Angel for Shabbat

The Pirkei Avot (5:22) contrasts the virtues of Abraham with the vices of Bil’am. Why did the author of this passage specifically choose to contrast Abraham and Bil’am? Perhaps the answer is to be found in how each of them dealt with an external group of people with whom they had no particular connection.

Halakha works best when it is most human and humane. It is most meaningful when the rabbis and the laymen know each other and understand each other. In an increasingly depersonalized world, the religious community needs to keep focused on the dignity of the individual. We need to foster human dignity, not bureaucratic indignity.

Some years ago, I attended a conference that attracted a number of rabbis and academics. At lunch, I found myself sitting next to a gentleman whose name tag indicated that he was a "Professor". Given his title, I assumed he taught in a university and I asked him what was his field.

A popular quip has it that "I love humanity; it's the people I don't like." It sometimes seems easier to love an abstract concept like humanity, or the Jewish people, or the community--rather than to love actual individuals. After all, individual human beings are not always pleasant or nice, courteous or considerate. Individuals can be rude, obnoxious, violent, immoral.

A story is told of the great Hassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev. He had been visiting a town and attended prayer services in the local synagogue. One day, he stopped at the synagogue door and did not enter the sanctuary. The many people who were accompanying him were perplexed. Why did the Rebbe not enter the synagogue? Rabbi Levi Yitzhak told them: “I am not entering the synagogue because it's too crowded.” But the synagogue was empty! The Rebbe explained: “The synagogue is full of prayers, there's no room left for us.

What role does the synagogue play in people's lives? Here are several models.

THE "HOSPITAL" SYNAGOGUE:  This refers to people who come to the synagogue in emergencies--at a time of crisis, illness, death of a loved one. Normally, they avoid the synagogue; but they turn to it in moments of need. The synagogue is akin to a hospital--a place they generally avoid, and only attend in dire situations. 

From the days of the golden calf to our own times, bullies have attempted to assert their leadership by means of violence and the instilling of fear. They have depended on the weakness of the victims to resist. Even more, they have depended on the “silent majority” that lacks the courage to stand tall.

The ancient and so-far uncured disease of “anti-Semitism” is reflected in this week’s Torah portion. Pharaoh tells his people: “Behold, the people of the children of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come let us deal wisely with them …lest they join themselves unto our enemies and fight against us…” (Shemot 1:9-10). Pharaoh’s description of the situation is not only wrong, but reflects wild paranoia.

After 22 years of separation, Jacob was finally to be re-united with his beloved son Joseph. Rashi, citing a Midrash, explains Jacob’s lack of demonstrativeness on their reunion: Jacob did not embrace Joseph or kiss him, because Jacob was reciting the Shema! Couldn’t Jacob have recited the Shema a few minutes earlier? Did he really need to recite the Shema at the very moment when Joseph was hugging him?

Professor Alan Brill recently noted: “Consumerism has turned the church [and synagogue] from an ‘ocean-liner’ designed to move people from point A to point B (connecting people with God), to a ‘cruise ship’, that is, in itself, the destination.” (“The Emerging Popular Culture and the Centrist Community,” in Developing a Jewish Perspective on Culture, ed. Yehuda Sarna (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 2014), pp. 31-32.)