Psalm 130

Yours is the power to forgive so that You may be held in awe. (130:4)

The greatest power of a ruler or a judge is not the power to punish harshly, but rather the power to pardon, forgive, or give a second chance. The Hebrew Bible is sometimes read as a book written by a vengeful God who delights in smiting. Such a reading overlooks a major plot point of one of the early stories of the book of Genesis: First, God regrets creating humanity and God also regrets destroying humanity with a flood. Regret is a strange characteristic for a Divine Being who takes delight in destruction. Regret is indicative of a God who learns, and the theological development within the Bible indicates a God who becomes more and more loving as the generations pass.

When God threatens to destroy Israel in the wilderness and begin again with Moses, Moses responds, “Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that God delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’ ” In a remarkable passage, Moses appeals to God’s desire to maintain a good reputation among the non-Israelites! “God, you made promises to these people. What will the Egyptians say if you break your word?”

Similarly, our Psalmist suggests that we are more inclined to love and respect a compassionate, forgiving God. Our challenge is to internalize this message and ask ourselves how we too might be more sensitive and caring, letting our loving nature overcome our judgmental side. Better that we inspire respect in those around us than fear.

Psalm 129

Let all who hate Zion fall back in shame. (129:5)

For most of Jewish history, love of Zion has united Jews. Zion represented the dream of a world in which Jews would regain their historic place and live in security in a perfect Garden of Eden society according to the values and practices of Torah. Dreams do come true, but there is a wide gap between the perfection of a dream and the realpolitik of reality.

Zionism is the movement to make the dream a reality. The modern state of Israel is our embodiment of the historic values of the love of Zion, the result of nearly 2000 years of prayers and 50-plus years of political activism. For the entire history of post-Temple Judaism, Jews have held Zion, the mount on which the Temple stood, as a place of pilgrimage. Life in Jerusalem and in other cities in which Jews lived, such as Hebron, Tiberius and Safed, was difficult. Nonetheless, small communities of Jews embraced life in and around Zion as a religious obligation and privilege.

There is room for disagreement about how successful the modern state of Israel has been in living up to the challenge of creating a state embodying Zionism, democracy, Jewish values, and security. There is no doubt that they have fallen short in some area, even as they have succeeded wildly in other areas. Who would have dreamed that the “ingathering of exiles” would have taken so many Jews from so many different part of the world and melded them into such a innovative powerhouse in such a relatively brief period of time?

It saddens me that there are still people in the world and in the Jewish community who believe that the world, Jewish and otherwise, would be better off today without a State of Israel. Let those who want to improve Israel stand up and let their voices be heard. Let those who want to dismantle and destroy the State be ashamed.

Psalm 128

 

You shall eat of your hands’ labor; you shall be happy and it shall be good for you. (128:2)

The key word in this verse is “labor.” Good things rarely come to us with no effort whatsoever. Sure, some people win the lottery or receive a large inheritance from a previously unknown great-uncle. But more typically, it is the people who work hard and selflessly with no expectation of reward who in the end are rewarded.

If you work hard on the things that really matter, you will see dividends.

My first job, other than babysitting, was as a busboy in a deli. I remember the satisfaction of depositing my first paycheck in the bank and the satisfaction the first time that I bought something with money that I had earned myself through hard work. I was making minimum wage and the work was hard. Over time, my salary went up slightly and I was promoted to work at the deli counter. I learned how to show up on time, follow instructions, do unpleasant jobs with a good attitude, and take initiative.

My next job was unskilled but not as messy; and each job after that relied on some specialized skills that I had gotten through educating myself. My happiness came from the satisfaction in what I had accomplished and the enjoyment of the challenge of the work.

Psalm 127

Unless Adonai builds the house, its builders labor in vain on it; unless Adonai watches over the city, the watchman keeps vigil in vain. (127:1)

We are God’s junior partners in the maintenance of the world. Everything we build relies on the existence of consistent and predictable natural law. In order for the bridge to bear the weight of a given amount of traffic, the engineer has to know that the materials will behave according to the laws of physics. In order for the medicine to treat the illness, the doctor relies on predictable chemical and biological interactions between the substance and the biological entity.

Bridges fail. Medication fails. A friend of mine computer-models fractures in materials. His models can only approximate how the real material behaves. This happens not because the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology are capricious, but rather because our knowledge of how those laws function in the real world is incomplete.

We could live for long stretches of time without being aware of the builder. For this reason, Judaism urges us to pause before we enjoy a product of the natural world and say a blessing. “You are the source of blessing, Adonai our God, eternal sovereign of the universe, who created the food we are about to eat.” That spark of gratitude reminds of that the house in which we live had a designer and a builder.

Psalm 126

January 11, 2016

 

When Adonai restores the fortunes of Zion, we are as dreamers. (126:1)

To be a Jew is to be an optimist and a dreamer. We don’t say “if God gives Zion back to us,” we say “when.” For nearly 2000 years of exile during which there was a Jewish presence but no Jewish control over Jerusalem, we introduced Birkat Hamazon, the grace after meals, with this Psalm on Shabbat. Our optimism asserts that our loss of sovereignty was only a temporary setback that could be corrected at any time. The Sabbath in Jewish tradition is celebrated as taste of the world to come, a day on which we experience the beauty and peace of messianic era. Shabbat embodied the optimism of the Jew. No matter how much time has gone by, no matter how much evil or hatred we experience in the world, Shabbat takes us back to the perfection of the garden of Eden.

In order to improve yourself to the greatest extent possible, you must have goals that are slightly beyond your reach. If your goal is to lose five pounds and you succeed and stop trying to lose weight, you miss the opportunity to lose ten pounds. If your goal is to increase your strength and endurance by taking a 50 mile bike ride, you might stop at that point and lose the opportunity to ride 60 miles. If your goal is to increase sales by 10%, you might lessen your efforts when you reach that mark and miss the opportunity to increase by 25%.

Optimism teaches us to celebrate our accomplishments even if we haven’t reached our goals. After setting the mark higher than you expect and losing only nine pounds instead of ten pounds; riding only 58 instead of 60 miles; or increasing sales only 20 instead of 25%, you can then notice with pride in accomplishment that you lost nine pounds instead of five pounds; rode 58 instead of 50 miles; and increased by 20% rather than 10%.

To be a Jew means to be an optimist and a dreamer.