These days, it is hard to view the world and not feel somewhat pessimistic. War. Rising prices. Profound divisions. Questionable leadership.
The Tanach—the full Jewish bible—warns us of this. When it condemns the Jewish people for worshipping false gods or succumbing to materialism, prophets like Micah and Amos blame leaders for failing to set an ethical example.
The Torah provides a blueprint of how to live a meaningful life—where you need to look no further than your own heart.
In its final pages, it tells us, “This Instruction (Torah) that I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach.” In other words, each of us knows what is good and what is not. It begins with you and me.
Almost 18 years ago, on CTI’s first congregational trip to Israel, our bus stopped at the edge of a farmer’s field, to perform a mitzvah which is commanded in this week’s Torah portion.
The parashah instructs farmers to leave a corner of their field for the poor, or for the passing stranger, to glean. (Leviticus 23:23) And in so doing, it lays down the law against extreme hunger which is literally baked into the laws of Judaism.
On that morning, our bus stopped, so that briefly and symbolically we could assist the Israel National Food Bank (Lecket) to feed tens of thousands of food insecure Israelis. After about 15 minutes, our guide said, “You get the idea, so let’s get back on the bus, and move to the next stop of our tour.”
I remember one of our congregants, Irwin Lutt, of blessed memory, saying to him, “no—wherever we are going next, is not as important as what we are doing now.” And the rest of the group echoed, “Let’s Stay.”
And for an additional hour, that is what we did. In the midday heat, we picked enough vegetables to supply 35 families for a week. He teaches that life’s meaning cannot be found in heaven, atop some mountain or across the sea. Rather, it is within each of us to decide how to live and how to respond to life.
It calls upon each of us to do the right thing, every hour of every day. That, indeed, this is a good world. If you believe you have no control over the world around you, please think again. It is about a call to someone who may be lonely, or a visit to the hospital. It is about taking control of our own narrative.
In about three weeks, we will celebrate Shavuot, marking the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. In our tradition there is a story about God offering the Torah to several nations prior to the Israelites.
Warring nations refused to accept the Torah because killing was integral to their culture. Then Torah was offered to nations known for their loose morals. They refused because of the commandment against adultery.
But then the Torah was offered to the Israelites who replied with these words: Na’seh V’Nishmah. “We will do, and then we will listen (Iwith our hearts).” And that is what, in part, has separated the Jewish religion from many others. It is incumbent upon us to act—and take control of our lives.
Judaism does not require us to believe in anything—only that we do. And in so doing, we partner with God to heal this broken world. It is a concept known as Tikun Olam.
If you are feeling the weight of this increasingly heavy world, and you are truly wish to break free, our tradition teaches us to “do something.”
Bring some clothes to the local Goodwill bin. Call someone you haven’t spoken with in a while. Make a donation to the local food pantry. We heal ourselves by making a difference to others.
As I reflect upon this week’s parashah, I recall that day many years ago, when a group of 33 congregants decided to pause their tour to harvest the edges of a field to benefit those in need. It’s about making our lives meaningful by leaving a corner of our hearts for others. That profound belief has carried the Jewish people from generation to generation.
It is also one of the reasons why—according to Jewish tradition—we eat a hardboiled egg, at the Seder table or when entering a mourner’s home after burial. It reminds us that life can often lead us from light to dark, but eventually will return us full circle.
On this, the week where we are commanded to leave a portion of the farmers field for the poor, I recall names like Irwin and Roz Lutt, David and Millie Levine, Isabel and Seymour Kary, Susan Friedlieb and others, of blessed memory, who remind us that no matter how hot or cold this world may appear from time to time, the Torah and its prophetic wisdom remains constant.
And so does the power of the human spirit.
For as the Book of Psalms reminds us: “This is the day that God has given us…Let us rejoice within it.”
In the end, our tradition teaches that our happiness cannot be achieved by following “flawed human leadership.”
Rather, is sustained through God’s gift of the human spirit.
And that we are only as good as the next thing we do.
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman