Kavvanah: Thanks For All Those Micro-Miracles

Miracles may be divided into two categories: macro- and micro-. The Torah speaks of macro-miracles. But micro-miracles are those that maintain the equilibrium of the universe, and they indeed attend us daily, hourly, and may even be measured in infinitesimally small bits of time and space. The laws of thermodynamics, of subatomic particle physics, of gravitational attraction, of the entire range of mystical, seemingly-magical forces that guarantee the consistent functioning of our world in a predictable, safe and comforting way, those are the points where God's fingerprints may be found. These tiny miracles sustain all of us from moment to moment, but even our greatest human thinkers struggle to explain them. Yet they add up to the macro-reality of our world. So breathe, jump, and watch the sun “rise”: for all these micro-miracles, we are grateful.

~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

(written for the Conservative movement's forthcoming Siddur Lev Shalem, anticipated publication date in 2015)

Getting Back to the Table by Letting Out the Goat - Shabbat Thanksgiving 5773

On this "Shabbat Thanksgiving," there are many things for which we should be thankful.

First, that we survived the devastation of Hurricane Sandy. Many of us were inconvenienced by the storm, and some of us had major damage to our homes. But by and large this community was spared the devastation that parts of the South Shore of Long Island, Brooklyn, Staten Island, and New Jersey suffered. We should not forget, even as we celebrate two benei mitzvah today, that there are now many in our region who lost everything.

Second, many members of this community have been forthcoming in helping others in need in the wake of the storm. That is what makes us a qehillah qedoshah, a holy congregation, and I applaud those of us who have taken the initiative to contribute in every way possible to relief efforts.

Third, that the Iron Dome defense system in Israel was quite successful in shooting down rockets that were headed to residential areas. Some reports said that the success rate was near 90%.

Finally, that the cease-fire in Israel is (mostly) holding for the third day. This is very good news for the members of our partner Conservative congregation in Ashkelon, Kehillat Netzah Yisrael, where life had more or less come to a standstill for eight days. It is also personally good news for me, since my son lives in Nes Tziyyonah, out of range of the Qassam rockets which make up the bulk of those coming from Gaza, but within range of the larger rockets like the Fajr-5 rockets supplied by Iran. (During the eight days of rockets, there was only one air-raid siren in Nes Tziyyonah; my son and his neighbors gathered in the stairwell, the safest part of their apartment building, until it passed, thankfully uneventfully.)

It is worth noting, by the way, that this is, in fact, the second cease-fire in 2012 brokered by the Egyptians. Back in March, after four days of less-intense rocket attacks and Israeli airstrikes, a similar deal was struck. And here we are, eight months later, in the same place. And so, while we might be grateful for this lull, we should also fear the next shower of rockets and what will come from it. Because there will be more rockets, more sirens, more lives lost and disrupted; the only question is when.

Or maybe there is a way to break this pattern.

There is a well-known folktale from Jewish tradition that goes like this: A man goes to his rabbi. He says, “Rabbi, my house is too small! My wife and I and our four children are barely able to live, because we are constantly in each others’ way. What should I do?”

The rabbi thinks for a moment, then says, “Do you have a goat?”

“Yes,” says the man cautiously.

“Bring the goat inside the house,” suggests the rabbi.

“But...”

“Just do it,” says the rabbi.

So the man brings in the goat, which takes up more space and wreaks havoc within the tiny house. He goes back to the rabbi.

“Do you have a cow?” asks the rabbi.

“But rabbi, it’s already crowded and miserable! If I bring in the cow, it will just get worse!”

“Bring in the cow.”

The man reluctantly does so. The animals are now eating their food, sitting on their tiny couch, keeping them up at night. He goes back to the rabbi.

“Bring in your chickens,” says the rabbi.

“But rabbi...”

“Just do it.”

So he does. He’s now at his wits’ end, tearing his hair out from the stress of a small house filled to the brim with people and animals. He goes back to the rabbi.

“Now take all the animals out,” says the rabbi.

The man sprints home and gets rid of all the animals. A day later, he returns to the rabbi.

“Rabbi, I want to thank you so much! Our house is now so roomy!”

*****

Did the house change? No. But the man’s perspective changed.

In the summer of 2000, when I was working in Jerusalem as a music specialist for the Conservative movement’s Ramah day camp, talks between Israel and the Palestinian Authority broke down.  Fatah Chairman Yasir Arafat rejected PM Ehud Barak’s offer of a state that would include almost all of the West Bank and Gaza, plus control over Palestinian neighborhoods of Jerusalem. Immediately after, Arafat ordered the violent Intifada, and years of suicide bombings hardened Israeli resolve against peace talks. Israel decided that the PA was no partner for peace, and has not engaged seriously with them since.

In 2005, Israel pulled out of Gaza unilaterally.

In 2006, the Palestinian territories held free elections. Hamas won a majority of seats in Gaza, and soon after seized control over the Strip.

In 2008, after thousands of Qassam rockets had fallen on Sderot and other communities near Gaza, Israel launched a ground offensive, Operation Cast Lead, to demolish terrorist infrastructure in Gaza. There was a heavy toll of civilian and combatant lives.  Rockets have continued to fall sporadically in the south of Israel, but in the intervening years Hamas has grown more powerful and more deadly.  

And then came the events of the past week and a half. Meanwhile, PA President Mahmoud Abbas watches on the sidelines from the West Bank.

Over the past 12 years, our perspective has changed. Everybody has grown more and more pessimistic about the chances for peace. Current PM Netanyahu is far more interested in saber-rattling over Iran than talking with anybody on the other side of the Green Line.

Ladies and gentlemen, there is only one possible way out of this, and it’s not a sure thing, but it is better than the current situation.

The only possible solution is the two-state solution. Israel and the PA, supported by all the major international players, must swallow their pride and sit down at the table and talk. All other outcomes are unsustainable; let me explain:

1. Maintaining the status quo. Every few years, Israelis are shelled heavily, and then retaliate until the next cease-fire. Obviously, this cannot continue forever, because each time the rockets fly, they are more accurate, more intense, with bigger payloads and longer ranges.

2. The one-state solution. Israel annexes all the territories and grants citizenship to everybody in the territories. This is suicide - Israel will not be able to maintain itself as a democracy with a Jewish character when the largest political group is Palestinian.

3. Unilateral withdrawals from parts of the West Bank. As many have pointed out, Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza may have yielded an economic benefit for Israel by no longer requiring heavy military protection from the settlements in Gush Qatif, within the Gaza Strip. But whatever benefits reaped have been negated by the thousands of rockets that have been launched by Gaza-based terrorists.

But the reason that the Gaza withdrawal did not have a positive effect on the region is because of its unilateral nature. Israel did not consult with anybody; no peacekeeping forces were installed; no structure was in place to make a smooth transition; no other governmental powers were there to support either side. This vacuum led to the rise of Hamas, and we all know how that has turned out.

Ladies and gentlemen, I think about this a lot. And as far as I can tell, the only other possible path is the two-state solution. Those of us that balk at the idea of sitting down at the table with any Palestinian group should recall that we do not make peace with friends; we make peace with enemies. We don’t have to like each other, but we do need to talk.

If Israel sits with Mahmoud Abbas and hammers out a peace agreement such that a Palestinian state is established in the West Bank, soon enough the economy will improve, employment will improve, Palestinians will be able to have some kind of normal life, and they will (as they have done in the past) go about their business and focus less energy on hating the Jews.

And what about Gaza, you ask? This is the important part. Hamas not, at least right now, a partner for peace, because from where we sit right now it is unlikely that they will acknowledge Israel’s right to exist.  As Israel’s ambassador the US and military historian Michael Oren stated in an op-ed piece in the New York Times a few days ago:

“Negotiations leading to peace can be realistic with an adversary who shares that goal. But Hamas, whose covenant calls for the slaughter of Jews worldwide, is striving not to join peace talks, but to prevent them. It rejects Israel’s existence, refuses to eschew terror, and disavows all previous Israeli-Palestinian agreements.”

Ambassador Oren goes on to speak optimistically about the chances for peace with the PA:

“Egypt and Jordan tried more than once to defeat Israel militarily, only to recognize the permanence of the Jewish state and to sign peace accords with it. Similarly, the Palestine Liberation Organization, guided by nationalism rather than militant theology, realized it could gain more by talking with Israel than by battling us. The result was the 1993 Oslo Accords, the foundation for what we still hope will be a two-state solution. By establishing deterrence, Israel led these rational actors toward peace.”

What Oren fails to say is that while deterring Hamas, Israel can at the same time reach out to the PA and build that Palestinian state. Once that state is built in the West Bank, then the people of Gaza will see the benefits of peace that their cousins are reaping, and throw of the yoke of Hamas and the curse of eternal war.

We have to set aside the fear. We have to look above the comfort zone of “no” to get to “yes.” We need to take bold steps. Cooperation right now between Israel and America and the PA on economic and security matters is at an all-time high. Now is the time, during this cease-fire, for Israel to look east to the West Bank, rather than south to Gaza, and reach out. It is time to take out the goat and the cow and the chickens, and work from a new perspective.

Otherwise, it will all happen again, sooner and stronger and more deadly.

Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu ve’al kol Yisrael, ve-imru Amen.
May the One who makes peace on high bring piece upon us and upon all Israel, and let us say Amen.

Shabbat Shalom, a Shabbat of peace.

~

Rabbi Seth Adelson

(Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck, Shabbat morning, November 24, 2012.)

Hodu Ladonai - Invoking God on Thanksgiving

To regular readers of this blog, it may be obvious that I do not eat turkey (or anything that was born with legs), and so as the appointed Thanksgiving chef chez Adelson, I served a gorgeous eggplant parmesan with all the trimmings (roasted sweet potato, asparagus with lemon and olive oil, orange-cranberry sauce, and our favorite butternut squash soup; the squash, as well as the tomatoes in the main course, were from our garden). Before we made motzi (the blessing over the bread, which was in this case a pumpernickel bagel), we all expressed gratitude for the most important things in our lives. My three-year-old, in a moment that I now regret not capturing on video, gave thanks for "silly things."

This quintessentially American holiday is nominally about gratitude, but as it is a secular occasion, we do not tend to associate our giving thanks with God. In fact, many of us refer to Thanksgiving (somewhat ironically) as "Turkey Day," removing the thematic element altogether and limiting the festivities to the merely physical.

Judaism is rife with opportunities to be grateful. Jewish liturgy in particular is saturated with variations on the theme of thanks; hodayah / thanks is one of the five major modes of tefillah / prayer. Each Amidah (the silent prayer recited while standing at the three statutory services every day) includes standard "thank-you" language toward the end, and many of the Psalms include themes of gratitude. One of the warm-up passages of the morning service (Pesuqei Dezimra / verses of song) opens with the following (I Chronicles 16:8):

הוֹדוּ לַיהוָה, קִרְאוּ בִשְׁמוֹ, הוֹדִיעוּ בָעַמִּים עֲלִילֹתָיו

Hodu ladonai qir'u vishmo, hodi'u va'amim alilotav

Acclaim Adonai; invoke God's name / Make God's deeds known among all people.

The word here translated as "acclaim" might also be translated as "thank," thus rendering the verse as a statement of gratitude for those things that God has done for us. When coupled with the curious fact that the Hebrew word for turkey is "hodu," one might suggest that this verse is the perfect Jewish encapsulation of Thanksgiving: giving thanks for the good things that God has given us.

When you celebrate Thanksgiving, don't forget to mention God. Happy digestion!


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

What are you grateful for? Sukkot is the Jewish Thanksgiving

We all know the story of Thanksgiving, right?  The pilgrims survived the long winter only with the help of the natives, and then harvested their first good harvest in the New World.  They celebrated with a big dinner on the 4th Thursday in November, 1621, and boy, were they grateful!  Since then, Thanksgiving has always been a time for Americans to express our gratitude by eating turkey.  

OK, well maybe.  So scholars have debunked the story somewhat, and also pointed out that Thanksgiving has only been celebrated on an annual basis since the late 19th century.  Regardless, there is no question that Thanksgiving is one of the most-celebrated American holidays, and not just as a day off from work.

Here’s the interesting and more relevant point: Thanksgiving is effectively the American version of Sukkot.  

Sukkot is a harvest festival, the same festival which is celebrated around the world in agrarian societies.  The Chinese Moon Festival, the Persian Mehrgan, Korean Chuseok, are examples of other variants on Sukkot.  These are all festivals that celebrate the conclusion of the fall harvest, a time of great joy to our ancestors, and a time of gratitude for all pre-industrial cultures.

Of course, we have all been taught that Sukkot is about the time spent in the desert.  Yes, the Torah says that.  But just by looking at the way that we observe the festival even today, when few if any of us truly live off the land - the Arba’at Ha-Minim the four species, the sukkah, which is quite reminiscent of the temporary shacks that Middle Eastern farmers to this day set up in their fields during harvest time to prevent theft of valuable crops at night, the gourds and fruits with which we decorate the Sukkah, and even the custom of Ushpizin, of inviting in famous figures from Jewish history to come and partake of the bounty - these all point to the harvest angle.

Sukkot is said to be the the only Jewish holiday of complete, perfect joy; as such, there is a traditional theory that says that this is the only holiday that will continue to be celebrated after the Messiah comes.

And it is really a holiday of gratitude, just like Thanksgiving.  Now we have done teshuvah / repentance, fasted, afflicted our souls just a few days ago, and we are humbled and ready for a holiday of pure joy.  

****

My sister, who lives in Berkeley, California, came to stay with us here in Great Neck for Yom Kippur.  At our break-the-fast, she described a restaurant chain in California called “Cafe Gratitude.”  These restaurants serve entirely organic, vegan food, much of which is also raw.   She told us that, when you enter, the staff asks you, “What are you grateful for today?”

We all had a good laugh over this last Saturday evening, as we were busy stuffing our faces.

Now we were never a particularly “spiritual” or reflective family.  We were not inclined to be interested in our “journeys.”  We were not interested in meditation, mysticism, New-Age-ism, or any such non-concrete, “touchy-feely” stuff.  We were always what-you-see-is-what-you-get, meat and potatoes conventional, and especially when it came to Judaism.  Our Jewish practice was mostly about the what and the how rather than the why.  We had little interest in midrash or motivation.

So, for example, at the Pesah seder, we read the story in English, but had no strong desire to  understand or discuss the material, which is really the point of the seder.  We dutifully washed our hands, reclined to the left while drinking the wine, and dipped all the prescribed dippables.  But getting in touch with the story of freedom, the journey from slavery in Egypt to redemption in Israel?  Not interested.  Pass the salt water, please.

And, on the occasional Thanksgiving, when my mother attempted to bother us about what we were thankful for, we rolled our eyes and grunted and tucked into the turkey and stuffing.

So the idea of expressing gratitude, at least aloud, in front of my family, was generally frowned upon.  Add to this the fact that we are all tall people with hearty appetites, and you can understand that when we go into a restaurant, we would prefer just to eat and not be pestered with annoying questions that are seemingly unrelated to the food itself.

And really, that’s what we have liturgy for, isn’t it?  Liturgy provides the words for our praise, thanks, requests, and so forth when our own words escape us or feel inadequate.  The words of the siddur set us free from having to be creative in the ways that we express our praise and thanks to God.

A few days ago, I spent some time flipping through the piyyutim (liturgical poems) for Hoshanot, the litanies recited every day of Sukkot as we parade around the sanctuary with lulav and etrog (we’ll be doing this a little later today).  Now, the whole principle behind marching around and chanting, “Hosha na,” “save us,” is that we are grateful for the many things that God has given us, and we ask that God favors us again in the future as in the past.  Each of the hoshanot paragraphs follows a certain theme of things that we are grateful for.  

(For example, today’s hoshanot piyyut is about the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, beginning with Even Shetiyyah, the foundation-stone that is today visible inside the Dome of the Rock, at the top of the mountain, the place where it is traditionally thought that Isaac was bound by his father, and where the Qodesh ha-Qodashim, the Holy of Holies probably stood prior to 70 CE.  The rest of the piyyut is about other features of the Temple.  We asked to be saved based on the merits of the Temple, God’s former dwelling place on Earth).

We express our gratitude through ancient poems in an obscure Hebrew that really only vaguely resembles its modern, spoken equivalent.  Where is the opportunity for us to express ourselves in our own language, according to what we are grateful for in our own lives?

Really, there are two major components to tefillah / prayer: qeva (the fixed text found in our siddur) and kavvanah (that which is spontaneous, from the heart).  To that end, and, bearing in mind that Sukkot is the Jewish Thanksgiving, in a minute or two, I am going to ask now for a few brave, reflective volunteers, who are willing to tell us what they are grateful for today.

First, an anecdote:  puzzles were a favorite pastime in my wife’s family.  She tells me that one of the first puzzles that she recalls putting together without the help of an adult was of a cartoon of a mouse in the midst of a fragrant garden with the caption, “Don’t worry, don’t hurry, don’t forget to smell the flowers.”  I presume that most of us are grateful for family, friends, work, and so forth.  But what what about the small stuff, the inconspicuous blossoms that we might be too hurried to notice?  What of the What apretty autumn leaves that we may or may not pay attention to as we go about our day?  bout the clean water from our taps, the easy availability of healthy food, the infrastructure that we usually take for granted?

****

When we march around later, reciting hosha na, save us for the sake of the Temple that once stood in Jerusalem, keep these things in mind as kavvanah.  That is what makes Judaism real for us today.  Be grateful!  

Hag sameah.

(Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck, Friday morning, October 14, 2011.)