Rabbi Jeffrey Wildstein

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The Antonym of Anxiety

December 5, 2016 By Jeffrey Wildstein 2 Comments

I remember when I was preparing for the SATs (a long time ago!), a book I was reading said that the best way to test if someone knew the meaning of a word was to ask for it’s antonym, or its opposite.  The text argued that a word can have a direct opposite, but a synonym, any word with similar meaning, can’t capture the base word’s precise nuance.  By definition, a synonym can be similar and come close to the meaning, but it is never exact.  So, the test asked for antonyms.  It made sense.

Many people today tell me they are anxious about the future.  They worry about divisions in our country and what they see on the news.  It is, indeed, an anxious time.  What exactly is this anxiety?  And what is the remedy?  The answer to both these questions may be in what we define as the antonym of anxiety.

Some might suggest that the antonym of anxiety is calmness or serenity.  In fact, a thesaurus I consulted gave these word’s as antonyms for anxiety.  I don’t think these words quite capture the issue of anxiety though.  One may be calm and serene about something, and therefore not feel anxiety.  But, the source of the anxiety remains regardless of how one feels about it.  Being calm or serene does nothing to resolve the cause of the trouble, and while the cause remains, the anxiety is likely to return.

From a Jewish and spiritual perspective, I therefore prefer a different antonym for anxiety: faith.  Anxiety is the feeling that the given situation is bad, and will not improve.  Anxiety is the fear that injury and harm are inevitable.  Faith is the belief that there is hope and meaning, and conditions will improve.  We Jews see ourselves as the people of hope and faith.  Even in the dire situations we have experienced as a people through our history, we have always faced anxiety with faith.  And as Jews, when we have faith, we act.

If you are feeling anxious about the world, I suggest fighting that feeling with something that gives you faith.  Whether it’s love of family and friends, or prayer, or working for social justice, or giving tzedakah (in this context, charity), or studying sacred text, anxiety is diminished by actions that confirm our faith in ourselves, each other, and our God.  Our endeavors may not always succeed, and we may experience some pain and trouble, but an ever renewing faith allows us to pick ourselves back off the ground when we are knocked down and meet the future with determination to try again.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: antonym, anxiety, faith, hope, Judaism

Psychology, the Torah, and Death

March 23, 2016 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

Religious Jews, whether orthodox, reform, or anything in between, don’t need the social sciences to support the teachings found in the Tanach. But sometimes it does happen.

A recent analysis by experimental psychologists of hundreds of studies considered how fear of death affects people. They demonstrate that this fear influences people in surprising and unexpected ways. For example, the mere mention of death or mortality to judges prior to bond hearings resulted in their imposition of bonds nine times higher than those who did not hear the mention. Other studies showed that, when reminded of the fact of mortality, people demonstrated more hatred toward people different than they, and sought to become closer to those similar to them. Other experiments showed that mentions of death or mortality increased the appeal of charismatic leaders.

This phenomenon occurs within the subconscious, and it is extremely difficult to override these impulses. Yet, from millennia before the formation of psychological study, the Torah seeks to have us do exactly that. The Torah does not avoid the mention of death. It can’t, because death is a part of life and history. But it saves some of its strongest words for the pivotal moment when Moses addresses the people for the final time. He urges them, and us, to “Choose life, that you shall live.” In effect, this may be viewed as Moses urging the people to turn away from the negative or irrational choices spurred by the fear of death. Indeed, if the purpose of the Torah is peace, as Jewish tradition teaches, and the reminder of death affects us so greatly at a subconscious level, this injunction is essential to creating a more caring, more peaceful world.

Perhaps this is why we read this injunction to “choose life” every year at Yom Kippur, the most holy, solemn and influential day of the year. And perhaps this is an injunction that we should keep foremost in our minds every day, and especially now, when we are making important decisions for our country and world in the face of terrorism, fear and hatred. The Torah and social science agree: we will be better off if we approach the world choosing life, not death.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Follow the Plan

March 11, 2016 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

When God told Moses to build the Tabernacle, God showed him the plan for the structure in the sky. God displayed the Tabernacle’s splendor in fire of all different colors – white, red, green and blue. Moses became despondent. “Where am I going to find white fire, red fire, green fire and blue fire?” he asked.

“You don’t need the fire,” God replied. “Just use what you have. The point is to follow the plan.”

As we read this week’s Torah portion, Pikudei, we can wonder about all the minute details we learn about the Tabernacle’s design. Each item and step has its own important meaning. And we can wonder how Moses, Bezazel, the craft workers and the Israelites could undertake this task. They must have been nervous. God was providing the plan in such detail. How could they hope to get it right? How could they possibly believe that they could match the design set forth in Heaven?

The Midrash above addresses this problem. God doesn’t ask us to create Heaven.   God asks us to do as much as we can with the best we can provide, and create an earth that resembles Heaven.

The plan is set forth in the Torah, calling for us to create a world of justice and mercy, and compassion and peace. Let us endeavor to follow the plan God has given us, each as best we can, with the same vigor as the Israelites building the Tablernacle.

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Wrong Target, Wrong Way

January 29, 2016 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

The latest episode involving the movement to Boycott, Divest and Sanction (BDS) Israel over her conflict with the Palestinians involves a GLBT Conference in Chicago. A GLBT organization called “A Wider Bridge” planned a reception at the Creating Change conference of the National GLTBQ Task Force. The BDS groups appealed to the conference organizers and had the reception tossed from the conference. After protest over this decision, the reception was reinstated. However, approximately 200 pro-BDS protesters disrupted the reception. There are eyewitness accounts of a Jew having his yalmulke ripped off, the word “kike” being shouted, pushing, shoving and screaming, and profanity on signs and shouted The protesters chanted, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” At least one observer felt that the protesters didn’t understand that this literally means the destruction of Israel, but the attendees heard this clearly threatening language.

Some of the protesters entered the reception, took control of the stage, and prevented the speakers from the major GLBT organization in Israel, The Jerusalem Open House for Peace and Tolerance (JOH), from speaking. In fact, they were evacuated from the area in fear that the protest would be come violent.

One of the many ironies is that the JOH serves all Israelis and Palestinians. They are religiously neutral. They hire a Palestinian Outreach Director. JOH helped found al-Qaws (“Rainbow”), which became the first LGBTQ Palestinian organization. According to Tom Canning, Development Director of JOH, as quoted by David Taffet, Senor Staff Writer of dallasvoice.com, Israelis and Palestinians mix more freely at JOH than in most other places in Israel. As Mr. Toffet wrote, “Attacking JOH for the Palestinian issue in Israel is like blaming an interracial couple in Mississippi for discrimination.”

One of the purposes of bringing JOH to Chicago was to show support for them after a fatal stabbing at a gay pride parade in Israel last summer. It was to help them feel safer. Instead, they were screamed at and harassed, and had to flee in concern for their safety.

Arther Slepian, the Executive Director of A Wider Bridge, directly addresses the organization’s perspective on the Israeli-Palestinian issue on its website:

“While our work is focused on building connections with, and support for, Israel’s LGBT communities, we are acutely aware that other human rights struggles exist, both within Israel and in the Palestinian territories. Our pride and celebration of Israel’s progress in LGBT rights does not mean that we endorse all the policies of its government.  We hope for a time when Palestinians will live in dignity, free from occupation, and Israelis will no longer live with the daily threat of rocket fire or terrorist attack, or the fear of nuclear war.”

This is hardly the statement of an unconcerned or anti-Palestinian organization.

This event shows one of the foundational problems with the BDS movement (and I believe there are many, especially the blatant and latent anti-Semitism within it that so many are writing about). BDS attacks potential allies, thereby hindering achievement of the goal of peace between these two peoples. BDS piles additional hurt upon those already hurting, which is not justified by any rationale for the “greater good.”

This was the wrong target. It was the wrong way

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: A Wider Bridge, AWiderBridge, BDS, bisexual, gay, GLBT, GLBT conference, GLBTQ, Israel, Jerusalem Open House, JerusalemOpenHouse, JewishGLBTQ, lesbian, transgender

Thankful for Who We Are

December 5, 2015 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

On this Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for many of the same things as many people. I’m thankful for my family, and their love and support. I’m thankful for good friends who stand by me and have shared so much with me, good and bad, many for decades. I’m thankful for my health.

And, especially this Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for who we are, both as Americans and Jews. I’m thankful for both these identities equally. I’m thankful for the values we embrace.

I’m thankful for the teaching of the Torah that says “God provides justice to the fatherless and the widow, and loves the stranger, and gives them food and clothing. Therefore love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Deut. 10:18-19) This goes along with the admonition that “Cursed be the one who denies justice to the stranger, the fatherless and the widow.” (Deut. 27:19) I’m especially thankful that we are taught, “The stranger that journeys with you shall be as the native, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Lev. 19:34)

I’m thankful that we are taught to be a kind and compassionate people. I’m thankful that God teaches us that we should take our terrible experience in slavery not as license to treat other people badly, but as a demand for us to act with compassion and to help all people, even the stranger. I’m thankful that we Jews have taken the negative experiences we have had, the discriminations against us, and the times that others have ignored our suffering and pain, to dedicate ourselves to seeking justice, safety, security and sustenance for anyone in need, as much as we can.

I’m thankful that Jews have been at the forefront of efforts to help refugees and immigrants, whether Jewish or not. I’m thankful that we despise and combat discrimination and hate directed not only against us, but against any group. I’m thankful that we Jews stand for and stand with the innocent and needy, no matter who they are. As we cope with the recent terrorist attacks in Israel and France, and realize that the danger persists, I’m thankful for those who have raised their voices to remind us to maintain our commitment to justice and compassion. And so I add my voice to theirs. The worst thing we can do in response to terrorism is depart from our values and turn away those in need. Let us continue to adhere to our Torah, and strive even harder to be the compassionate people we want to be.

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What We Have Here is an Effort to Communicate

November 12, 2015 By Jeffrey Wildstein 1 Comment

In this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, we learn about how Esau sells his birthright as Isaac’s oldest child to his brother, Jacob.  The conversation between the two is fraught with uncertainty and lack of clarity.  In fact, the conversation makes no sense on both sides.

Esau returns from his hunting, and he’s famished.  Jacob is cooking some red lentil stew.  Esau says, “Give me some of that red stuff, because I’m faint.”

Esau really doesn’t ask for some of the food.  He demands.  The conversation seems to have started badly.

Jacob replies, “First sell me your birthright.”

This is really strange.  If your sibling came to you and said he or she was so hungry that he or she was faint, wouldn’t you give him or her some food?  Even if you didn’t like your sibling, who is that inhumane to say no  If anyone you knew approached you and said he or she was that hungry, and you had food in front of you, what would possibly motivate you to say no?  Who does that?  Apparently, Jacob does.

And the price Jacob demand is Esau’s birthright.  I have no doubt that Jacob was an excellent cook, but that’s an incredibly high price for a bowl of vegetable stew.  It’s unconscionably high. It’s “a million bucks for a hotdog” high.  But, that’s what Jacob does.  And when you throw in how hungry Esau claims to be, it looks like Jacob is taking far too much advantage of this situation.

But Esau acts just as strangely.  He doesn’t say Jacob is being mean and unreasonable.  He doesn’t bargain.  He doesn’t go into the house for something else to eat.  Instead, he says, “Behold, I am about to die.  So how will my birthright help me?”

There are two significant problems with this statement.  Esau basically says he’s starving.  If this literally were true, it’s doubtful he would have the strength to have this conversation.  But, if this were not true, it doesn’t make sense that he would sell his birthright for a bowl of stew.  And this raises the second problem.  Esau says that because he is dying, his birthright is worthless to him. But Esau knows that the birthright is worth something to Jacob. Knowing this, would Esau practically give it away for a simple bowl of stew? Many of the Sages say that this merely demonstrates how little Esau valued the birthright. But bargaining only partly involves how you value something. It is just as much about the value the other party places on the item being haggled over, and anyone who has done any sort of negotiating knows this.

I think the resolution to these problems lies in understanding the conversation in a different way. This discussion really isn’t about Esau’s hunger or the value of a bowl of stew. It’s about the roles Esau and Jacob foresee for their lives, and what they each want for their future. Esau doesn’t want to take the mantle of leadership and carry the weight of the Jewish people upon his shoulders. He sees a different destiny for himself. Jacob craves that role, so much so that he later will deceive his beloved father to get it. Esau has something he doesn’t want, but Jacob desires with all his heart.

But Esau and Jacob can’t simply speak openly and honestly about this dilemma. Perhaps their respective pride is in the way. Perhaps they cannot go against their father’s wishes, or they don’t want to disappoint him. Perhaps society’s rules won’t allow them to come to an overt agreement to simply give the birthright to Jacob. Instead, they contrive this blatantly flawed and nonsensical deal, listening closely to each other and hearing what the other is saying, even if each cannot say it overtly.

The exchange might really be something like this:

 

Esau: I have been given this role I don’t want because I was born first. It’s making me crazy.

Jacob: I want the role you have been given. I will gladly take the burden.

Esau: Take it. If I were forced to take this role, it would kill me by trapping me in a future I don’t want.

 

In this light, Jacob and Esau are not adversaries in the traditional sense. They have listened to each other, and have found a way to make themselves and each other happy. In a way, they are partners. The rest of the events in the next chapter where Esau mourns the loss of his birthright and threatens to kill Jacob become a mere playing out of the expected roles that Isaac and society expects.

When we have conversations with each other, how much do we really listen and try to understand what the other desires. Do we try to ascertain the subtext of that is being said? Do we ask questions to gather information, or do we merely make assumptions about what the other is thinking and feeling. Perhaps Jacob and Esau, and the Torah as a whole, are teaching us to listen to each other a little harder, refrain from drawing unwarranted and unproven conclusions about what the other really wants, and strive even further to see the truth and find ways to live in peace.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Brothers, Communication, Dvar Torah, Esau, Genesis 26, Jacob, Siblings, Toldot, Torah

A Talmudic Look at Black Lives Matter

October 5, 2015 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

There was a big controversy about the movie, Schindler’s List. The advertising for the movie contained the teaching from the Talmud, “If you save a single life, it is as if you have saved the world entire.” Many of us know this teaching, and we’ve heard it many times before.

The controversy comes for people who claim that the movie edited this Talmudic teaching. They say that the Talmud really says, “If you save a single life in Israel, it is as if you have saved an entire world.” See, these folks claim that Judaism doesn’t really care about all lives, and all people. It’s only Jewish lives that matter to Jews. That’s what these words, “in Israel” mean, they claim. By omitting these words, say the critics, Spielberg was hiding the Jews’ selfishness, their ethnocentrism, their disregard for anyone but themselves, their lack of humanity, their evil!

So, was this true?

Of course not.

See, here’s the real story. As many of you know, there are actually two versions of the Talmud. The first is the Talmud Yirushalmi – a version of the Talmud thought to have been produced in the Galilee and completed in the first half of the fifth century. The second is the Talmud Bavli – the Babylonian Talmud completed in the area of modern day Iraq a century or two after the Talmud Yirushalmi. The Babylonian Talmud is twice as long as the Talmud Yirushalmi, and contains several significant differences in the text. But both are considered authoritative, and their differences are a source of commentary and discussion by later sages.

One of these differences is the line from Schindler’s List. The movie uses the formulation from the Talmud Yirushalmi that I recited a moment ago. The Babylonian Talmud adds the words “in Israel.” Spielberg didn’t edit the text to make Jews look better. He merely chose one text with the more appropriate quote for the film over the other.

How do we know that the critics who claim that Jews only care about other Jews are wrong? It only takes a quick look at our sacred Scripture. Our Scripture teaches that we shall have one law that applies both to Jews and to the strangers, the non-Jews, among us. (Ex. 12:49) We are admonished to love our neighbors as we do ourselves, even if they are strangers. (Lev. 19:34) And Hillel taught us, “What is hateful to you, do not do to another,” with no restriction to Jew or non-Jew. The idea that we Jews need not care about the lives of other people is contrary to our ethical teachings.

How can we explain the Talmud Bavli formulation of the passage when it refers to lives “in Israel” and not to other lives? I think the answer lies in not jumping to a false assumption. The Talmud Bavli says that Jews should care for other Jews in this passage. That does not mean the Talmud Bavli is saying that Jews should not care about non-Jews.   Actually, if you look at the statement in the Talmud Bavli alone, it is silent on the subject of non-Jews. One cannot make such a huge moral conclusion about how we Jews consider non-Jewish lives from mere silence, especially considering the other teachings in our texts on this subject that I just mentioned. The idea that the passage in the Talmud Bavli is exclusionary does not rest on sound logical principles, and does not make sense in the context of the entirety of our Scripture.

So, why does the Talmud Bavli specify that Jews should concern themselves about saving or destroying other lives “in Israel.” I have some theories. By the time the Talmud Bavli was nearing completion, the Babylonian community had gained ascendancy over the remnants of the Jews in Israel. In fact, the community that had produced the Talmud Yirushalmi was dying. It could be that the powerful Jews in Babylonia were watching their fellow Jews still in the Holy Land suffer, and were doing nothing to help them. Could the addition of these words in the Talmud Bavli have been meant to encourage and admonish the Babylonian Jews to care for their brothers and sisters in Israel? Could these words have been meant to remind them of their obligations to their fellow Jews which were being ignored?

Or, maybe there were times that the non-Jewish peoples among whom the Jews lived were persecuting the Jews. Maybe the inclusion of the words “in Israel” was meant as a challenge to both Jews and non-Jews that Jewish lives mattered too.

I can’t prove that either of these theories is true, but either makes a lot of sense to me. And we are left with two beautiful teachings. We should care about the lives of other Jews, and we have a responsibility to each other as the Children of Israel. And, also, equally, we should care about the lives of all others. There are times when we need to focus more upon the needs of our own people, and there are other times when we need to focus on the lives and needs of other people. In essence, in this way, we are just like every other moral and ethical people on earth, caring both for ourselves and for others, simply changing our focus based on the pressing circumstances. When there is a crisis in Israel or the Jewish community, we focus upon ourselves. When there is a hurricane in the Caribbean, or an earthquake in Asia, or almost any other crisis, we respond to save the lives of others outside our people as quickly as we can.

I was reminded of all of this when I heard about a church in a community in Florida. The church had placed a message on its outdoor sign – Black Lives Matter. Well, someone took some letters off the sign, and changed the message to say, “Lives Matter.” And I saw an immediate parallel to the two formulations about saving a life in the Talmud, one emphasizing a life “in Israel,” and one not.

The Black Lives Matter movement rose out of a clear and specific problem. African Americans are disproportionally stopped and arrested, given harsher penalties for the same crimes as whites, and most serious, shot and sometimes killed by authorities while unarmed. According to a Washington Post study, of all suspects killed by law enforcement, blacks and Hispanics were two and a half more likely to be unarmed than whites. African-American mentally ill people were 11 times more likely to be killed by police than white mentally ill people. Black teenagers are 21 times more likely to be killed by authorities than whites. Even though marijuana use rates are the same in the black and white community, blacks are up to ten times more likely to be arrested for this crime than whites. Whatever happened to Michal Brown in Ferguson, a Department of Justice report found that the local police had arrested people, mostly American-American, without cause, routinely used unnecessary force, and levied fines for unfounded charges as a revenue source.

When I lived in Cincinnati fifteen years ago, my wife’s boss’s son, an African-American college student, was stopped by the police on campus while on his way to class. The police car ran up on the curb in front of him, and the officers got out of the car and forced him to the ground. A faculty member saw this and intervened, and the police said he was acting suspicious….because he had a backpack.   And then there would be a story on the news just about every month about the police shooting an unarmed black man. Finally, the community had had enough, and they mostly peacefully protested. It’s fourteen years later, and we’re still dealing with the same issues.

Some have now raised the claim that “Black Lives Matter” is racist, because, really, don’t all lives matter? And don’t the lives of police killed in the line of duty matter? Shouldn’t we say, “All Lives Matter?” All lives do matter, especially those by our brave police officers, but this is a particular time in our history where we need to deal with a specific problem of racism. Saying “Black Lives Matter” does not preclude the idea that “All Lives Matter,” and aside for some notable exceptions, I don’t think the Black Lives Matter movement disregards the value of all lives. It’s just that they have a real and legitimate concern for members of their community right now, and they are trying to focus attention to this problem. If this were happening in the Jewish community, we would do exactly the same. After all, it says in our Talmud, “If you save a single life in Israel, you have saved the world entire.” And it also says, “If you save a single life, you have saved the world entire.” Both are true. Sometime we need to say one, and sometimes the other, but neither means that we only care about ourselves. And the same is true when African Americans say, “Black Lives Matter.”

But, words also do matter. And so I hope that those in the Black Lives Matter movement clearly address their critics without becoming defensive. It would be good to hear them say that, yes, all lives matter, but we as a society need to focus on the pressing issue of what is happening in the African-American community right now.

Because the problem persists. After that church in Florida restored its sign to the original message, “Black Lives Matter,” someone changed it again. This time, they took letters from other places, and they made the sign read, “Black Lives Matter….Less.”

May this be a sweet year of life and peace for all of us, and for all our neighbors, our country, our spiritual homeland Israel, and all the world.

Ken y’hi ratzon – may this be God’s will.

(Delivered as sermon at Boston University, Rosh HaShannah, 5778)

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: All Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter, Lives Matter, Schindler's List, Talmud

Commenting: The Fine Print

October 5, 2015 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

I welcome comments to my blog posts, whether you agree or disagree with what I write.  Here are a few rules about commenting on this blog:

  1. You must register with a valid email address before posting a comment.  You must use your real name when registering.
  2. Comments are limited to 150 words.  No inappropriate language, defamatory words or comments, or other writing deemed non-constructive by Rabbi Wildstein will be permitted.  Ads, spam, multiple and/or repetitive postings, trolling, comments nor relating to the post and writing in all-caps specifically are not permitted
  3. All comments become the property of Rabbi Wildstein once submitted.
  4. Rabbi Wildstein reserves the right to edit comments for length or appropriateness for this website.  Rabbi Wildstein will be the sole judge on postings.
  5. These rules are subject to change by Rabbi Wildstein at any time, with or without notice.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Comment

Beginning a Blog

October 5, 2015 By Jeffrey Wildstein Leave a Comment

Anyone who starts a blog has to answer an important question: With the amount of conversation available on the internet, why should people read what I have to say?  Writing a regular blog should be more than “the thing to do” or “a way to get your name out there.”  Starting a new blog makes sense only if it enriches the reader, entertains the reader, or gives an insight or perspective that furthers a conversation or adds something new.  Otherwise, a new blog is only a repetition of something else that’s online.

My goal in writing this blog is to make a meaningful contribution to the discourse about Judaism and how Jewish values relate to our lives and our world today.  My learning and experience as a Rabbi, attorney and scholar combine to give me what I hope will be a unique perspectives on some issues.  I’ve often been told that people have learned something from my sermons and appreciated my perspective, even when they didn’t agree with my positions.  In my mind, that’s the greatest compliment a Rabbi may receive, so I hope this blog with do the same.  I’ve been told that I have a way of explaining aspects of Judaism in a clear and (sometimes) amusing manner – at least that’s what people who have read my book, Idiots’ Guide: Judaism, have told me.  So feel free to contact me to purchase an autographed copy as well as reading this blog.

You’ll see what I mean in my first substantive posting soon to come – a surprising comparison of a Talmudic problem with a debate going on right now in America, complete with references to one of the greatest Jewish films ever.  Have I caught your interest?  I hope so.

Thank you for joining me on this blog.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: blog, Idiots' Guide: Judaism, insight, Rabbi

Copyright Rabbi Jeffrey Wildstein 2015