Month: May 2015

Parashah Ponderings

When It Comes to Speech, Mind Your Business

Daniel Aronson's avatarDaniel Aronson Leave a comment

Parashat Behar-Bechukotai / פרשת בהר־בחקתי
Torah Portion: Leviticus 25:1 – 27:34 

:וְלֹא תוֹנוּ אִישׁ אֶת־עֲמִיתוֹ וְיָרֵאתָ מֵֽאֱלֹהֶיךָ כִּי אֲנִי יְהוָֹה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶֽם
“You shall not wrong one another, but fear your God; for I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 25:17

This week’s Torah reading provides the basis for much of Judaism’s teachings on the ethics of business. For example, when selling property shortly before the jubilee year, when all property outside walled cities was to be returned to its original owner, the seller is directed to pro-rate the sale price of the property according to the number of years remaining until the land remits back to its original owner. In this discussion, the Torah exhorts the seller: “You shall not wrong one another.” In other words, the seller should hold himself or herself to the highest ethical ideals and refrain from cheating, misleading or harming the buyer in any way.

The phrase “You shall not wrong one another” appears twice in chapter 25, once in verse 14 and once in verse 17. The second appearance includes the words “…but fear your God; for I am the Lord your God.” Modern scholars point out that the repetition serves to emphasize the importance of ethical business practices.[1] The additional words in verse 17 demonstrate that even if the seller can surely get away with an ethical violation, he or she must remember that, though no human may become aware of his ill intentions, God is all-knowing (at least, in the biblical mindset) and will ultimately bring the wrongdoer to justice.

Traditional commentators read more into the repetition of “You shall not wrong one another” than mere emphasis, however. For them, since the Torah uses its words economically, the second appearance must mean something different from the first. Thus, they explain that the first appearance deals with the business transaction itself, and the second deals with the ethics of speech.

Rashi, the medieval French commentator, writes:

By contrast to verse 14, here the phrase refers to wrongdoing one another by speech. You must not belittle anyone, nor deliberately give him advice that would work out to your benefit rather than his. Should you be tempted to say, “Who could know for sure that I deliberately intended to harm him” the verse adds: “Fear your God.” The One who knows thoughts will know. Any time the text mentions something that only the person who is thinking it could know for sure, it adds, “fear your God.”[2]

I was once on a panel for jury selection in a case involving a defendant accused of reneging on a business deal. While we didn’t learn the particulars of the case, one of the attorneys hinted at its nature when he asked us prospective jurors: “Do you consider a verbal agreement to be a binding contract? Raise your hand if ‘Yes.'” Had the biblical authors been in the room, they would have raised their hands at that moment; they believed a person’s word was sacred, that a promise became real as soon as it passed the lips. You might be able to fool people through clever use of words, but you can’t fool God.

Sadly, unscrupulous business people frequently deceive consumers with slick language. Years ago, I fell prey to verbal bait and switch tactics twice. In neither case did I see it coming. I trusted that what I was told up front was the truth. I was wrong. (“Buyer beware” is also an important Jewish value, by the way.) Interestingly, in each of these cases the salesperson was no longer working at his or her place of business six months later. Apparently, management caught on to them and meted out punishment. I wonder if they were acting as agents of the Divine in these cases or, perhaps, they beat God to the punch.

One lesson to learn from the traditional commentators is that you can’t separate out the mechanics of business from the words used to conduct business. Whether it be advertising through the media or a face-to-face sales pitch, the words used to sell a product and close a deal really do matter. One should seek to be honest in all aspects of business, from how one exchanges money and writes up a contract to how one speaks to the customer in person or through advertising.

Another lesson to learn from this discussion is that there’s more to the ethics of speech in Judaism than the prohibition against lashon hara, that is, “evil speech” such as gossip and slander, which are spoken about others. What you say to people in their presence and how you make them feel are also guided by Jewish values. This last point is illustrated beautifully by the following midrash:

Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel told Tavi, his servant, “Go to the marketplace and buy some food that is good.” Tavi went to the marketplace and returned with tongue. Afterward, Rabbi Shimon said to Tavi, “Go to the marketplace and buy some food this is bad.” Tavi again went to the marketplace and returned with tongue.

“What is this?” asked Rabbi Shimon. “When I told you to buy food that is good, you bought tongue, and when I told you to buy food that is bad, you also bought tongue.”

Tavi replied, “From a tongue can come good and from a tongue can come bad. When a tongue is good, there is nothing better. But when a tongue is bad there is nothing worse.” (Vayikra Rabbah 33:1)[3]

I’ve never liked tongue, and why Rabbi Shimon would instruct his servant to purchase bad meat is beyond my comprehension. These misgivings aside, the moral of the story is clear: we can use our tongues to benefit the world, and we can use our tongues to injure the world. Whether in a shop or an office, in school or at home, may we strive to control our tongues so as not to wrong one another.

[1] Baruch Levine, The JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus, (Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication Society, 1989), p. 173.

[2] Michael Carasik, The Commentator’s Bible: The JPS Miqra’ot Gedolot, Leviticus, (Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication Society, 2009), p. 208.

[3] Zelig Pliskin, Love Your Neighbor, (Brooklyn, NY: Aish HaTorah Publications, 1977), pp. 326-327.

Parashah Ponderings

Feeding God Then and Now

Daniel Aronson's avatarDaniel Aronson Leave a comment

Parashat Emor / פרשת אמור
Torah Portion: Leviticus 21:1 – 24:23

 (The priests) are holy to their God and you must treat them as holy, since they offer the food of your God…. (Leviticus 21:7-8)

That God has no physical body is widely considered a basic tenet of Judaism and is enshrined in Moses Maimonides’ 13 Principles of Faith.[1] If one were not aware of this tenet, however, one could be led to believe by this week’s parasha that God has not only a nose to smell the pleasing odor of sacrifices but also a mouth and digestive tract with which to consume “the food of your God” offered by the priests! Lest we think for a moment, though, that the Torah is speaking literally about God’s ability to smell, taste and digest food, modern commentators make it very clear that the Torah is speaking symbolically.[2] Biblical Israel most certainly worships God, who “desires their devotion and fellowship” only.[3] The biblical author simply borrowed “the idiom common to ancient religions” of a god sustained by offerings of food.[4]

The symbolic nature of “the food of God,” notwithstanding, I find this imagery striking given the role food played in the culture of biblical Israel as well the role it plays among societies throughout the world today. Regarding the former, one need only recall how Abraham and Sarah hastened to serve their guests a lavish meal in Genesis 18:1-8. What began with the intention to fetch his unexpected guests “a morsel of  bread,” soon became cakes of choice flour, curds, milk and a calf served as Abraham “waited on them under a tree as they ate” (Gen. 18:8). Abraham and Sarah, thus, instituted the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests, with food playing a central role in its fulfillment.

Are we really any different today? We continue to honor visitors to our homes by setting out a nosh, if not an entire meal. Outside of the United States, in fact, hospitality is so closely linked with family honor that one refuses an invitation to another’s home at peril of insulting them greatly. As a species, to be sure, one way human beings show honor and respect to others is by feeding them and by graciously receiving others’ hospitalityin return.

To my mind, when we humans feed one another, we give expression to the same ideals expressed through the biblical sacrificial system. There, burnt offerings emitted a reach nichoach ladonai, a pleasing odor to God. Ismar Schorsch, chancellor emeritus of the Jewish Theological Seminary, observes that the ancient rabbis made a word play of “reach nichoach” to get at what was really at stake in the sacrificial rituals:

An early midrashic work after the destruction of the Second Temple reconceptualized the nature of its cultic worship. Brilliantly, the midrash realized that “nihoah” (pleasant aroma) is related etymologically to the word “nahat” or in the rabbinic phrase “nahat ruah” (pleasant feeling). That connection enabled the midrash to read “reah nihoah” as “nahat ruah.” The satisfaction God experienced at the sight of the sacrifice was internal and spiritual: “I commanded and My will was done,” says the midrash. In other words, the cult had nothing to do with divine need. Israel had submitted to God’s will, whatever its intent, and that alone was the source of God’s pleasure.[5]

When we feed others, no doubt, it often is to satisfy someone’s need, but just as often it is to please them. Thus, what we do within the community of humankind mirrors the ancient rite to evoke God’s pleasure; both involve the provision of nachat ruach.

This relationship between real human hospitality and priestly sacrifice, with all its symbolism, has the power to transform us. If we see “the other” as created in God’s image, then the hospitality we extend to our neighbor is no different from the rituals through which the holy priests showed God their deference and devotion. In both cases, then and now, we please God. In both cases, setting out food is a sacred act, the execution of which imbues our lives with holiness.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Dan

[1] For a list of Maimonides’ 13 Principles of Faith, see http://www.jewfaq.org/beliefs.htm. As Daniel Septimus points out in his article at http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-thirteen-principles-of-faith/, Maimonides principles were not universally accepted, including the principle #3 on incorporeality.

[2] See, for example, Etz Hayim Torah and Commentary, p. 718: “Offerings to God, often called “food” (lehem), are considered food for God in a symbolic sense. See also this article by Ismar Schorsch: https://www.jtsa.edu/prebuilt/ParashahArchives/5760/emor.shtml.

[3] The JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus, p. 17, cf Lev. 3:11.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ismar Schorsch, commentary on Parashat Emor at https://www.jtsa.edu/prebuilt/ParashahArchives/5760/emor.shtml

Parashah Ponderings

After Death, Let There Be Holiness

Daniel Aronson's avatarDaniel Aronson Leave a comment

Parashat Aharei Mot-Kedoshim / פרשת אחרי מות־קדשים
Torah Portion: Leviticus 16:1 – 20:27

God’s presence is often felt most acutely in the wake of tragedy. The death of a loved one may bring estranged siblings together, a house fire in which possessions are lost (but not life) may cause the owner of the house to reassess his or her system of values, a battle with disease may awaken hidden talents within the one who is ill. In these cases, our human experience mirrors what occurs routinely in nature: following a wild fire, it is common for wild flowers to bloom throughout a ravaged landscape. These signs of light, hope and beauty following a period of darkness point to the manifestation of the Source of Goodness, God.

The title of this week’s double Torah reading, Aharei Mot-Kedoshim, surprisingly sheds light on the flourishing of God’s presence in a place of despair. I say surprisingly because it is really just a coincidence that that these words come together as they do. The dual title comprises the first identifying words of two portions: “aharei mot” or “after death,” refers to God’s relating to Moses the priestly ritual of expiation after the death of Aaron’s two sons; “kedoshim ti-h’yu” or “your shall be holy,” are the opening words to a section of Leviticus that echoes and augments the Ten Commandments. Our sages hardly intended to convey a lesson through the chance juxtaposition of these titles. Nonetheless, I believe the title accurately reflects the possibility for holiness to flourish wherever and whenever we let it, even in times of darkness.

In Parashat Kedoshim, the Torah teaches “You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:2). In so doing, perhaps, the Torah is trying to communicate that our job on Earth is to make God’s holiness tangible in the world through our actions. Rather than leave us to wonder how to live lives of holiness, though, the Torah in this reading enumerates dozens of mitzvot that touch on a wide range of human experiences.

Chief among the mitzvot in Kedoshim is the command: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (19:18). Rabbi Akiva, the great sage of the 2nd century, declared this verse to be the greatest principle of the entire Torah (Jerusalem Talmud, Nedarim 9:4)! Akiva saw loving kindness as THE most important teaching of the Torah; no mitzvah could be said to be more essential in living lives of holiness than this one.

Exactly what it means to love one’s neighbor as your self could be seen this week through the global response to the devastation wrought by an earthquake in Nepal. The earthquake itself is projected to have destroyed 250,000 buildings and killed upwards to 15,000 people. No sooner had reports of the most massive earthquake in Nepal in 80 years begun than corporations, charities and governments from around the world were busy raising funds for rescue and recovery operations, emergency health care, and rebuilding. Meanwhile, rescue workers have also come to the aid of the Nepalese from the United States, Israel, United Arab Emirates, and dozens of other nations. Sadly, it sometimes takes a horrible tragedy like this to remind the world that, above all our disputes, we are called upon to love one another as we would like to be loved. For better or for worse, after death there can be this holiness.

Meanwhile, on our own shores we witnessed rioting in Baltimore over the wrongful death of a man arrested by the police. Where there could have been peaceful protests and efforts toward improving the lot of Baltimore’s citizens, we saw violence and looting. Following one man’s death, there was chaos, not holiness. We can only pray that holiness will rise from the rubble left behind by thugs and their misguided followers. We can only pray that Baltimore and other cities, who suffer from racial and economic imbalances, will soon emerge better and stronger than they are now and that all their citizens will show others the love they themselves wish to be shown.

Aharei mot, kedoshim. After death, let there be holiness. From darkness, let there be the light and love.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Dan