A new and subtle freedom
Have you ever experienced a moment in your life when it felt as if the ground beneath your feet disappeared? Psychologists call these moments “life shocks”.
While we all might have experienced these individual moments (G-d forbid serious illness, the loss of a loved one, or job loss), it feels now as if the entire world is in life shock. The ground has disappeared beneath all our feet.
Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein says we are in a time of bein hashmashot (dusk or twilight). Not quite afternoon, nor yet evening, sometimes we are summoned to bein hashmashot for longish periods, and are asked to sit with tremendous unknowns and uncertainty.
How do we navigate our beautiful holiday of Pesach at a time when our community and our world is in bein hashmashot? The Pesach celebration that is familiar to us tells the story of the exodus in a triumphal tone. “We were in Egypt, Hashem led us out with signs and wonders, we became free to serve G-d.”
Perhaps the modern Jewish experience, in which Jews generally live in democracies, where we have the state of Israel, and are able to flourish personally and as communities, has reinforced a sense of triumph in our Pesach narrative – “we were freed … and we are free”.
This year, freedom won’t be felt in this same way as each one of us grapples in an existential way with the loss of freedom. We have lost the ease of life which allowed freedom of movement and interaction. We have also lost a certain fundamental freedom of well-being, we are frightened about the health of ourselves and our loved ones, we are worried about material security. Freedom isn’t what it used to be.
When Moshe turns off the path to behold the burning bush, Hashem addresses Moshe and says, “Remove your shoes for you are on holy ground.” As Moshe stands barefoot, Hashem says, “You are to be the leader of my people, and are to deliver them from Pharaoh.”
It’s almost as if Moshe is thrown into a moment that is bein hashmashot. The life he knew is gone, and he doesn’t know what awaits. As the gravity of his mission sinks in, Moshe asks G-d a question, “Mi ani?” (Who am I?) Hashem doesn’t answer Moshe directly but instead, reassures Moshe, “Ehyeh imach” (I will be with you).
Moshe then poses another question to Hashem. He says, “When I come to the people of Israel and say their G-d has promised to deliver them, they will ask, ‘Mah shmo?’ (What is His name?)” At this point, Hashem says, “Ehyeh asher ehyeh” (I will be that which I will be).
Rashi explains that Hashem is saying to Moshe, “I will be with the people in their suffering and slavery and in every single trouble that will ever befall the people.” Rashi teaches us that Hashem’s name, Ehyeh, speaks to the qualities of empathy and compassion. Perhaps Hashem comes to model for us that at times of terror and great suffering, like Hashem, we must walk with hearts of kindness.
As Moshe stands in his bein hashmashot moment, we might learn from the two questions that he poses to Hashem. “Mi ani?”, (Who am I?) invites us to reflect on who we are as human beings, who we are as friends, as parents, as children, as members of the community, even who we are in relation to our domestic chores!
Who we are will influence how we manage this situation. We will each be grappling with this intimate and close confrontation with ourselves. Our greatest fears and insecurities will emerge, not for critique and flagellation, but for compassion and healing.
If we can work with this question, “Who am I?” with sincerity, we have the potential to move towards a more subtle freedom, the spaciousness of awareness in our being, even as we grapple with this life-changing moment in our world.
Moshe’s second question is just as important, “What is His name?” This question also confronts us at this time. What is the name of the other who confronts me, how do I come to know and relate to this otherness?
On one level, we ask this question about the virus itself, about the new world we are navigating, so that we can take measures to protect ourselves and our communities. But we are also invited to ponder “What is His name” about all others.
We are invited to become reacquainted with our children, our spouses. We are also asked to examine our relationship with all humans, with animals, with our planet, and with G-d. As we engage with the question of “Mah shmo?”, (Who is the other addressing us?), our relationships have the capacity to enlarge. Barriers can crumble, and we can experience the freedom to relate in different ways.
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke advised that when we don’t have clear answers, we are invited to “love the questions themselves”. This Pesach, let’s love the questions, even if we don’t yet have the answers.
In asking these questions, we might experience more subtle notions of freedom, even as our more obvious forms of freedom are curtailed. Guided by compassion, these questions may enable us to forge new kinds of relationships with ourselves and others, leading towards a healing of our beautiful and precious world.
- Adina Roth is a clinical psychologist in private practice, and a teacher of Jewish Studies. She runs an independent Barmitzvah and Batmitzvah programme in Johannesburg, and teaches Tanach to adults.
Finding faith in the hippo
This week’s parsha details the laws of kashrus. The Torah makes a brave statement by enumerating the one and only animal that has split hooves but doesn’t chew the cud. It’s a “brave” statement, because if a human being wrote the Torah, how would they know that the pig is the only one on the “face of the planet” with this characteristic?
Moses was born in Egypt, spent some time as a fugitive in Ethiopia, and died somewhere near modern-day Jordan. If we presume that he was the author of the Five Books without any divine inspiration, and he sucked the whole thing out of his left thumb, then how could he be so confident that there wasn’t a marsupial or wallaby in the furthermost corners of the planet that didn’t have at least one of these characteristics? This was almost 3 000 years before anyone even knew there was an Australia. If he was inventing the whole religion, he would have taken the more prudent course of being rather vague. He wouldn’t have blatantly listed the only four exceptions “from all the animals on the earth”.
With this great piece of Torah veracity in my mind, my faith was shaken when, on a trip to London’s Natural History Museum, (I know, it’s a pretty nerdy thing to do), I discovered that there was a hoofed animal, classified by zoology, that seemed to be an exception “overlooked” by the Torah – the hippo. It’s classified as an “ungulate”, a split-hoofed animal without a ruminant stomach that isn’t listed in the Torah as another exception!
I thought about this problem for a while, and then the solution came to me. Why should we allow zoology to dictate the classification of animals? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that hippos don’t have hooves like a pig or cow, they have toes (like camels). I know it’s more fancy to talk about ungulates, phylum, and genus. It even makes us look clever, but if we are really honest with ourselves, we won’t let zoological classifications stand in the way of our emunah in Hashem and His Torah.
Let’s start talking about Pesach
For the past few weeks, my family and I have been doing something really special. We’ve been getting together every Sunday night, sitting around the table, and going through the Pesach Haggadah.
It’s just me, Gina, and our children – our eldest, Mordi, his wife Avigayil, and Levi, Shayna, and youngest Azi. We have supper together, and then we get stuck into the Haggadah, discussing, debating, sharing as a family, covering everything from the four sons, the four questions and the ten plagues, to matzah, maror, and the four cups of wine.
It has been a truly memorable experience. We started this family tradition a few months ago, setting aside the Sunday night slot to connect as a family and share Torah ideas. It’s an open forum, a space for every member of the family to express their thoughts, ideas, and opinions. We’ve covered the Rambam’s 13 Principles of Faith and the weekly parsha, and now, most recently, the Haggadah.
Going through the Haggadah, which tells the story of the Jewish people and goes to the very heart of who we are as Jews, has been particularly special. We’ve fine-tuned our understanding of the story, and gained so many new insights and ideas. Just as importantly, we’ve grown closer as a family, and feel more connected to each other and Hashem. Now, as we head towards Pesach, we all feel that this is going to be a dramatically different seder experience. Our mindset is different.
The Pesach seder is perhaps the formative Jewish experience. The seders we had as kids seem to stay with us. Even as we grow older, we recollect them fondly and vividly. It’s so much more than a ceremony, a procession of rituals, it’s the rich soil in which our families and our very Jewish identity are formed.
Of course, as we grow older, there’s the temptation, given how familiar the story is, to slip into autopilot on seder night. But if we prepare, we can avoid this and enter the seder charged with inspiration and filled with rich new perspectives. In doing so, we can transform it into an incredibly powerful spiritual and emotional experience that changes us, that truly frees us from our tired routines and habits and brings us closer to one another, to G-d, and to our true selves. A rebirth in the deepest sense.
That’s why I would like to call on all of us to start these meaningful family conversations in preparation for Pesach, to discuss the ideas and themes and get a deeper understanding of the seder itself. Of course, we need to prepare our homes – cleaning and cooking are incredibly important because they help us to fulfil all the mitzvot of this special chag and ensure we have a proper, kosher Pesach. But the seder, too, needs preparation, and the more we prepare for it, the greater the experience is going to be.
There’s something that can help you get the process started. My family and I were so excited and inspired by our Sunday night learning sessions, we decided to record our Haggadah discussions. We’ve turned these recordings into a special Pesach series, called The Goldstein Family Podcast, which you can access via my website or wherever you get your podcasts. The sessions have been cut and edited into eight episodes ranging from 10 to 30 minutes each to make them as accessible as possible.
There’s not much time left before Pesach, but I would like to encourage you to devote some time to preparing for the seder, and our podcast can be a good place to start. Even just a couple of hours can make all the difference to your seder.
Especially at this time, after a year of being battered by a pandemic, we need the healing, the meaning, and the deep inspiration of the seder more than ever – the message of faith in Hashem, connection to generations past, the sense of rootedness it gives us in an uncertain world.
Let’s take this opportunity to prepare so that we can connect with the ancient words of the Haggadah – with the great origin story of our people – in ways we’ve never done before.
Gina and I wish you all a chag kasher v’same’ach – a beautiful Pesach – and deeply meaningful, enriching seders.
Is antisemitism good for the Jews?
One of the traditional songs from the Pesach Haggadah which has become hugely popular in recent years is Vehi Sheamdah. An original version composed by Yonatan Razel was turned into a mega hit by Yaakov Shwekey, and was named Song of the Decade in Israel.
The passage in English reads, “And it is this that has stood by our fathers and us. For not just one alone [Pharaoh] has risen against us to destroy us, but in each and every generation they rise against us to destroy us and the holy one, blessed be He, saves us from their hand!”
What is meant by the opening words, “vehi” as in “it is this that has stood by us”? What does “this” refer to? The simple meaning seems to be that it follows on the previous paragraph in the Haggadah where we read, “Blessed is He who keeps His promise to Israel.”
It refers to G-d’s promise to redeem the Children of Israel from Egyptian exile. According to commentary, it also refers to G-d’s ongoing promise to redeem us from all our exile and persecution, including the final redemption at the end of days.
This promise has sustained the Jewish people throughout all the dark and difficult days of our long and tortuous history. We have always believed and trusted in G-d’s promise that, in the end, it would all come right.
That’s the simple meaning. But a few years ago, I had a brain wave of a rather alternative interpretation. Later, I was gratified to see the same idea in the writings of earlier rabbis much more learned than I.
What occurred to me was that the Haggadah may have been giving us another message as well. The very fact that “in every generation they rise against us to destroy us” is itself what has stood by us and given us the strength to persevere. Antisemitism, and the fact that in spite of all the existential threats we as a people have suffered, we have survived, all bearing testimony to the Almighty’s watchful eye which continues to guide us through our special providential mission on earth.
Jews and non-Jews alike have marvelled at our miraculous survival. Over 300 years ago, King Louis XIV of France asked the philosopher, Pascal, to give him proof of the existence of G-d. Pascal famously replied, “Why the Jews, your majesty, the Jews!”
Our tiny nation’s survival while all the greatest empires of the world have come and gone remains powerful confirmation that there is a higher power ensuring our continuity and destiny.
Indeed, there is a strong argument to suggest that antisemitism has been good for the Jews. The French philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, made that point in his book Anti-Semite & Jew. History records that under regimes that persecuted us, we remained steadfastly Jewish, whereas under more enlightened, liberal forms of government, we became comfortable in our newfound freedom, gradually embracing a welcoming but dominant culture and forfeiting much of our own.
Back in the early 19th century, Napoleon was conquering Europe and promising liberty and equality for all. When he squared up against Russia, many Jewish leaders sided with him, hoping he would finally bring an end to Czarist persecution and extend to Russian Jewry full civil rights. However, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, thought differently. He actively opposed Napoleon, and even had his Chassidim assist in intelligence gathering for the Russian army.
When his colleagues challenged him and questioned his apparent lack of concern for the well-being of his own people, he argued that while Napoleon might be good for the Jews materially, his victory would result in spiritual disaster. Tragically, the record proves him correct. Minus the Little Emperor, Russian Jews remained staunchly Jewish, while French Jewry virtually vanished.
How many Jewish Rothschilds are left in the world? G-d knows we could have used them. Most of French Jewry today hails from North Africa. The originals are few and far between.
And the American experience confirms beyond a shadow of a doubt that freedom, democracy, and equal rights, while wonderful blessings for Jews for which we should be eternally grateful, also present a profound challenge to our Jewish identity and way of life. In the melting pot of the United States, Jews have integrated so successfully, they are virtually disappearing!
Back in the 1970s, when I was working with Jewish university students, we were struggling to break through a wall of icy indifference towards Judaism. It was so frustrating, that my colleagues and I even considered going onto campus in the dead of night to paint a few swastikas on the student union building!
Maybe that would jolt them out of their apathy. Of course, we never actually did it, but the fact that the thought crossed our minds demonstrates how external threats have a way of making Jews bristle with pride and righteous indignation.
We see it today as well. Outside many shuls around the world, you will find young men and women who volunteer to do security duty. Many of them are never seen inside the shuls they protect. Going to shul and praying isn’t their thing. But when enemies of Israel threaten Jews, these brave young people respond as loyal, committed Jews.
It appears that as repugnant as antisemitism may be, in a strange, perverse sort of way it may have contributed to the stubborn determination of Jews over many generations to stand up for their convictions and live by the principles of our faith no matter what.
So, when you sing Vehi Sheamdah at your Pesach Seder this year, instead of bemoaning our enemies’ hatred for us, find the positive side. Vehi – this very hostility and the never-ending attempt at our annihilation – has only served to strengthen our resolve to remain steadfastly Jewish. Indeed, it has stood us well!
- Rabbi Yossy Goldman is the rabbi at Sydenham Shul, and the president of the South African Rabbinical Association.
Letters/Discussion Forums3 days ago
Protest not a creative solution to education funding crisis
Letters/Discussion Forums3 days ago
Looking for descendants of Lithuanian great-grandfather
Letters/Discussion Forums3 days ago
Only those on the frontline should be vaccinated
Youth3 days ago
KDVP holds siyum for firstborn boys
Voices3 days ago
Time for Israelis to pray for South Africa
Voices3 days ago
Join us for Yom Hashoah
Religion3 days ago
Finding faith in the hippo
Israel3 days ago
Helen Mirren to play Golda Meir in upcoming film