Increasing Closeness During Social Distance - Vayirka

Photos taken by me, of the same mushrooms on my
forest morning walks near St Ives, one day apart. 

In a weird way, I am feeling more emotionally connected now than I have felt for a long time. I feel like I’m a bit Aboriginal with their kinship system, or that I am moving from an “I and It” orientation to a “We” centred way of being (1).  

A week ago, there was a moment when I stood looking at empty shelves in the St Ives Coles supermarket. Potatoes, other vegetables, eggs, pasta - all gone! It seriously disturbed me. I am embarrassed to write this. People have died and will continue to die from this disease, while many others have lost their jobs, and spouses and children in abusive homes are suffering extreme distress.  It seems wrong to think about anything else. However, the reality is that we humans are spiritual beings living in animal bodies, and we’re desperately dependent on our next feed. There are things that we describe with pronouns like “it”, that are very important to us.

My children recently arrived back from Crown Heights in New York where the rate of contagion is high. Usually that is an occasion for hugs, but not this time. Fortunately, we have some space in the house to cordon off areas for them to be isolated in, but I am worried about the spread of this plague, so I am self isolating and working from home. While I like my 'things', like my office, it is more important to do my bit for the broader effort and stay home. I must sacrifice an “it” for the sake of the “we” that is the other humans in this city. The Torah’s word for sacrifice is essentially the same word as closeness (2) and the intention of the animal sacrifices in the temple was to create closeness with God (3).

People like me, who are privileged to be able to continue our jobs and earn a living from home, should spare a thought for those who cannot. I think of service workers in the US, such as those described by Jesse Jackson many years ago: “...women, who [put their own lives at risk to] clean out the bedpans of the sick, wipe the sweat of fever on their foreheads, change their clothes - and when they got sick, couldn't lie on the [same] bed they'd made up every day”! (4)

The term social distance is inaccurate (4). What we need is physical distance between bodies, rather than social distance between our spirits. Yet, we are seeing some evidence of the latter. Angela Kim, an Australian nurse with Asian ancestry recently wrote on Facebook: “I just saw a post with a picture of Asians on a bus saying they are hoarding from regional places. If this is true, I'm sorry. I myself am an Asian and I am deeply saddened to see people panic buying and being selfish during the crisis. But myself, my family, my friends and my colleagues being Asian, are not like them... So many times I get called out with racist comments on the street with anger. ...Generalisation occurs easily when there's fear and anger. ...please have an open mind, not all Asians are the same”.

Angela’s anguished post touched me. Other posts address generalisations about religious Jews' compliance with distancing. These are just some examples of the pain people are experiencing. A silver lining for me at this difficult time has been to tune in more strongly to other people. I am using social media and my phone more intentionally as a means of care, compassion and companionship. On Sunday, my family and I got dressed up for a cousins’ wedding in New York and recorded ourselves dancing in Sydney, as a way of being there for a family member. I am noticing wonderful anecdotes of kindness on social media. I hope that the terrible sacrifices and the suffering caused by this virus might lead to a brighter future for some people, in some way. But I am focused on the here and now - to increasingly support each other, as well as care for ourselves.

Notes

1)     From a conversation with Michelle Brenner, influenced by the work of Dr. Alan Watkins and others. 

2)     Korban, קרבן is the word for sacrifice, while Karov קרוב is the word for close. The root of both is ק.ר.ב.

3)     Likutei Torah based on Leviticus 1:2. It elaborates there on the spiritual meanings of various sacrifices, eg. to sacrifice an ox is to commit to reduce aggression, while a sheep represents selfish indulgence as manifest in sheep spending their days eating grass.

4)     https://www.nytimes.com/1988/01/19/us/the-basic-speech-jesse-jackson-from-a-tradition-of-marching-for-jobs-and-rights.html  

5)     Ghassan Hage in a facebook post on 16.03.2020 “we spend so much time teaching students the difference between social and physical distances and here is the world normalising the usage of social distancing to mean physical distancing. what’s required is physical distancing, right?”

Reflecting on Jewish Marriage Sexual Ethics Lesson with Muslim Teens

A group of senior Muslim high school students, their teachers, a Catholic Priest and I, a Hasidic, bearded Rabbi, sat down recently for a discussion about Jewish marriage and sexual ethics as part of their Studies of Religion course.

I told the students what they needed to know for their course about weddings. I noted that In Judaism there are two distinct ceremonies. In earlier times these typically happened first in the home of the bride’s parents and then that of the groom’s parents (1) but today are done at the same time with only a symbolic break between them. I shared that I found it interesting when two Muslim that I know got married, it was not a one-step process. I attended a Nikah religious wedding ceremony in a Mosque and a wedding feast with loud Lebanese drums.

I was more interested in talking about marriage than weddings. I shared a memory with the students from a time when I was not much older than them. I had watched a scene in the movie, ‘Fidler on the Roof’.  The devoutly religious Jewish husband turns to his wife Goldeh, and asks her, “Do you love me?”. She finds the question bizarre and wonders if he had indigestion.  She replied: “Do I love you? for twenty-five years, I've washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house…milked the cow.  After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?”

As a young man I was terribly troubled by the implication that in my very orthodox world we could not expect to ever be in love. I had read some novels, and romantic loved seemed marvellous, but not for me, it seemed. Years later I realised that due to modesty, ultra-orthodox couples don’t show affection to each other in front of other people, making love invisible.

I explained to the students that Goldeh’s list of twenty-five years of caring action also reflects a Jewish idea about the feeling of love being a product of caring and loving behaviour. In the Torah we read that Isaac brought his wife Rebecca into his tent, he married her and he loved her (2). In that order.

I shared with them a Kabalistic teaching about Adam and Eve first being created back to back as a double human (3), one side female and the other male. “But God split them so that they could face each other, face to face, light in light” (4). Marriage is meant to be about a powerful experience of connection between a couple. Unfortunately, for many people in our time the mundane requirements of earning a living and housework leave little energy for anything else.

We are human beings, not machines. For this reason, we also need to consider sexual ethics. Due to the syllabus requirements, the students and I spent some time on technical questions about restrictions and exceptions relating to contraception and abortion. But we also got around to the requirement for consent for sex within marriage, and guidance about the right way being that the couple should have sex; when they are not angry with each other but rather out of joy (5).

We discussed pleasure. Specifically, Jewish teachings that encourage men to consider women’s sexual pleasure. Part of Jewish marriage is a contract called a Ketuba that stipulates a husband’s obligation to be available to his wife sexually.

I was pleased to learn from the Catholic priest that it was not correct that Sex is the original sin. He explained that it is more appropriate to think of a child being born into a morally troubled world.

A few days after the session at the Islamic school, I was reflecting on all of this and it got me thinking about the Jewish attitude to pleasure. Not just as a requirement of kindness from a husband to his wife.

One explanation of why snakes are not Kosher is because they “go on their bellies”. This is interpreted as being symbolic of a person being pleasure-driven, both in terms of food and sex (6). However, I recently read that God creates our desires (7). I don’t believe sexual desire or pleasure are bad, it is only when it is out of balance with other ways, being such as altruism, attentiveness to others in a range of ways, and being of service.

This is the heart of the matter: human beings, essentially similar, but significantly different in various ways, connecting in understanding each other and ourselves. 

 

Notes and sources 

1. Lamm, N. 2008, The Jewish Way in Love & Marriage
2. Genesis 24:67, The Baal Haturim makes the point that this love was unconditional in contrast to the “love” or lust refered in the case of Amnon whose conditional “love” for his sister Tamar vanished after he had intercourse with her.  
3. Genesis 1:27 states: in the image of G-d he created him, Male and Female He created them. This implies that the first human was both one and two, and is therefore referred to both as “him” and “male and female” and them”.
4. Zohar part 3, 44b
5. Maimonides, Yad Hachazaka, Hilchot De’ot 5:4
6. Chida, Vayikra, Parshat Shemini, 41, p.40
7. Kedushat Levi, Vayigash, section beginning with Oh Yevuar, p. 105, elaboration in Slater, J. 2004, Mindful Jewish Living, Compassionate practice, Avis Press, p. 311

Dis/Connection and Crown Heights Jews and Blacks - Vayechi

I walked toward the forest in St Ives, this past Monday, as I do most mornings, but this time tentatively. Australia is burning! A place that is usually a refuge for me, teeming with bird sounds, animal life and tranquility, now feels ambiguous, even somewhat threatening, possibly on the verge of igniting with deadly fire. Many Australians have lost their lives, many more their homes or farms and we have lost so many animals.

A week earlier, I walked toward another oasis of nature: Prospect Park, at the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where I visited my parents over Chanukah.  It is usually a calming walk and I often like to go when I visit. This time was different. Religious Jews were being attacked on the streets of New York, one had been murdered in a shop in New Jersey and another was stabbed at home in Monsey. I hesitated as I thought: was I safe? Would I be attacked? 

These two causes call me as I write. Living in Australia, I feel empathy with my fellow Australians. Their suffering and terror stirs my heart to compassion and concern. Yet, I am also a Jew from Brooklyn, and my recent visit is pulling my attention to the simmering situation there.

Navigating between our ties to, or disconnections from, various places is explored in my Jewish tradition. Our patriarch Jacob, born in Canaan, is said to have only truly been alive during his last seventeen years, living in exile in Egypt (1) where he finally found happiness (2).  Yet, his new home was not where he wanted to be buried, among the fundamentally different Egyptians (3), instead he insisted that his body must be returned to the Holy Land (4). Even when Jacob was alive, he considered it important that his family remain apart from the Egyptians (5).

This way of being in a place but not of the place (6), reflects my own experience growing up in Brooklyn, which came back to me on my recent visit. While I was there I caught up with a black friend from Sydney, Mohamed. I showed him around Crown Heights, starting with my childhood home. I showed him a large apartment building with black families near our old home, and reflected how, in the twenty years I lived there, I never learned the names of any of my black neighbours. This wasn't unique to me. This kind of disconnect from our non-Jewish neighbours was a common feature of growing up as a Chasidic Jew in Crown Heights. 

I find it hard to write about my old neighbourhood. It is simple enough to speak about my experience, to acknowledge that I was racist then, and felt fear and loathing of my black neighbours. It is also a matter of historic fact, that in 1991 an Australian Jew, Yankel Rosenbaum, was killed by a black man, part of a hateful anti-semitic mob. I will never forget the terror I felt in 1991 when I returned from Australia, to what felt like a war-zone, and came to be known as the “Crown Heights riots”. In 2020, another black man from Crown Heights is in custody for  stabbing a Rabbi in his home, over Chanukah. But there is so much more to this tension, both past and present, that is contested and sensitive.

Ultimately, this blog post is far too brief to fully explore the painful history or current dynamic between Jews and African Americans in Crown Heights. However, I want to at least take an interest here in the efforts to bridge the divide between the two communities (7). It is good to see role models of inter-communal friendship going to schools and engaging children in conversation. However, as someone who has been using this approach - going to schools as  Muslim-Chrisitian-Jewish panels modelling goodwill, for almost two decades, I have learned that this strategy, while valuable in its own right, needs to be part of a multi-faceted approach (8). One important element that research recommends is ensuring that participants in intergroup contact, in cases where there has been tension, are assured that this contact is sanctioned by authority figures on “their side” (9).

One suggestion I offer to my old community is to utilise religious education to guide children how to truly coexist, while also honouring our religious traditions of being separate. This is not at all simple, but it is eminently doable. It could begin with discussion of behaviour, such as the halachic principle of supporting needy and sick non-Jewish people, not only Jews, as part of 'the ways of peace' (10). It should involve exploration of what it means to be truly ethical in our ways of thinking and behaving toward one non-Jewish or black neighbours, to strive to make them so “beautiful” that G-d Himself would be proud of us (11). The children might be invited to ponder how it came to be that so many Egyptians deeply mourned the death of a Jewish man, Jacob (12). Perhaps, as one commentary suggested, throughout the years Jacob lived in Egypt, he spent time sharing his wisdom with wise Egyptians (13), not just hanging out with his Jewish grandchildren.

Eventually this discussion arrives at the question of identity. Who are we as Jews and human beings? G-d created humans with a common ancestor to prevent discord (14) based on beliefs in superiority (15) or ideas of purer lineage (16).

As for me, like people of various faith backgrounds and none, I must turn my attention to the needs and suffering of my fellow Australians at this difficult time. 

 

Notes:

 A big thank you to my learned and skillful editor, my son, Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel. 

1)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, 81, p. 1724. 

2)     Lekach Tov, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, note: 81, p. 1724. 

3)     Old Tanchuma, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:29, 114, p. 1730, "they are compared to Donkeys and I am compared to a sheep..."  

4)     Genesis 47:29-31.

5)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 46:34, 188, p. 1700. 

6)     See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 20, pg. 235-242 and especially pg. 241.

7)     https://www.wnyc.org/story/attacks-against-jews-crown-heights-stir-old-fears-and-new-dialogue/

8)     Halse, C (2015), Doing Diversity, report on research project, Deakin University, https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/school/principals/management/doingdiversity.pdf.

9)     Alport, G. in Pedersen, A., Walker, I., & Wise, M. (2005). Talk Does Not Cook Rice: Beyond anti-racism rhetoric to strategies for social action. Australian Psychologist, 40, 20-30.

10)  Talmud Gittin 61a. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' elaboration of this concept in The Home We Build Together, Continuum Books. See also statement in the Talmud Gittin 59b. That all of the laws of the Torah are for the sake of the ways of peace.

11)  Kedushas Levi, end of parsha Vayechi, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 116.

12)  Genesis 50:3.

13)  Rabbi Moshe David Vali, Ohr Olam, Genesis Vol. 2, Hamesorah edition, p. 464.

14)  Talmud, Sanhedrin 38a.

15)  Rashi ad loc.

16)  R. Yosef Hayim (1835 – 1909), better known as the Ben Ish Chai, in Ben Yehoyada, ad loc.

Communication without common language – Jewish Reflection on Abu Dhabi Muslim Peace Forum - Vayigash

My translation earphones went silent for a few minutes, as I sat at the Forum for Promoting Peace in Muslim Societies. For three days in Abu Dhabi, from December 2-4, mostly Muslim, but also Christian and Jewish; religious leaders, academics and politicians spoke to the delegates in Arabic, English and French.

The speeches were simultaneously translated into the other two of the three main languages. That worked, until Imam Abdullahi Abubakar (83) from Nigeria spoke in his native language; Hausa.

This Imam had risked his life when he confronted an extremist gunman seeking to kill two hundred and seventy-five Christians that he had sheltered in his Mosque and home. The softly spoken, bearded, black man in the blue turban had told the attacker to kill him first, and succeeded in saving the lives of the Christians.

While many words were spoken at this Forum, it was his heroic deed and our inability to understand him that captured both the spirit and a challenge of the forum, respectively.

As someone who is concerned about bridging the divide between Muslims, Jews, Christians and others, I found  the forum reassuring. It was convened by one of the most accomplished Islamic authorities in the world, Sheik Abdul Bin Bahya.

There were many hundreds of guests, from a vast number of countries from Mauritania to Afghanistan. They were predominantly Muslim leaders, as the main object was change within the Muslim global community. However, many sessions included Christian and Jewish speakers as part of interfaith panels, demonstrating their commitment to dialogue by putting it into practice.

There was also lively, more informal interaction outside the sessions, between religious leaders of the various faiths present. I noticed the acclaimed US Muslim leader Hamza Yusuf deep in conversation with one of the US based senior Rabbis late into the night. A UK based Imam was delighted to chat with me about Muslim and Hasidic spiritual singing. These are just a few of the examples I saw.

On the other hand, there was a lot of potential for dialogue that was not realised. The language barrier was a big factor. The Jewish delegation of more than a dozen rabbis, based primarily in the US and Israel, as well as two women, and similarly, many of the delegates from across Asia and Africa, simply did not have any common language with which to connect. I often felt bad, as I walked past people with unfamiliar cultural dress and we just looked at each other, silently.

Our gracious Abu Dhabi hosts provided us with certified Kosher hot food that was served in a side room. On some occasions, some of us took our food out to the area where others were eating and joined them for meals. On other occasions many of us chose to stay with our fellow Jews during the meals.

One day over lunch we discussed an alternative approach to a tradition that seems to legitimise a view of non-Jewish people as inherently antisemitic. One of the rabbis raised an alternative version of that passage, which applies only to a particular person in a particular time. Perhaps more such internal conversations occurred within each faith group, complementing those held between people with different faiths.

One strategy that facilitated dialogue was the small group breakout session.  I joined twenty delegates in the South East Asia group. We discussed local words that carry the spirit of the forum. In Indonesia they have a word for “religious moderation”: Wasatia.

As part of Wasatia they strategically moved the study of the caliphates from the religious law syllabus to the history section. An evangelical minister from Mindanao, in the Philippines, taught us the word Kapua that combines being a good neighbour with seeing oneself in the other. I offered the term Ahavat Ha’ger- love of the powerless stranger.

On reflection, I think I was too worried about words. The most moving part of the breakout session was heartfelt sharing in Arabic by an older Mufti, also from Mindanao, whose people have finally reached a peace agreement with their government. I did not understand what he was saying but it touched me because I could feel it came from his heart, rather than an artificial performance from his head.

Another highlight was the Koranic singing and message of Farid Ahmed, in a wheelchair, from Christchurch. His wife was murdered in the attack but he forgave the killer. His heartfelt message to the white supremacists was: we don’t hate you!

The forum culminated with the signing of a charter for a new alliance of virtue. It is hoped that this covenant between people of all faiths will enable us to relate to each other as partners rather than as the “other”.

So I am less concerned about how much the words, spoken or unspoken, at the Forum will matter in the implementation of this noble effort. Instead I look beyond the words, to the sincerity in the hearts of those present, and to the deeds already being undertaken by many in that room and beyond it.

This reflection was first published in plus61J.

Postscript: Shortly after my experience in Abu Dhabi I spent two weeks with my parents and four of my children in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Recent alarming Antisemitic violence, including murder and stabbings - perpetrated by many Black individuals - made me feel less safe walking some streets there, but more importantly, highlights the need for engagement between these communities. Yet, the primarily English-speaking Hasidic Jews and Blacks, who live there side by side, have such profound cultural differences that they might as well be speaking different languages.

In the Torah reading this week we read about a plea for the life of a Jewish youth, by the Hebrew speaking Judah to the Egyptian speaking Viceroy. “I beg of you my master, may your servant please speak a matter, into your ears?” (1). This is interpreted as a specific request: can I speak to you directly rather than through the interpreter (2). Judah’s deep respect for the viceroy (3) combined with his sincerity and pathos in making his case would come through despite the language barrier and touch the heart of his listener (4). There must be some implications in this insight, for Jewish and black communities in the New York- New Jersey area at this time. I am still mulling over what is happening and my experience there, however, it is clear that gaps between the communities can be bridged if deeply felt goodwill and respect will be in evidence in the unspoken communication between the vast majority of the members of these communities.

1) Genesis 44:18.

2) Midrash Habiur, manuscript cited in Torah Shlaima on Genesis 44:18, 65, p. 1636; Kedushas Levi, in 2008 Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 100.

3) For example: his comparison of the Viceroy to the Pharaoh in Genesis 44:18, as understood by Rashi (first explanation), Seforno and R. Moshe Dovid Vali, Ohr Olam (Genesis Vol. 2), second explanation, Hamesora Publishers, Jerusalem, p. 364.

4) Kedushas Levi, ibid. [ It should be noted that the Kedushas Levi states  that Judah assumed that the viceroy would understand Hebrew, unlike the approach I've taken to make this point in this article. However this point of his, regarding the emotional impact of direct interpersonal communication, is really an independent insight, that it goes beyond that which is captured in the words themselves..]

Belonging and Difference Vayerah

On Wednesday night I listened to Ian Thorpe speak at a dinner in aid of my brother’s charity, the Jewish House. Ian talked about his experience as a world record breaking Olympic champion swimmer, who also struggled with mental health challenges. He gave a riveting account of the mental struggle to win an Olympic swimming race in the last few seconds after being behind. But more importantly, he touched on his experiences of coming out both as gay and as someone suffering depression.

Mr Thorpe did not elaborate on his experience of coming out. However, the need for acceptance by people we care about and a feeling of belonging among them, is so important to all of us. As I explored the Torah reading this week I learned that Abraham was also concerned about his social ties. Abraham had been instructed to circumcise himself as a sign of a covenant between him and God. However he was concerned that this act “would set him apart from his generation, in his skin and flesh. This might lead to him not being able to welcome guests anymore as they would stay away from him…” (1) This surprised me a little, because I had the impression of Abraham as the Iconoclastic outsider - champion of monotheism is a world of polytheism - who embraced his “otherness” (2).

On Thursday morning, I reflected on my experienced at the dinner where I sat among some 1000, mostly Jewish guests, who were there in aid of the Jewish House’s services for people in crisis, such as homelessness, mental illness, and domestic violence. While I on the same page as the crowd last night regarding support for the needy, I wonder how many of them agree with my interfaith work. When it comes to that aspect of me, do I fully belong? It is useful for me to keep in mind that Abraham combined otherness in pursuit of his vision and principles with caring about being connected to his community. Indeed, at the end of the night, one guest shared with me her belief in the spiritual validity of my work with people of other faiths. 

The combination of being accepted and being true to oneself is not always easy. A choice one needs to make is whether to hide some parts of ourselves or "come out". Abraham consulted his friends about the merits of going public about his next step in otherness and decided he would publicize his decision to circumcise himself  (3).

The flip side of this is accepting that sometimes there are communities that won’t accept you and might not even be worth belonging in. Abraham’s nephew, Lot, sought to integrate with the xenophobic society of Sodom. (In Jewish tradition, the wickedness of Sodom was primarily expressed in their cruelty to visitors or poor outsiders). Lot appeared to succeed when he was appointed as a judge by the Sodomites (4). This thin veneer of acceptance of Lot by Sodom fell away quickly when Lot showed his commitment to hospitality. An angry mob of Sodomites reminded Lot that he was an alien and threatened him (5).

It is not easy to accept the fact that some social connections are not working and one needs to move on. Lot was instructed by angels to leave Sodom before it would be destroyed and take him down with them. Yet, Lot hesitated, and had to be dragged out of Sodom (6). Lot and his wife were warned not to look back (7). It is important not to ruminate about what might have been. However the separation from Sodom was difficult for Lot’s wife and she turned back, perhaps in sadness about those left behind (8). The consequence of turning back for Lot’s wife is that she was instantly turned into a pillar of salt (9). 

It is entirely appropriate to seek closeness with one’s communities, even if there is not a perfect value alignment, but there are times when separateness is appropriate. In those cases, it is ok to be sad, but it is important “not to look back”.

Notes

1)     Toras Hachida, Vayera 5, p. 103, based on Midrash Rabba

2)     See Likutei Likburim by the 6th Lubavitcher Rebbe, R. YY Schneerson, who talked about the concept of Ivri as one is on the “other side” to the rest of society

3)     Toras Hachida, ibid

4)     Rashi to Genesis 19:1, based on Bereshit Rabba 50:3

5)     Genesis 19:9, as interpreted by Sacks, J. (2009) Covenant and Conversation, Maggid, Jerusalem, p. 112-114

6)     Genesis 19:16

7)     Genesis 19:17

8)     Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 25,  in Torah Shlaima, 145, p. 812

9)     Genesis 19:26

Uncompromising Approach to Values Conflict and Solidarity Lech Lcha

“There is nothing cozy, huggy and smiley about peace...” Terrorism survivor- turned peace maker, Gill Hicks told me with steel and restrained fury in her voice [1]. Gill is a double amputee who lost both legs in the London bombing and has made heroic efforts to build peace. It is necessary to face the hard realities of living with difference. 

This week, at a mountain-side Catholic school retreat, 150 teenagers and the Together For Humanity team explored some of the uncomfortable aspects of living with diversity. Participants, in groups of 8, were challenged to lower a thin long stick that rested on their outstretched fingers. Many failed to complete the task that required them to be completely in sync with their peers. When reflecting on their failure, students suggested that it was the differences in height or ways of thinking that was the reason they couldn’t complete the task. One student suggested a harsh solution: to simply remove those who were out of step with the rest of the team. It would be tempting to dismiss that option, but I would prefer to explore it instead.

I told the students that only an hour earlier I was reading the Torah. Abraham acted according to the students’ suggestion when he chose separation in response to conflict [2]. The shepherds employed by Abraham and his nephew got into a values based argument about grazing their sheep on others’ properties. Lot’s (Lut) people, presumably taking their cue from their boss [3], valued maximising wealth over ethical concerns but Abraham’s employees prioritised avoiding theft [4].  Abraham could have managed the conflict and reduced its intensity, but he wanted to avoid even the low level of tension that would inevitably remain [5]. For this reason Abraham parted ways from Lot. This separation from Lot was very upsetting to Abraham [6]. Lot was Abraham’s nephew, and when Lot was orphaned he became like a step son to Abraham [7]. 

Despite the fact that, sometimes, apparent values conflict is a function of prejudice, this is not always the case. In some cases the conflict is actually caused by an accurate understanding of the other! Our values are formed in our own cultural context and function as a set of norms that enable members of the group to get along [8]. Rapid migration and social change coupled with conservative pushback against change leads to people being confronted with strongly held divergent values and norms. For Abraham, it was only when he was free from the spiritually stifling presence of Lot that his spiritual capacity was restored and he was able to receive prophecy [9].

During our program at the retreat, my Muslim colleague, Mrs Calisha Bennet, talked with the students about situations where she as a Muslim woman is meets men and is expected to shake his hand. While some orthodox Jews and Muslims choose to shake hands despite traditions in both faiths to the contrary, for Calisha this is a matter of being authentic and true to her principles.  She explained that she chooses not to compromise her principles, instead opting for sensitively putting her hand on her heart in greeting, feeling empathy for the man with his rejected extended hand and sharing the awkwardness experienced by the aborted handshake.

Michaela Launerts, a teacher at the retreat told us that she shifted from her previous support for constraints on free speech to avoid causing offense to now prioritising robust dialogue about our differences. Michaela pointed out how we live in an age of ‘outrage culture’ where every deviation from one’s own norms is met with howls of indignation, and attempts to shut down opposing views. Instead, Michaela suggested that we should sit with the discomfort for a while and try to understand our opponents perspectives. She insists that most of the things that are important in life involve conflict and robust discussion. Any kind of growth requires one to be challenged, theologically, politically and philosophically.  

In spite of the need to face values conflict, it is vital that there is solidarity between communities. Peace depends on goodwill being shown toward those who believe differently and have divergent values. Returning to the story of Abraham, we see that despite Lot’s rejection of Abraham’s norms and his way [10] when Lot needs help and is taken captive in a war Abraham took up arms to rescue him [11].

As neighbours we must care about each other’s pain and do our part to alleviate suffering, regardless of our disagreements. This sometimes feels wonderful, but this warm feeling is an occasional bonus in this work. We must also show up for the awkward moments. Denial of disagreement is a fragile basis for coexistence. Forced unions can be oppressive and draining. This can be seen in toxic marriages, workplaces and political parties. In those cases emulating Abraham’s offer to Lot – if you go right, I will go left, if you left I will go right – would be far more productive and healthy, provided that communities are always there for each other despite our differences.

Notes

1 https://youtu.be/_MtmLFtb5WM

2 Genesis 13:5-14

3 Genesis 13:10-13, Lot’s observation regarding the fertile nature of the Sodom area appear more important to him than the fact that the Sodomites were very sinful.  

4 Rashi on Genesis 13:7

5 Toras Hachida, Genesis, Lech Lcha, 32, p. 75, 

6 Toras Hachida, Genesis, Lech Lcha, 36, p. 77, see also Ohr Hachayim to Genesis 12:1

7 Genesis 11:27-28, 12:4

8 Greene, J. (2014) Moral Tribes, Emotion, Reason And The Gap Between Us And Them, Atlantic Books, London

9 Rashi to 13:14

10 Rashi to Genesis 13:11

11 Genesis 14:12-16

Painful Thoughts of a Boy-Man - Noah 2019

Image by Ilona Ilyés  https://pixabay.com/users/ilyessuti-3558510/

I watched a video of a most compelling and haunting piece of music by Amir Dadon and Shuli Rand that expresses the pain of being bombarded by the words - in our thoughts -that keep coming back at us. “Enough!” they cry. For me, it is the waves of rumination and anxiety that often shame me and drain my energy for living. One theme is the question: Am I “man” enough or a little boy? 

They say: “Just because I am paranoid, doesn’t mean they are not after me (1) .” My fear is partly driven by the daunting nature of my work on interfaith/diversity education and the real limitations of my abilities. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. However, while on one level I know that I am good enough and capable of contributing, my brain is wired to conflate irrational insecurities and self-doubt with real challenges. 

This week’s Torah reading tells the story of Noah, who, according to one tradition, vainly tried to influence his financially (2) and sexually exploitative (3) , wicked generation to mend their ways, and to warn them that their behaviour would lead to their destruction (4) . His generation ridiculed him (5) and rejected his message (6) , and were ultimately wiped out in a terrible flood. 

After the catastrophic flood, Noah emerged from the ark drank himself into oblivion (7) and disgraced himself. This story correctly shows how drugs like alcohol can be destructive. It is also an intriguing example of  numbing pain through wine, drugs or the sugar hits we get from being on our mobile phones. This is not simple. Abuse survivor and self-confessed drug addict, Tara Schultz, argues that “it is adversity, [including her undertreated mental health situation] not drug addiction”, that is at the heart of the matter for people like her (8).

What led the great Noah to drink? Perhaps he struggled with survivor guilt (9) or the shame of his failure to prevent the horror of the destruction of the world as he knew it. Or, perhaps Noah was caught up in the painful boy/man conundrum. One tradition suggests that Noah was like a little boy, whose dad needed to hold his hand, as the Torah states: God “walked Noah (10) ” (Not a typo, this is the most accurate way to convey the feel of the Hebrew text). It is  not helpful to infer from this that seeking support is a fault. There is no shame in needing support. In fact Noah is praised, in another interpretation of the same verse, for his humility (11) .  

Perhaps the Midrashic comparison of Noah to a boy suggests that Noah himself felt (unnecessarily) inadequate, and like ‘a little boy’ for being so dependent on God’s constant support (12) . If this is the case, it might explain the fact that Noah is silent and appears quite passive in the text that introduces the flood (13) . Noah is said to have been afraid of engaging with the sinners of his time in case he might be influenced by the sinners rather than deterring them from evil (14). We see that harsh self-criticism and an excessively low self-concept can severely limit our capacity to achieve our potential and contribute (15).

According to the mystics, our relentless waves of worry -represented by the flood - requires an escape into prayer, represented by Noah’s ark. If we access spiritual support, we can be safe from the destructive deluge of these thoughts. Furthermore, the worries, themselves, now seen in perspective, can motivate us to greater achievement - symbolised by the fact that the ark was lifted higher by the waves (16).

  

I know and embrace the fact that I am child-like in some ways. I  worry sometimes and need reassurance -  to be “held” emotionally by a supportive parent, mentor, colleague or friend. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I am also an adult, a man, who can respectfully, assertively, confidently, humbly and gently make a contribution to the cause I have dedicated my life to. As the Marist Brothers say, I can do this with a “strong mind and gentle heart”. 

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^[1] Joseph Heller, in Catch-22

^[2] Genesis 6:11

^[3] Genesis 6:2

^[4] Prikey Drabbi Eliezer 25, cited in Torah Shlaima Noach, 150, p.398

^[5] Midrash

^[6] Midrash Tanchua, cited in Torah Shlaima Noach, 168, p.401

^[7] Genesis 9:20-21

^[8] https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-10-27/australia-talks-tara-schultz-drugs-abuse-welfare-quarantine/11639602

^[9] Sacks, J. (2009) Covenant and Conversation, Genesis p.46

^[10] Bereshis Rabba 30:9-10, based on Genesis 6:9

^[11] Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima 140, p. 395

^[12] The approach to Midrash has been discussed in Nehama Leibovitz’s works

^[13] Sacks, J. (2009) Covenant and Conversation, Genesis p. 45

^[14] Etz Yosef on  Bereshis Rabba 30:9-10

^[15] The Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, R. YY. Schneerson, in principles of education and guidance, 10.

^[16] Torah Ohr, Noah