Many years ago, when I was a new young rabbi, an unkempt hippie walked into our synagogue on a Shabbat morning. He was wearing dirty jeans, a gaudy plaid shirt, and long hair with a pony tail. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and tie as is the proper male attire for our synagogue.

This hippie was quickly ushered out of the synagogue, to the relief of a number of veteran congregants. After all, who would want such a disrespectful person to be at our prayer services?

Dr. Zvi Zohar of Bar Ilan University and the Shalom Hartman Center has come out with an excellent new book (in Hebrew): “Conversion in Our Times: A Study in the Halakhic Responsa of Rabbi Benzion Uziel.” The book was published by the Committee for the Publication of the Writings of Rabbi Uziel, and is available by contacting [email protected]

Jacob had worked a lifetime to raise a family and now was at the point of his impending death. He gathered his family around him to offer his final words. He looked back at successes and failures, at good times and bad, at spiritual achievements and moral deficiencies.

In the midst of imparting his final speech, he paused and poignantly called out: “I wait for Your salvation O Lord” (Bereishith 49:18).

As he reviewed his life and his family, Jacob wondered whether he had ultimately been a success or a failure. Did he accomplish his life’s goals? Would his children and grandchildren live according to his ideals? Did he do enough? Could he have done better? “I wait for Your salvation O Lord.” The Almighty alone knows.

In last week’s Parasha, Yitro, we read the magnificent description of the Revelation of God at Mount Sinai. This was the loftiest moment in the history of the people of Israel—and in the history of humanity as a whole—when God directly conveyed the “Ten Commandments” as the foundation of religious and ethical life.

This week we read Mishpatim, which seems so mundane by contrast with Yitro. Mishpatim focuses on property rights, issues in business law, damages and restitution. These practical laws are interspersed with verses instructing us to be concerned for the welfare of the poor, widow and orphan; to be compassionate, since we ourselves were slaves in Egypt and should have learned from that experience to be sympathetic to those who suffer.

My wife and I recently went out with friends to a new kasher restaurant in New York City. Although the food we ate was not memorable, the noise level in the restaurant still has my ears ringing! Aside from the ongoing talking of the many customers, the restaurant featured loud music blasting in the background. It was difficult for us to carry on a conversation at our table, since we could hardly hear each other in the midst of the din.

When we looked around, though, it was evident that the other customers—mostly on the young side—were having a great time! The louder the background music played, the louder the people raised their voices. No problem. Noise is good, noise is fun. Right?

In his classic work, “The Lonely Man of Faith,” Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik writes of two aspirations of human beings: dignity and redemption.

Dignity results whenever we triumph over nature, e.g., when we make scientific and technological advances, when we control our environment, when we achieve social or economic success. In these instances, we see ourselves as masters, not as victims. This is dignity.

Redemption, though, is something quite different. It stems not from our feeling of being in control but from our feeling of being entirely dependent upon God. We are vulnerable. We are afraid. We recognize deeply and without reservation that our lives are in God’s hands, not our own. No matter how successful we may appear to be, only God has full control.

In their fascinating book, “American Grace,” Professors David Campbell and Robert Putnam report on the state of religion in America. Based on comprehensive surveys and interviews across the country, they found that the overwhelming majority of Americans believe in God and identify themselves with a religious tradition. For religious Americans, this is pleasing news.

I have been reading a new book by Israeli Nobel Prize Winner Dr. Daniel Kahneman, “Thinking, Fast and Slow” (Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, New York, 2011). On p. 47, he cites a fascinating psychological experiment conducted some years ago by Walter Mischel and his students.

This has been a very difficult time for us as Americans and as Jews. Anti-American and anti-Israel attitudes are sources of great distress and sadness. How frustrating it is that these two nations, representatives of the highest humanitarian ideals, should be the victims of such deep, irrational hatred.