A story is told of a dairyman in a small village who used to provide milk to the local population. In order to increase his profits, he decided to dilute the milk with 5% water. People seemed not to notice the difference, so a few months later he added 5% more water. Again, he received no complaints…so he continued to dilute the milk, little by little, month after month. People paid full price for diluted milk…and the milkman was making a nice profit.

Why were our Temples in ancient Jerusalem destroyed? Jewish tradition offers answers.

The first Temple was destroyed in 586 BCE by the Babylonians--because of the sins of the people of Israel. This is evident especially from the prophecies of Jeremiah. The Talmud notes that the Israelites of that period committed major sins. The destruction and exile were brought about "because of our sins."

The second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70CE. The Talmud suggests that the destruction was a punishment for the sin of "Sinat Hinam," Jews hating each other without justification.

Shalom uvrakha, I hope your academic year is off to a good start. I wish you all the best for the New Year.

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Sometimes it takes a crisis to remind us of the transience of life. It might be an illness, the death of a loved one, an accident, a shocking and tragic news report. At these crisis moments, we suddenly and starkly remember that we are mortal, that life on this earth is temporary.

When people confront their own mortality, they often come to the realization that time is precious; that life is too valuable to be frittered away on nonsense; that it is self-destructive to engage in petty feuds or egotistical competitions. It can take a crisis to help us live on a higher, happier level. Facing the transience of life, we take our living moments more seriously.

When I was a teenager growing up in Seattle, our family was affiliated with Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. Our rabbi was Rabbi William Greenberg, of blessed memory.

I still recall vividly a conversation/confrontation I had with Rabbi Greenberg. He taught me a lesson which I’ve never forgotten.

One Shabbat morning, a member of our congregation came to services. Rabbi Greenberg gave him a big smile. The gentleman was given the honor of being called to the Torah, and Rabbi Greenberg welcomed him warmly during his sermon.

God instructs Abram to set out for a new land. God states that He will bless Abram, make him into a great nation, increase his fame, support his allies and curse his enemies. Abram will be a blessing to the nations of the world.

Abram complies with God’s commandment: “So Abram went as the Lord had spoken unto him; and Lot went with him…”(Bereishith 12:4).

Lot? How did Lot get into this scene? God had spoken with Abram and hadn’t said a word to Lot about going to a new land!

The very next verse (12:5) reports: “And Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son…and they went forth to go into the land of Canaan.” But didn’t the previous verse already inform us that Lot was going with Abram? Why is Lot
mentioned again?

Let us try to reconstruct the story.

What did the Israelites do during their forty years of wandering in the wilderness?

They didn’t need to work for their food, clothing or shelter. They didn’t have businesses to run. They didn’t have homes to repair or gardens to tend. They didn’t have theaters for entertainment or arenas for sporting events. They didn’t have televisions or internet connections or facebook. They didn’t have a formal school system for their children, or summer camps, or vacation homes.

We may assume that the Israelites—men, women and children—spent part of their days studying Torah. But what else did they have to do? How did they deal with what must have been overwhelming boredom? What did the Almighty have in mind when He imposed forty years of wandering on them?

The Talmud (Taanit 4a) cites the opinion of Rav Ashi that any rabbinic scholar who is not hard as iron is no rabbinic scholar! A Talmid Hakham must hold strong convictions and must not bend under pressure. Yet, a few lines later, the Talmud reports the opinion of Ravina: “even so, a person must teach himself the quality of gentleness.” Yes, commitment to principles is very important; but so is maintaining a compassionate and loving attitude.

The ideal religious personality strives to harmonize both of these qualities. One must be courageous in upholding Torah and mitzvoth, must be hard as iron to resist improper compromises. At the same time, one needs to maintain a gentle, non-confrontational attitude; one must not be overly rigid and inflexible.

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?