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For all of you particiapting in rebirth festivities in your life right now, I wish you a glorious festival: may the many blessings continue to rain down on your life and may you continue to recognize them and praise them and their Source.

 

So we just had our Passover seder, two of them actually.  And I wanted to share something with you that I learned this year.

 

I once observed one of my teachers and friends, Rabbi Shawn Fields-Meyer, ask each of her seder guests to bring a few questions along with them, and she wove their questions into the the themes found in the Haggada and the rest of the evening.  We took up this same custom.  I wanted to share a few of them with you.  I hope you will feel moved to respond to them with answers or, even better, with questions of your own:

Why does Judaism focus so much more on action than on faith?

How can I live a life of freedom when every decision is also a decision not to do something else, and therefore is a choice against another possible version of myself?

Why is the story of Exodus the one we tell during a seder meal?

How do we retain our core identity as strangers in a strange land if we are no longer marginalized?

How do we create societies and communities that honor and value minority groups within them?

What does it mean that we tend to learn more from our negative experiences than our positive ones?  Is this [theologically] problematic?

How does our freedom fit with our claim that Tradition makes on us?

What aspects of the Passover story are historically accurate?  Does this matter?  Why or why not?

Who would be the best actor to be play Moses in a ’10 Commandments’ re-make?

How can I truly see myself as though I was freed from slavery?

What is something right now that is oppressing/squeezing you?

 

I can’t wait to read your responses.

 

What is freedom?

(This post was inspired by one of my teachers Rebbe Shmuel Lewis, the rosh yeshiva at the Conservative Yeshiva.)

Spring is in the air, and with it comes longer days, more warmth, and the knowledge that Pesach (Passover) is right around the corner.

Pesach is about freedom. But, what is freedom?

First–a story.  From the story of Noah at the beginning of the Torah all the way until our day, the dove is associated with peace.  But did you ever wonder what the dove of peace prayed for? In the Talmud, the rabbis give us the answer:

The dove requested one thing from The Holy One, he said: Master of the World, may my food be bitter as an olive but dependent on you rather than sweet as honey but dependent on flesh and blood.

We’ll return to this story in one moment.

When talking about freedom, we have to be careful not to conflate two different ideas: political freedom and social freedom, or freedom of meaning (as I will call it).

Political freedom means freedom from the government (or other groups with power) in order that I may be free to choose how to live for myself.  Freedom of religion is an excellent example here, or freedom of the press.  In fact, the Bill of Rights, is a collection of political freedoms.  They protect us from intrusion on our ability to freely choose how to live our lives.  A society is as free as it is able to provide opportunities for its citizens to choose to live how they see fit.

Freedom of meaning is something completely other.  I hear many say, anything I want to do is valuable simply because I have chosen to do it.  Value or meaning resides in the notion that they are free to choose it.  Sometimes adults feel this way as well.  Why is this a good thing?  Because it was chosen freely.  However, this is not what Torah means by freedom, nor what freedom of meaning is.

For Judaism, freedom means choosing to be responsible for others.  Freedom means deciding to belong to a group, a people, a nation.  Freedom means seeing ourselves as a member of this nation and seeing the fate and dignity of our people interwoven in our own fate and dignity.  Freedom of meaning means choosing to be involved with the needs of others, means seeking justice, love, shelter, food, and compassion for those around us.  With these few years that we are here, choosing to live a life of meaning, of value, of communal needs is the freedom that Judaism cherishes.

This is the way of the free person.  A slave cannot chose to belong to a people, cannot chose to be responsible for another.  We are only as free as we are committed to those around us.

Now we can better understand the prayer of the dove, who sought not the desires of the palate, the most delicious tasting foods possible–she said no to the constant lure of comfort, ease, and luxury.  Instead, the dove sought relationship with the Holy One, dependence on the Source of meaning, and (therefore) a life filled with meaningful acts.

We are freed from slavery to humans in order to be a servant of the Holy One.

Where do you find freedom?  What do you make of the two types of freedom?

Continuing on what Rabbi Cordavero (one the most important kabbalists of the 16th century) said in the previous post, in Tomar Devorah he tells us:

The first principle is that God brings life into the world.  And goodness.  Without God’s love and compassion, there would be no goodness.

 

In the last post, we learned that our actions are of utmost importance.  We were created in God’s image, and we choose to cherish or to sully that image based on our actions.  Now we learn a new lesson.  God love us and therefore forgives us.

 

Everyone I’ve ever met makes mistakes, falls short of the mark, and loses one’s temper from time to time.  And yet, at those very moments, God chooses not to let us get our just deserves.  Rather, God chooses to stand by us, to continue to shine the brilliant light of love and compassion and goodness unto our lives.

 

What implications then, does this have for us?  How then should we treat other people?  Ourselves?  How do we create homes and communities that are predicated on gratitude and wonder at our own lives and blessings therein?

There is a powerful idea at the heart of the story of creation found at the very beginning of the Hebrew Bible: every human being is made in God’s image.  Not only are we all–every one of us: man and woman, gay and straight, poor and wealthy, healthy or not, everyone–not only are we all equally God’s children and equally holy, but we are made in God’s image.

Very nice.  So what?  what implications does that have on our lives?

This question is at the heart of a beautiful book by Rabbi Cordavero called The Palmtree of Deborah (Tomar Devorah).  At the outset Rabbi Cordavero explains that what is essential is our actions, for:

it would be a terrible thing for others to look at us and say–nice image, but what ugly actions.

We are each made with the capacity to love, to forgive, to have compassion, to seek justice.  We are each given the breath in our lungs and the bodies to work our lives.  Now what?  What will we do with it?

Rabbi Cordavero suggests that we ought to act according to Godly values in order to graciously respond and give thanks for our form–our life.  What do you think?

Recently, I was talking with Ittai about the nature of community and was really struck–do we in the 21st century know what community is?  Do we care?  Do we make a space in our lives to truly meet others in a common space?

All too often we hear the phrase “the online community” or “blogging community”, but do these words mean anything?  When I go to a yoga class and practice on my mat while others all around me are practicing on their mats, are we a community?  Even if we are having deliciously potent emotional, psychological, and spiritual moments, does this follow that we are a community?

When I go to my shul and see friends and community members asking about their families, finding ways to reach out to one another, and trying to reconnect to the Source of life, I feel overwhelmed with a sense of community.  Why?  I’m not sure.

In part, it has something to do with a connection through relationship as opposed to event.  For instance, if you and I are partners in a specific event, hosting a birthday party say or creating a website, once we are done, there is no more obligation to one another.  Our relationship is terminal.  In fact, even while we are connected, the scope of our responsibility for one another is limited.

To mind, community, true community represents something else–another model entirely.  One in which our relationship is primary, not time bound, and ought to encompass the fullness of our selves.

Is this true for you?  Is this possible anymore?  Ought it be something to work towards?

Also, being that we are all online when reading and writing this blog and being that the online world is rather important to us, how does the online world present options for community?  Does it at all?  And, how does it hinder community?

I just finished an amazing book by Charles Murray called Coming Apart.

He posits that the four essential virtues that formed the core of our social fabric, and that lead to true satisfaction and happiness in life, are: marriage, vocation, community, and faith.  Through a tremendous amount of statistical analysis he argues that these four cornerstones have eroded completely in the lower socioeconomic communities and have lead to tremendous violence against people’s abilities to lead meaningful and satisfied lives.

Murray goes on to sugges that even in wealthier communities much of these core values have eroded to the point where some of the same dangers are at stake.

Finally, Murray makes what may be his strongest argument and most critical insight that ultiamtely we have seperated into disparate groups who no longer interact or can relate with one another.  This is particualrly challenging when so many decisions that affect the entire country are made by the wealthiest top 5 percent, who are completely closed off from the rest of us.

What do you think?

1 of the 36

Reblogged from REJEW-V'NATION - Devakut Yoga:

If you were to tell me that this guy is one of the 36 Tzaddikim – I would have to say that you weren’t lying. This man answers all of life’s questions in one video -

This is one of the best and most honest forms of Yoga that I have ever seen – it is much more than poses and mantras folks – this is real living.

Read more… 7 more words

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