defilement and on consuming wine and related produce. These restrictions, among others. remind the nazir of his special status, but he is still an active member of society at large, in all senses of participation in normal human life. If anything, a nazir now becomes a model for others who may seek to achieve probity and purity in a world of the impure and the sometimes wicked. So, even though the rabbis are not happy with someone becoming a nazir, nezirim and nezirut are a necessary piece of the human puzzle that the Torah describes for us.

 The Talmud also teaches us that the impetus to become a nazir is itself societal. This is because it stems not from the inner wish of the individual to forego certain pleasures and norms of life, but rather from the wish for a protective shield from the dissoluteness and licentiousness of the surrounding society. Apparently, in a perfect world, the concept of nezirut would be unnecessary. But the Torah sees human life, even Jewish life, as it really is in our imperfect world and not as it should somehow be. That is why the nazir becomes a necessary ingredient in our Torah society. 

Over the ages some outstanding people have chosen the way of the nazir for themselves. However, the reticence of the rabbis and Jewish tradition on this matter has prevented nezirut from becoming widespread or even accepted behavior. The Torah does not seek to impose burdens upon one’s life as much as it intends to guide and temper our choices and behavior within the framework of a complete and wholesome lifestyle. This is also part of the lesson of the parsha of nazir for us. In essence, by knowing that becoming a nazir is an acceptable last resort in dealing with immorality and heartbreak, we can avoid this by living daily according to Torah precepts and values, shunning foreign and immoral influences in our lives and communities.

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Join us for Shavuot 5784

Here's our program for Shavuot night. We have shiurim in Hebrew and English, given by outstanding speakers. Do join us!

הנה התוכנית שלנו לליל שבועות. יש לנו שיעורים בעברית ובאנגלית, הניתנים על ידי דוברים מצטיינים. הצטרפו אלינו

Pessy Krausz wins Rockower Award!

Congratulations to our much-loved and respected member Pessy Krausz, who has just received a Rockower Award.

 ברכות לחברתנו האהובה והמכובדת פסי קראוס שזכתה זה  עתה בפרס

Here are the details:

Category 16: Award for Excellence in Writing about Jewish Heritage and Jewish Peoplehood in Europe

First Place Lilith Magazine, New York, NY “The Isle of Man” by Pessy Krausz:

Pessy Krausz has spun literary gold from the dross of her stay in a British internment camp, recounting in the most magical way the day her mother told her the story of the family’s escape from the Nazis. The sweetness of the mother/child moment and the horror of the tale collide to create a breathtaking, memorable essay.

The full text of Pessy's prize-winning piece can be read here.

In the desert: Bamidbar 5784

I have always been fascinated why this book of the Bible and this week’s Torah reading is called Bamidbar—"in the desert”. The rabbis of Midrash have stated that the lesson we learn from this is that the Torah only remains in a person who empties all other causes from one’s midst, being as open and unoccupied as is the desert. Nevertheless, other insights may be gleaned from the use of the desert as the backdrop for the events and laws contained in this, the fourth book of the Torah. One of these different insights has to do with the ability of water to transform a barren desert into a productive place of lush fields and orchards. 

Here in Israel, the Negev desert that began to bloom fifty years ago just south of Chevron has now expanded many kilometers to the south of Beersheba thanks to the national water carrier system and other means of irrigating that area of our country. Literally, the desert has bloomed in fulfillment of the ancient prophecies of Isaiah. 

Water can overcome the aridity of the desert. In California, desert valleys have been transformed into America’s vegetable basket by water diverted from the Colorado River. Again, in that case water was the key to transforming a desert into a garden and orchard. There are plans afloat all over the world to transform deserts into arable land. However, fresh water is a valuable and oftentimes scarce commodity and the struggle to discover and harness more of it for agricultural and human use is a continuous effort.  

Throughout the books of the prophets of Israel and as well as within the Talmud, the Torah itself is metaphorically compared to and even called water. Just as water has the ability to convert desolate and nonproductive desert land into a veritable Garden of Eden, so too can Torah fill the void in our hearts and souls and make us productive holy people. Torah, like the water that represents it, has this enormous regenerative power. The book of Bamidbar will, in its narrative of the many sad and tragic events that befall Israel in its sojourn in the desert, constantly reminds us of the powers of water/Torah to restore the Jewish people to a purposeful existence with greatly productive achievements in spite of all of its failures and backsliding. 

No matter how bleak and barren the desert landscape in which we currently find ourselves, we should always be cognizant of the ability of Torah to refresh and renew us. The Jewish people are an old nation and yet our powers of rejuvenation have never waned. We were and are constantly nourished by the waters of Torah irrespective of whatever desert we found or find ourselves in. The choice of Jewish tradition to call this book of the Torah by the name of Bamidbar—in  the desert—is meant to convey to us this message of hope, constant redemption, and rebirth. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein 

Yom Yerushalayim 5784

Today we partied together to celebrate this happy anniversary of the unification of Jerusalem. Our festive meal was accompanied by a selection of memories from members who were in Jerusalem in June 1967 as well as by some rousing singing from the Kol Rina Men's Choir.

היום חגגנו יחד את יום השנה השמח לאיחוד ירושלים. הארוחה החגיגית שלנו לוותה במבחר זיכרונות מחברים ששהו בירושלים ביוני 1967 וכן בשירה מסעירה של מקהלת הגברים "קול רינה"