Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts

Human beings have an innate desire to be better people. At times, that desire is expressed in a competitive way with others, and at times we compete “with ourselves” by asking ourselves, “How can I be a better person today than I was yesterday?”

The rainbow, a beautiful natural phenomenon that is caused by the dispersion of light in water drops, results in a spectrum of multi-colored light appearing in the sky. That is how one might explain its natural phenomenon. However, we might also ask ourselves: Is there is a deeper message in the rainbow?

The rainbow has been adopted by many movements to symbolize peace and tolerance and variations thereof. However, those representations didn’t come out of thin air—they originated from somewhere. What does the rainbow really teach us?

In this week’s Torah portion, after the story of the flood, G-d makes a promise that He will never destroy the world again. If he wants the world to know that it should “clean up its act,” then he will show us a rainbow.

Now, if a rainbow were not a natural phenomenon, we could understand why seeing a rainbow might shake us to the core and move us to change our ways, knowing that G-d is giving us a second chance. But since we know that a rainbow is a natural phenomenon, why would a rainbow have any such kind of effect on us?

Allow me to give you another perspective.

G-d didn’t destroy the world and then create a rainbow to remind Himself not do so again. He pushed the “reset” button so that the world would never sink to such a low spiritual level again and need to be destroyed. As a result of this “reset,” the natural outcome was the rainbow! The rainbow became the reminder of the flood that will never occur again because the world is on a higher spiritual level! 

What is even more interesting is that it’s possible for the world to be elevated to an even higher spiritual level so that a rainbow will not be needed to give us this reminder, because the world is so holy!

There were actually two times in history, during the lifetimes of King Chizkiyahu (Hezekiah) and Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochi, when the world was on such a spiritual “high” that a rainbow was not seen in the sky. Theoretically, it can happen again!

The rainbow shows us G-d’s kindness. It’s not about destruction but about rebuilding. It’s not scary, it’s beauty.

When I see a rainbow, I see G-d’s miracle revealed, and I say a blessing thanking G-d for sharing it with me. I thank G-d for giving this world to me and allowing me to partner with Him in making this world a better place and creating a “home” for Him to “live in” and to be proud of, with the hope that Moshiach will come and there will be true peace in this world. Amen.

Here is an interesting story. There are two brothers who give the same name to their sons: Chanoch. Both fathers wanted their sons to grow up to be successful, influential and productive men. Yet it doesn’t turn out to be that way.

Why?

To understand why, we need to know the rest of the story.

In the beginning, there were not only two brothers but three. Kayin (Cain), the bad guy, killed his brother Hevel (Abel). His parents were distraught, so they begat a third son and they named him Shiet (Seth). Sheit, like his older brother Hevel was a goody-goody.

What happened to Cain after he killed his brother? The Torah teaches us that he regretted his actions and did Teshuva—he changed his ways for the better. He turned his life around and he dedicated his life to serving G-d and to educating his children. The name Chanoch, is derived from the word Chinuch – meaning educate and renew. This was his new life's dedication.

What was Seth’s life like? Well, he was naturally a good kid and as he matured, he continued on the straight path. Did he educate his children? Yes, but was he committed to their education? Not really. 

That is why the Torah tells us that although the cousins grow up at the same time, each with the same name, with a city built for them, they have high hopes for a successful legacy. Only Cain’s son Chanoch, the son of the sinner and killer, is successful. His city is the one that prospers! Is it because he is also the son of the one who changed his way, the son of the one who did Teshuvah, the one who recognized his mistakes and who rededicated his life to his children’s education? 

On the other hand, we have the perfect father Seth. He might have done nothing wrong in his life, but he also did nothing extraordinary that would make an impression on his son. That is why his son’s city falters.

The lesson that we can learn from this story, one of the first that we read in this new year, coming off of the High Holiday season, is that we should not get caught up in our past, but look at the actions that we are taking today! What are we doing to advance our Judaism in our lives?  If we do something positive, we will succeed.

When you go shopping to buy something, let’s say a piece of furniture, and you see that it has a small scratch, you might decide not to buy it. But if you do buy it, probably the little imperfection doesn’t bother you that much. However, if you buy it and the furniture gets further scratched at home, chances are that you will be very disappointed. Why is it that the imperfection had less significance in the store than it does when it is at home? 

The reason is because while the object was in the store, you were looking at something that was not yours. You had the option to choose it or not. However, once it becomes yours, it has been chosen—you and the object are one. Therefore, every imperfection is a reflection on you. 

Now we can understand an interesting law connected to our weekly Torah portion. It says that metal should not touch the stone that is used for the altar. The Talmud and the code of Jewish law say that there is a difference if the stone was chipped before the stone became part of the altar, or if it was chipped after the altar had been built. 

If the stone was chipped before, then it only becomes unusable if the chip is of a “measurable” size. But if the altar was already built, then even the smallest damage rendered it unusable and therefore it must be replaced. 

The reason is as follows: Before the stone became part of the altar, the stone hadn’t been chosen yet and therefore a small infraction was not a big deal. If, however, it became part of the altar, then it was “chosen” and perfection was required. 

This teaches us a profound lesson relating to Rosh Hashana: When we see an imperfection in another person we should be accepting and forgiving. But when we see an imperfection in ourselves, even if it is the smallest imperfection, we should work on changing ourselves to the better.

There is a lot of hype surrounding the new show that depicts the life story of one the greatest known Israeli spies, Eli Cohen. There is a lot to say about the remarkable information that he was able to give to Israel while he was in Syria, and many lives were saved by his actions.

Judaism teaches us that nothing happens by mistake. The fact that this show was released during the month of Elul, the month leading up to the High Holidays, tells us we should look for a connection between Eli’s story and this time of year.

In this week’s Torah portion, also read in the month of Elul, we find a remarkable connection between the spy story and the parsha about marriage and divorce.

One potentially overlooked aspect of the life of a spy is the effect it has on the marriage of a couple. Eli and his wife, Nadia, were married and very much in love. However, when Eli became a spy neither was very present in the other’s life. Yet, while Eli was not physically present, it is obvious that they are both constantly thinking of each other. They eat the same foods, and dream about each other, but are not able to spend time with each other. They seem unaware of this detail in their lives – although it is happening. As far as Nadia is concerned, her husband is not present at all. Her friends tell her that he just doesn’t care, not even coming home to see her newborn child.

This spy story is analogous to our “marriage” with G-d. We have a very strong bond with G-d, for sure. Our visits with Him might be sporadic, or at times very regular. There are times when we mimic His ways, even if we don’t really know it. As the Midrashic saying goes, “A Jew is full of Mitzvot like a pomegranate is full of seeds.” However, the question that we could be asking ourselves is what kind of marriage do we want to have with G-d? Is there a reason for us to live the life of a spy who has no choice but to live such a challenging lifestyle? If we were living in Syria today, we too – perhaps – would have to hide our relationship with G-d. But we live in a free country, in a land that not only permits us to live as Jews, but allows us the freedom to practice our religion in public. There is no reason for us to “hide” our feelings for G-d. It is more than OK for us to demonstrate our love in our marriage with G-d openly, and not be ashamed to express it in public. Our friends and neighbors should not be asking us: Why are you a Jew? What does it mean to be a Jew? They should understand and see our commitment and be proud that we have something special!

Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova!

All lives matter. The question is not which ones matter more; the question is which color is more powerful. I am not talking about skin color, but the color of the uniform. Is the black robe or the blue uniform more powerful?  Is it the judge who rules from the bench or the police officer who enforces the law more important? 

From one perspective we can say that it is the police officer who enforces the law. Since without police, the judge can say whatever they want from today to tomorrow—it will not change a thing if the law cannot be applied. On the other hand, we need the judge to make the call, to say who is right and who is wrong. Without judges, there is no law and order to begin with.  

However if all the judge is doing is telling us what we should already know on our own, then the officer is surely the more important player here. After all, police make sure that we live in a civil society by implementing the law in our lives. True, we might not know the law, but that is out of ignorance; or we might know the law but we disagree about how to interpret the law.

There is yet another way of viewing judges. They can be teachers. They have the opportunity to delve into the law to see if there is anything unique in a particular case, both in its unique circumstances and to see if people can learn from it. The judge has the opportunity to learn and to teach, and even to come up with new ideas within the framework of the law. By doing so, the judge is not just telling us what the law says; they are informing and forming people. They are teaching us how to lead productive lives, and bringing peace not only in their courtrooms but to society as a whole. That is how they can become true leaders. 

Yes, we need the officers to enforce the law, but for judges to be truly important they need to be influencers.  

If you ever had to undergo physical therapy, you know it is not fun. Every stretch, every movement, is painful. Yet, you go through the repetitions, counting one, two, three, up to fifteen. You take a break and you start over again. You go through all that pain. Why not just throw in the towel and say, fuhgettaboutit (like they say in Brooklyn)! I can tell you first-hand about my own experience. I am working through a frozen shoulder right now, and it is mighty painful to do the stretches. However, I know that if I want my situation to improve, I must work through the pain until I improve. 

One of the most famous episodes in the Torah is the story of Moses breaking the two tablets. What is interesting about the story is that when Moses retells it to the Jewish people, as he does in this week’s Torah portion, he says, “I took hold of the tablets and cast them out of my hands and shattered them before your eyes” (9:17).

When you first hear the two words “emotional intelligence” together you have to wonder: Don’t they clash? Emotions are feelings, while intelligence is understanding. Feelings are warm and fuzzy, and can get in the way of our brain functioning properly. Thinking and analyzing on the other hand, can be cold and distant, which can get in the way of us having a warm and fuzzy feeling. How then do these two words come together? 

This Shabbat is the 9^th of Av, the anniversary of the destruction of the Holy Temple, but we observe this sad day on Sunday so as to honor Shabbat. I would like to share with you a peculiar Midrash, which helps explain the depth of this week’s observance. On the day that the Holy Temple was destroyed, an Arab who lived far away from Jerusalem heard a donkey braying, and commented that it must have meant the Holy Temple was destroyed. A few moments later he heard the donkey braying again, and this time he said it meant that the process of their redemption had started.

First responders are taught to protect their own lives first, and only then go in to help someone. However, if we intend to “save a life,” shouldn’t we immediately run into a burning house just to save a life? You hear it all the time, people saying, “I would do anything to save another person.” Yet, we see that first responders are told not to do that. In order to save someone else, you must know that you are safe first.

The story of Pinchas reads like a novel, it is hard to believe that this is a “biblical story.”  There is public lewd behavior by Zimri, the head of a tribe, then Pinchas, stops him in middle of the act, by killing him and the Midyanite princess with whom he is cohabitating with. By doing so, he also stops the plague that takes the lives of 24,000 Jews!  Yet, the Jews belittled him with names to the point that they wanted to kill him.  

Is there a person who you cannot stand so much that even mentioning their name makes you cringe? How about a building that evokes a feeling so harsh that you cannot even look at it? Do you feel guilty about those feelings? Perhaps you are onto something, and there’s a reason for those feelings.