Secular New Year, Emulating the Ways of the Nations, and Hypocrisy
On the Socialite blog, a reader took umbrage with a comment I made concerning the Biblical proscription against gratuitously emulating the customs and practices of the Gentiles. Whether it has any bearing on the observance of the secular new year is a subject of debate among the later poskim. What intrigued (or incensed) this reader was his (alleged) assumption that many Charedi Jews and Chasidim are in violation of this prohibition (Leviticus18:3) inasmuch as they wear attire that was once worn by the Polish nobility centuries ago. I'm not going to address this issue at this time, but I'd like to tackle the implication or charge of hypocrisy by the Charedi world that this reader was advancing and see where that takes us.
If one were taking a survey, looking to add an 11th Commandment (not to be taken seriously as one cannot add to the Torah), I would vote for “Thou shalt not be a hypocrite.” Many students of the Talmud are imbued with that message early on, as they study the teachings of the Talmudic sages that are replete with examples of “Practicing what one preaches.” With that understanding, it comes is somewhat disheartening to read a different account in the Greek Scriptures where the allegation of hypocrisy is heaped upon the rabbinical Pharisees:
“The scribes and the Pharisees have sat in the chair of Moses. All things therefore whatsoever they shall say to you, observe and do: but according to their works do ye not; for they say and do not. For they bind heavy and insupportable burdens, and lay them on men's shoulders; but with a finger of their own they will not move them… And they seek salutations in the market place, and to be called by men, Rabbi" (Matt., 23:1-8).
Ouch, that hurts! Is that what learning Torah and training rabbinic leaders produced in the 1st Century? Josephus in Antiquities identifies the Pharisees as becoming practically synonymous with Judaism. A study of Talmudic history, he says, reveals a “certain moral dignity and greatness, a marked tenacity of purpose at the service of high, patriotic, and religious ideals.” As contrasted with the Sadducess, the Pharisees represented the democratic tendency; contrasted with the corrupted priesthood, they stood for both the democratic and the spiritualizing movement among the people.
So concerned with being consistent and taking responsibility for their teachings, that in Shabbat 54b, the Talmud cites the case of Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, “whose cow” would go out on Shabbat with a forbidden rein between her horns. The rabbis explain that the cow did not really belong to R’ Elazar ben Azaria, but since R’ Elazar did not reprove his neighbor who was the actual owner, it was reckoned as if he had committed the violation.
So let’s examine an episode in the life of one of these scholars and evaluate if he fits the scathing indictment found in the Gospel of Matthew mentioned above.
The Talmud tells that Rabbi Yannai, a Pharisee, had a tree that spread into a public place. A case came before him where a person had a tree that leaned over into a public place and passersby were injured by the thorns.
Rabbi Yannai told the litigants, "Go home today. Come back tomorrow. I will tell you what the law is."
Meanwhile, Rabbi Yannai sent his servants to cut down his tree. The next day, when Rabbi Yannai was sitting to judge the case, he said, "The law is that you must cut down the tree because it is a public impediment."
But, Your Honor, you also have a tree that leans into the public street. Your tree is also a public impediment."
Go, take a look," replied Rabbi Yannai, "if I have cut down my tree. You must also cut down your tree. If I haven’t you can leave yours, as well"
The Talmud asks, "Why did Rabbi Yannai not cut down his tree earlier?"
Why did he wait until a case actually came before him?"
Rabbi Yannai assumed that passers-by enjoyed the shade of his tree. However, when a case came before him, he realized that a tree whose branches reach out into the public street cause grief to passersby. He reasoned that people were only quiet out of respect for him. Therefore he sent for it to be cut down.
In any case, Rabbi Yannai did not tell others to cut down their trees until he had cut down his own. Here is a case where we find a Talmudic sage, a Pharisee, not only “talking the talk, but walking the walk.” By no means were rabbi Yannai’s actions an exception. As a learned person of Scripture, he followed sound advice: "Remove your own straw and then remove others' straw." (Zephaniah 2:1) If your friend has a little piece of straw in his eyes and you also have straw in your eyes, remove the straw from your own eye and then remove the straw from the other person's eye. Put simply, “Don’t try to correct others until you’ve corrected yourself!” (Talmud Baba Batra 60a)
To my friendly blog reader, DrM, we should consider Rabbi Yannai's sound advice, before pre-judging our coreligionists who are grappling with their own issues on the battlefield of living and observing a Torah life in the lands of our exile. Shabbat Shalom!
Our kids go berserk when we reprimand them. Sometimes it’s fun to video their reactions. No, I don’t post the tantrums on Facebook. Thankfully they are usually considerate and know when they are crossing the line. They have also learned when to steer clear of their mother just by reading the look on her face. But when we have to lay down the law, we let them freak out for a while and find that afterwards they are usually more sweet and loving than ever. I think they intuit that structure in their lives is crucial for them to flourish. They also see their peers that are spoiled rotten usually turn out just that way: rotten. We emphasize to them that as Jews we connect the holiday of Pesach with Shavuot because we realize that celebrating freedom is great but it’s not just about escaping slavery. Our true goal is the freedom to receive Torah at Sinai and thereby bask within a powerful covenant with God. Rules + consequences = freedom.
Their involvement is welcome and cherished. My father has taken upon himself the job of worrying for me. It’s quite a relief that I don’t have to worry for myself since my dad does such a good job of it. Many of our conversations evolve from small talk about our day-to-day to an analysis of all the things that are wrong in my life. It took me years to understand that my father isn’t trying to wreck my good mood. He shows his love with his concern that I remain focused on what needs doing for my family’s well being. His broken record repetition of the state of my finances or the costs of sending my kids to private school is actually pure, unadulterated love, hidden in the “garment” of worry.
Today I braved the LA drizzle with my family to attend a book signing of a young woman who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer when she was twenty. As soon as she was able to get over the sense of victimhood, cancer gave her the incentive to take life seriously and the awareness that she had special gifts to counsel those in similar straits. The audience was overjoyed to hear that this year, eight years after her lifesaving surgery, she gave birth to healthy twins. Her sister donated the eggs and thanks the miracle of in vitro fertilization she and her husband are parents of darling daughters. At the nadir of her struggle it’s unlikely that she would have uttered the words she said today: “I’m grateful for my cancer.”
They do a perfectly good job finding us. Two months ago I broke my foot. I survived the ignominy of being pushed in a wheelchair on the Sabbath, barely mastered crutches, and had my low back go out due to the imbalance of walking around in a Frankenstein boot. Thank God I’m doing much better now but I have a brand new sense of appreciation for my mobility. I’m much more sympathetic to those in wheelchairs, to those who suffer with inadequate access, crumbling sidewalks and death star potholes. Only afterwards did I recognize God’s kindness in that my injury transpired in the only two-month window in my schedule when I didn’t have to get on an airplane and tour.
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