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yom kippur

IS REDEMPTION POSSIBLE? A HASIDIC TALE OF Y.L. PERETZ – Rabbi Len Levin

September 28, 2017 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

IS REDEMPTION POSSIBLE? A HASIDIC TALE OF Y.L. PERETZ

Sermon for Yom Kippur 2017 | Lenny Levin

 

Gemar chatima tova—may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

On Rosh Hashanah I promised you a story on a prayer in the early part of the service. Today I want to make good on that promise. The prayer is on page 444 of the prayer book. If you want to follow it, find page 444 now and put it away until I get to it.

The story is from the Yiddish writer Yehuda Leib Peretz. But first I want to say who Yehuda Leib Peretz was, who we are, and why I think he is an appropriate guide for us.

Who are we? We are all Jews of modernity, confronting the Jewish tradition from an existential place in the modern world. Whether we call ourselves modern Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal, secular, just-Jews, or fellow travelers of the Jewish people, we are children of the modern world. When I say, “may you be inscribed for a good year,” you don’t believe there is an actual book in Heaven in which our fates for the next year are inscribed. It is a symbolic figure of speech. The same applies more or less to the greater part of the religious vocabulary we employ. As moderns, we view religious traditions as symbolic structures that speak in coded language about our hopes and aspirations and the values we live by. We live in the real world. Politics is part of that real world. Our religious values have implications for how we will act in that real world. But the religious framework is meta-political. It is midway between heaven and earth, and as such, one step removed from these messy problems. If we are properly grounded with the right values imbibed from that tradition, we will hopefully go down into the real world and achieve change. But the message from the tradition about how to achieve that is indirect. If you want more direct advice from me, look me up on Facebook.

Yehuda Leib Peretz (1852–1915) belonged to the generation that made the transition from the world of traditional Jewish life to the world of modernity. He grew up in the Polish shtetl of Zamośź in the second half of the 19th century, and he died in 1915. He was a younger member of the first generation of modern Yiddish literary writers, who addressed the east-European Jewish community on how to manage that transition into the modern world. He identified as secular-Jewish. He had three political identifications: (1) As a young man, he campaigned for Poland to regain its independence from Russia (which it did not achieve until after his death, in 1919). (2) As a socialist, he campaigned for the advancement of the working classes and a world in which greater economic justice would prevail. And (3) as a Diaspora Jewish nationalist, he advocated for a European regime where small nations like the Jews would be able to maintain their cultures and national identities based on their own languages and cultural traditions. He paid a price for these causes; he lost his job as a lawyer in Zamośź for political activity and later spent three months in jail for his socialist activity.

As a secularist, Peretz did not believe in the literal reality of heaven and hell, of angels and demons, and of a book in which our deeds are written. But he was steeped in the cultural background of Hasidism, which was based on the living faith in these realities. He believed that to be a modern Jew, one could draw on these traditions as speaking symbolically about living a life committed to moral values and the redemption of society in the real world.

As a writer, Peretz used the resources of the modern literary craft to rework the personalities, themes and motifs culled from the Jewish tradition into parables that spoke simply and elegantly to the timeless issues of good and evil, alienation and redemption, for the benefit of an audience with roots in the Jewish people but living in the modern world. Maybe you have come across his most famous story, “Bontshe Shveig,” about a poor man, who eked out a meager living as a porter, until he died in the street. He was greeted in Heaven with the highest pomp and circumstance and told he could have whatever he wanted as a reward for his righteous life on earth. But all that he could think to ask for was a hot roll with butter every morning. I believe that this was Peretz’s plaintive protest against a society so rife with injustice and inequality that it crushed the spirit out of people, and once that happened, no remedy could help.  All the more so, then, that we need to correct the injustice here on earth, so the human spirit can be saved.

The story I am about to tell speaks mostly for itself. But there is one detail that can benefit from some explanation. That is the figure of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak was a real personality (1740–1809), a Hasidic rabbi of the second generation of Hasidic leaders, who served as a charismatic leader after the death of the Baal Shem Tov. But he comes across in stories as a unique personality, a trifle bit crazy in a good way, resourceful and inventive of off-the-wall solutions to vexing problems. He is kind of a cross between Elijah the Prophet, Don Quixote, and Chagall’s fiddler on the roof. His hallmarks were compassion, forgiveness, a sense of humor, and chutzpah in dealing with God and human beings alike.

One of my favorite stories about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak tells of when he met a Jew who was smoking on Shabbat on the streets of Berditchev. He said to the Jew, “Reb Yid, perhaps you forgot that it is Shabbos today.”

“No Rebbe, I know that it is Shabbos,” the Jew replied.

“Perhaps you did not realize that you are smoking,” the rebbe asked.

“Rebbe, how could a person not know that he was smoking?”

“Perhaps you forgot, or perhaps you never learned, that it is forbidden to smoke on Shabbos.”

“Of course I know that it is forbidden to smoke on Shabbos,” the Jew said, cutting off the last possible defense.

At that point, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev turned his gaze upwards and called out, “Ribbono shel Olam, who is like Your people Israel? Even when I gave this Jew every opportunity to lie and mitigate his offense, he refused to do so. Where is such scrupulous honesty to be found? Such a level of honesty is not for this world; it belongs in the World of Truth.”

So now that you have been introduced to Peretz and to Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, let me proceed to the main story. It may not provide us with an operative solution to our present problems, but I believe that it offers hope on a deep level. (Story is adapted from Maurice Samuel, Prince of the Ghetto, JPS, 1948, pp. 181–88.)

* * * * * *

It was Rosh Hashana, and the rebbe was leading the congregation in prayer. All day long his voice poured out supplication and praise. As he stood there, serving as messenger between the Jewish people and God’s throne, his voice was like a pathway from earth to heaven.

And then, suddenly, a dreadful pause, a break. He had reached the prayer on page 444, L’eil orekh din — to God who sits in judgment. The words rang out clearly. But those that followed —  He probes all hearts on the day of judgment; he reveals the concealed in judgment — he uttered with hesitancy. And when he came to the verses toward the end — He is aware of all mysteries on the day of judgment, and l’koneh avadav badin (whatever that means) — his voice broke completely, and a frightful silence followed.

Parenthetically, you will see that the translator of this Machzor evades the issue on that last key phrase. “He accepts those who serve Him, in judgment” is a halfhearted translation. L’koneh avadav badin means literally, “To him who buys his slaves in judgment.” God buying slaves! That is what had the rabbi so mystified. What could that possibly mean?

One second, two seconds, three — and every second an eternity. Terror spreads through the congregation; people faint from shock.

And then the Rabbi wakes up. He comes to. A shudder passes through his body, and he resumes joyously, He has mercy for His people on the day of judgment. And he concludes the Shaharit service, up through the Torah reading, with renewed strength.

After the Torah service, before Musaf, during the break, he explained what had happened.

When he got to the words, l’koneh avadav badin, it occurred to him that the words made no sense. “To him who buys his slaves in judgment?” What could it possibly mean? And so he stopped his prayer until he could figure it out.

As you may well imagine, the rabbi’s sudden silence was noted at once up in heaven. Our rabbi’s prayer suspended! Couldn’t happen. Immediately, they decided to reveal to him, in a vision, the meaning of his words, so that he could continue.

And so the rabbi went into a trance, while the heavens opened up. And this is what he saw:

The heavenly courtroom. It is still empty. The prosecutor, the defense attorney, and the judges have not yet arrived. There are five doors: On the extreme right, one with the sign, “Counsel for the Defense”; on the extreme left, “Prosecuting Attorney”; three doors along the back wall; and in front of them, a table with a huge brass scale.

The closed middle door in back bears a plaque, which reads: “The Heavenly Hosts.” The other two back doors are open. Through the right-of-center doorway the rabbi sees paradise. The righteous sit at long tables, their faces radiant, studying Torah. No judgment day for them. Through the left-of-center doorway, the rabbi sees the fires of hell burning, but the souls of the damned have a day off from punishment. The demons, who usually torture them, have a special assignment for the day.

Now the extreme rightmost door opens, and the counsel for the defense enters, carrying under his arm the records of the good deeds of mankind for the past year. Alas, a very small sheaf. It has been a terrible year.

The extreme leftmost door is still closed. An ominous sign. It is taking them too long to collect their records. The harvest of mankind’s misdeeds fills the granaries of hell. The counsel for the defense drops into a seat and closes his eyes sadly.

Finally the extreme leftmost door opens, and two demons enter, staggering under the load of their first bundle. They throw it on the left balance of the scale and one of them says, “That isn’t even a tenth of the harvest. Wait for the rest!”

The defense counsel groans. He feels all alone, forsaken.  Nobody hears his plight — or so it seems. But he is mistaken. One person cares — Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. He hears the groan of anguish from the defense counsel’s lips. He leaves his cozy seat in paradise to join in the action. He has not forgotten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; he remembers that for them, on earth below, there is still a judgment day, and so much is at stake.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak creeps into the courtroom and sizes up the situation. On the right, such a slender sheaf; on the left, heaps upon heaps. It takes him just an instant to decide. He bends down and, straining himself to the utmost, he picks up the bundle of accusing records and flings it through the left-of-center doorway, down into the flames of hell.

Again, two demons enter, bent double under a load of records for the prosecution. The moment they leave, Reb Levi Yitzchak deals with this bundle as he dealt with the first, And so with the third, and the fourth, and all the others.

Finally, it is the Devil himself who enters, a broad grin on his face. What is this? Help! The records! Not a sign of them. He looks around, and sees the last bundle burning in hell. He looks around again, and sees Rabbi Levi Yitzchak sneaking back toward paradise. He runs over, grabs him by the arm, and yells:

“Stop, thief!”

The cry resounds through all the seven heavens. Patriarchs and saints interrupt their studies and rush into the courtroom. The center door at the back opens and the members of the court file in. Counsel for the defense stands up. Pandemonium reigns.

The chief justice calls for order. Suddenly, all is silent.

“Will you please tell us what has happened?”

The Devil declares how he has caught Reb Levi Yitzchak red-handed. He points to the fires of hell where the last bundle is still smoldering.

Truth is truth! Rabbi Levi Yitzchak confesses.

Justice is justice! The Devil is asked what he demands. He quotes Scripture (he would!) “The thief shall be sold for his theft.” Let Reb Levi Yitzchak be sold as a slave, in public auction, to the highest bidder! The Devil will of course join in the bidding. It will be worth his while, no matter how much it costs, to own Rabbi Levi Yitzchak as a slave!

Father Abraham makes his offer, with his merit for brit milah, the covenant of circumcision, and hospitality for wayfarers. Isaac offers his pain and suffering for nearly being sacrificed on the altar.  Jacob weighs in with the long years of labor he endured. The matriarchs register their tza’ar giddul banim, the fortitude and patience they exhibited while raising the whole household of Israel, without which none of us would be here. Row upon row, the merits of the saints pile up on the right side of the huge scale.

But they are bidding against the Devil, and he has treasures beyond measure. He ransacks porcelain vases from China, and gold, silver, and diamonds from the deepest mines, not to mention oil rigs and tanks from the ends of the earth. The left side of the scale sinks lower and lower. Finally, he throws his crown on the bundle to top it off. The scale hits bottom.

A crooked and vindictive grin spreads over Satan’s lips. Oh, what a catch! Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, to be a captive in hell! As the left side of the scale touches the ground, the Devil puts his hand on Reb Levi Yitzchak’s shoulder, points to the left doorway, and says: “This way, please.”

A gasp of horror runs through the ranks of the blessed. What! Reb Levi Yitzchak damned for eternity? It cannot be! But what is to be done?

Finally, a voice thunders from God’s Throne of Glory:

“I buy him. For Mine is the earth and all its fullness, and I give the whole world for Reb Levi Yitzchak.”

The Devil’s face blazes fiery red, and he turns away, defeated.

Gleefully, the Hasid finished the story:

“That’s what the Rabbi told us in the pause between the Torah reading and Musaf. Do you non-Hasidim understand what a tremendous joy that was for us? First, there was the destruction of all our sins, burned to ashes. That’s a good-as-gold guarantee of a happy and prosperous New Year, like money in the bank. Second, Reb Levi Yitzchak saved from the schemes of the Devil. And third, best of all, we all learned the meaning of that baffling text, ‘To Him who buys His slaves on the day of judgment!’ ”

Who could ask for more?

Gemar chatima tova.

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: heaven, High Holidays, yom kippur

Strive to Be Upright (Pilates) — On the Yom Kippur Confessional: by Treasure Cohen

September 17, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

Yom Kippur Divrei Torah– 5774/ 2013    Introduction to the Confessional-revised

by Treasure Cohen: treasurehope65@gmail.com

Once a year–on Yom Kippur– we get an opportunity to look into a virtual mirror and examine our imperfections (and if we need help identifying them, the Vidui or confessional gives us both a short and long list of suggestions.)  We confess our sins, ask God for forgiveness,  and resolve to change.

Divrei Tora-KOL RINAThis year I got a head start.  This summer, with a gift certificate provided by our children to the local Pilates exercise studio, I went for a full body assessment.  I had to look in the mirror, and was then given an analysis of my imperfections–many of which I was not even aware of:  I do not stand up straight, my spine is crooked, and I have weak core muscles–and that just for starters.  I was told that if I didn’t make changes,  things would only get worse– but if I did, I could start to turn things around–or in the words of our tradition–do teshuva/ return.

Indeed, I resolved that I did not want to be a  bent-over old lady, but hard as I tried, I could not seem to  overcome what years of gravity and bad habits had wrought– the perpetual slouch.  Every week I would go to the trainer and with more excuses than resolve, I would complain how hard it was, and she would assure me that change is gradual so I shouldn’t give up.  It took several weeks before I actually had an understanding of what it even felt like to stand up straight.  And only with that awareness could I begin to move forward.

Now,  I know that on Yom Kippur we are not talking about posture or imperfections of body, but rather imperfections of behavior–yet I discovered that they  employ the same vocabulary.  Our tradition describes an exemplary person as “Yashar” or upright.  The word for sin  avone— literally means “bent or crooked.”  And we refer to people who have stumbled or fallen–ethically as well as physically– as noflim.   And to those of us in the middle– neither the yesharim nor the noflim, we are the k’foofim—  the bent over, the slouchers– those who tend to resist change.

But this is a holiday about change.  So for the past few months I have been looking for inspiration and motivation to help me make changes, both physical and spiritual, in my life.  One came from a friend at a women’s study group.  Every session started with an ice-breaker and this one was “advice from your mother;”  Finish the sentence:  “My mother always said . . .”:  As we went around the circle,  women responded:  “Study hard,” “Be respectful,” “Mind your manners,”   (“Wear clean underwear”) and  when we got to Ellen, she said, “My mother always said stand up straight”  and we laughed!  But it wasn’t until now that I understand that her advice had a double meaning.  Standing up straight is not only about good posture, good health, facing the world  with confidence,  it is also about aiming to be upright– yashar–adhering to strong moral principles, being righteous.

We try to aim high, but inevitably, at least sometime during the year, we will deviate from the straight and upright, to the bent and crooked, the avone–making mistakes– the theme of this confessional.    Sometimes we are noflim–we fall, but–this I learned from hearing a dancer interviewed on NPR– what makes for success in dance,  and in life, is the ability to fall and get up again.  From experience, we know that stumbling often provides the most long-lasting lessons.  And therefore our mistakes can be our best teachers, helping us to change and grow.  And as our tradition says, God is there to help us:  Every day we say in our prayers, God supports the fallen (somafe noflim) and raises up the bowed down, the slouchers (zokafe k’foofim).

But how do we bring about more long-lasting change?  This is what I learned from my Pilates classes :  You need to strengthen your core.  In Pilates language, that means doing all sorts of exercises–pulls and stretches–to strengthen the muscles that help us to stand up straight.  But in the language of Jewish tradition, it means improving our inner core–our hearts, souls, and minds– by adopting new behaviors and mitzvot that stretch us, strengthen us, and inform our actions.  And every year on the High Holidays, we are given a prescription for enduring change:  Teshuvah— return, Tefilah— prayer, and Tzedakah— deeds of lovingkindness and righteousness.

Paradoxically, I just learned that my Pilates Studio is closing its doors today–Yom Kippur, so I cannot be sure how well I will improve my posture this year.  But I do know that my experience trying to improve myself over the past few months has given me insight into the process of teshuva/return, which I share with you today:

Strive to be upright, and try not to slouch;
Pick yourself up when you fall;
Learn from your stumbles;
and most important,  Strengthen your core. 

 May we all be sealed for a good year– G’mar hatimah tovah, Shana Tova, and Shabbat Shalom!

 

 

Filed Under: Divrei Torah, Holidays Tagged With: Jewish, yom kippur

Let Them Eat Cake: A Message for Yom Kippur, 2013 by Rebecca Greene

September 16, 2013 By blogmaster Leave a Comment

“Let Them Eat Cake.”  What does this bring to mind?  Is it the words of Marie Antoinette, strolling as Bo Peep, in the Gardens of Versailles, immune to the starvation of her people.  Or in “The Butler,” the scene where the protagonist, suffering from hunger, frantically thrusts his arm through a glass bakery window, slathers his face with whip  cream from cakes, risking his life from the wounds to his arm and wrist.  Or Jean Valjean in  Les Miserables, stealing a loaf of bread (not cake) to stave his hunger. only to spend years incarcerated in France for his crime.

What does this have to do with Yom Kippur?  Today’s Haftorah from Isaiah reminds us that G-d will only forgive us and reward us with a good life if we engage in Tsedakah , including feeding the poor.  Isaiah tells us that it is not enough to have ashes on our foreheads or wear sack cloth or tear our clothes (today, whites and sneakers).  Or to pray and fast .  Forgiveness and blessing will only be rewarded to those who care for the poor; who give them shelter; who provide them with Food.

Divrei Tora-KOL RINA“The Poor Will Always be With Us.”  Certainly this was true in Biblical times when the poor were allowed to glean the left over grain from the fields.  (See the Torah and Ruth).

But today, especially in the last few years, the plight of the poor has gotten worse.  The New York Times recently disclosed that at least 1 out of 6 Americans are “food insecure,” many living on one meal a day.  We need not look to Appalachia, the focus of Michael Harrington’s The Other America.   Today, poverty is everywhere.  In New Jersey, at least 800,000 are on food stamps.  Many others starve without this paltry, safety net.  Nationwide, at least 48 million Americans get food stamps.

As a Legal Services lawyer, I have seen the lines for food stamps, food pantries, and soup kitchens grow larger and larger while the amount each person actually receives dwindles.   . Government surplus staples in the past, such as cheese, are rarely available.  Clients ask us for food.  Scrawny babies and toddlers scream from hunger, their parents unable to divert their attention.   Lack of food has devastating effects on American health.  We are the 4th after Turkey, Mexico and Slovakia in the numbers of death per 1000 under the age of 1. Maternal mortality is also the highest among advanced nations, according to the Times.  Life expectancy- at birth and at age 60- is also among the lowest.

I recall being told as a child that contributions to charities were not necessary since the Government would take care of the poor.  If this were ever true, certainly, it is not today.   We need to take up the burden of the charities since the Government does not do very much.

In the last month or so, Congress has severed food stamps from the Farm Bill, reducing the leverage of advocates significantly.  Congress will soon be voting on reducing the amount of dollars for food stamps by $40 billion in the next 10 years.  Even without this happening, this November 2013, because of sequester, the amount spent on food stamps will be significantly reduced.

And are food stamps such a panacea anyway?  A recent article in the Times found that food stamps on average last only 2 weeks a month.  What do people eat the rest of the time?  Can everyone survive on venison as an article in The Times described?  Will Essex County residents soon be desperately shooting deer in the South Mountain Reservation?  It takes at least a month for 70 per cent of the applicants in New Jersey to apply and get their food stamps, New Jersey being one of the slowest states, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer.  I have personally seen any clients waiting 3 or 4 months; by then, the Agency has determined that they manage on their own so why should they get them anyway.

As we sit here on Yom Kippur, feeling our own pangs of hunger, thinking about the cake we will ingest at Break Fast, let us adhere to G-d’s wishes and pledge to provide FOOD for the less fortunate.  Let us respond to the dwindling Government safety net by donating more food to the soup kitchens, cooking for the poor, providing food to both the kosher and not kosher food pantries and to Mazon.   Let us in our own small way seek to make things a little better for the less fortunate and thus gain G-d’s redemption and blessings.

Filed Under: Divrei Torah Tagged With: yom kippur

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