Some people think that religions are made of crazy stories. Admittedly, there are a lot of crazy stories in the Torah and Talmud. There’s a wild story in the Talmud quoted often to prove that people, and not God, have the final word on Jewish law. I believe this story also poses a challenge to our faith.

The story begins with a debate about whether a specific type of oven is kosher. Rabbi Eliezer alone claimed the oven to be kosher. The others said no. Eliezer was technically correct and called upon Heaven to prove it by uprooting a tree, making a river run backward, and bending the walls of a synagogue. The opposing rabbis said Heaven has nothing to do with this debate. Torah “is not in heaven.”  This is a clause from a sentence in a teaching in the Torah. The rabbis had a holy purpose. Their goal was to support uniform ritual practices. To do so, the Rabbis engage in sacred wordplay.

Here’s the whole paragraph: Surely, this Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.

More than an attempt to provide conformity to kosher laws, this story poses a challenge to faith. The rabbinic debate abstracts the Torah to pose a critical question. Who is the final arbiter of the Torah? Is Judaism merely inspired by God and crafted by people? Can Judaism advance without an ongoing revelation of the present and perceptible Divine? The danger of the “oven” story is that people surpass God’s role as decider in chief.

Add the onslaught of modernity and its impact on religion. Modern progressive Jews, especially post-holocaust, have difficulty accessing God. After the scientific age, people demand proof, data, and verification. How can we know what God intends when we can’t verify God exists? No lab test can prove God. No equation can explain God. To the scientific mind, God is a storybook figure.

Faith wanes as people claim technological superiority over the world. Are there more incredible miracles than vaccines, iPhones, and DNA testing? As humankind becomes masters (and destroyers) of the universe, we place faith in ourselves, human beings asserting themselves as arbiters of what God’s laws should be. Immanuel Kant projected that man had replaced God in the pursuit of morality.

God happens when there is faith.  Faith is the humility of not knowing.  Faith is the grace found in wondering. Faith is gratitude for the half-full cup of our lives. Humility, grace, and gratitude are the guiding qualities that expand faith beyond reason and science.

Perhaps our role is to exist in a world of faith rather than the pursuit of conformity and rules.  Faith is the path to peace. Belief creates the possibility of freedom. Conviction constructs justice unbounded by the ills of this world. Then, the interpretation of the Torah will follow the Godly paths of peace, freedom, and justice.

A crazy story about an oven and rabbis arguing is not necessarily about the laws of kashruth. It can be about applying our faith to expand holiness in this world. We can interpret the Torah as Godly inspiration to improve the world.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

Amazon sells just about everything. You can buy a T-shirt that says “Jewish and Loving It.” The design includes tzitzit, one on either side of the shirt. These tzitzit do not dangle; they are merely a graphic. While I saw no reviews of the product, I wondered if this t-shirt was offensive or if I was “loving it”?

Torah at Parshat Ki Tetzaveh requires wearing tzitzit, fringes, on the four corners of our garments. Today, the most accessible place to buy tzitzit is Amazon. You can purchase white or blue tzitzit, undershirts with tzitzit, and clip-on tzitzit. I kept looking to see if there were tzitzit that changed color with your mood. However, Amazon offers a plastic device to keep Tzitzit from getting tangled in the laundry. And then there was the t-shirt that says, “My relationship with God comes with strings attached.”

I thought about how being Jewish has become “cool” recently. The New York Times reports that Hava Nagila is frequently played at ballparks to nightclubs. Hipster chic includes wide-brimmed black hats. The Black-Eyed Peas sang “mazel tov” in the refrain of their hit song “I Gotta Feeling.” And now graphic depictions of tzitzit are emblazoned on t-shirts sold on Amazon.

Perhaps, Judaism should be the antidote to hip. After all, Tzitzit are not shabby chic. Instead, they are reminders that Judaism is aspirational. Jewish rituals, and the trimmings, offer an escape from the raggedness of this world. Tzitzit are reminders of our connection to God and God’s commandments. Judaism proposes big ideas to the world about freedom, the dignity of everyone, and the role of Godliness in our lives.

Maybe I am too sensitive. Or am I being too dogmatic? After all, Judaism mandates that we connect with joy. In Deuteronomy 28, we learn to serve God with joy. Some of that pleasure comes from sarcasm and can be found on Amazon.

Perhaps humor is the way to draw more people to Jewish practices. Tzitzit aren’t only for orthodox men.  And loving Judaism isn’t reserved for those with a sense of humor. Ultimately, we might need to overlook some humorous jabs at Judaism. First, I’ll focus on the fact that I’m Jewish, and I am “loving it!”

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

Dedicated to the memory of Sarah Brenner Rubin z”l

Three generations gathered to bury a matriarch at a funeral I attended last week. Tempering the sadness was an extended family finding comfort in each other’s arms and the joy of being together. Cousins embraced cousins, and grandparents held grandchildren. I thought about the Jewish family breakdown, how increasingly rare is the gathering of an extended Jewish family.

In Deuteronomy 12:7, the Hebrews are taught to worship as a family unit. “Together with your households, you shall feast there before your God יהוה, happy in all the undertakings in which your God יהוה has blessed you.”  This prescription for Jewish life is gathering with gratitude and engendering happiness as a family. I understand Jewish celebrations to be household events, and the household conceived by Torah is that of family.

My earliest memory of family engaged in Jewish ritual was the Passover seder at my grandparents’ home. I recall the house filled with people sitting at long tables. My grandfather mumbled his way through the Haggadah. I remember plates piled high with food.

For my grandparents, the family was the daily focus of their lives. Grandparents, parents, and children shared a home, went to synagogue together, and observed holidays. Aunts and uncles lived around the corner. My parents’ generation stretched the family into the suburbs. Family meals were relegated to once-a-week treks back to Brooklyn. When I visit Brooklyn now, I count the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike, wondering if they, too, are driving to be with family for seasonal visits.

Now, remote work enables us to move anywhere with an internet connection. Easy access to air travel encourages relocation. And the wandering child can proclaim, “Southwest Airlines has frequent flights from DC.” Celebrating holidays as a family requires factoring in secular holidays like time off for Thanksgiving and Christmas week. Every working person seems to be counting on vacation leave from work.

Geographic distancing is creating dire emotional challenges to the healthy function of families. A nuclear family living in the same metropolitan area is rare among my friends. Distance is a form of estrangement. Facetime calls can’t replace family dinners. Texting isn’t as personal as a visit. I’m nostalgic for the twentieth century’s close-knit Jewish family.

I can blame modernity for undercutting Torah. We benefit from life-changing innovations that contribute to the distancing of Jewish families engaged in Jewish life. For example, the internet has profoundly impacted how families celebrate Jewishly. We can stay home in our pajamas and watch Shabbat services online.  The covid pandemic taught us how to use Zoom for circumcisions and funerals, Passover seders, and High Holiday services. Your internet connection might be strong, but your family’s Jewish identity is likely weakened.

Judaism’s challenge in the 21^st century is presenting compelling reasons for households to prioritize family gatherings. Our Shabbat dinners and Hanukkah celebrations must be joyful and infused with a holy purpose.

Judaism is best practiced as a family unit. We eagerly gather as a family for life cycle events, funerals, weddings, and b’nai mitzvahs. Yet, life cycle gatherings are only a starting point for fostering a healthy Jewish life. Ultimately, Jewish identity is best formed in the regular gathering of households, generally eating together.  A recent survey proved this point. Grandparents with frequent and consistent family relationships often determine whether grandchildren will engage in Jewish life.

It is not just for the sake of Judaism that family gatherings are essential. If blessed with loving family relationships, the physical embrace of siblings or children improves our mental health. Celebrating family events improve spiritual health, nurturing our souls. Tending to family relationships, in the context of Jewish life, measurably enhances our lives. Behind Jewish practices is brilliant psychology of how to increase happiness.

We can’t turn back time, disable the internet, and stop all air travel to restore the primacy of the Jewish family. However, we can cherish family time. In addition to life cycle events, we can pay special attention to gathering for holidays. Make building a sukkah an opportunity to engage grandchildren. Schedule family hikes on Shavuot. Prioritize family as critical to the future of Judaism and keep nourishing your life.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

 

This blog is devoted to the memory of Diane Harris Cline, z”l, an inspiring GWU professor and archeologist of the ancient Near Eastern world.

This summer is a blast furnace of heat domes and unbearable temperatures. Intense heat has transformative properties. Similarly, Torah says that Egypt was a blast furnace, both a factual and metaphorical description. Both interpretations have equal importance for us as we navigate our modern blast furnace.

Archeologists found the first depiction of a blast furnace on the wall of an Egyptian tomb dating to about 1500 BCE. The earliest iron implements were discovered in an Egyptian pyramid joint between two stones. Wrought iron metal improved the world when hammered into tools but led to destruction when made into spears, arrow tips, and daggers.

Around this time, the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt, possibly equipped with iron tools and weapons. After the Exodus from Egypt, Moses told the people, “God took you and brought you out of Egypt that iron blast furnace, to be God’s very own people.” Exodus 4:20.

Smelting iron was an essential process in the history of human civilization. Warring nations attacked each other with iron tools, and many nations collapsed. Aggressive sea people attacked Egypt. However, Egypt did not collapse, although Egyptian power ebbed in this period of unrest.

Archeologists and theologians debate the date of the Exodus. Yet, all agree that the Hebrew journey from Egypt to Canaan corresponds to the end of the bronze age and the beginning of the iron age. The Exodus was likely made possible by great changes in ancient civilization, like iron smelting. Yet, a more catastrophic transformation was unfolding.

The blast furnace of Egypt might also refer to extreme climate change in that era.  The extreme weather changes of the early iron age contributed to the collapse of civilizations. In his best-selling book, 1177 BC The Year Civilization Collapsed, author Eric Cline described a period of climate disasters on the heels of technological developments. Sound familiar? Ancient climate change caused widespread famine, contributing to migrations, war, upheaval, and societal collapse. Similarly, the climate change of modern times may portend the collapse of our civilization.

Technological advancements result in unforeseen consequences. The story of the Hebrews explains the concept. Once, we were slaves. Later we were free people refined to become a nation of priests, and our faithlessness smelted into conviction. Our lot was cast with God. And yet our nation-state was created with swords and plowshares made from refined metals.

The purpose of a blast furnace is to refine ore into metal and not cause war and suffering. Similarly, today’s technological advancements are changing the world in ways both good and bad. Modern technological advancements are a blast furnace spewing greenhouse gasses and toxic waste that imperils our civilization. Nothing short of the destruction of our earth is at stake.

There is hope.  After the collapse of 1177 BC the Jewish nation emerged in a Promised Land.  What will emerge from the unfolding disaster of our times? Let’s take the Jewish approach. From the modern technological blast furnace, we can “refine” ourselves. We can be activists for our earth and defenders of the planet. Let’s be warriors for our children’s future, to combat the blast furnaces of our times.

Rabbi Evan Krame