Full disclosure before we begin. I am going to talk about two topics this morning that have become intertwined over the past several months, and one of the topics is popular and the other is not. I will start with the unpopular one. I am going to be talking about God this morning. Now, I know what you are thinking, how can God be unpopular, billions of people around the world and some in this very room offer there innermost thoughts and prayers to God on a daily basis, so surely God is the very definition of popular; and according to this logic you are most certainly correct. But the fact remains, that to openly and honestly discuss God in our society, to talk about our faith, what it means to us and how it helps to guide our lives, is at least polarizing and at worse alienating to many people; hence the reason why some of you are already squirming in your seats.
But don’t worry, that’s where the popular topic will come in and save your attention span! Football. That’s right, America’s obsession, the National Football League, and in particular its latest locus of popular attention (both positive and negative) the Denver Broncos’ Quarterback Tim Tebow. For those who may not pay as close attention as I do, Tim Tebow has become a phenomenon for two reasons. This first one is simple: despite the fact that he is generally considered a mediocre quarterback with none of the usually prerequisites for success at his position, he has orchestrated a fourth-quarter or overtime win for his team five out of the last eight weeks, and has led his them to victory in all but one of the games he has started this season. The second reason for his ascension to stardom is more complicated. You see Tim Tebow is an avowed Christian, an evangelical who not only wears his faith on his sleeve, but will often ‘wear his faith’ on his face, putting Biblical verses of inspiration on the eye-black he wears on game day. In another popular public display of his faith, while his teammates celebrate the moment of victory, he has taken to bowing on one knee giving thanks to his God, and what’s more, this iconic move now has its very own name: ‘Tebowing.’ After his last ‘miraculous’ victory one congregant texted me ‘How do I convert?’ (He was joking, of course….I think.) It is because of this second reason: his bold, prideful and public faith, that Tebow has become a lightning-rod for controversy, and not surprisingly there are those who love him for his deep religious commitments, and there are those who despise him for it.
Now let me be very clear. I have never liked him, I will never root for him, and I hope he loses every game he plays in for the rest of his career. But my passionate dislike for Tebow has absolutely nothing to do with his faith – it has everything to do with the fact that he went to and graduated from the University of Florida, my alma mater, Florida State University’s, sworn rival.
But seriously, there are those out there who do root against Tim Tebow, and at least partly, they do so in spite of his faith. And in my estimation, the attacks on his faithfulness stem from a complete misunderstanding of the role that God plays in all of our lives.
Which brings me to this morning’s parasha, Parashat VaYeisheiv. In our Torah portion this morning we begin the narrative of Joseph, a well-written biblical story which follows the varied ups and downs of the character Joseph from his life as a favored son of his father Jacob, to his near-death experience at the hands of his jealous brothers, his being sold into slavery in Egypt, his imprisonment, and ultimately his redemption. The tale of Joseph is all about faith. At each and every turn, just when you think Joseph is doomed, the Bible teaches us that God is watching and protecting Joseph, and to his credit, Joseph can feel that faith within him.
In one section of our parasha this morning, Joseph finds himself placed in prison, something we as readers are sure to assume is going to spell ruin for our Biblical forefather. But that is not the case. God again protects Joseph, and the chief jailor promotes Joseph to be in charge of the prison. The text tells us:
אֵין ׀ שׂר בֵּית-הַסּהַר רֹאֶה אֶֽת-כָּל-מְאוּמָה בְּיָדוֹ בַּאֲשׁר יְהוֹה אִתּוֹ, וַֽאֲשׁר הוּא עֹשֶׂה - יְהוָֹה מַצְלִֽיחַ
“The chief jailor did not supervise anything that was in Joseph’s charge, because the Lord was with him, and whatever Joseph did - the Lord made successful.”
This pasuk clearly indicates what turns out to be a repeating theme throughout the Joseph narrative, which is Hakol B’y’deai Shamayim – everything is in the hands of Heaven, that God is in control of the ups and the downs, the good and the bad in our lives.
For his own part Joseph seems to internalize this message of Divine intervention when he employs his skills as an interpreter of dreams. When he learns that Pharaoh’s chief cup-bearer and baker have had disturbing dreams, his response is telling:
הֲלוֹא לֵֽאלֹהִים פִּתְרֹנִים סַפְּרוּ-נָא לִֽי:
“Surely God has the interpretations! Tell me your dreams.”
Interesting. Joseph understands that while ultimately all interpretations find their source in the divine, Joseph sees himself as God’s earthly intercessor. ‘Tell me your dreams, and God will speak through my words.’
It seems that the underlying theme for the entire Joseph narrative is that God has a plan for Joseph’s life, and Joseph, for his part, trusts in that plan. It may require an act of brotherly violence, it may necessitate a failed seduction at the hands of Potiphar’s wife, it might call for a period of imprisonment, but ultimately Joseph’s life is in God’s hands, and everything will turn out for the best.
And if this is making your modernity a bit uncomfortable, then let me throw this one in the mix, the famous quotation of our rabbis in the Talmud, the one I alluded to earlier – the full text reads:
הכל בידי שמים - חוץ מיראת שמים
Everything is in the hands of heaven, except for fear of heaven.
This teaching seems to indicate that perhaps the only thing left to us in the entire world, the only thing that is not predetermined is our own predilection towards fear of heaven, that is our decision whether or not to have faith in God, that is our’s, and that alone.
And you want a cherry on top? Well the Ishbitzer Rebbe, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner, in his famous work The Mei HaShiloah, alters the phrase further:
הכל בידי שמים - אפילו יראת שמים
Everything is in the hands of heaven – even fear of heaven.
That even our ‘choice’ to believe in God is illusory. In fact, says the Ishbitzer, God has already determined whether or not you will choose to believe.
Which brings us to the uncomfortable, and as we will see the dubious conclusion, that Jewish theology leads us to a kind of divine fatalism, a sense that everything is indeed pre-determined by God, who is constantly manipulating our universe, our world, and even the very minutia of our lives.
But ultimately this is a false conclusion, for Judaism and indeed for all modern religions. Surely there are streams of Judaism which lean towards the fatalistic – Ultra-Orthodox Hasidism, for example. But other streams, from the rabbis of our ancient Talmud, to the medieval Maimonides to the most famous thinkers and theologians of today, Kaplan, Heschel, Gillman; they all tend to lean towards a nuanced understanding of God’s influence upon our worldly events. Can God act in our world? We may believe so. Can we say that with certainty? Of course not. Do we know how God works? Certainly I do not.
Which brings me back to our friend Tim Tebow. I believe that what has stirred up so much controversy is our misunderstanding of what it means to have faith. After all, Tim Tebow himself has explained that he does not believe that God has a hand in the outcome of his games. If so, then are we to believe that God favors Tim Tebow’s Broncos but dislikes Marion Barber’s Chicago Bears? Is it possible that Tebow and the Broncos are more faithful, and therefore more successful on the gridiron? Does this mean that my Eagles are a bunch of heathens? And if athletes are fond of praising God after victories, does it mean that they should blame God for every fumble, every interception and every loss?
The answer, of course, to all of these straw-men questions is no. The truth is that by committing ourselves to lives of faith, no matter which religion we espouse, it does not mean that we must believe in strict fatalism. I reject the false dichotomy that is faith vs. reason. Believing does not mean giving up on our modernity, our rationalism, or perhaps most importantly, our sense of profound responsibility towards perfecting God’s world. And the better part of the last thousand years of our own Jewish tradition has been built around an understanding that God might very well have the power to act in our world, but Ain Som’chin al ha Neis – We are not permitted to sit around waiting for miracles. It is up to us as individuals and as a community to make the right choices, to act ethically, and to uphold God’s everlasting values in our world. And as Tim Tebow can no doubt teach us, this is hard work. This is countless hours spent improving ourselves and therefore our communities. This is what it means to have faith; and expressing this faith through prayer, through study, and yes, through sharing our beliefs with others should be lauded - not lamented.
And so, despite his mistakes in choosing a university, I am willing to give Tebow the benefit of the ‘faith.’ That is, to recognize that his faith, though no doubt different than my own, is a source of strength to him and to billions like him. And I hope that he would agree with my understanding of faith: that when we thank God, we are not thanking the Arbiter of good and bad, of blessings and curses. We are thanking the Source of our strength, we are praising the tenets of our tradition, and we are expressing gratitude for the sense of purpose which allows us to weather the losses, and yes, to gladly rejoice at the victories that life may bring.
Shabbat Shalom.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Can You Ever Go Home Again?
Can You Ever Go Home Again?
By Rabbi Joel Seltzer
The video starts with gentle strokes of the piano. A boy is coloring on a page, trying to get the attention of his dozing father. After several failed attempts to gain his father’s attention, the boy ceases calling him ‘daddy’ and resorts instead to a secret name, ‘abba’. The man’s eyes open immediately. “They will always be Israeli,” says the advertisement, “Their children will not be – help them to come home.”
You might not think that a thirty second video could start a firestorm in the Jewish world, but that is exactly what occurred this past week, with the result being the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption deciding to pull the ad campaign. (Though the videos are still available online at http://www.moia.gov.il/Moia_en/ReturningHomeProject/)
Why did these ads, three of them in total, stir up such intense emotions among the Jews living in the Diaspora, particularly among Americans? And why did they encourage others to make equally offensive ‘spoof’ videos playing on the stereotype of the pushy Israeli living abroad? The answer is: because, for the large part, both Israeli and American Jews do not understand one another.
For our part, American Jews are apt to underestimate two key elements of Israeli identity: one external, and one internal. Firstly, Americans in general, and American Jews among them, are simply not used to operating in terms of existentiality. That is, America has been good to the Jewish people. It has provided a life which offers financial security, freedom to practice our religion as we see fit, a general (and even increasing) level of tolerance, and that great gift of emancipation: upward mobility. With things this good, it is hard for American Jews to spend serious time pondering questions of existential crisis. Sure the intermarriage rate is high, but people are still choosing to live their lives as Jews no matter who they are married to, right? Sure Jewish history has proven that a country’s attitude and acceptance of its Jewish residents can change suddenly, but that would never happen in America, right? The truth is, we here in America are simply not used to thinking in terms of the stark dichotomy between continued existence and utter oblivion.
But unfortunately, Israel is accustomed to the reality of existential crises, and with that experience comes the understandable desire to welcome Jewish immigrants from all corners of the earth, to encourage those living in the Diaspora to consider Aliyah, and even to devise a campaign calling on those who have left Israel, to return home again.
Secondly, we Americans grossly underestimate the depth of meaning that comes from living as a Jew in the Jewish state. Many of us do not know the comfort that comes in living in a state, where the majority culture is Jewish culture and it seeps through all the seams of life. We cannot understand what it would be like to live in a country where Hanukkah is a holiday, and December 25th is just another Sunday. We do not know the joy of the 2 liter Coca-Cola bottle which wishes you a ‘Shanah Tovah’, a Happy New Year in September, and not in January. It’s no wonder that the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption would seek to remind Israelis (and American Jews for that matter!) of what they have to lose by choosing a life in the Diaspora.
But this partnership is a two way street. And though Americans often do not understand Israeli mentality, Israelis too, underestimate the depth of Jewish life that can be found in the Diaspora, both religiously and culturally.
When speaking about the Jewish religion, one need not question why American Jews, particularly non-orthodox Jews, enjoy their life in the Diaspora. Here we have a thriving religious environment; one which touts the values of inter-denominational partnership and community relations. How many Board of Rabbis meetings are there in Israel where Rabbis from four different denominations, Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist gather to respectfully discuss concerns of the greater Jewish community? How many women who have grown up in the vibrancy of Jewish America would feel uncomfortable praying at the Kotel, the holiest site in all of Jewish history, due to its unfamiliar Jewish aesthetic? And while we cannot whitewash the serious threats which the Jewish community in the Diaspora faces in the uncertain future (intermarriage, assimilation, and unaffiliation to name a few), we hope that Jews living in Israel can recognize that serious, thoughtful, traditional, and yes, liberal Judaism are being practiced here with great passion and enthusiasm.
Last night I attended a concert by the Jewish a cappella group from Yale University: Magevet (Yes that means towel, and you will have to ask them about it.) They sang for an hour and a half. Their wondrous voices soared together to bring the gift of Jewish music to a packed house here in Providence, Rhode Island. They sang in Hebrew, in Ladino, and in Luganda, the language of the Ugandan Abuyadaya Jews. They closed with a soul-stirring rendition of Naomi Shemer’s classic Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, Jerusalem of Gold. And then, they asked us to rise as they sang Hatikvah. As the tears gathered in my eyes, I thought to myself, that despite the struggles which face the Jewish people in the world, in the Diaspora and in Israel as well, nevertheless, Am Yisrael Chai, The Jewish People are indeed alive and well. The only question is, can we work together to ensure that it stays that way?
This article originally appeared on www.haaretz.com
By Rabbi Joel Seltzer
The video starts with gentle strokes of the piano. A boy is coloring on a page, trying to get the attention of his dozing father. After several failed attempts to gain his father’s attention, the boy ceases calling him ‘daddy’ and resorts instead to a secret name, ‘abba’. The man’s eyes open immediately. “They will always be Israeli,” says the advertisement, “Their children will not be – help them to come home.”
You might not think that a thirty second video could start a firestorm in the Jewish world, but that is exactly what occurred this past week, with the result being the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption deciding to pull the ad campaign. (Though the videos are still available online at http://www.moia.gov.il/Moia_en/ReturningHomeProject/)
Why did these ads, three of them in total, stir up such intense emotions among the Jews living in the Diaspora, particularly among Americans? And why did they encourage others to make equally offensive ‘spoof’ videos playing on the stereotype of the pushy Israeli living abroad? The answer is: because, for the large part, both Israeli and American Jews do not understand one another.
For our part, American Jews are apt to underestimate two key elements of Israeli identity: one external, and one internal. Firstly, Americans in general, and American Jews among them, are simply not used to operating in terms of existentiality. That is, America has been good to the Jewish people. It has provided a life which offers financial security, freedom to practice our religion as we see fit, a general (and even increasing) level of tolerance, and that great gift of emancipation: upward mobility. With things this good, it is hard for American Jews to spend serious time pondering questions of existential crisis. Sure the intermarriage rate is high, but people are still choosing to live their lives as Jews no matter who they are married to, right? Sure Jewish history has proven that a country’s attitude and acceptance of its Jewish residents can change suddenly, but that would never happen in America, right? The truth is, we here in America are simply not used to thinking in terms of the stark dichotomy between continued existence and utter oblivion.
But unfortunately, Israel is accustomed to the reality of existential crises, and with that experience comes the understandable desire to welcome Jewish immigrants from all corners of the earth, to encourage those living in the Diaspora to consider Aliyah, and even to devise a campaign calling on those who have left Israel, to return home again.
Secondly, we Americans grossly underestimate the depth of meaning that comes from living as a Jew in the Jewish state. Many of us do not know the comfort that comes in living in a state, where the majority culture is Jewish culture and it seeps through all the seams of life. We cannot understand what it would be like to live in a country where Hanukkah is a holiday, and December 25th is just another Sunday. We do not know the joy of the 2 liter Coca-Cola bottle which wishes you a ‘Shanah Tovah’, a Happy New Year in September, and not in January. It’s no wonder that the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption would seek to remind Israelis (and American Jews for that matter!) of what they have to lose by choosing a life in the Diaspora.
But this partnership is a two way street. And though Americans often do not understand Israeli mentality, Israelis too, underestimate the depth of Jewish life that can be found in the Diaspora, both religiously and culturally.
When speaking about the Jewish religion, one need not question why American Jews, particularly non-orthodox Jews, enjoy their life in the Diaspora. Here we have a thriving religious environment; one which touts the values of inter-denominational partnership and community relations. How many Board of Rabbis meetings are there in Israel where Rabbis from four different denominations, Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist gather to respectfully discuss concerns of the greater Jewish community? How many women who have grown up in the vibrancy of Jewish America would feel uncomfortable praying at the Kotel, the holiest site in all of Jewish history, due to its unfamiliar Jewish aesthetic? And while we cannot whitewash the serious threats which the Jewish community in the Diaspora faces in the uncertain future (intermarriage, assimilation, and unaffiliation to name a few), we hope that Jews living in Israel can recognize that serious, thoughtful, traditional, and yes, liberal Judaism are being practiced here with great passion and enthusiasm.
Last night I attended a concert by the Jewish a cappella group from Yale University: Magevet (Yes that means towel, and you will have to ask them about it.) They sang for an hour and a half. Their wondrous voices soared together to bring the gift of Jewish music to a packed house here in Providence, Rhode Island. They sang in Hebrew, in Ladino, and in Luganda, the language of the Ugandan Abuyadaya Jews. They closed with a soul-stirring rendition of Naomi Shemer’s classic Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, Jerusalem of Gold. And then, they asked us to rise as they sang Hatikvah. As the tears gathered in my eyes, I thought to myself, that despite the struggles which face the Jewish people in the world, in the Diaspora and in Israel as well, nevertheless, Am Yisrael Chai, The Jewish People are indeed alive and well. The only question is, can we work together to ensure that it stays that way?
This article originally appeared on www.haaretz.com
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thanksgiving: Finding the Spiritual in the Secular
Just the mere mention of the holiday Thanksgiving is enough for most Americans to experience a Pavlovian response. Our mouths begin to water at the thought of the succulent turkey, the herbaceous stuffing and the comforting thought of an afternoon spent with family, friends and the National Football League. Truly, there aren’t too many days on the calendar which feel more ‘American’ than Thanksgiving.
For many Jews, particularly religious Jews, Thanksgiving is a chance to celebrate for another reason. It is a purely secular holiday, which allows us to relax and to enjoy a day off from work in an environment that is decidedly not Shabbat or Yom Tov. Although our responsibilities for daily prayer are still binding, the truth is that it is kind of nice to have a holiday that does not involve an extended service at the synagogue. In fact, since my father-in-law is also a congregational rabbi, it is the one ‘holiday’ of the year that we can actually spend together!
And then of course there are the overtones of Thanksgiving which walk in step with our Jewish traditions and ethos. On Thanksgiving, regardless of our religious background (or lack there of), we are supposed to pause and give thanks for the luxuries of food, family and shelter. Many of us volunteer in our community, donate food to the local food pantry, or make donations to charities which help to feed the hungry in our midst. These are decidedly Jewish values; values which are shared by this American holiday.
There is one difference worth pointing out however. In Judaism, every day is meant to be Thanksgiving. Before any bite of food, any sip of water, any taste of turkey, and on any day of the year, there is a b’rakha, a blessing to be recited. After every meal, despite a belly full of tryptophan, we are asked to articulate thanksgiving to God for the gifts which exist in our lives. “Praised are you God, who feeds all of humankind.”
And with our Jewish regimen of thanksgiving comes another theological realization; one that is at once daunting and comforting. It is best said by the words of our Shabbat liturgy:
“If our mouths were filled with song as the waters fill the sea…could our lips utter praise as limitless as the sky… it would still not be enough to offer praise to You, God, for one ten-thousandth of goodness you have granted to our ancestors and to us.” Herein we see a theology of thanksgiving. As Jews we are expected to articulate our thanks at every possible moment since we recognize that all of these blessings; food, clothing, love, companionship, health and happiness come from God who is HaTov v’HaMeitiv, The Source of Good, and the One who bestows goodness upon humankind.
So no matter where we are in the Jewish world; whether at a Thanksgiving table in America, or simply sitting at a dinner table on a Thursday night in Tel Aviv, in London, in Budapest, or in Bali, let it be a time of hodayah, of thanksgiving. But let it also be a time of reflection as to how much work there is left to do in order to perfect our societies. And know, that no matter how thankful we are, no matter how many times we pause to take note of the countless blessings that are offered to us with each breath and with every passing moment – it can never fully state our thanks to God, the Architect of our lives, and the compassionate Creator of our world and our ever-expanding universe.
This blog originally appeared on www.haaretz.com
For many Jews, particularly religious Jews, Thanksgiving is a chance to celebrate for another reason. It is a purely secular holiday, which allows us to relax and to enjoy a day off from work in an environment that is decidedly not Shabbat or Yom Tov. Although our responsibilities for daily prayer are still binding, the truth is that it is kind of nice to have a holiday that does not involve an extended service at the synagogue. In fact, since my father-in-law is also a congregational rabbi, it is the one ‘holiday’ of the year that we can actually spend together!
And then of course there are the overtones of Thanksgiving which walk in step with our Jewish traditions and ethos. On Thanksgiving, regardless of our religious background (or lack there of), we are supposed to pause and give thanks for the luxuries of food, family and shelter. Many of us volunteer in our community, donate food to the local food pantry, or make donations to charities which help to feed the hungry in our midst. These are decidedly Jewish values; values which are shared by this American holiday.
There is one difference worth pointing out however. In Judaism, every day is meant to be Thanksgiving. Before any bite of food, any sip of water, any taste of turkey, and on any day of the year, there is a b’rakha, a blessing to be recited. After every meal, despite a belly full of tryptophan, we are asked to articulate thanksgiving to God for the gifts which exist in our lives. “Praised are you God, who feeds all of humankind.”
And with our Jewish regimen of thanksgiving comes another theological realization; one that is at once daunting and comforting. It is best said by the words of our Shabbat liturgy:
“If our mouths were filled with song as the waters fill the sea…could our lips utter praise as limitless as the sky… it would still not be enough to offer praise to You, God, for one ten-thousandth of goodness you have granted to our ancestors and to us.” Herein we see a theology of thanksgiving. As Jews we are expected to articulate our thanks at every possible moment since we recognize that all of these blessings; food, clothing, love, companionship, health and happiness come from God who is HaTov v’HaMeitiv, The Source of Good, and the One who bestows goodness upon humankind.
So no matter where we are in the Jewish world; whether at a Thanksgiving table in America, or simply sitting at a dinner table on a Thursday night in Tel Aviv, in London, in Budapest, or in Bali, let it be a time of hodayah, of thanksgiving. But let it also be a time of reflection as to how much work there is left to do in order to perfect our societies. And know, that no matter how thankful we are, no matter how many times we pause to take note of the countless blessings that are offered to us with each breath and with every passing moment – it can never fully state our thanks to God, the Architect of our lives, and the compassionate Creator of our world and our ever-expanding universe.
This blog originally appeared on www.haaretz.com
Hayyei Sarah: Prayer vs. Wishing
The Prayer of Abraham’s Servant Gen. 24:12-15
And he said: “O Lord, God of my master Abraham, grant me good fortune this day, and deal graciously with my master Abraham: Here I stand by the spring as the daughters of the townsmen come out to draw water; let the maiden to whom I say, ‘Please lower your jar that I may drink,’ and who replies, ‘Drink and I will also water your camels’ - let her be the one whom You have decreed for your servant Isaac. Thereby shall I know that You have dealt graciously with my master.” He had scarcely finished speaking, when Rebekah, who was born to Bethuel, the son of Milcah the wife of Abraham’s brother Nahor, came out with a jar on her shoulder.
מדרש רבה בראשית פרשה ס סימן ד
ד ויהי הוא טרם כלה לדבר וגו', תני ר"ש בן יוחאי ג' הם נענו במענה פיהם אליעזר עבדו של אברהם, ומשה, ושלמה, אליעזר ויהי הוא טרם כלה לדבר והנה רבקה יוצאת, משה דכתיב (במדבר יז) ויהי ככלותו לדבר את כל הדברים האלה ותבקע האדמה וגו', שלמה דכתיב (ד"ה דברי הימים ב ז) וככלות שלמה להתפלל אל ה' והאש ירדה מן השמים וגו'.
Genesis Rabbah 60:4
Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai taught: There were three who were answered before they had finished speaking: Eliezer, servant of Abraham; Moses; and Solomon. Eliezer: “He had scarcely finished speaking, when Rebekah...came out” Moses, as it is written: “Scarcely had he finished speaking all these words when the ground under them burst asunder.” (Numbers 17:31) Solomon, as it is written: “When Solomon finished praying, fire descended from heaven,” (II Chronicles 7:1)
This midrash about immediate answers reminds me of an old joke:
Moishe is driving in Jerusalem. He's late for a meeting, he's looking
for a parking place, and can't find one.
In desperation, he turns towards heaven and says: "Lord, if you find
me a parking place, I promise that I'll eat only kosher, respect
Shabbos, and all the holidays."
Miraculously, a place opens up just in front of him. He turns his
face up to heaven and says, "Never mind, I just found one!"
This joke illustrates an revealing theological truth - we must recognize the difference between wishes and prayer. A wish is temporal by nature; it is the moment when we express a desire to God, usually for something specific to occur in the near future. Please God let me get a good grade on the test, please God let my child get into the college of their choice, please God let there be good news from the Doctor. These are certainly prayers don’t get me wrong, but they are also similar to wishes: specific questions which seek out specific results - usually that preferred result being God’s acquiescing to our personal desires.
And that is what the midrash is telling us - these three people; Abraham’s servant, Moses and Solomon all received immediate answers from God, immediate intervention, immediate action, even before they had finished uttering their very request. Nice work if you can get it.
But in actuality - when we talk about t’fillah, about prayer in judaism, this kind of temporal prayer is usually not what we mean. After all petition is only one third of Jewish prayer - there is Shevach, praise, Hodayah, thanksgiving, and there is petition, bakashah. Every one of our prayer services teaches us that there is so much more to our prayer life than simply asking for things.
We praise God for the little gifts we receive on a daily basis; sights, sounds, clothing, food, sunrise, sunsets.
We thank God for specific things we enjoy in life: wisdom, understanding, love, family, breathing.
And yes, sometimes we petition. We ask God for things.
But it is important to note that our prayer life needs to be so much more than just our friend Hayim in the joke that I just told. Building a prayer life is about hard work, dedication, practicing the art of making ourselves known to God, of revealing our character, our fears, our anxieties and yes our desires. But like any relationship in life - it takes a lot of work. It takes patience, dedication and respect for the institution of prayer itself. And of course, it takes the recognition that a truly successful prayer life is not born from the temporal things; no, a truly successful prayer life is one that is born from the eternal things.
And he said: “O Lord, God of my master Abraham, grant me good fortune this day, and deal graciously with my master Abraham: Here I stand by the spring as the daughters of the townsmen come out to draw water; let the maiden to whom I say, ‘Please lower your jar that I may drink,’ and who replies, ‘Drink and I will also water your camels’ - let her be the one whom You have decreed for your servant Isaac. Thereby shall I know that You have dealt graciously with my master.” He had scarcely finished speaking, when Rebekah, who was born to Bethuel, the son of Milcah the wife of Abraham’s brother Nahor, came out with a jar on her shoulder.
מדרש רבה בראשית פרשה ס סימן ד
ד ויהי הוא טרם כלה לדבר וגו', תני ר"ש בן יוחאי ג' הם נענו במענה פיהם אליעזר עבדו של אברהם, ומשה, ושלמה, אליעזר ויהי הוא טרם כלה לדבר והנה רבקה יוצאת, משה דכתיב (במדבר יז) ויהי ככלותו לדבר את כל הדברים האלה ותבקע האדמה וגו', שלמה דכתיב (ד"ה דברי הימים ב ז) וככלות שלמה להתפלל אל ה' והאש ירדה מן השמים וגו'.
Genesis Rabbah 60:4
Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai taught: There were three who were answered before they had finished speaking: Eliezer, servant of Abraham; Moses; and Solomon. Eliezer: “He had scarcely finished speaking, when Rebekah...came out” Moses, as it is written: “Scarcely had he finished speaking all these words when the ground under them burst asunder.” (Numbers 17:31) Solomon, as it is written: “When Solomon finished praying, fire descended from heaven,” (II Chronicles 7:1)
This midrash about immediate answers reminds me of an old joke:
Moishe is driving in Jerusalem. He's late for a meeting, he's looking
for a parking place, and can't find one.
In desperation, he turns towards heaven and says: "Lord, if you find
me a parking place, I promise that I'll eat only kosher, respect
Shabbos, and all the holidays."
Miraculously, a place opens up just in front of him. He turns his
face up to heaven and says, "Never mind, I just found one!"
This joke illustrates an revealing theological truth - we must recognize the difference between wishes and prayer. A wish is temporal by nature; it is the moment when we express a desire to God, usually for something specific to occur in the near future. Please God let me get a good grade on the test, please God let my child get into the college of their choice, please God let there be good news from the Doctor. These are certainly prayers don’t get me wrong, but they are also similar to wishes: specific questions which seek out specific results - usually that preferred result being God’s acquiescing to our personal desires.
And that is what the midrash is telling us - these three people; Abraham’s servant, Moses and Solomon all received immediate answers from God, immediate intervention, immediate action, even before they had finished uttering their very request. Nice work if you can get it.
But in actuality - when we talk about t’fillah, about prayer in judaism, this kind of temporal prayer is usually not what we mean. After all petition is only one third of Jewish prayer - there is Shevach, praise, Hodayah, thanksgiving, and there is petition, bakashah. Every one of our prayer services teaches us that there is so much more to our prayer life than simply asking for things.
We praise God for the little gifts we receive on a daily basis; sights, sounds, clothing, food, sunrise, sunsets.
We thank God for specific things we enjoy in life: wisdom, understanding, love, family, breathing.
And yes, sometimes we petition. We ask God for things.
But it is important to note that our prayer life needs to be so much more than just our friend Hayim in the joke that I just told. Building a prayer life is about hard work, dedication, practicing the art of making ourselves known to God, of revealing our character, our fears, our anxieties and yes our desires. But like any relationship in life - it takes a lot of work. It takes patience, dedication and respect for the institution of prayer itself. And of course, it takes the recognition that a truly successful prayer life is not born from the temporal things; no, a truly successful prayer life is one that is born from the eternal things.
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