From the Rabbi
Rabbi Robert L. Wolkoff
Previous Messages
“It’s Showtime for Humanity”
Shalom members and friends,
It’s the beginning of spring. In the midst of everything shutting down, the daffodils have just risen from their death to bloom for another life cycle. This cycle has meaning at this time of coronavirus, and many spiritual Jewish inferences can be drawn. Sometimes, God shakes up the foundations to wake us. The 2020 person, who has everything, is forced to go back to default, to restart. Everything we knew has changed so quickly.
The Biblical term for pandemic is Magefa or Pur’anut. The Talmud tells us, “Every pur’anut comes to wake us up.” (BT Yevamot 63) The element of fear ought to propel us to self-reflection. The preferred outcome is that we move forward from that experience. The word fear in Hebrew — Pachad, comprises the same three letters of Dachaf — to be propelled. We look up to heaven and we pray: “A song for ascents. I turn my eyes to the mountains; from where will my help come?” And we answer: “My help comes from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth.” (Ps. 121)
What does God want from us? One of the answers is found in the Book of Deuteronomy, where God tells us the reason for pandemics He brings into the world: “Because you would not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness over the abundance of everything.” (Duet. 28:47) When we have everything and still are not grateful. As an example, the Israelites sojourning in the desert for a time forgot how bad it was for them in Egypt. Despite being cared for by God, the people grew restive and murmured against God and against Moses. “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? …we have come to loathe this miserable food.”
In response, God sends seraph serpents against the people. They bite the people, and many of the Israelites die. Then the people come to Moses, realizing they had sinned. God then commands Moses to make a seraph figure and to mount it on a standard. “And if anyone who is bitten looks at it, he shall recover.” (Num. 21:5-9) The Talmud then asks: “Did the serpent kill, or did the serpent bring back to life? Rather, when Israel would look upward and subject their hearts to their Father in heaven, they were healed; and if not, their [flesh] would melt away.” (Mishna RH 3:8) This is the essence of a spiritual virus. Healing it is moving from self-centered to God-centered. The physical death begins with a spiritual death.
In the month between Purim and Pesach, we experience this transition. We come out of the shadows, as the daffodils, to bloom in the spring. We are made well-aware of the spiritual virus that may loom large. The Shabbat before Purim is called Shabbat Zakhor — remember. “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt — how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stranglers in your rear. Therefore …you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!” (Duet. 25:17-19)
Amalek is the spirit of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and it comes back to attack us like a virus, over and over, until we blot it out. In the story of Purim, it’s Haman who is a descendant of Amalek, plotting to destroy us entirely, like a pandemic. And like a pandemic, we are commanded to wash it away from us assiduously. When King Saul does not adhere to this commandment, when he has the opportunity to wipe out Amalek but decides he will not, he loses his kingship. To cure ourselves from a virus, physical or spiritual, we have to separate ourselves.
Samuel had conveyed God’s directive to King Saul: “Now go, attack Amalek, and proscribe all that belongs to him. Spare no one, but kill alike men and women, infants and sucklings, oxen and sheep, camels and asses! …But Saul and the troops spared Agag and the best of the sheep, the oxen, the second-born, the lambs, and all else that was of value. They would not proscribe them; they proscribed only what was cheap and worthless. (1 Samuel 15:3, 9) Since King Saul did not proscribed Amalek entirely, it gave birth later to Haman.
The key to fighting a physical or a spiritual virus is to work together. From Shabbat Zakhor (to remember), we end this period with Shabbat Vayakhel (congregation), the Shabbat before the month of Nissan. We are all one Adam. No matter where this body is attacked, from China, Italy, Iran, Israel, or the US, the whole body, the whole world will suffer. And now, we come together online, we come together by staying apart. Eventually, God will help us understand that we are one Adam: “For then I will make the peoples pure of speech, so that they all invoke the Lord by name and serve him with one accord.” (Zephania 3:9) A world of holding hands six feet apart. This could help us correct the horrific history we caused each other — an opportunity in the making. After 5780 years of practice, lets make the third world war against a virus. And they won’t learn war anymore. They will convert their swords into plowshares, says the Prophet Isaiah. Pointing the sword towards elements of nature will make it a valuable plowshare. This is showtime for humanity. Pandemics and evil know no border or fence. Now, we must learn to look over the fence and take care of our neighbor. Together, we will make it.
What the world is going through now is a forced Shabbat experience. We should use the time of social distancing and isolation to elevate. A Midrash tells us that after two Shabbatot in a row that all Israel observe together, the third Shabbat is redemption — the arrival of the Messiah. It sounds easy, but our tradition tells us that the time of the Messiah will not be easy for everyone. Another Midrash teaches us that a person who eats the third meal on Shabbat (Seuda Shlisheet) will be protected during those days. What? All we have to do is eat a lot on Shabbat? No. What it means is that a person who practices Shabbat will not suffer being quiet at home for a long period of time. Be still and believe God is holding things together. “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10)
As we enter the month of Nissan — meaning the month of “miracle,” let’s acknowledge that we are in the midst of a miracle. As one of our members told me, “We can’t control the wind of life, but we can adjust the sails.” (Arnold Gans) We look forward to an especially liberating experience of Passover. We will have life after this break. This is not the end of the world! (Perhaps only as we know it…) Take the precautions, but be calm. Show God that we get it. Let’s transform the social distancing into social engagement. Let us be grateful for what has been, and be open to the future. Like the rebirth of the daffodils, we will come back to a new life. But we don’t want the world to be the same again. Unity is first — praying that we can all succeed together. It’s showtime for humanity!
A healthy month of Nissan and Happy Passover.
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
“Stanley”
As I was preparing for my annual journey to the Holy Land, it was apparent that Stanley was starting his journey to heaven. It was exactly eight years since we’d first spoken. Prior to my introductory Shabbat at Congregation Tifereth Israel, I called him to discuss the order of the service at this shul. He had just turned 87, but he sounded as excited as a teenager. I felt instantly welcomed. When we finally met, I immediately recognized the teenager with the cane. This was the beginning of a wonderful friendship — the Gabbai and the Rabbi.
We journeyed across three continents: From Florida to Ottawa, from the Berlin Wall to the Western Wall, from the streets of my childhood in Israel to the neighborhood of his beloved Eva’s youthful years in Vienna. Both of us loved history and admired beautiful architecture. We brought each other along.
I pushed his wheelchair through many cobblestone streets, while he stirred me through the winding roads of ministry. Handling these trips was not difficult. It was like the Levis from the family of Kehat, who were responsible for carrying the Ark of the Covenant through Israel’s journeys; the Ark carried its carriers.
In Joshua 4:11, the Bible tells us: “And it came to pass, as the priests that bore the ark of the covenant of the Lord came up out of the midst of the Jordan, as soon as the soles of the priests’ feet were drawn up unto the dry ground, that the waters of the Jordan returned unto their place, and went over all its banks, as aforetime.” The Talmud (BT Sota 35a) then concludes that the Ark carried itself and its carriers. Stanley carried me with his love of life and his wisdom. He did not let his physical impairment hold him back from appreciating life to the fullest. “What can’t be cured, must be endured,” he would say. By this virtue, he always helped me overlook the difficulties of the moment, and bounce back.
Early on, Stanley shared with me a vivid dream he’d had, by which it was clear to him that he somehow should take care of me and make sure I would succeed. At first, I wasn’t sure if it meant anything, but soon I found that it was prophetic to him. From that point on, we would speak pretty much every evening. We always ended our conversation with him saying, “I’m glad you called.” And I would respond, “I’m glad you answered. Layla Tov.”
It came to a full circle with my own dream on the night of Feb. 14. Early that evening, I sat with Stanley’s children, and our dogs, around his bed. We shared beautiful moments. That night, something woke me at exactly 4:14 a.m., and the phone illuminated Feb. 14. I looked at the phone and twice saw 14. The number 14, according to the Hebrew numerical value, spells the word “hand.” The two hands spell the word yedid — “friend.” On Erev Shabbat, we sing “Yedid Nefesh.” When the message came in the morning that Stanley had passed away, the message was clear. He was a yedid nefesh — a soulmate.
The thought of not saying a proper goodbye to this most proper man was hard to bear. I was torn between the need to begin my planned journey to Israel and the need to stay. With all our journeys together, my heart would not let me leave without accompanying Stanley on his last. I delayed my flight.
I’m writing this message having recently arrived in Israel, a few days after saying a proper goodbye. It was a most respectful and well-attended funeral — testimony to his full life. The group accompanying me on the tour will arrive tomorrow, and Stanley will journey with us. Stanley, a wonderful man who dwelt among us, will continue to travel with me always. May your soul rest in Eden and your memory be for a blessing.
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
“Modern-Day Slavery”
On a recent Shabbat, we began again to read the Book of Exodus, the story of a minority — a small sector of society — that somehow threatened the Egyptian hunger for globalization. This is how the story of slavery begins — large entities trying to wipe out the identities of smaller or marginalized groups to keep them in servitude and under control.
In our last “Ethical Life” class, we discussed the topic of modern-day slavery and the ethics of consumerism. One of the midrashim (Pirkei de‐Rabbi Eliezer, Chapter 5) contends that consumers benefit from the invisible servitude of others, and thus bear an ethical responsibility to modify their practices. According to Rabbi Yehoshua, “the depth of the earth is a distance of 60 years’ walk, and one tehom (a deep wellspring or fountain), which sits directly over Gehinnom (i.e. a fiery hell), flows from there and brings forth warm waters that provide pleasure for human beings.” Just as paradise is warmed by the waters of hell, our own enjoyment is enabled by the oppression of others. Whenever we see poverty and degradation in the world, we must entertain the possibility that it sustains our comfort.
Whether one serves another person or God, the Torah uses the same Hebrew word — eved — which can be translated as servant or slave, depending on whom is being served. The rabbis relied on the notion that we are servants to God to argue against slavery.
This week we also remembered the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who led the Civil Rights Movement from 1955 until his assassination in 1968. Slavery in America is a good example of enjoyment enabled by the oppression of others. But the end of Black slavery in America, did not end slavery in our society. Three days before he relinquished the presidency to JFK in 1961, President Eisenhower warned against the power of the “military industrial complex” to undermine all other values and judgments of our society. Security, he feared, could be perceived as the only value worth pursuing. With so much money and power concentrated in the hands of a few, corruption would be an easy result, he felt. The need to maintain balance — balance between the private and public, balance between the cost and the hoped-for advantages, balance between the clearly necessary and the comfortably desirable, balance between our essential requirements as a nation and the duties imposed by the nation upon the individual, balance between actions of the moment and the national welfare of the future — these, said Eisenhower, should take precedence over the power of the few.
When the world leaders meet yearly for the Economic Forum in Davos in pursuit of cooperation and globalization, we can applaud the goals, but we must caution our leaders against trading individual freedoms for those ambitions, which can create heaven for one and hell for another.
With hopes for a freer world, Rabbi Gadi Capela
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