Perlo's of Wisdom

Gut Instinct

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 18:22:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Naso

11 Sivan, 5772

June 1^st, 2012

I occasionally ask people how God lets us know whether an action is moral or immoral. What I mean is that, when a person has a moral dilemma, what source should she trust to tell her whether she is acting well? Most people answer, “trust your gut,” and believe that God has put an innate sense of morality inside all of us.

I have found, after much experience, this belief to be untrue.

As Proverbs says, mikol melamdai hiskalti – I have learned from all who teach me. And what I have learned is that plenty of people have exactly the opposite gut instinct over precisely the same dilemma. Just think about various cadres’ reactions to homosexuality.

Secondly, I have found over the course of my life that my gut has changed. I remember the first time I saw a female rabbi, and how much I hated the experience. Last year I was unsettled by a promo picture for an Orthodox yeshiva: why were no women learning in the beit midrash?

The point, I think, is that the gut is trained.

Here’s an analogy: when people stumble, it is natural instinct to put their hands out to block their fall. It’s also a really stupid idea. The lower arm bones, caught between the ground and the weight of the body, shatter easily. But if you go to an Aikido or Ju-Jitsu class, you’ll see people being thrown all over the place, and falling from six feet or more without ill effect. This is because they have trained themselves to fall.

To live morally is to live one step beyond the gut: to train one’s self in compassion, in wisdom, in understanding, in Torah – and then to let the intuition free.

When I Say “Dawn,” You Say “Idiot”

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 18 May 2012 17:29:00 +0000

26 Iyyar, 5772

May 18^th, 2012

41^st Day of the Omer

By now, most have heard of Greece’s “Golden Dawn,” - the neo-Nazi party that recently won 7% of Parliament in elections.

Now, it’s clear that Golden Dawn’s power came through its opposition to the Greek Austerity Plan. However,these charming individuals are also known for opposition to foreign “filth”(read, immigrants), Holocaust denial, and general thuggery.

On days like this I think of Aldous Huxley’s Ape and Essence: “The leech’s kiss, the squid’s embrace,/The prurient ape’s defiling touch./And do you like the human race?/No, not much.”

There is a prayer that Jews every morning: “May it be your will, our God and God of our ancestors, to keep us from insolence in others and arrogance in ourselves; from an evil person, an evil friend, an evil neighbor, an evil encounter, and from destructive accusations.”

This prayer is not the height of optimism, but this week I understand it. May God keep us far away from such people. May God reduce tolerance for their views in our midst. May God change their hearts.

I am forced to point out that the prayer mentions others and ourselves. Such mention is not accidental. A few weeks ago, this came across my desk.

For the many who do not speak Hebrew, this gem is a mock wedding invitation between a Muslim man - Muhamad, son of Navil and Oum Jihad - and a Jewish woman, whose name rendered means “You should hope that this isn’t your daughter.”

The e-postcard, put out by an Israeli “anti-assimilation organization” called Lehavah, therefore urges:

“Do not let your daughter work with Arabs. Do not let her do National service with goyim. Do not buy from stores that employ enemies (Arabs); Do not let goyish workers into your home.

This, of course, goes hand in hand with a recent-years decree from rabbis not to sell or rent to Arabs.

What must be said is that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is beyond complicated. There are no butterflies or rainbows. We are talking about deep hatred and enmity. However, how we respond in our anger is of paramount importance. And before one goes to justify the sentiments behind such an ad, please read the following. They are from various German laws and speeches of the late 1930’s. My hope is that, seeing them, your blood will run cold.

Ultimately, we will be judged not only for what we believe, but for which beliefs we benignly tolerate.

SECTION 1

1. Marriages between Jews and nationals of German or kindred blood are forbidden. Marriages concluded in defiance of this law are void, even if, for the purpose of evading this law, they are concluded abroad.

SECTION 3

Jews will not be permitted to employ female nationals of German or kindred blood in their households.

Article 7

1. Jews cannot legally acquire real estate and mortgages.

Deutsche! Wehrt Euch! Kauft nicht bei Juden (Germans! Defend yourselves! Do not buy from Jews) – Slogan from the Nazi boycott against Jews.

The Dumb Tongue

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 11 May 2012 19:34:00 +0000

בס''ד

19 Iyyar, 5772

May 11^th, 2012

34^th Day of the Omer

My grandfather, of blessed memory, was a man of few words but remarkably strong convictions. Now one must understand: I basically talk to people for a living; I was an English major; words are my bread and butter. One might think the disparity drove a wedge between us.

But my grandfather never had trouble making himself understood. I knew his principles with clarity and felt the boundlessness of his love. Without saying much, he was the most righteous and kind man I have ever known.

Watching him taught me a lesson that is one of my treasured possessions: words are a means, not an end. The ability to produce great words amounts to nothing of itself.

There is a rampant misconception that, in the sphere of public debate, the person with the best words wins. Remember that the victor should be the one who has the best ideas, not the glibbest tongue.

What I know is that the strongest of our convictions, the best of our ideas, our most deeply held values are extremely difficult to articulate. People like me spend a lifetime just learning to give them voice.

However, because one cannot articulate them well does not mean that such convictions are invalid. Prettier words should not take away what you believe.

The inverse is true as well. Just because someone has an elegant way to express dishonorable feelings, inhuman in their intent, does not somehow give them an advantage. Finding a fancy way to transmit ugly sentiment is of no avail.

The substance of ideas matters more than their verbal expression. Thus the heart matters more than the mouth. So do the Psalms say, “[God is the One] who created all their hearts together, and [therefore] understands their actions.” Psalm 33

In Praise of Honored Dead

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 04 May 2012 19:28:00 +0000

בס''ד

In Praise of Honored Dead

12 Iyyar, 5772

May 4th, 2012

27th Day of the Omer

A few weeks ago, Rex Huppke (hell of a name) published a brilliant, tongue-in-cheek obituary in the Chicago Tribune in memory of...facts.

He believes that facts died when Rep. Allen West “steadfastly declared that as many as 81 of his fellow members of the U.S. House of Representatives are communists.”

Know that Huppke’s point is not partisan. Rather he points out the decidedly across-the-aisle degradation of facts’ health over the decades, including the Clinton-Lewinsky affair. To my mind the beginning of the end may have come in 1982, when the nation watched opposing psychiatrists find John Hinckley both legally sane and insane, respectively, in his attempted assassination of President Reagan.

I saw facts’ fatal wound came at a Shabbat lunch a few months ago. A very intelligent woman, a former teacher of physics, far more observant than I, claimed that “the theory of evolution has been all but discredited by academics.” Thoroughly shocke, I asked her to produce evidence. Sure enough she presented me with an academic citation claiming that evolution had been debunked.

The problem with her assertion and her paper is that they’re both nonsense. The vast, preponderant, overwhelming majority of the scientific community accepts evolution as valid. Whether or not one thinks the theory is valid, one should not deny this reality of what most scientists think.

However, the explosion of information that is at the heart of our new society makes it possible that, no matter what my point, I can find statistical, academic, and journalistic work to support me. And thus we’ve arrived at a place in which facts inevitably work to support our own opinions, which is to say that facts are now irrelevant, which means that they are truly dead.

It is possible to resurrect them from this backwards existence, however. The Psalms say, “Who can live in Your tent, who may dwell on Your holy mountain? (i.e., who’s a good guy?)...one who swears to his own detriment and does not abdicate his vow.” Psalm 15

The point being that a tzaddik is one who keeps his word, even when his word works against him. So in memory of honored dead, I propose we do the same thing. If we believe in facts, let them work against us. It’ll be a sign of our righteousness.

Practice

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Tue, 01 May 2012 17:04:00 +0000

בס''ד

5 Iyyar, 5772

April 27th, 2012

20th Day of the Omer

Parshat Tazria-Metzora

“Says the author: I did not compose this essay to teach people what they do not know, but rather to remind them of that which is already known to them and hugely wide-spread between them. For you will only find in most of my words things that most people know and about which they have no doubt; only, it is because they are so famous and that their truth is obvious to everyone that their absence is prevalent and the forgetting of them is great.”

These are the words that begin one of the most famous popular works of Jewish spirituality in history, the Mesillat Yesharim, The Path of the Upright. Written by the immensely brilliant and highly eccentric Moshe Haim Luzzato, this book is the precursor to the Mussar movement - the 19th century ethical/spiritual movement that focussed on perfecting the self and radical improvement of one’s virtues as the greatest way to serve God.

At the heart of these words is a prescient realization - human beings are likely to forget precisely that which is most obvious. We take quite a bit for granted, and unless we actively remind ourselves of that which is unambiguously important - family, courtesy, kindness, helping others, making a positive impact on the world, investing in spirituality, giving to charity, etc. - we simply will not devote the time to these values that we would wish.

So I want to draw your attention to the second of two words that always go together: spiritual practice. These two words cannot be separated, for the path to a more noble life begins with constantly reminding oneself of that which is important. Thus every spirituality is grounded in daily practice.

It is sometimes thought that one must realize the importance of a practice before beginning it. But those who are wise know that the opposite is true - important realizations only come through practice.

All of You Who Stand Here

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 20:27:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Shemini

28 Nisan, 5772

April 20^th. 2012

13^th Day of the Omer, Yesod in Gevurah

Among the regular responses I get to being a rabbi is one that is particularly adorable: if a family has a child in Jewish preschool, said child will be duly trotted out before me and prodded to recite whichever blessings he or she learned in school. The kid will be shy and sweet in the way only preschoolers can be, and the whole experience is quite enjoyable.

But it can also make me sad. I know that I cannot ascribe identical motivation to everyone – sometimes parents are just being proud. But sometimes I hear, when the adult pushes the child forward, “see – I know we don’t make these blessing ourselves, but we’re educating our children.” As someone whose passion it is to spread vibrant, relevant Judaism, this message goes down with difficulty.

So I had a hard time with Laurel Snyder’s Beliefnet piece, “My faith: Raising religious (but not too religious) children.”

The piece is beautifully written (winning my immediate respect); however, its thrust is that Snyder has become involved in Jewish life – synagogue, havurah – for the sake of her children. As she puts it, “Because there’s something about having kids that makes me want to be a better version of my Jewish self. I want something special to pass on to them.”

I am conscious that I am about to touch a real nerve. So many people whom I love and respect have voiced the exact same sentiment to me. But, beautiful as its articulation is, there’s a problem.

You see, when I ask why people involve themselves in Jewish life I overwhelmingly get one of two answers: “because of my ancestors/tradition,” “for my children.”

More importantly, when I ask children why Jewish life is important to them – and I ask every single bnai mitzvah student – I only receive these two answers. I have yet to hear a student say the 13 year old version of, “I practice Judaism because it fills my life with meaning, purpose, and Godliness.”

Why is there a vacancy between the past and the future? What about the present? What about us?

So, with a lot of love, I put forward questions I think are worth asking:

Is it worthwhile to engage in a tradition we value for our ancestors and our children, but rarely for ourselves? What do children learn by being educated in ways they know their parents do not practice? Is there something that prevents us from practicing Judaism for ourselves, and what should we, the synagogue, the rabbi, do about it?

Near the end of the Torah, it is written, “You are standing here today, all of you, before HaShem your God…” (Deut. 29:9) Only the covenant we create for ourselves can be given to others.

Margin of Error

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 17:31:00 +0000

בס''ד

29 Adar, 5772

March 23rd, 2012

If it were up to me, we religious figures would have a mandatory disclaimer after we spoke, like in those car commercials.

It would go like this:

“There is neither wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel in place of God.” Proverbs 21:30

What this means in context is something like, “Everything I’m saying has a healthy margin of error.”

This is the truth of the situation - to live a religious life is to reach for God’s will, not to know it. The very point of the exercise is that we do not know with certainty, and that we spend our lives searching for the way. Life is an exercise is learning, not knowing. No religious leader, no matter how fervent, knows the will of God.

But before you get too excited, remember that this disclaimer applies to everyone, not just religious leaders. Often I see people who substitute doubt of religion with their own certainty. Overhead from another Jew: “That’s just what the Rabbis say, it’s not God’s law.” Just because we do not believe in perfect knowledge does not mean we reject wisdom. Not to give teachers the presumption of value is to say that one person cannot pass holiness to another.

What I’m describing is not an end to belief, but a call for belief with humility.

And yes, you still can’t eat that bacon double-cheesburger.

Yelling

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 18:17:00 +0000

בס''ד

Yelling

22 Adar, 5772

March 16^th, 2012

It’s been a big few weeks for the pundits and talking heads. As the presidential election draws closer, as Israel’s concerns about Iran skyrocket, there’s been plenty to talk about.

What irks me, as the tensions rise, are the kinds of people to whom we’ve chosen to listen, as they pontificate on our nation’s and people’s woes.

The prophet’s primary definition has been misplaced somewhere in the crevasse of modern parlance. A prophet’s first job is to yell at his or her own people, to the group to which s/he belongs. Prophets are the expression of our internal voice of conscience. So why is it that all we hear are people yelling at the other guy?

The Limbaughs and the Olbermanns, the Frankens and the Pragers – all these pundits direct their energies solely towards the other. Towards those like them, and especially regarding their own sacred persons, they have nothing but pristine confidence.

Our Torah does not admire intelligence in place of wisdom, nor glibness in the stead of humility. One of the great questions of the Talmud is, “Who in this generation is worthy of giving criticism?” The manner and method of those to whom we give a platform is of vital importance.

If we could change the world in small, but substantive ways, let one change be this: that we enshrine in our culture those whose criticism we need to hear, not only those who criticize on our behalf.

“A wise person accepts discipline. One who hates criticism is a fool.” Proverbs 12:1

Ich bin a Yid

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 20:00:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Terumah

1 Adar 5772

February 24^th, 2012

Yesterday might have contained my greatest moment of 5772. A 78 year-old African-American preacher grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye, and said with considerable charm, “Ich bin a Yid in my heart.”*

I must admit, it was awesome.

The irony of my pleasure in this moment is that I get quite touchy when non-Jews claim Jewish identity or affinity. I have seen some very strange appropriations of Judaism over the years: non-Jews at Krakow’s klezmer music festival, wearing hassidische clothing, quoting stories of the rebbes, with interest only in Jews long dead; Christian biblical fundamentalists who mistakenly believe that they share our essence because they are Old Testament focused (they’ve never heard of the Talmud); Messianics claiming ownership over Torah, including the disgraceful “coronation” of Bishop Eddie Long with a Torahscroll.

At issue is the nature of identity, and the question of how people relate to identities that they partially share, but do not wholly inhabit.

In our time, each of us is an amalgamation of identities. It’s true: our global culture exposes us, quite felicitously, to external identities in such a way that they take residence in our soul. There is a part of me that is an American at the founding of this country, a part in a yeshiva in Lithuania. There is a part of me that is black, a part that is gay, a part Latino, Asian, Eastern European, Southern, East Coast, and so on. The nature of our era is that we exist as hybrids.

But I am nonetheless conscious of my central identity: a Jew in America. And though I may inhabit others in a partial way, it is only as an American Jew that I am an arbiter and influencer – only in that realm where I can speak to the destiny of my identity.

With the contemporary sharing of identities has come arrogance: the fallacy that because I am influenced by another culture, I have a right to define that culture. This is why Jews get uncomfortable with outpourings of Evangelical love – it comes with a definition about us and our future (eventually coming to love Christ) that we reject. We do not want to be known as future converts. It is invasive.

Therefore, the response to the identities shared with us must be humility. When others share their identities with us they give us a gift, not a commodity to be consumed and controlled. Ultimately this is why I loved my preacher friend, for in his eyes was kindness, not ownership.

“Words of Torah can only exist in one of humble mind.”

-Talmud, Masekeht Ta’anit

* Yiddish for “I am a Jew.” It loses something in the translation.

Sick

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 20:04:00 +0000

בס’‘ד

Parshat Mishpatim

24 Shvat, 5772

February 17th, 2012

I’ve been sick for the last four days.

It’s nothing serious, thank God. Enough of a cold to make me wish I could detach my own head for a while, but nothing more than discomfort.

But it did get me thinking.

Being sick reminded me of a uncomfortable truth, which is that to live is to be at war. On the microscopic level, our bodies are more or less constantly in battle. Scientists estimate that the parasites on planet Earth outnumber us free-standing organism by a factor of 3 to 1. We are always under attack.

So you have to wonder, then, what health really is. Is it the illusory state that existed only before the onslaught of life? Is health sterility - the eradication of all harmful influences?

My guess is that the answer is no. It’s negotiating those challenges that makes us healthy, not avoiding them. Health is not pristine.

This is the magnificent truth of our bodies: “Do not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by die; Not the disease that comes in darkness, nor the destruction that lays waste at noon. A thousand will fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand - but they shall not come close to you.” (Psalm 91)

Every moment of health is a wonderful overcoming, a show of grace against great odds. As the sick know, every second of health’s preeminence is worthy of gratitude.

Choice vs. Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 19:28:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Yitro

17 Shvat, 5772

February 10^th, 2012

I suppose I do not have the bona fides to the critique the plethora of choice in our world, as I am certainly a child of choice. I live a half-extremely religious, half-secularly engaged lifestyle unthinkable in centuries previous. I am defined by the ability to choose, minutely and freely, the exact kind of life I want to live. So who am I to talk?

But at the same time, I am sad that we are so glutted with choice. The amount of it is overwhelming. There’s so much of it that our brains have dropped other faculties (memorization, calculation) and function as eternal selectors: not just private or public, but which private? And should we go charter? Not just Apple or PC, but which of these 13 billion little apps do I need to download to my i-pad to make sure I survive the weekend?

What makes me sad is that I believe our ease of selection preempts the possibility of real internal search. It’s as if all of us are art critics, none of us artists. We choose constantly, but do we have the chance to journey towards meaningful choice? Are we allowed to reap the rewards that come from internal struggle and the necessary rigors of finding our place within systems that seem foreign to us?

The Talmud in Ta’anit has a piece of advice for teachers: “if a student is ready, ‘bring water to the thirsty;’ if a student is not ready ‘let the thirsty come get water.’” This means that there is a journey each student must take before s/he is ready for Torah. But our world treats us as if we are eternally ready, dropping all the knowledge and wisdom and opportunity that can be found in a heap at our feet, whether we are prepared for such or not.

So I say: make space for yourself not to be ready; make space not to know or understand; make space for everything not to be revealed right now. Give yourself the chance to journey.

Vastness

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 22:07:00 +0000

8 Shvat, 5772

February 1^st 2012

It’s hard to comprehend the vastness of the universe.

Think about this: We inhabit one of the outer spiral arms of our galaxy, the Milky Way. We’re not quite in the boondocks – more like the galactic Akron, Ohio.

We are roughly 27,000 light years from our galactic center. The Milky Way itself contains about 300 billion stars.

The Milky Way itself is one of 54 galaxies of the Local Group. The Group has a 10 million light year diameter.

The Local Group is part of the Virgo Supercluster – 100 groups of galaxies and 110 million light years across.

There are about 10 million superclusters in the visible universe.

What’s crazy is that our technology – the Hubble telescope in particular – allows our reach to obliterate our grasp. We can see with clarity objects over 13 billion light years away. It takes so long for their light to reach us that anything we see is a glimpse into the early history of the universe, within 400 million years of the Big Bang itself.

That’s just cool.

I find it interesting that the realization of the universe’s size has not had more effect upon contemporary religious belief. To believe in our God is to believe God created literally everything. How do we account for the fact that we are, in universal terms, of miniscule account? How do we understand our relationship with a God who created reality on a scale so large that we are not built to comprehend it?

300 words cannot do the topic justice, but I can tell you that the vastness of the universe makes most of our local religious conflicts look pretty silly. The doctrinal differences that have actually led human beings to kill each other just can’t be that important to a God so large. The enormity of the universe injects some much needed perspective into religious affairs.

So the next time someone worries that too much English in the service is going bring the End of Days, I’ll simply think of the Virgo Supercluster…

Delusion

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 18:34:00 +0000

בס''ד

3 Shvat, 5772

January 27th, 2012

Dear reader, herein find the cautionary tale of Jean Martin Charcot.

Charcot was a French neurologist of the 19th century. His impact on modern neurology is profound: he was the first to describe and name multiple sclerosis, and one of the first with ALS; he counted among his students Sigmund Freud, William James, Alfred Binet (of IQ test fame), and Gilles de la Tourette; he contributed significantly to systematic neurological examination.

But his unfortunate legacy is forever linked with hypnotism.

Hypnotism was the popular scientific rage of the time. Charcot believed that the ability to be hypnotized was the best sign that a person was a hysteric - an antiquated term for neuroses (itself antiquated). A natural showman, physicians came from all over Europe to watch as Charcot, with merely a glance, sent his patients into deep hypnotic trances, whereupon they would produce dramatic hysteric fits.

But there was a problem. It turns out that Charcot’s patients were carefully prepared by his assistants beforehand, essentially told how to act. Thus Charcot wasn’t uncovering anything in his patients; he was producing the effects himself. The brilliant physician’s demonstrations were discarded as studies of the etiology of disease, and became an eternal example of the power of suggestibility. Charcot, a father of neurology, died with the shame of public discredit.

Even the best of us has a huge capacity for self-delusion. When our blood pumps hot with the felt truth of our convictions, it is hard to remember that we bend the world to meet our opinions, and that we hide that bending from ourselves.

This then is the power of studying Torah. To train one’s mind and heart to seek truth beyond one’s personal intuitions -- this is the responsibility anyone who would speak for truth in the world.

“Lips that speak truth last forever; Gone in an moment is a tongue that speaks falsehood” Proverbs 12:19

Enemies

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 19:42:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Shemot

16 Tevet, 5772

January 11^th, 2012

There is a story told in Talmud of two havruta (study partners) who were bonded for life. They spent years together, learning and arguing, and these two, Rabbi Yohanan and Resh Lakish became the greatest of their generation in the land of Israel. To this day, students of Talmud know them with intimate familiarity.

At the end their partnership broke up, with catastrophic results. The students, distraught over their rabbi’s pain, sent to Rabbi Yohanan another havruta with which to learn, Rabbi Eliezer ben Padat – a brilliant scholar. And to every word that Rabbi Yohanan said, Rabbi Eliezer said, “there is a teaching that supports your point.”

Eventually, Rabbi Yohanan had had enough. He said, “Do you think you are like Resh Lakish? Resh Lakish, when I would say anything, he would contradict me twenty four different ways. Then I would give him twenty four answers. And of itself the learning would grow.” (Bava Metzia 84a)

This past weekend, conservative political commentator Tony Blankley passed away from stomach cancer. Blankley served Ronald Reagan as an analyst and speechwriter, and as Newt Gingrich’s press secretary. In later life he was known for his journalism, in print, radio, and television.

I am an inveterate listener of KCRW’s Left, Right, and Center, and spent years listening to Blankley every Friday afternoon. God knows I disagreed with the man, but there is no question of his prodigious and incisive intellect, his manner that was both genteel and deeply challenging, and the intelligence of his positions.

In politics, as in religion, the game is to get people to think like you. It is the convincing of others to share your belief that allows for the momentum all change requires. But in the end, I thank God that none of us actually win, for then how would the learning grow?

Tony Blankley will be missed.

Essence of a Miracle

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 19:41:00 +0000

בס''ד

2^nd Day of Hannukah

Parshat MiKetz

26 Kislev, 5772

December 22^nd, 2011

You’ve got to wonder what our Rabbis were thinking. Oil? Eight days? That’s the miracle? What about that other miracle, where the Jews won their freedom from an enemy better armed and more powerful? A lamp burning for eight days seems like one of those stories where somebody sees the face of a religious figure in a bowl of Cheerios: as miracles go, this one just doesn’t seem to cut it.

As with understanding anything of past years, imagination is everything. So, imagine for a second. Imagine that you, battle-scarred, grime-smeared, and battle-weary, stand inside the Temple in Jerusalem. When you got there, the place was a disaster: torn to pieces, the sacrifices of pigs to pagan gods still evident. Imagine that you have fought in a particularly vicious, bloody guerilla war. Imagine that the war was not just against a foreign invader, but also a kind of civil war, against Jews who allied themselves with the Greeks. Imagine that you have fought even against your brothers.

In these circumstances, I imagine this question: will God come back to this place, or are we abandoned forever? After this war, has God forgotten us?

And as the light burned steadily, night after night, we knew that we were not alone.

חנוכה שמח

Happy Hannukah

Pressing Business

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 19:11:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat VaYeshev

20 Kislev, 5772

December 16^th, 2011

Among our most important teachers in rabbinical school were Ignacio Ojeda and his staff, who ran the kitchen and the cafeteria. My guess is that they were conscious of their role as unofficial professors, and their part in turning aspiring rabbis, educators, undergrads, et al. in actual human beings, even if they never outright said it.

Their coursework was simplicity itself: how to be kind to people, even when working hard. They taught by example.

Coming into our cafeteria meant being greeted with a smile and by name, questions about your family, and, in my case, constant teasing because you weren’t married yet.*

I cannot overestimate how important those brief moments of kindness were. They took a relationship which had the single, paltry virtue of being functional, and raised it into a gift. It was a privilege to walk into their dining hall.

The Talmud teaches in the name of Rabbi Helbo, who in turn heard it from Rav Huna, that if you know a person will regularly greet you, you should greet that person first. Not to do so is to be called a thief. Brakhot 6b

To paraphrase the Mesillat Yesharim, you don’t need me to tell you that these words are true; everyone knows to be polite. But the truth of kind greeting is so obvious that it is easily set aside. Therefore let us reminds ourselves of what we already know.

Sometimes we assume that familiarity absolves us of the need for niceties. Sometimes we believe that the business we have before us takes precedence over personal connection. These conceits are very seductive, very convincing – we have known each other for years, we have important matters to which we must attend. These conceits are wrong.

Remember that everyone, literally everybody, needs to be seen for more than their function. Remember that with kindness, everything is forgivable, without it, little is acceptable. Remember that, in a spiritual community, there is no more pressing business than kind connection.

*Please do not follow their example!

What Defines Us

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 21:27:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat VaYishlah

13 Kislev, 5772

December 9^th, 2011

It happened for the first time in 2009. Customers, lined up since 9pm the night before, literally burst through the Wal-mart’s doors at 5am, and trampled an employee, Jdimtyai Damour, to death.

This year, a women pepper-sprayed 20 others in the face. Her reason? To clear a path to the Xbox display. A 63 year man collapsed in a Target when his heart failed. Shoppers stepped over his fallen body so they could continue shopping. He later died in the hospital.

Largely in order to deal with these incidents, retail chains started opening for 24 hours on the Friday after Thanksgiving, meaning that their employees leave their Thanksgiving tables to go straight to work, or lose their jobs.

Societies are defined not only by the values they promote, but also by those they tolerate. The toleration of the culture that Black Friday has spawned is one of the worst insults we can level at ourselves. What we allow is the statement, yearly, on our national day of gratitude, that the consumption of non-essential goods at rock bottom prices far outranks our valuation of human decency. Don’t believe me? Here’s how we feel about towels.

I have a paperweight that reads, “kol yisrael arevim zeh lazeh” – all of Israel is responsible for one another. It’s from the Talmud - a lovely sentiment, just looking at it.

But the dirty little secret of the phrase is that, in context, it means that all of Israel is legally responsible for one another: that is, we bear culpability for each others actions simply through because part of the same nation. What our neighbors do reflects upon us.

This is deep wisdom about what it means to be a nation, about the impossibility of eschewing mutual responsibility, and it is true here as well. What is allowed to happen on Black Friday speaks volumes about us all, and is destroying the only truly ecumenical holiday in this country. It’s time for the end of Black Friday.

Thank you, Jason

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 21:23:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat VaYetze

6 Kislev, 5772

December 2^nd, 2011

Story number one.

Once upon a time there was a young man who had a real facility with puppets. In college, in the fifties, this man dreamed of a new kind of puppet – much more lifelike, for more than just kids, and was even asked to start a 5 minute television show. This show, called Sam and Friends, featured a lizard or amphibian-like puppet by the name of Kermit.

Despite his initial success, it took this man, Jim Henson, ten years of slogging through commercials before he was invited onto a PBS show called Sesame Street. Mostly because of Henson’s puppets, Sesame Street became the greatest children’s show of all time. Another five years and Henson was able to spin off a new show, based on his vision that puppets were for everyone, called The Muppets. The Muppets themselves jumped straight into the childhood and life of millions of American kids, including me. When Henson died tragically in 1990, he was a legend to my generation.

It’s crazy just how much those puppets made a difference to us. Our world was one of pressure to achieve – pressure which has only increased to this day. The Muppets were somehow the opposite of that – heroes whose heroism was their tragic inability to do anything right: Fozzie’s jokes, Gonzo’s stunts, Kermit’s plans for the show, Piggie’s plans for Kermit. What kept them alive was a vision of kindness and loyalty to each other, which somehow got them through everything, and a huge dose of humor, which made the tough times a treasure. The Muppets taught us to how laugh at life. In middle school, that lesson means a lot.

Story number two.

I went to high school with guy by the name of Jason Segel. We weren’t friends, but he was a real decent human being. Being that we were in high school, this was something of a feat.

When it was time to graduate, I was surprised to find out that he had decided not to go to college, but rather pursue acting. I was socialized to regard college as about as negotiable as death and taxes, and I remember thinking him kind of insane.

But sure enough, Jason started to work and get real billing. Eventually becoming part of the Judd Apatow steamroller, Jason is now one of the most successful comedic actors in the country.

Jason, according to interviews, actually has a room in his house dedicated to the Muppets. So, post his success, he approached Disney with the first Muppet script in over a decade. The movie came out November 23^rd, and my brother at I were there for the midnight showing. It is a fact that I cried when Kermit sang, “The Rainbow Connection.”

The life of an adult is one of which children cannot conceive. Our prospects become fuller as we get older, and paths that were beyond our young understanding reveal themselves. Life has more, rather than less, in store for us as we grow up. But it is equally true that our vision of what happiness is born young, and stays with us for life. The expectations of how we should feel, what we should value, what lets us know that we are safe, are loved, are alive – these are creations of our childhood. Eikhah says, “hadesh yameinu kekedem” – make our days new like they were in the beginning: bring us to the happiness we dreamed of as children, and that we slog through work to find as adults. What the Muppets had was what I think of as true happiness.

So thank you, Jason. The movie was great. You brought the best of our childhood back to us.

To Everything There Is A Purpose

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 23:57:00 +0000

בס''ד

7 Heshvan, 5772

November 4, 2011

The great and holy Rav Kook made a small point with big implications. When the world was being created, on the sixth day, “And God saw all that God had made, and found it tov meod – very good.” (Bereishit 1:31)

What Rav Kook noticed was the inclusion of that pesky word kol – all. For, taken literally, God stated that everything God created in this world was good.

How can this be? War, death, and sickness exist in the world – are they good? Poverty, struggle, pain – are they good?

Rav Kook believed that even in what we consider to be universal evils, there is always at least a spark of good, and even in that which we would die fighting against, there is always a spark of holy purpose.

To everything there is a purpose. Without the existence of pain, human beings would never understand compassion. Without the reality of death, human beings would not push to make life sweet. Without fundamentalism, we would never have learned that even belief in God can lead a person astray. Though the existence of this purpose does not mitigate the evil contained therein, everything has a reason for being.

It is right to pray that evil disappears, and more right to work towards redemption’s arrival. But sometimes we are so busy stamping out what we don’t like about the world that we forget to understand why that evil came to be, and what it has to teach us.

The Opinion of Others

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 23:56:00 +0000

בס''ד

28^th Tishrei, 5772

October 26^th, 2011

Don Marquis, an American humorist jack-of-all-trades, once said, “If you make people think they’re thinking, they’ll love you; but if you really make them think, they’ll hate you.”

He’s right, and his being right is huge problem for us all.

You and I learn how to be good through others’ approval. When we’re children, people’s response to us teaches us whether we’ve done right or wrong. So, the inclination to care what other people think starts early and runs deep.

But with a constancy that bespeaks the immutability of human nature, making people think does not win their kindness. Rather, when you speak up for justice, when you poke holes in facades covering societal ills, when you question the way things are, be assured that you will make a lot of people very, very angry.

Anger is understandable. Human beings are bad at change, and readily prefer the evil they know over the good they don’t. Even when change is in our self-interest, it is our nature to resist it. The people of

Israel

to Moshe and Aharon, “…May the Lord look upon you and punish you for making us loathsome to Pharoah and his courtiers…” (Exodus 5:21)

What this anger means, though, is that sometimes we have to lean against our instinctual tendency to want approval. The opinions of others are not the sign of our merit.

About Noah, the Torah says, “…He was a righteous and blameless man in his generation…” (Genesis 6:9) I have no doubt that his contemporaries thought well of him, and praised his holiness. But a more holy man would have fought for the fate of the earth, pushed people to be better, and accepted the wrath he incurred thereby. There is a reason we call ourselves “the seed of Avraham,” and that Noah’s name is left behind.

True Religion

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 19:40:00 +0000

בס''ד

Hoshanna Raba

21 Tishrei, 5772

October 18^th, 2011

The University of Minnesota just put out a groundbreaking study, massive in both size and scope – 39,000 women over nearly 20 years. What it revealed was that taking vitamin supplements did not help these women live any longer. In fact, those who took supplements died three to 10% earlier.*

But what I know for certain about this study is that it will not change anything. Belief in the power of multivitamins will prevail. The vitamin industry will stay strong. All this is because, in this country, health is religion, not science.

If well-off Americans have one true religion, it is our health and the health of our children. We treat received knowledge about health and illness as articles of faith: once we’ve accepted a health factoid as true (anti-oxidants prevent cancer*, vaccines cause autism*) no amount of evidence to the contrary can shake our belief in it.

Sartre writes, “How can one choose to reason falsely? It is because of a longing for impenetrability. The rational man groans as he gropes for the truth; he knows that his reasoning is no more than tentative, that other considerations may supervene to cast doubt on it…But there are other people who are attracted by the durability of the stone…What frightens them is not the content of the truth…but the form itself of truth, that thing of indefinite approximation.”

Part of the honest life, even in the face of disease, is acknowledging that there are few givens and little surety when it comes to our health. The truth of our bodies, as Sartre says, is indefinite – stated in probabilities, not absolutes. Honesty means giving up certainty and living well and boldly nonetheless. It is strange for a rabbi to say, but we could do with being a little less religious.

* Just to be clear, there is no claim that supplements negatively impact one’s health. Three to 10% is in the realm of statistical variance. The study simply indicates that multivitamins have no positive effect on longevity.

* http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/prevention/antioxidants. From the National Cancer Institute: “However, information from recent clinical trials is less clear. In recent years, large-scale, randomized clinical trials reached inconsistent conclusions.”

* http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/03/health/research/03lancet.html. The study suggesting that autism and the MMR vaccine were linked was retracted by The Lancet, the British medical journal which originally printed it. Significantly, the NYT article reported these comments: “’It builds on the overwhelming body of research by the world’s leading scientists that concludes there is no link between M.M.R. vaccine and autism,’ Mr. Skinner wrote in an e-mail message. A British medical panel concluded last week that Dr. Wakefield (the author of the study) had been dishonest, violated basic research ethics rules and showed a “callous disregard” for the suffering of children involved in his research.”

Journey, Foreigner, My Sukkah

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 20:54:00 +0000

בס''ד

Erev Sukkot,

14 Tishrei, 5772

October 12^th, 2011

A friend of mine graciously invited me along to the Bowl last night, for what sounded like the Greatest. Concert. Ever. That’s right, 80’s throwbacks, I saw Journey and Foreigner live. I was a juke box hero. I was ready to rock.

The stress of the High Holy Days always turns freneticism into normality. There’s simply so much to do, so much to worry about, that my mind continually darts from mental place to place without any sense of stillness. Though I love the Days of Awe, they rarely bring me peace.

I stepped into that concert with that stress still on my shoulders. But at some point in the middle, I realized that I was a different person. The old me had returned.

So what was it about an awesome, cheesy, big-haired 80’s concert that transformed me? Simply that, in the midst of 18,000 people, you can’t really go anywhere but the bathroom. And that, with 80’s rock decibels, you can’t really do anything but listen to the music (and rock out, of course).

There are many blessings to not being able to leave. There are even more to having to pay attention to where you are. The problem with contemporary life is that there’s too much of it: we rarely have the opportunity to let our minds rest on any one thing. At ridiculous power-rock concerts, one doesn’t have much of a choice.

The introduction to Sukkot is clear and inevitable: “A person should live in the sukkah seven days, just in the manner that a person resides in his house during the rest of the year.” We just pick up our lives and move them to the sukkah. For seven days, space and attention are changed. If we do it right, it’s hard to exit into real life. And that’s the point: only when we can’t really leave does the magic take over.

May nothing take you away from your sukkah,

Hag Sameah,

Rabbi Scott Perlo

Uncertainty

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 23:34:00 +0000

בס''ד

Nitzavim-VaYelekh

23 Elul, 5771

September 22nd, 2011

There is this thing called the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. You, like me, may have heard a physics professor mention it while you were trying to sleep in the back row of class.

Anyways, the Uncertainty Principle is a foundation of quantum mechanics, and it states something extraordinary: the more precisely one knows a particle’s position, the less precisely one can know that particle’s momentum, and vice versa.

In plainer words, the more we know where something is, the less we know where it’s going. The reverse is true as well.* Uncertainty about one or the other is part of reality.

I find this theorem an elegant metaphor for the life of the spirit. Indeed it is possible to see most spiritual questions as about where we have been, where we are, and where we are going. And about the last two I will simply say: it is impossible to be certain about both at the same time.

Some attempt to write spiritual prescriptions, describing the precise path from A to B in life, guaranteeing success if steps are precisely followed. I reject such attempts with the totality of my being. A spirituality that does not include uncertainty is not worthy of the name.

*Physicists reading this are probably tearing their hair out at the inaccuracy of my description. To them I can only say: you aren’t the first.

Inconsistency

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 21:15:00 +0000

בס''ד

17 Elul, 5771

September 16th, 2011

I recently heard an unfortunate true story. A Jewish spiritual group met for a weekend retreat at a University retreat center, all ardent and passionate practitioners. At some point during the retreat, the kitchen’s manager stepped out and made a plea. His workers, he said, were coming to him in tears; many had threatened to quit. Apparently the sheer number of exceptional individual dietary requests (kosher, vegetarian, vegan, raw, no dairy, no wheat, no eggs, no cheese, no soy) combined with the lack of kindness with which the requests were made, had made these workers’ jobs intolerable.

It is true that, in the service of holiness, one changes the way one lives, and circumscribes for oneself that which may be part of the lives of others. Kohanim, who performed the holiest of work, keep themselves from graveside funerals (unless for immediate family).

But even the high priest was required to tend to the dead body of a stranger, should he be the first to find it, no matter the impurity he acquired. To leave a body uncared for violated the very holiness which he served.

Our world is increasingly one of niche living. We find holiness in what we put in our bodies, how we do or do not use them, how we treat and care for them. And we do this as a fiercely individual expression of choice.

But occasionally the truest expression of our holiness will be our inconsistency. Absent of real medical need, we will remember that our personal choices affect others, and we will, for their sake, lower our standards. To understand holiness is to know that sometimes it is found in the breach.

It's The Pray-er, Not The Prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Scott Perlo) — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 17:46:00 +0000

בס''ד

Parshat Ki Tetzei

10 Elul, 5771

September 9^th, 2011

We need to talk about the difference between magic and prayer. It’s important. In a few weeks we’re all going to be spending a lot of time together, saying prayer after prayer. We should know what we’re doing.

Behind magic is the will to power. It is the idea that if I say these words, in the right order, with the right emphasis (winGARDium leviOsa), I will make something extraordinary happen. In magic, it is in my control to fulfill my desires.

Prayer is the opposite. Its essence is that the fulfillment of my desires are in Another’s control. It is the acknowledgment that I cannot force the world to do my bidding. Behind prayer is the acceptance of vulnerability.

Now magic sounds a whole lot cooler, which is why we love Harry Potter. Prayer has only the poor pedigree of being true to the human condition. To ask sincerely for what we need, yet understand that we need help in the fulfillment thereof is beautiful and human.

This difference goes beyond theory. If synagogue was a magical place, all that would matter is the recitation of the right words in the right order. Because it is a prayerful place, vulnerability is far more important than words.

Forget your mahzor, bring your sincerity to shul. It’s the pray-er, not the prayer.