Shaarei Tzedek – Orthodox Judaism in Downtown Toronto

I am organizing a “Bikur Holim” (visit the sick) program at the Shul that will commence on Rosh Hashana. Volunteers will be “on call” on a rotation basis, to provide services to community members who are at home ill or at the hospital and need assistance (with grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions, meals, visiting to the doctor, etc.) or some company. Those in need, or if you know of someone in need, please contact me and I will contact the volunteer “on call”.

Our Shul is very open and friendly and allows for flexible participation in its services and events. At the same time, members of our community, whom we may think are just taking a break or are Shul “hopping”, may actually be at home ill or at the hospital and in need of our assistance.

While maintaining the Shul’s tradition of flexibility and openness to different levels of observance, it is important to strengthen our community and support its members in their times of need. The “Bikur Holim” initiative will offer the community a much needed resource and provide us with a wonderful opportunity for Mitzvahs.

As organizer of the program, I am now creating a list of volunteers. If you are interested in becoming a volunteer, please contact me via email.
Your contact information will remain confidential and will not be used for other purposes.

I wish you all a Shana Tova!

Sara Promislow

by Rabbi David Lapin, http://iawaken.org

Devarim 26:1

Positive Thinking

How powerful is positive thinking? Have you tried it? If you have, you probably found, as I have, that sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Here’s why:

If merely thinking positively about something made it happen, no one would be wanting for anything. Clearly it requires something of us that isn’t that easy. It requires i) courage, ii) selflessness (the absence of ego) and iii) absolute trust in Hashem. With these factors, positive thinking almost always works. Without them, it’s the roll of a dice: sometimes it works, sometimes it does not.

Fear is the big killer. At the slightest sign of timidity and fear, Hashem leaves us to our own rather weak devices. Fear of failure is responsible for so much tragedy. Not the tragedies we hear about and know. But rather the many more tragedies we will never know about: the tragedies of what might have been and did not come to be. The calls we did not make, the opportunities we did not take, the courses we did not pursue, because of our fear of failure. Some of these are tragedies of personal lives not lived to their potential. Some of them have national and even global significance.

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By Yosef Y. Jacobson

While the Torah in this week’s portion (Ki Satzei) sanctions divorce, it also expresses how undesirable is the dissolution of a marriage. The Torah calls for divorce only in the case of “a promiscuous matter” — an act of unfaithfulness or other moral offense (1).

Indeed, there is an opinion – held by the School of Shammai – that this constitutes the sole grounds for divorce. But also the sages of the School of Hillel, who allow divorce on other grounds as well, agree that “When a person divorces his first wife, even the Altar sheds tears on his account (2).”

Yet astonishingly, Jewish law deduces the laws of marriage from the biblical laws of divorce!

The Torah devotes a full section (Deuteronomy 24:1-4) to detail the procedures of divorce and the grounds for it. Yet nowhere in the Bible can we find the laws of marriage! How then do we know the procedures of marriage according to Torah law? The Talmudic sages derived them from hints and allusions inserted within the very verses which specify the laws of divorce (3).

This seems very strange. Marriage by definition must precede divorce. Marriage, in the biblical perspective, is the desirable state (“It is not good for man to be alone,” Genesis famously declares). So how is it that the Bible makes not a single mention of the procedures and laws of marriage, only of divorce, and then we must deduce the laws of marriage from divorce legislation?!

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By Simon Jacobson

To get a small taste of the radical impact of the different views on the Tzimtzum (the Divine concealment in existence discussed here in the past few weeks) just read Mark Lilla’s cover article in last Sundays New York Times Magazine.

In a comprehensive fashion Lilla maps out the history and evolution of religion and its role in running the world. The tense relationship between faith and governance, and the terrible bloodshed that it brought about, among other reasons, resulted in the development of new philosophies regarding the role of religious belief in modern society.

Lilla describes the fallacy of the Enlightenment’s expectations and predictions that society was on a “one-way track toward modern secular democracy and that other societies, once placed on that track, would inevitably follow.” Promoters of modernization took it for granted that “science, technology, urbanization and education would eventually ‘disenchant’ the charmed world of believers, and that with time people would either abandon their traditional faiths or transform them in politically anodyne ways.” This simply did not happen, and may never happen. On the other hand, political theology in the West no longer dominates modern society as it once did.

In the last few centuries different approaches developed to find some way to relieve the tension between faith and modernity. For Thomas Hobbes the rules of daily life must be separated from the laws of the Divine lest we risk rousing radical passions that will overrun society. “In order to escape the destructive passions of messianic faith, political theology centered on God was replaced by political philosophy centered on man.” Rousseau believed that religion ought to remain a potent force, but it must be stripped of its primitive principles and extreme political theology.

From West to East the shadowy ripples of the grand Tzimtzum’s black hole leave their mark in the rifts and tensions exposed by virtually every philosophy and school of thought. Whether it is Hobbes (and his descendants) compartmentalization between church and state (“the great separation” as Lilla coins it), or Rousseau’s (and his descendants) religious reform, tailoring it to contemporary standards. Or on the other extreme, radical religious passions, which now come in the shape of Muslim fundamentalism, mimicking its earlier Christian cousin, which for millennia dominated, if not terrorized, political life. All these positions – from one end of the religious spectrum to the other, and all the variations in between – make one thing very clear: No one seems able to make peace between a Divine mandate and the political realities on the ground.

And G-d will simply not go away.

However you twist it, G-d and daily life simply doesn’t get along. Is there a simpler way to define the grand Tzimtzum? Is there a more tangible expression of the Tzimtzum? Whether it is the literal or non-literal interpretation of the Tzimtzum, the Divine has a tenuous relationship with existence. The concealment and inaccessibility of the Divine defines the very nature of our political and religious history. When an entity (life) is out of touch with its mission, when substance is detached from spirit, when what you do is misaligned from who you are – you have a fatal rift.

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by Rabbi David Lapin, http://iawaken.org 

Feeling and transmitting feeling

It is quite possible that animals, like humans, can experience some form of emotion. What is uniquely human though, is the capacity to transmit emotions to others. Humans can make others feel happy, sad, proud. That is the essence of art and music: the transmission of human emotion from artist to observer or listener. We can enthuse and inspire. We can uplift and move others to action. We can entertain and delight.

Not only can humans transmit emotions, but often they derive more fulfillment from transmitting emotion, than from the emotion itself. In the intimate relationship of man and woman, each loving partner derives more happiness from the pleasure they bring to the other than from their own pleasure. This, the essence of love, is perhaps even more so in the male role than in the female role.

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The Kabbalah of Marriage, by Simon Jacobson

One of the most frequently asked questions today is a personal one: How do I find and maintain a good relationship?

Love remains the most compelling and elusive issues of our time, and perhaps of all time.

How can I find a healthy, meaningful and above all, permanent relationship?

No adequate answer will be found to this question until we first understand what exactly a relationship is.

The word “relationship” means two things relating to one another. But what is the essence of a relationship? What makes a relationship work? What ingredients are necessary?

The secret of a relationship can be found in an unlikely place: The month in which we find ourselves now.

We have just entered the Hebrew month of Elul, the last month of the year. Every month has its own unique energy and power. Elul is the month of love and relationships. The sign of Elul is Virgo, and one of the acronyms of Elul is: Ani l’dodi v’dodi li, meaning “I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me” (Song of Songs 6:3).

Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li captures the very essence of a relationship: It is mutually symbiotic fusion of two forces – I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me.

First there are two distinct personalities: “I” and “my beloved.” Then the “I” (my personality) takes the initiative and reaches to “my beloved.” In turn, “my beloved” responds “to me.”

Ani l’dodi v’dodi li emphasizes another vital aspect – that a relationship is a reflection: You and your beloved mirror each other. Like the face reflected in water, one heart in another (Proverbs 27:19). Love elicited is in direct proportion to love given. When “I am to my beloved” – “my beloved” will be “to me.” The same way that “I am to my beloved,” so will “my beloved” be “to me.”

Thinking of love as your reflection is quite extraordinary: Look into the eyes of your beloved and you will see yourself.

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by Chabad.org

In the Torah portion Shoftim we are commanded to treat trees with respect, for “Man is a tree of the field.” What is the resemblance between the loftiest creature and lowly vegetation?

The special quality of plants and trees lies in their attachment to the earth, the source from whence they derive their existence and nourishment. This is particularly true with regard to trees. Other plant life, such as grain, vegetables, etc., do not exist in such a continually attached state, for they soon wither and die. The fact that trees are able to withstand winter’s frosts and summer’s heat indicates that they have a particularly strong attachment to the earth, an attachment that enables them to endure difficult times and continue to bear fruit.

Man is a microcosm; just as the world as a whole is composed of inanimate matter, vegetable matter, animals and men, so too are these qualities to be found within each and every individual.

A person’s emotive traits are likened to vegetation, for they embody growth and development. And although intelligence grows as well, intellect also has an “animal” aspect in that it constantly undergoes movement and change, similar to an animal’s ability to roam. Further, man’s emotive traits tend to be self-limiting — a kind person is inevitably gentle, a severe person will almost always deal with others in a stern manner. For this reason too, the emotive traits are likened to vegetation.

Comprehension, however, understands things as they truly are, not as the person wishes them to be. The conclusions drawn from a concept will vary according to the concept itself, leading sometimes to kindness and sometimes to severity.

Just as in the macrocosm, vegetation is unique in its constant unification with its source, so too within man, the emotive powers are always attached to a person’s essence. This also explains why emotional traits and tendencies are so powerful, and why it is so very difficult for a kind person to become severe, etc.

By likening man to “a tree in the field,” the Torah is in effect telling us that the true test of an individual is not so much his intellectual qualities but his emotional ones; it is they that take the measure of the man.

It follows that man’s labor and toil with regard to self-improvement is to be directed more towards refining his emotional traits than towards refining his mind; perfecting and polishing one’s emotive character has the greatest impact on a person’s essence.

In fact, refining one’s emotive traits is deemed to be so important that intellectual comprehension is not considered complete if it does not affect one’s emotions — “Know this day and take [this knowledge] unto your heart.”

Just as this is so with regard to each individual, so too regarding the Jewish people as a whole:

All Jews are descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and as such are constantly attached to them and their qualities. The main qualities of the Patriarchs lay not so much in matters of intellect as in emotion, for Avraham epitomized kindness and love, Yitzchak severity and fear, Yaakov mercy and beauty — the three traits that encompass the emotional spectrum.

These sterling qualities — the “trees of the field” — are the birthright of each and every Jew. They must merely be revealed, refined and developed to the greatest possible extent.

(Based on Likkutei Sichos Vol. XXIV, pp. 115-119.)

Parshat Shoftim 5767
Devarim, 17:14-15
Kelei Yakar

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007, iawaken.org

Leadership of cowardice vs. leadership of courage

The recent and increasingly frequent breakdown of American infrastructure, from the power blackout in the northeast a few years ago to the recent bridge collapse in Minneapolis, bears testimony to the unwillingness of successive administrations to spend money on investments that will not buy votes in the short term. Is that leadership or servitude? Clearly leadership by the people and of the people is not always leadership for the people. Leaders by the people and of the people often need to pander to the people rather than truly serve them. Leaders for the people, on the other hand, should be so secure within themselves, that they have no need for public popularity.

Is leadership about virtue, courage, vision and inspiration, or is it about manipulation and control? Interestingly, leadership training almost always teaches the same kind of effectiveness skills that Hitler used so effectively to control an entire Nation and normalize mass murder. This training seldom teaches leaders how to be great how to move from “high ego”-leadership, the leadership of cowardice, to “high self-esteem”-leadership, the leadership of courage. Ego is the way people compensate for their insecurities with intimidating tools of power and control or guilt-inducing tools of manipulation. Self-esteem is the innate power of a person who can influence others by the quiet force of his or her authenticity and integrity. Ego-based leadership is a skill. Self-esteem based leadership is a midah (a virtue), it is not a profession.

Every person is born with the potential to lead a group of people: sometimes a nation or a community, sometimes a business or a classroom, sometimes a partner, friend or family. But perhaps we ourselves are the most challenging and complex people we need to lead.

Parshat Shoftim holds within it not only some of the most important lessons of leadership, but also those of what I will term followship. It is about this, our relationship to our leaders and to the leader within us, that I address my thoughts in this essay.

The Paradox of Leadership

When we make our leaders subservient to us we encourage weak leadership, leaders who pander to public opinion. We encourage despotic leadership when we grant them powers over us that are free from accountability. That is the inherent paradox of leadership. This paradox manifests even in the leadership of children by parents. Often parents see themselves as subservient to their children, afraid to enforce discipline and courtesy. Others are controlling despots who gain a sense of power from their authority over their children.

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by Rabbi David Lapin, iawaken.org

Shoftim veShotrim – A Judiciary and a Police Force

Regulations and enforcement are socially necessary. Yet regulations and enforcement do not make people great. People define their greatness by the degree to which they perceive themselves as takers or contributors. Takers need regulations and enforcement. Contributors do not.

The Sarbanes-Oxley regulatory response to the Enron/Worldcom scandal does nothing to raise the ethical standard of business. Of course we do need a sound legal system with strong punitive consequences for those who exploit others for their own gain. But so long as people see business primarily as a means to make money, to take, they will continue to find ways to circumvent the law in their pursuit of greed. Is business then not about making money? Is there some higher purpose in business? Yes! Absolutely. Money is the outcome, not the purpose of business. (See http://sbe.us/philosophy.htm). What then is its purpose?

G-d could have created the world in such a way that we did not need to trade with one another. He did not. Instead, at least after Adam’s sin, man needs to trade. Trade is the creation of value, the serving of others, the satisfying of needs, the payment for goods, the lending of money, and the repayment of debts. Business rewards givers and penalizes takers. All of these economic activities are the university for the growth of the human character and spirit.

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By Simon Jacobson

The challenge of bridging modernity and faith, which was exposed by the Emancipation, is based on the (mis)understanding of Divine unity, as discussed in last week’s column.

The ideological root of this dilemma can be traced to a Kabbalistic argument about the very nature of existence.

To explain the possibility of our independent existence in the face of Divine omnipresence, the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria), the great mystic of Tzfat, taught the mystery (sod) of the Tzimtzum. The Lurianic doctrine of Tzimtzum explains that existence is a result of Divine concealment. In the memorable words of the Arizal: “First the Divine infinite energy/light (ohr ein sof) filled all existence and there was no “room” for the creation of finite worlds. Then came a Tzimtzum, which contracted and concealed the light, allowing “space” for our existence,” a reality that feels independent of its divine source.

A classic debate arose in attempting to understand the meaning of this Tzimtzum. Some interpreted the “Tzimtzum” literally (Tzimtzum k’peshuto), that the Divine actually “removed” Himself from our existence. They explained that this is the only way to reconcile our inferior realm with the Divine presence. G-d would be defiled were we to say that He is present within the “filth” of our universe. Instead, G-d’s presence and providence in this world is like a “king who watches the grime through a window” (an actual quote).

Others, however, felt that a literal application of the Tzimtzum is a misinterpretation of the Tzimtzum doctrine. Apart from the fact a literal Tzimtzum would be applying corporeal phenomena to G-d, ultimately the literal “departure” of the Divine implies that the Divine presence cannot be found directly in our existence. This contradicts the fundamental principle of Divine unity, with the many verses that clearly describe G-d’s omnipresence within all of existence.

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