Friday, June 24, 2016

Tzaddikim, Prayer, Disaster part 7


There is a Torah portion called "Kedoshim", that begins with the words "You shall be holy, for I the L-rd am holy." (Leviticus 20:26) Surprisingly, the Torah never defines "holy". Had such a statement appeared in Plato, a long dialogue would ensue attempting to define the concept of holiness. In the Torah, we are instead given a list of commandments, dealing with every aspect of life. It is as if the Torah were saying "live this lifestyle, and you will come to know what holiness means". As we look through the pages of the Talmud, we find different rabbis with totally different views on almost everything. Which is more essential, prayer or study? Will the Redemption occur in a miraculous way, or by "natural" means? Was the Torah revealed in its entirety at Sinai, or gradually through the forty years of wandering? Just about everything is up for discussion. Few things are given definitive answers. As recently as the sixteenth century, when the Mikraot Gedolot, a compendium of rabbinic commentaries on the Torah was published, many ideologies and theologies are represented, all within the framework of Judaism. True, RAMBAM had written several works that attempted to "pin down" Jewish beliefs, but these were not widely accepted until after the Sabbatean debacle of 1666. Especially after the rise of Reform, the traditional community "circled the wagons", declaring only a certain segment of Jewish ideas as valid, culminating in the simplistic approach of Rabbi ArtScroll. To be sure, all traditionally Orthodox scholars (although the name "Orthodox" did not come in until the early nineteenth century) agreed on the truth of the Torah, and the obligation to observe the mitzvot, there was plenty of room for questions and divergent opinions. Going back to the story we began with, about the Baal Shem Tov averting disaster, there is a fascinating statement in the Talmud "Wherever Israel goes, the Divine Presence goes with them. Where is the Divine Presence in Babylon? Two views. One says 'In the synagogues and houses of Torah studyThe other view says 'in the house of Rav (Rabbi Abba Arika, who brought advanced Torah study to Babylon in the third century)'. In an adjacent passage, the Talmud states "How foolish are people who stand up before a Torah Scroll, but not before a Torah scholar!". That passage seems almost heretical. Are we placing a human being over the Torah? Rather, the Talmud can be understood to be saying "greater the Torah written on a human life, than the Torah written on animal skins". We have here not a debate of substance, but one of emphasis. The first view sees access to G-d to be found primarily in prayer and study. The other view sees the greatest manifestation of G-d as being the lives and personalities of those who have internalized Him and His Torah. Needless to say, we are not talking about cultic figures who prey on the masses. We are talking about those whose lives are a living Torah. Just as we analyze and re-analyze every letter in the Torah, so those individuals need to be carefully observed and interpreted. The rabbi who said "I no longer know the prayer, the meditation, or how to make the fire, or even the place of the fire, but I can tell the story", was essentially voicing this view. I believe that Judaism is a delicate balance between these approaches. In a more open era, these two approaches would be almost universally accepted and respected. Today, sadly, we choose to let these sublime ideas divide us. There are many understandings of holiness. There are many ways to avert disaster. The Torah provides us with a holy lifestyle. It is for us to seek its meaning. Let's keep telling the story.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Tzaddikim, Prayer, Disaster part 6


As I said in the first post in this series, part of the issue with the story we began with is the necessity of "doing it right". Judaism has many rules and regulations; some Biblical, some rabbinic, some custom. In the first two instances, there is little leeway One simply cannot decide to not do, or even decide to change, a mitzvah. If I wake up way too early (as I usually do), I do not have the option of deciding not to put on Tefillin. I may, however, choose to abbreviate less essential parts of the prayer. There is room in some instances for spontaneity, and special circumstances. RAMBAM, for instance, rules that one is not even permitted to pray if tired (three days after a long journey), hungry or thirsty. Most other authorities rejected this view. If we don't pray for a few days, the "lines of communication" will have been broken. We might not pray after that for an extended period. Getting the feeling back is likely to be difficult. However, the halachah provides for shortening the service. There is often room for compromising the quantity of what we do, in order to preserve quality. A bigger question came in with the early decades of the Hasidic movement. Can halachah be ignored, in favor of spirituality? For many, the answer was a resounding "no". But others felt that the answer was yes. For example, what if I wake up, and I simply don't feel "ready"? There are times set for prayer. For Shaharit (the morning service), that time is ideally sunrise. However, up until one-third of the day, we're still safe (Shema' needs to be said about an hour earlier, or one-quarter of the day). Up until midday, the prayer is still valid. Past midday, according to 99% of rabbis, one has "lost" the morning prayer. If it is nevertheless said, it is a sin rather than a mitzvah. The Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism, always prayed with the rising Sun, as did most of his disciples. Some, however, felt that a prayer said without proper feeling is no prayer at all, so it's OK to miss the ideal time, to meditate and study inspirational literature, until one felt "ready", even if one could only make the non-ideal time of midday. Some went even further, praying the morning prayer well into the afternoon. It was felt that it was better to really pray, even though the time was completely unacceptable to most halachic authorities, rather than "fake it" at the right time. One can walk into many Hasidic centers, and find people reciting the morning prayer even shortly before sunset. (Besides the few authorities, primarily PRISHAH, who considered all day to be valid for morning prayers, many rationalizations grew up, with little or no halachic justification.) This was a major reason for the excommunication of the Hasidim by their opponents. But many Hasidism felt that Judaism was about connection with G-d, more than obedience to a rule. When, in the mid and late nineteenth century, Hannah Rachel of Ludmir, the "Holy Maid of Ludmir" (1805 to 1888), became the first woman to officially hold a position over Hasidim, her opposition was primarily over fears of what the Mitnagdim (opponents of the Hasidim) would say, rather than over halachic issues. Her followers didn't care, as they were being inspired and uplifted by her. There have been a number of other women who functioned in a similar capacity, but always without assuming the title of "Rebbe". As beautiful as all this sounds, this is a path fraught with danger. Could Judaism become a hippie-like movement of "do what feels cool"? Can lighting a fire and telling a story really be a substitute for Torah study and obedience? That will be my next post.