PARSHAT LECH LECHA

 (5768)

ANN COULTER AND THE JEWS

“I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you; And all the families of the earth shall bless themselves through you.”

                                                                                    (Genesis 12:3)

            Conservative pundit Ann Coulter has made millions through her books, columns, and television appearances.  On a regular basis she says something outrageous, which has certainly contributed to her notoriety and pocketbook.  She attacked 9/11 widows for “enjoying their celebrity status,” suggested that to confront Moslem terrorists, “we should invade their country, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity,” and called Al Gore gay.  Now she has targeted the Jews. 

Appearing with Jewish host Donny Deutsch on The Big Idea, she pictured an ideal America where everyone would be Christian.  When questioned, she replied that “we just want Jews to be perfected.”  She continued that Christianity is like Federal Express, the fast track to perfection, and Christians are simply perfected Jews.  My first thoughts upon this interview were – any woman who could unite Jews and Moslems by her outrageous statements is amazing. 

Were her words about Jews so outrageous?  For centuries this is precisely what most Christians believed.  The technical word is supersessionism – the belief that the ancient covenant God made with the Jewish people has been superceded by a new covenant.  Often this has been called replacement theology.  The Hebrew Bible, which Christians call the Old Testament, has been replaced by a New Testament.  And the Jews, by rejecting Jesus, have been rejected.   This whole understanding has led to what Jules Isaac called The Teaching of Contempt, and led to centuries of anti-Semitism and persecution.

Today among most Christians there is a new theology and a new understanding of the role of the Jewish people in the world.  Both the Catholic Church and most Protestant groups, particularly more conservative Evangelical Christians believe that God made a covenant with the Jewish people.  They also believe in a new covenant with Christian believers.  Nevertheless - this is the key point – the old covenant with the Jewish people still stands.  The Jews still have a role to play in the world.  Most modern Christians believe, as this week’s Torah portion teaches, those nations who bless the Jews will be blessed and those who curse the Jews will be cursed.  The Jews are still at the center of God’s plan for humanity.

What do we Jews believe?   All religious Jews – Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform – share a faith that God made a covenant with our people long ago.   As it teaches in this week’s portion, God called on Abraham to be the father of a great nation, to live under the covenant, to circumcise himself and his sons as a symbol of the covenant, and to live in a way that the whole world was blessed.   Religious Jews believe that through the centuries, by living according to this covenant, the Jewish people have been a blessing to the world.  We Jews have had a major role in perfecting the world as a Kingdom of God.  If we live by God’s covenant, we will continue to do so in the future.

Perhaps Ms. Coulter needs to go back and study contemporary Jewish and Christian theology.  But I do not expect someone who writes a book entitled, If Democrats Had Any Brains, They Would Be Republicans, to show scholarly insight into the history of religion.  She will continue to make her outrageous statements and make her millions.

Coulter claims that Christianity is about perfecting Jews.  As a rabbi, I believe that Judaism is about perfecting the world.  Perhaps most in need of perfecting is Ms. Coulter.

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

 (5766)

WHY AM I HERE?

"Go forth from your land, from your birthplace, from your father's house..."       

                                      (Genesis 12:1)

            As a rabbi and like most clergy, I do a large amount of pastoral counseling.  I meet with people who are going through crises in their lives, helping them cope with spiritual and family problems.  I know the limits of my competency; often I recommend that people find a professional therapist or psychologist.  What is intriguing is that sometimes therapists will recommend a patient to me to discuss a spiritual issue.  We can work together.

            There is a difference between secular therapy and pastoral counseling.  There are issues I can discuss that a secular therapist usually cannot or will not raise.  Those issues deal with the spiritual dimension of existence and Biblical and religious insights into family relationships.  As a rabbi, I see people as far more than Sigmund Freud’s image of the id, ego, and superego.  People contain a spiritual dimension, the neshama or breath of God, to use the traditional Biblical language.  My goal is to help people connect to that spiritual dimension.

            Let me share one question I frequently ask people who come to me for counseling.  After listening to their issues, sometimes about their families but often about the lack of meaning and direction in their lives, I tell them that I want to ask a question.  As a rabbi I can ask this question; a secular therapist probably cannot.  “Why do you think God put you on this earth?  What purpose did God have to bring you here and to keep you alive?  What is your mission?”  The question assumes something profound about human life.  We are not placed on this earth by random chance.  There is a reason and a sense of purpose to our lives, and there is an intelligence in the universe that caused us to be here.  Call that intelligence God, or a Ein Sof as Kabbalists do, or a Higher Power as they do in the recovery community.  The name is not important.  What is important is that we are not here by random chance.

            Modern thinkers have rejected the idea that we humans are on earth to fulfill some higher purpose.  Many take a secular, materialistic view of humanity.  To many followers of Charles Darwin, humans are here as a result of accidental forces, mutations, and natural selection.  We are here by happenstance, not through any divine purpose.  To Marx and his followers, we are victims of dialectic materialism.  Our role in life is pre-ordained by economic forces beyond our control.  For Freud, we are made up of unconscious drives deep within our psyche.  To most modern existentialists such as Jean Paul Sartre, we exist in an indifferent or even absurd universe, and we create our own reality.  Darwin, Marx, Freud, and Sartre all have wisdom to teach us.  But each denies the central vision of the Biblical tradition – we humans are here because a divine force working in the universe chose us to be here.  We need to find why God put us on this earth.

            In this week’s Torah reading God gives a call to Abraham to leave his home, go forth, and found a new nation.  It becomes the classic calling.  There is insight in the Hebrew.   The title of the portion, Lech Lecha, was translated “go forth.”  A more accurate translation is “go to yourself.”  Part of life’s journey is a journey inwards, to find ourselves and our life’s purpose.  Each of us, particularly at times of transition, need to ask the question, “who am I and why did God put me on this earth?”  “What is my life’s purpose?”  We have to look deep inward to find our sense of self.

            There is a classic Hassidic story I shared in my book The Ten Journeys of Life.  A man named Isaac lived in a little house in a small town way out in the country. Isaac had a wife and children, and he worked hard to provide for them. There never seemed to be enough money to meet his family’s needs.

            One night Isaac had a strange dream: If he traveled to a distant city and found a famous bridge in the center of the city, he would find a buried treasure. When he woke up, he wondered about the dream but soon dismissed it as he went about his work. The next night he had the same dream again, and again for several more nights. Finally, he knew what he had to do. He had to travel to the distant city and search for the treasure.

            In those days travel was not easy. The journey to the distant city would take many days and be filled with perils. Isaac had never traveled far from home before. He kissed his wife and children goodbye and left on the long journey. After many days and many adventures, he arrived in the big city.

            Isaac was overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of city life. Never had he seen so many people in one place before. He found the bridge in the center of the city and began to dig under it. Though he dug a number of holes, he could not find the treasure. Soon a police officer approached and asked, “What are you doing?”

            Isaac was frightened. “Please, Officer, I can explain. I had a dream that if I traveled to this distant city and dug under the bridge, I would find a treasure. I have been digging, but so far I have found nothing.”

            The police officer stared at Isaac, as if debating whether to arrest him. “This is very strange. I also had a dream. In my dream, it shows a small home far away in the country belonging to someone named Isaac. In my dream, if I dig under Isaac’s fireplace, there will be a treasure.” Isaac was dumbfounded. How did the officer know his name, and of his little house in the country?

            Isaac traveled home as quickly as possible and immediately started digging under the fireplace. There he found a great treasure that provided for him and his family the rest of his days.  That is the irony of our life’s search for a mission. The journey begins when we leave home. Yet ultimately we must return home, go deep within ourselves, and explore our gifts, our dreams, our passions, our mentors and our deepest desires to know why God chose to put us on this earth.

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

(5764)

ABUSE

"Abram said to Sarai, your maid is in your hands, deal with her as you think right.  Then Sarai treated her harshly and she ran away."                              (Genesis 16:6)

Last week a group of clergy and lay people gathered in my synagogue, together with a number of women who had been the victims of domestic violence.  Our purpose was a prayer service to give emotional support to the victims and work to end domestic abuse.  Two women told their stories of abusive husbands, stories which were hair raising.  Several clergy spoke including another rabbi, a Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a representative of Islam. By the end, it was clear that domestic violence is not limited to one faith and one social economic grouping.  It is a human problem.

Domestic abuse is as ancient as the Bible.  An example is in this week's portion.  With Abraham's permission Sarah behaved abusively towards Hagar, the surrogate mother chosen to have Abraham's child.  Hagar fled from before Sarah's hand.  In next week's portion, Sarah and Abraham will throw Hagar out of their home.  In the Rabbinic Midrash, Abraham would express regret for these actions.

In my book God, Love, Sex, and Family, I wrote an entire chapter on abuse.  Here is a little piece of what I wrote:  The woman, newly divorced, came to see me about enrolling her three children in our synagogue religious school.  She had relocated across the coun­try, had no money, and was trying to put her life back together.  I asked if her ex-husband could pay for the religious education.

She told me that her ex-husband had been abusive to her and the children, once actually putting her in the hospital.  One evening, after a particularly vicious incident, she had fled to a woman's shelter with the children.  However, her husband had pleaded with her for forgiveness; if only she would come back he would never hit her again.  She went to see her rabbi, who told her, "your husband is a good man, who just lost control.  I'm sure he will not do it again.  A wife belongs with her husband and children belong with their father.  For the sake of shalom bayit (peace in the home), go back."

She followed the rabbi's advice and went back to her husband, but the abuse continued.  He would grow angry and violent, then become apologetic.  Finally, when she could stand no more, she and the children fled.  Today there is a court order preventing the man from having any contact with either her or the children.  Obviously he pays no spousal or child support and she expects none.  She felt fortunate to get out of the marriage alive and intact, and desperate­ly wanted to put her life together.  My synagogue school swallowed its financial losses and gave the children full scholarships.

The woman's story is not unique today.  My wife used to work each summer in the office of a large religious children's camp in New England.  Each year there are several restraining orders kept on file to prevent certain fathers or mothers from seeing or contacting their children.  Such orders are taken with great seriousness.  The camp would be held liable for severe damages should such a parent succeed in contacting a child.

I recall a trip to the city jail to visit a member of my congre­gation arrested for severely injuring his wife.  She was in the hospital.  I was hoping that the man would show some remorse, and a willingness to seek counseling and try to change his ways.  But he acted as if this was a trivial incident.  "Rabbi, I know that you believe marriage is important.  You have influence with her.  Tell her I love her.  Tell her to come back to me."  I tried to tell him that we do not show love by hurting someone.  Unfortunately, we often treat such strife as domestic disputes, a relatively minor inconvenience.  The same act that would result in an assault or rape conviction if perpetrated on a stranger is considered a minor event if done to one's spouse.

We can define abuse as any action towards other family members which mars the image of God in them.  This includes embarrassment, for as the rabbis have taught, to embarrass one's fellow is the equivalent of murder.  This certainly includes any kind physical violence.  The Torah forbids striking one's parents - "If a man smites his father or his mother, he shall surely be put to death."  (Exodus 21:15) (However, the Torah and later rabbinic tradition is unfortunately far more tolerant of striking a child, an issue we must deal with at another time.)  Certain­ly, striking one's spouse is considered abusive behavior and should never be tolerated.  Finally, any kind of inappropriate sexual contact between family members, far more prevalent in our society than we like to imagine, is abuse at its worse.

    This is a book that celebrates the joys of family life.  It sees home and hearth as a place of respite and comfort.  To recall the famous quote of Robert Frost, "Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in."  How sad, when home becomes a place of fear and terror?  

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

(5763)

TO GROW OLD WITH LAUGHTER

"Abraham threw himself on his face and laughed, as he said to himself, Can a child be born to a man a hundred years old, shall Sarah bear a child at  ninety."                                                                                         

                                                                                            (Genesis 17:17)

Allow me to share a wonderful memory.  In my first pulpit, an elderly couple named Harry and Sarah came every Shabbat morning.  They were already great grandparents.  One Saturday we had the naming of a new baby in synagogue.  After services, I jokingly said to Sarah, "You may be next."  She looked at me with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.  "Rabbi, my name may be Sarah.  But my husband is no Abraham."

Of course, they were referring to the story of Abraham and Sarah, old without children.  In this week's portion, when God predicted the birth of a son, Abraham laughed.  In next week's portion, Sarah will laugh.  The son they eventually bore, Isaac (Yitzchak), comes from the Hebrew word tzchak which means "to laugh."  It must have been exceedingly painful to go into their old age without having children.  Yet, both Sarah and Abraham were able to grow old with laughter.

Serving a large synagogue in south Florida, I have many seniors in my community.  Many of them grow old with laughter, finding humor and joy in their lives.  Unfortunately, many also grow old with anger, finding discontentment and bitterness, and too often loneliness and sadness.  One of our goals ought to be to turn that anger into laughter during the senior years of our lives.

I am well aware that the golden years are not always so golden.  Life is filled with disappointments.  We realize that dreams we had in our younger years may never be fulfilled, at least in this lifetime.  Health begins to fail.  Even those of us who are healthy cannot do what they once did.  (I sometimes paraphrase the comic songwriter Tom Lehrer who quipped, "It is very sobering to know that when Mozart was my age, he had been dead twenty years.")   How easy it is to feel like a victim during our latter years, to allow anger to pervade our souls.

I often witness this anger and bitterness, and sometimes it is directed at me.  "Rabbi, you walked through the synagogue and shook hands with everybody but me!" "Rabbi, I missed services three weeks in a row and you did not even notice."  (On both these issues, we get over 500 people in our synagogue every Saturday.  I try, but I will admit that I cannot shake hands or notice everybody.)  "Rabbi, I did not get the honor I was expecting."  Sometimes I do make legitimate mistakes, but the anger is out of proportion to the wrong done.  Often I hear people who hate visiting their elderly parents, because all they hear is bitterness and complaints.  My daughter, who serves as a hostess at a popular local restaurant where a lot of seniors eat, speaks of the anger often directed at her by some customers.

On the other hand, I witness seniors in my congregation who embrace life with laughter and joy.  They speak of the many gifts they have.  "Rabbi, I cannot do what I used to do physically, but at least I am still here."  "Rabbi, I have children, grandchildren, great grandchildren who fill my life with joy."  "Rabbi, I woke up this morning, turned to the obituary page, and I wasn't there.  God gave me another day.  That alone is cause to celebrate. "  When I am around such seniors, my mood is lightened and the day seems brighter.

Life is a precious gift from God.  Every day is a new possibility to embrace God's world.  There is always work to be done, good deeds to do, blessings to enjoy, people to help, things to learn, books to read, experiences to savor.  Even if our bodies grow more frail, our souls grow more vigorous.  In Jewish tradition we are taught to "Stand before the hoary head."  (Leviticus 19:32), respect our elders, because they have grown in wisdom and experience.

I direct my words this week to those who have reached the latter years of their lives.  (We are all getting closer.)   God has given you a gift that is denied to many, length of days and years.  It is too precious a gift to waste in anger and bitterness.  Sure life is sometimes unfair, but who promised it would be fair.  Life ought to be embraced with laughter and joy.  Like Sarah and Abraham, we all ought to laugh.  Our laughter makes the world grow brighter.

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

(5762)

DELAYED GRATIFICATION

"There was a famine in the land, and Abram went down to Egypt to sojourn there, for the famine was severe in the land."

(Genesis 12:10)

I was recently invited to deliver a lecture on the greatest ethical challenge of the new millennium.  I spoke about what I consider one of our most serious ethical and social problems. the demand for instant gratification.

We live in the Nike age of "Just Do It."  Rather than preparing a quality dinner, we throw food into the microwave.  Rather than developing the long term fitness plan to lose weight, we search for the magic pill that will take off twelve pounds in one weekend.  Rather than working our way up the company ladder, we want to be the boss now.  Rather than teaching our young people the almost archaic art of courtship and slowly building a relationship, we give them condoms when they jump into bed on the first or second date.  Rather than the life long study of Torah that leads to true Jewish spirituality, we attend kabbala classes that feature "Judaism lite."  Rather than take the time necessary to remove terrorism from our midst, we want immediate military success or we are prepared to back down. 

Anything in life that is worthwhile takes time, commitment, patience, and effort.  This is true, whether developing a wonderful marriage, raising good children, developing our artistic or athletic ability, learning the skills to function as a literate Jew, or perfecting this world as a kingdom of God.  A great rabbi once taught, "According to the effort is the reward." (Avot 5:27)           

 Allow me to share a small piece of my newest book The Ten Journeys of Life:

Animals live by their appetites. Part of what makes us human is the realization that we cannot have whatever our appetites desire. We must learn to delay gratification, control our appetites and live with a greater purpose in mind. It is a difficult lesson for every young person to learn, but controlling one’s appetites is the road to maturity.

God had promised Abraham the entire land of Canaan. Abraham had left his home in Haran and traveled a long distance to finally set foot in the promised land. When he arrived, he explored the entire land, building altars and viewing the landscape. Abraham felt at home and was ready to live by God's promise in his own land.

However, God had other plans for Abraham. God brought a famine to the land, causing Abraham to leave and flee to Egypt. His desire to live in the promised land would have to wait.

Perhaps God was simply testing Abraham's faith. Trust in God was a keystone to the future covenant God would make with Abraham. Nonetheless, Abraham had to learn another lesson, the same one that every child must learn from his or her parents: Immediate gratification is not the path to maturity, and everything valuable in life is worth the wait. Abraham would not immediately possess the land. It would happen only after a long wait.

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

(5761)

LEAVING HOME

"I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you and make your name great, and you will be a blessing."

(Genesis 12:2)

This portion begins with the command for Abraham (still called Abram) to leave his land, his birthplace, the house of his father.  A Rabbinic Midrash speaks of Abraham's journey from home.  When he was in his father's house, Abraham resembled a vial of precious myrrh closed with a tight fitting lid.  As long as he stayed within his parents' home, nobody could smell the fragrance.  However, once he began his journey, the lid was opened and fragrance was disseminated.  (Genesis Rabbah 34:2)

The lesson of the Midrash is that we have a fragrance to disseminate to the world, a gift to give to humanity, our own individual mission to fulfill.  However, before we can begin to give off our own particular fragrance, we first must leave home.  Leaving home is not simply the act of physically moving out nor of achieving economic independence.  Leaving home means separating from our parents and finding our own unique voice.  It is a psychological leaving.

Three times a day, Jews pray a silent prayer known as the Amidah.  The prayer begins with the words "Praised are You our God and God of our fathers, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob."  (Today many more liberal synagogues also add the mothers to the prayer: God of Sarah, God of Rebecca, God of Rachel, God of Leah.)  The Rabbis asked why God is mentioned separately for each ancestor.  Why not simply say "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?  Did they not worship the same God?

The response is that the path Abraham took to God is different from that of his son Isaac.  The path Isaac took is different from that of his son Jacob.  Sarah and Rebecca's paths are different.  Even the two sisters Rachel and Leah each approached God in their own way.  Each of us must find our own path to God, and our own path on how to live our lives.  We cannot simply relive our parents' paths.

Children must leave home and find their own way if they are to succeed in the world.  If their own particular perfume is to waft through the world, they must first uncork the vial by leaving home.  We do not live in the world simply to imitate our parents' lives.

This is extremely difficult for both parties.  Parents find it very hard to let go and let their children find their own paths.  And children find it very difficult to leave and establish their own identity, fulfill their own gifts, be their own person.  Or, to use the modern slang, kids find it difficult to "find themselves."

It may be difficult, but parents must let go.  Like a kite, they must slowly let the string out.  Of course, if they let the string out too quickly, the kite will simply fall limply to the ground.  But if they let the string out too slowly, the kite will never find the wind and never fly.  The art of parenting is to let the string out at the right rate for the kite to soar.

It is also difficult for children to leave.  They are not clones of their parents.  Every child is blessed with his or her unique genetic blueprint, his or her unique sets of experiences, his or her unique mission on this earth.

Abraham left home on a mission that changed the world.  We may not all be Abraham.  But we each must leave home, find our mission, choose our own path to God, and make our own difference in the world.  And our parents, even if it is painful, have to let us go.

PARSHAT LECH LECHA

(5760)

LIFE'S FIRST JOURNEY

"Go forth from your land, from your birthplace, from your father's house..."       

                                      (Genesis 12:1)1

This portion begins with God's command to Abram "Go forth."  The Hebrew words lech lecha can probably better be translated "Go to yourself."  In this simple phrase, we learn a profound truth about human destiny.  Each of us must not simply leave home; we must go to ourself, find the unique purpose why God put us on this earth.

Each of us has a destiny.  Each of us has a mission.  Each of us has a calling.  In a powerful statement about the uniqueness of each and every human being, the rabbis taught, "A human being makes many coins with the same stamp, but each one is exactly like every other one.  But God made many human beings with the same stamp, and each and every one is unique."  (Talmud - Sanhedrin 5:4)  No two humans have precisely the same calling on this earth.  Even identical twins, although they share genetic information, have a separate set of life experiences that contribute to their uniqueness.  Every human being is totally irreplaceable, for nobody else was born according in the exact same circumstances.  No one else can do the task that each of us was put on this earth to do.

The first great journey of life is not only leaving home, but finding our particular calling.  Some of us know immediately, from the earliest days of childhood, why God put us on this earth.  Others spend much of their lifetime in search.  Some find it as young adults, some in their middle years, some not until they retire from the work force.  Some never quite find it.  We often speak of young people who are still "finding themselves."  Our very language reflects this sense that each of us has a unique mission. 

There is a powerful story told of the great Hasidic Rabbi Zusya.  When Rabbi Zusya was about to die, his students gathered around him.  They saw Rabbi Zusya's eyes break out into tears.  "Our master," they said with deep concern, "Why are you crying?  You have lived a good, pious life, and left many students and disciples.  Soon you are going on to the next world.  Why cry?"

Rabbi Zusya responded, "I see what will happen when I enter the next world.  Nobody will ask me, why was I not Moses? I am not expected to be Moses.  Nobody will ask me, why was I not Rabbi Akiba?  I am not expected to be Rabbi Akiba.  They will ask me, Why was I not Zusya?  That is why I am crying.  I am asking, why was I not Zusya?"

The greatest tragedy of life is not death.  The greatest tragedy is dying without having completed our mission, dying before we know why we lived.  Each of us has a responsibility to search our own soul and ask the ultimate question - "why did God place me on this earth?"