Fear Factor- Rosh Hashanah 5780
Picture the
scene: At noon on Shabbos, a bus alights on the corner of Church and Crawford.
The bus disgorges its passengers, each one armed with a cell phone, snapping
photos furiously of the latest shiny curiosity.
You wonder at first what is it that they are photographing? What can be so intriguing about this
nondescript street corner? And then it
hits you - they are staring at us and photographing, because we are observant Jews. “Look at them in their prayer shawls,” they
exclaim. “How can they walk in this heat?” and “Look how many children these
people have!” This sounds outlandish and dystopian, but that’s only because
it’s not happening here. But it is happening elsewhere, every day, several
times a day. Tourists readily pay $55 to gawk and observe Chassidic Jewish
life, partake of a trendy and chic grand tour of New York City, called “The
Contrast Tour.”[1]
On this whirlwind expedition, you will drink in the diversity of the City that
Never Sleeps- from the graffiti laden walls of the South Bronx to the ethnic
restaurants of Queens, concluding with a journey to Brooklyn.
We all know that
this human safari takes place on the backdrop of a terrifying reality, rapidly
spreading around the country. Two Chabad houses set on fire in Massachusetts, a
shul incinerated in Minnesota, and a firebomb discovered on the premises of a
shul miles away from where we sit in Chicago.
In this past year, dozens of Orthodox Jews have been attacked in the
most brutal manner for no reason other than their visible religious
identification- and police refuse to categorize these attacks as hate crimes.
This is taking place not in Israel and not in the capitals of Europe, where
Jews know to hide who they are, but in the very neighborhoods that these tour
buses so regularly visit- Boro Park, Crown Heights and Williamsburg. The Jewish
map of martyrdom added fresh locations this year; mentions of Poland and
Germany, Hebron and Sderot are no longer the only names that cause us to
tremble. Now, the mere mention of Pittsburgh and Poway elicit the same
reaction.
This past year,
the year 5779, may be best defined with one word: פחד-
fear. Fear affects every aspect of Jewish communal life; shul budgets inflated
by security concerns to entirely new departments established at Federations to
address security needs, especially as relates to the rise in antisemitism. Not
a soul within our community remains unscathed by this fear; From innocent
school children sitting through terrifying videos demonstrating active shooter
scenarios; responsible communities devising emergency response plans for those
events; community members turning against one another as they debate how best
to address these hot button issues.
This is on top of
the traditional concerns which plague our thoughts this time of year - from
health for ourselves and our loved ones, to parnassah,
to safety in Israel. And yet, with all that on our minds, we are going to turn
to God in a few minutes and beg of him ובכן תן פחדך-
instill fear within us. Is there anyone
among us who needs to utter these words? Does Avrohom Gopin of Crown Heights,
who is recovering from a traumatic head injury when he was beaten with a rock,
need to ask for more fear in his life? Is there a Jew anywhere who needs more fear? What we need instead is a
little less fear, and in fact, the
Talmud gives us a prescription for reducing anxiety associated with the Day of
Judgement.
The Sages of Talmudic times supplied
us with three surefire indicators of what the coming year will look like[2]:
דכיפורי וניתלי בביתא דלא נשיב זיקא אי
משיך נהוריה נידע דמסיק שתיה
Rav Ami says: One
who desires to know if he will live through
this current year or not should bring
a lit candle during those ten days
between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur and hang it in a house through which wind does not blow, and he should
watch it carefully: If its light
continues he shall know that he will live out his year.
So, go home
tonight, light a candle, place it away from the wind- and see how long it
lasts. The symbolism of the candle is self-evident; the book of Proverbs
describes the human soul as the candle of God. So why are we not doing
this? Why even bother changing the way
we speak and what we do? If the candle remains lit, we have nothing to worry
about. And if the candle blows out, we’ll have our work cut out for us on Yom
Kippur!
Others feel,
perhaps foolishly, that concern about about their mental and physical health or
their longevity is of lesser consequence. Instead, they are deeply and
understandably preoccupied with financial stability and success. There is a
proverb of disputed origin that goes as follows:
אדם
דואג
על
איבוד
דמיו,
ואינו
דואג
על
איבוד
ימיו
דמיו
אינם
עוזרים,
ימיו
אינם
חוזרים
Man
worries about losing his dollars, and not about losing his days;
His
dollars will not help, and his days will not return.
But as much as
that statement rings true, financial concerns loom large today. How will I pay
tuition for the coming year, and how will I meet our other routine expenses?
How will I pay for an upcoming simcha- or, lehavdil,
an unforeseen illness? If things have been going well financially, will that
continue? Rest assured that the Talmud offers a test for this persistent
thought as well.
ומאן דבעי נעביד
עיסקי ובעי דנידע אי מצלח עיסקי אי לא נירבי תרנגולא אי שמין ושפר נידע דמצלח
And one who
desires to conduct business and wants to know if his business will succeed or not, should raise a rooster. If the
rooster gets fat and beautiful, he shall
know that the venture will succeed.
The symbolism of
the fattened chicken is also clear; it represents prosperity. So, the solution
is simple: go home and buy a rooster. Join the ranks of the backyard suburban
farmers! Don’t use the chicken for kapparos-
in fact, skip kaparos altogether this
year! Just fatten up the rooster and see if it becomes zaftig. No market volatility, no job insecurity, no need to argue
with your spouse about purchases or major life decisions- we have the best
financial litmus test of all.
And lastly, when
it comes to all of those terrible fears for our safety- from the harassment to
the beatings, from the shootings to the bombings, the Talmud offers us another
solution:
האי מאן דבעי ניפוק באורחא ובעי דנידע
אי הדר לביתיה ניעול ניקום בביתא דבהתא אם חזי בבואה לבבואה דבבואה נידע דאתי
לביתיה ולאו מילתא היא דילמא חלשא דעתיה ומתרע מזליה
One
who wishes to leave on a journey and wants to know whether he will return to
his home should enter a dark house. If he sees the reflection [bavua] of a
reflection of
his reflection he shall know that he
will return and come to his home.
Here, the shadow
represents a person’s essence. If it is present, it means that he still is
viable, that he still has an impact upon his world, hence an indication that he
will return home safely. So all you need
to do is enter a room and turn off all the lights. If you can still see your
silhouette, you are guaranteed a safe journey. No insurance necessary, no
security, no tefillas haderech- just
the flick of a switch.
It all seems so
easy. A life-hack, quite literally. If
we have an opportunity to predict the future, why wouldn’t we seize it? But
then the Gemara does an about-face, and tells us that, on second thought, this
is all a terrible idea. Judaism is not interested in quick fixes; rather, we
are told to embrace our fears and live with uncertainty ובכן תן פחדך -
Lord, give me some fear!
If we are asking
for fear, it must be a different kind. Not the fear that FDR described when he
said
“the only thing we have to fear
is...fear itself” ... [3]
But rather, a
different kind of fear described by his wife Eleanor:
You
gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really
stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived
through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must
do the thing you think you cannot do.”[4]
In other words, try your very best to
do that which scares you.
FDR exhorts us to
live fearlessly; Eleanor Roosevelt empowers us to live with fear.
Today’s mantra of
seeking safe-spaces, avoiding triggers and micro-aggressions and meditation
exercises designed to block out discomfort - these are all designed as avoidance
strategies, to numb our senses and dodge that which is painful or
frightening. We are teaching an entire
generation that it is healthy and desirable to steer clear of disappointment
and heartache.
Today we pray for
fear not because we are a religion of masochists, but because we know that the
best of us will emerge when we confront anxiety. And this
is why the Gemara does away with these simanim.
The question we
must ask ourselves on this most fateful day is simple:
When our lives
hang in the balance, when we are confronted by all that which haunts us and
causes us to lose sleep at night - Will
we be safe and secure under the protective blanket of our shadow, watching our
candle with great intent and counting the caloric intake of our rooster, or
will we rise to live a true life? Will we choose to live a large life or a
small one?
Let this not be a year in which we are content with just
being “safe.” Surely, we are better than hunkering down and avoiding risk!
As financier John
Shedd pointed out:
“A ship in harbor
is safe — but that is not what ships are built for.”
We too are built for more.
So if 5779 was the year in which Jews were inundated by
fear, then let 5780, תש"פ become a year when we do something
audacious which we previously feared.
Perhaps this is
the year in which we initiate a reconciliation with a family member, even if
fear of rejection or of admitting our own mistakes keeps us from picking up the
phone.
Maybe this is the
year in which we study Torah with our children.
Certainly, there is the fear that we don’t know enough, that they will
be uninterested (or that we are) or that it will turn us into the kind of
families that buses stop and photograph. Today, right now, think about a book,
or a subject, or a tractate that you can begin in your home on a regular basis.
Maybe this is the
year in which we change the way we view shul membership and communal
involvement. Can you imagine a gym in
which people pay significant sums annually and then show up for an hour a week,
play around with a machine or two, go on the treadmill for a few minutes and
then stand in the hallway and talk to their friends for the duration? Or they
don’t go into the gym at all, and instead go directly for the cafe. It is clear then when we join a gym, the more
we put in in terms of attendance and effort, the more rewarding the experience
will be for us. Instead of asking,
“What am I or my kids getting for my membership dollars,” why not ask, “Am I
making the most of my membership dollars?” Our shul is our spiritual gym, and
our investment is maximized when our efforts and attendance are as well. attended the Beit Midrash night and initiated
study partnerships? What if we came earlier to davening and stayed for more of
it, or volunteered for committees or events? We need to adopt a more audacious
attitude, one that encourages us to do that which scares us.
Many of you may
recall when Racheli Frenkel, the noted Torah scholar and mother of Naftali
hy”d, one of the three boys murdered in the summer of 2014 came to speak in
Skokie a few years ago. In a recent
interview, she shared that an American Rabbi came to pay a shiva visit on
behalf of his congregation. He mentioned that on the airplane, he and the
flight attendant were talking, and the purpose of his visit came out. She was
so impressed with this gesture that she told several people sitting nearby. The
Rabbi’s seatmate was not observant, but he was powerfully moved and inspired by
the Rabbi’s selflessness. In turn, he
too was motivated to take on an intrepid, audacious and uncomfortable
commitment. Right there, on that plane, he announced that he planned on putting
on Tefillin at the next possible opportunity. He added that it would be the
first time he would do so since his bar mitzvah.
Across the aisle,
a Satmar chassid overheard the entire conversation. Mind you, Satmar Chassidim
are not known for outreach to those who are not observant, and Tefillin
campaigns are usually associated with other groups. However, when he heard
this, he said, “Please give me your address; I will have Tefillin delivered to
your home[5].”
When the Rabbi came to the shiva, he related this
extraordinary chain of events, and told Mrs. Frenkel that the Hebrew name
Naftali- which means triumph through struggle - is an anagram of the word
Tefillin. It had never occurred to her that this was the case. In my grief, her
next thought was, ‘Wow, he never missed a day of tefillin!’
That’s the thing
about Jewish courage, what the chassidic masters call azus dekedusha, holy courage - it is contagious, and spreads virtue
in its wake. Tenacity in the face of
fear and apathy is what fuels the heart of the Jew. Maybe our fear didn’t change the way we live
our lives the past year, but this year, God, תן פחדך -
give us opportunities to stare down and grow from our fears, and become the
best people we can be.
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