From the Rabbi

We tend to attribute the fatherhood of modern capitalism to Adam Smith, who wrote The Wealth of Nations originally as a mere guidebook. In essence, Adam Smith’s philosophy was to let the markets regulate themselves or, as we commonly refer to this idea, to perpetuate a free economy. My finance professor back in business school, Dr. Aaron Brown, one of the leading analysts on Wall Street, compares the attempt to regulate the market to a person trying to stabilize a ball with a stick. This might be true, but it doesn’t mean that markets can’t regulate themselves ethically.

Recently, I was invited to introduce “The Book of Amos” at one of the local churches. “The Book of Amos” is the first prophetic book of the Bible to have been written, and it carries a universal message about regulating the market. Amos’s themes of social justice and divine judgment are reverberated in the words of all the other prophets.  God wants us to be free, but links this freedom directly to our ethical conduct regarding our wealth.

Amos, an older contemporary of Isaiah, was active around c. 750 BC. He was a Judaean who preached to the northern kingdom of Israel. But Amos tells the cult prophet Amaziah, “I was no prophet, nor have I belonged to a company of prophets; I was a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores.” (Amos 7:14) The sycamore (of Israel) produces a small fruit that is not known to have a great taste. The job of the dresser was to puncture the fruit days before it was to be gathered in order to help with the ripening process.

When Amos says he is a dresser of sycamores, he is describing himself as the average man on the street. The central idea of the “Book of Amos” is that God puts his people on the same level when it comes to ethical behavior. Similar to the surrounding nations, Israel and Judah will not be exempt from the judgment of God because of their unjust ways. Israel is guilty of injustices toward the innocent, the poor, and to young women. The modern example of sex trafficking has ancient roots.

“Thus, said the Lord: For three transgressions of Judah, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they have rejected the law of the Lord, and have not kept His statutes, and their lies have caused them to err, after which their fathers did walk. So will I send a fire upon Judah, and it shall devour the palaces of Jerusalem. Thus saith the Lord: For three transgressions of Israel, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes.” (Amos 2:4-6)

The Talmud tells us that this is a reference to Joseph having been sold by his brothers. The Talmud also links this act to the destruction of the kingdoms of Israel and Judea — thus the Temple. If you don’t see yourself and others as equals — a fellow sycamore tree — eventually you are bound to be unjust toward him.

We have just begun the “Three Weeks” period between the 17th of Tammuz, the day the Romans breeched the walls of Jerusalem, and the 9th of Av, when the Temple was destroyed. Let’s use this time to examine ourselves and our actions, and to make sure we don’t sell our brothers and sisters for a pair of shoes. The way to rebuild is through justice. “Behold, the days come, said the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord.” (Amos 8:5-6,11)

God bless,

—Rabbi Gadi Capela

In a few days, it will be seven years since I began serving as the rabbi of Congregation Tifereth Israel. When I decided to make the change from corporate to the rabbinate, I did it not because I didn’t enjoy the work I was doing; on the contrary, it was gratifying in many ways. I did it because of the feeling I had that I was working for “other people”— that when I would call in all the chips at the end of the day, most of the effort I was investing had dissolved into a big matrix. Looking back at this decision, despite many challenges over the years, it still feels that I’m working for my people.

Many stressful experiences are due to our tendency to test God as well as to test each other. When we test each other, we resemble the husband who suspects his wife of cheating. He takes her to the High Priest, who lets her drink the bitter water in which the words of that particular portion of Torah are dissolved in the water. If the woman is guilty, she dies then and there. But if she’s innocent, the bitter water will go through her and she will conceive a child.  (Numbers 5:21-25)

The rabbis teach us that for peace in the house, God is willing for His name to be dissolved into the water. God’s identity can take it — better that then to erase the house. As I ponder the future, we have been given an opportunity to find common ground. I am hopeful that we can rise to the occasion and envision a positive future.

God bless our people,

—Rabbi Gadi Capela

Last Wednesday evening at Christie’s in New York, a 1986 sculpture by Jeff Koons, “The Rabbit,” sold for $91 million. A playful, stainless steel, faceless rabbit, just over three feet tall, which has not been publicly exhibited for more than 30 years, became the most expensive work by a living artist ever to sell at auction. Christie’s had described the sculpture as “…one of the most iconic works of 20th-century art… crisp and cool in its appearance, yet it taps into the visual language of childhood.”

Even though I know this is an investment and, hopefully, as long as it keeps its mystique, it will accrue value for the new owner. Still, that’s a lot of money spent on perception. The auction house preview says “Its lack of facial features renders it inscrutable, yet its form evokes fun and frivolity.”

From the Torah perspective, it’s interesting that one of the most “recognizable” features of an idol was its face. “The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths, but they speak not; eyes have they, but they see not; they have ears, but they hear not; neither is there any breath in their mouths. They that make them shall be like them; yea, every one that trusts in them.” (Psalm 135:16-18).

“Hear now this, O foolish people, and without understanding, that have eyes, and see not, that have ears, and hear not.” (Jeremiah 5:21). When in life do we become like those idols that we worship, that prevent us from seeing what is right in front of us?

In this case, is it better for “The Rabbit” not to have a face?  Is the point to open up endless possibilities? Is this why it has accrued such value? Are we able to see ourselves or anyone else in it?  What is its real “face” value?

It’s hard to believe and trust in a God when you can’t see His face. It’s easier to trust in material idols with “facial features” that we can see and touch that bring security and comfort now.

We are fast approaching Shavuot and the reenactment of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, the experience that brought humanity (especially one human) the closest to seeing God’s face. As the people were drawn closer to learning to trust the God they could not see, they were still seeking the comfort of a golden idol. Yet in their fear to move forward, they reverted to what was known back in Egypt. Even though they thought they were giving their gold only to recreate the familiar, they were paying with their freedom. Was this a wise investment?

Please join me for Tikkun Leil Shavuot study on Saturday evening, June 8, at 7:30. May you invest wisely this summer on the North Fork.

—Rabbi Gadi Capela