A teaching in the Mussar tradition takes issue with the idea that Moses parted the Sea of Reeds by merely lifting his arms.
It contends that the sea was going to part anyway, but because Moses’ inner self was in complete balance, he happened to be in the right place at the right time.
The study of Mussar is complex; its founders contended that within each of us, there are 48 different midot – personal traits and virtues.
According to the Mussar tradition, through a series of spiritual practices—and by keeping a journal—we can improve ourselves and bring these 48 characteristics into perfect harmony.
Have you ever had a day that begins on the wrong foot? As you step out of bed – your foot lands on a piece of your child’s Lego.
As you drive to work that day, as you focus on financial worries, or a troubled relationship, it seems that everyone else on the road is a bad driver. You miss your exit. You can’t find a parking place.
We call that “having a bad day.”
Conversely, there are days where we hit every green light. Our child unexpectedly calls from college to thank us for supporting their education. A surprise check or refund arrives in the mail.
On that day, a friend or spouse suggests we go buy a lottery ticket. How many of these good days or bad days are truly random? It’s a complex topic that has occupied rabbis, other clergy, theologians and philosophers throughout time.
It’s also a question that the Torah addresses this week, as it lays down the “conditional covenant” between God and the Jewish people. The name of the parashah is B’chukottai – “if you follow my laws.”
A few months ago, we read in the Torah about the 10 commandments, which were given to the Jewish people, initiating the “unconditional covenant” between us and God.
In short, God will never permanently leave our side. That is unconditional.
But then there is something called the “conditional covenant,” which contends that whether or not we as Jews enjoy good fortune – individually or collectively – depends on our behavior.
The Torah portion contends that God rewards and punishes. But I wonder. How much of our lives is linked to our own attitudes and pursuits? On a daily basis, do we mindlessly worship the idols of our time? Are we perpetually chasing pleasure, or are we focused on aligning our midot?
Are we dedicated to bringing care, kindness and compassion into the world, or are we supporting an agenda of retaliation, retribution and revenge? About three months ago, at a rabbinical gathering, a series “human issues” were raised regarding the Israel-Hamas war. Some difficult questions were posed.
Did God play a role on October 7, or is it possible that because Israel was focused on judicial issues, it paid less attention to border security?
Is it possible, that while our educational system strongly focuses on the Holocaust, our schools have failed to encourage understanding of what it means to be a Jewish-American today?
Have we remained so intent on providing a good and comfortable life for our children that we’ve lulled them into a false sense of security?
Have universities become so fixated on appearing to be inclusive, that they’ve intentionally or naively hired enemies of Israel intent on promoting an anti-Jewish agenda?
One top-ranked Reform rabbi recently posed this in his podcast: “Why are so many of our youth, raised under the Jewish umbrella, embracing the hateful and inaccurate rhetoric so prevalent on campuses today?”
In short, are our midot out of balance? Friends, late Sunday, Patte and I will be leaving for Israel as part of a CTI group of five who will join dozens of others to work and to bear witness in southern Israel.
The program—to “repair and rebuild”– involves five days of painting and restoring kibbutzim and other communities destroyed on October 7. Our group will be assigned to rebuild a kindergarten on a kibbutz so that the children can return later this year.
In the big picture, a few days of work will not make a difference. But I believe it is important, like thousands have already done on programs such as “repair and rebuild,” to confront the pain and to truly understand the suffering that Israel is enduring. In the evenings, we will meet with survivors to hear their stories, and perhaps transfer a bit of their pain to our shoulders.
We will work. We will meet families of the hostages. And perhaps even more importantly, we will bring that perspective home to share with you.
We as Jews are pained by all suffering. But have we truly absorbed the full October 7 story? Like many of you, I am tired of receiving news and accounts of what’s happening through second-hand sources.
Throughout the next week, I will seek to rebuild and rebalance my midot in Sderot, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Too often, throughout history, Jews have stood alone within a “conditional” world.
And perhaps that is the inner meaning of this week’s Torah portion. We are in charge of our own destiny. We cannot sit still and let God come to us with answers or dispense justice.
Indeed, we are co-authors of our destiny. This is a remarkable and unforgettable period within Jewish history, and – as has so often been the case—we stand alone.
We did not, in any way, cause or deserve what happened on October 7. But we must rebalance our midot through advocacy for Israel, donations and volunteerism.
Let us all be guided by words inspired by the great Sage Hillel 2,000 years ago, “If we are not for ourselves who will be for us.” I don’t expect this to be easy. But these are the shores we need to stand upon.
But as we leave this Sunday night, our hearts will be filled with a deep sense of responsibility, as we pose the unique Jewish question:
“If we do not bear witness, who will?”
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman