rabbijaffe

Every day of my life I am compelled to give tzedaka (charity) to countless people or organizations. I don’t know how it is in other communities in America, but here in Pikesville, Maryland every day someone comes to your door with a heart wrenching story, and whenever you open your mailbox every other envelope is a request for a donation to another incredible organization. And that would be all… if you didn’t have a phone!

I like to be charitable. My wife and I really do try and give whenever possible, and we train our children to be giving as well. But how do you choose to whom to give or not give? They all sound so wonderful.

Which is why I’m so happy that I finally stumbled upon a charity I’m perfectly OK with skipping. Finally a charity opportunity I pass up guilt free!

(This is an ad reprinted in its entirety from the Baltimore Jewish Times… and no, it’s not a joke.)

Give a gift-Save a Donkey

During this holiday season, give the gift of comfort, safety and the hope of life for an animal. Safe Haven for Donkeys in the Holy Land, Israel’s only sanctuary for donkeys, offers a donkey adoption program for animals who have been rescued. Interested parties may view a picture gallery of donkeys, along with a brief description of their life at safehaven4donkeys.com. Adoptions cost $48 on a yearly basis or $4 a month. For each adoption, members receive an adoption certificate, a photograph and a biography of his/her donkey, along with SHADH’s quarterly newsletter. Safe Haven was created in 2000 out of a recognition of the need to protect and preserve donkeys in Irsael and the Palestinian Territories. Led by a staff of volunteers, the sanctuary provides a home to over 110 rescued donkeys in the region. The organization also runs a mobile animal medical clinic to look after donkeys who live on nearby farms. Donations to Safe Haven for Donkeys in the Holy Land are tax deductible through an alliance with CAFAmerica. For more information, call 516-234-0840 or e-mail dina.white@gmail.com.

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As I slowly wipe a tear away from my eye, I’m reminded of a story from my youth.

I was up way too late watching Comedy Central. There was an hysterical mock infomercial for a fruit drier yogurt/jerky maker. I laughed. After all, what could be funnier than mocking an infomercial?

That is, of course, until I realized that it wasn’t fake. It was past their normal show hours and it was a real infomercial.

Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing. I can live with that.

As I read this ad thinking this is the funniest thing this paper has ever published, I came to the epiphany that there’s someone out there taking this organization very seriously.

I don’t think he’d like my blog very much.

Happy charity giving! 

In this week’s Torah portion we find ourselves feeling really bad for one of the greatest heroes of Jewish history, Yaakov (Jacob).

We feel bad because we all know the pain and discomfort that accompanies someone taking advantage of you. Yaakov fell in love with Rachel, and Rachel’s father, Lavan, used Yaakov’s overwhelming emotions to manipulate him to do whatever Lavan demanded. The final results were a thankless fourteen years of labor, and an additional unwanted wife.

To accomplish his goals Lavan used the infamous wife swap trick, sending Rachel’s sister Leah to the wedding, covered up so she could pretend she was Rachel.

And in the morning, imagine Yaakov’s surprise!

As I was reading the parsha, feeling sympathy for Yaakov, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the thought:

Hey wait a second! Isn’t that exactly what Yaakov did to his father, Yitzchak (Isaac), in the previous week’s parsha!?!?

A refresher:

Yitzchak was dying. He was going to bless the son he felt should carry on the family traditions.

Yitzchak chose Aisav (Esau). But Yitzchak’s wife, Rivka (Rebecca), knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was making the wrong decision, and was willing to do whatever it took so her husband would bless Yaakov instead.

When Yitzchak sent Aisav out to hunt him something to eat, Rivka made a feast with some of their farm animals, and dressed up Yaakov to look and feel like the rough and hairy Aisav. Did I mention that Yitzchak’s eyes were starting to fail him?

The trick worked like a charm, with Yitzchak not discovering the mistake until Aisav returned expecting his blessing.

So, once again: Yaakov was deceived by Lavan. But Yaakov many years earlier, and in uncannily similar fashion, had duped his own father.

Which leads to the ultimate questions: Why do we feel bad for Yaakov when he gets tricked, but we don’t feel similar emotions when Yitzchak is tricked? Why in history does Yaakov get treated as a near flawless hero, while Lavan is badmouthed as being an awful, heartless villain?

The simple answers include motivation (a), historical and textual vindication (b), and surrounding information (c).

a) Yaakov and Rivka’s motivations were clearly to serve the world in the best way possible. Lavan’s motivations were deceptive and self-serving.

b) The results of Yaakov’s tricks were the “right person” being chosen for the job. Lavan simply hurt someone unnecessarily.

c) We have no indication here or anywhere else that Yaakov has ever done anything to harm another. On the other hand, Lavan’s story is filled with selfishness, greed, and aggression.   

But then we need to wonder:

If this is all true, then why did Yaakov suffer so much?

I think the answer lies in everything we’ve said so far.

It’s true that Yaakov’s actions were done with the purest of motivations by an incredible individual, and the results were exactly what the world needed…

But he tricked his father!

Yaakov took advantage of the most important person in his life, using his father’s age and physical disadvantages to manipulate the situation. This cannot be overlooked, and punishment was inevitable.

God’s wrath happens to people in a manner which we call “mida keneged mida” (measure for measure). The punishment has a connection to the action which earned the punishment. Yaakov tricked his father using a false identity, and later was punished through suffering at the hands of a ruse using a false identity. 

A trick for trick.

* * *

Happy Shabbat and Thanksgiving Shalom!

From the earliest moments of Jewish history, God has chosen a select few times to miraculously reveal Himself.

First he helped the millions of Jews escape from slavery in Egypt, replete with incredible miracles, such as the ten plagues and the splitting of the sea.

He followed us in the desert, repeatedly suspending the natural laws so that we could have enough to eat and drink, and so we could defend ourselves against our numerous far better equipped enemies.

But it seems like He’s been missing for a while.

If he’s a part of our daily lives, it’s been in subtle ways. Our lives might be loaded with daily miracles, but they are not obvious. We have to have enough insight to notice them.

That is, of course, until last Thursday…

That’s right. God’s back. In full effect. Why He chose me, do not know.

Here’s my story:

It’s 8:45 on Thursday night.

My wife decided to bake a cake for our Friday night dinner. It was supposed to take a half hour to bake, but she wasn’t feeling very well and wanted to go to sleep very early.

She came downstairs and asked me if I could take the cake out of the oven at 9:15.

I agreed…

But I’m a guy.

We make mistakes.

In fact, that’s the expectation.

So here I am, sitting at my computer. And I look at the time.

Ten o’clock.

“Ten o’clock!!!” I shout as I run up the stairs.

As I (in slow motion, of course) am running I have a mental picture of black smoke billowing out of my oven. I picture my wife standing over me with a hatchet repeatedly screaming, “9:15! What didn’t you understand? Do I have to do everything myself!?!”

And as I approached the oven with my life flashing before my eyes, I noticed that things didn’t seem all that bad. I cautiously removed the cake. It seemed maybe a little crispy, but not so blatant as to be completely obvious.

So I decided to do what any good husband would do.

I covered it and kept my mouth shut.

I figured I would just wait and see what would happen.

So, when did I speak up?

On Friday night when my wife uttered these words:

“I think this is the best cake I ever made!”

Me: “It’s funny that you should say that…” 

Why did I merit such an incredible miracle, such a suspension of the everyday laws of nature?

I guess I will never know.

The power of a teacher is uncanny.

Sometimes we have the ability to help build someone’s character, and we get to watch as an immature child slowly develops into a responsible adult.

It’s very challenging, but loaded with amazing rewards along the way.

But sometimes something goes wrong.

Rarely does a teacher bring a student down so low they can barely breath. And I would hope with all my might that this would never happen intentionally.

But sometimes…

Well, listen to my story from last week:

In my class we were discussing an obscure portion of Jewish law: First born animals.

All first born male kosher animals need to be given to the kohain (priest), as a kind of tax so he could support himself while carrying out his spiritual duties for the nation.

Antiquated? Yes. Interesting for discussion? Sometimes.

Am I in any way a scholar on the subject? Not quite.

Which is probably why I got slightly backed in the corner when discussing the next subject:

First born male donkeys.

The Torah states explicitly that in place of giving a donkey, we give a sheep…

And if the owner is so selfish as to not give of his possessions…

We break the donkey’s neck!

(pause) 

One student objected.

But not in the way one might expect.

Her objection wasn’t that a donkey dies. Rather, she felt it should be the selfish owner, not the innocent donkey, who dies.

I’ve always felt my students have more compassion for animals than humans. I knew right off the bat that this was going to be a rough discussion, but rolled up my sleeves and got right into it nonetheless.

My basic premise that I tried to get across was that although Judaism demands that animals are treated with a certain level of kindness and compassion, your animal is more of a possession than anything else.

The American “I love my dog more than any human I know” culture severely confuses my students, and blinds them to certain realities.

Anyhow, the discussion didn’t seem to stop, and nothing I said seemed to penetrate…

And then it happened.

I made an analogy of a person who had a farm. My goal was to present a cow in a farm whose purpose was to eventually become a steak, as different than Rover, whose purpose was to bring your slippers and lick your face.

How I was I supposed to know this young girl grew up on a farm? It’s a Jewish private school! I’m surprised any of these kids even knew farms really existed.

Anyhow…

She presented the cows at her farm as being kind of like members of the family.

She even had a very specific one who would poke its head in their window in the morning and they would give it some food.

The continuation kind of eeked on like this:

Me: Oh… So was this a dairy farm?

Her: (bewildered look) No.

Me: Ah… So the animals were for food? (That ‘gotcha’ look on my face.)

Her: Of course not.

Me: (stupidly) Wait, I don’t understand. You just had animals? There was nothing done with them?

Her: Yeah. They were like our family.

Me: (still stupidly) Did you ever notice some animals strangely “disappearing”?

Her: Well, yes. Sort of. My daddy told me that sometimes they were sent away. Like to another farm.

Finally, growing a brain, I decided to say “Oh.” And just change the subject.

About five minutes later I hear a loud “Oh my God!” from the corner of the room, and I look up to see my student with a bright red face, looking like she’s struggling to hold back tears, and having some trouble breathing. 

My wonderful student finally reflected back to the many conversations she had with her father growing up, and came to realizations she never had before.

I supposed that’s healthy in some sense.

But why did it have to happen during MY class?

OK. When Avraham went to Egypt, the culture of the people was such that people might kill a person so they could snatch their wife. Apparently murder was fairly common, as well as socially acceptable, but adultery was taboo.

Avraham had no choice but to travel to Egypt. And to avoid death, he told his wife to tell people that she was his sister.

And it worked.

Sort of.

She did get snatched. But Avraham didin’t die. And thanks to the miracles of God, things worked out just fine in the end.

Did Avraham make a mistake?

Was this the best way to handle the situation?

For sure things didn’t turn out as bad as they could have, but in my gut this story just doesn’t settle well. Was there really not a better option?

And sure enough, when Avraham goes to the city of Gerar pretty much the exact same story happens again!

At this point it starts to seem a little ridiculous.

Could he not choose a slightly altered lifestyle which did not result in the occasional abduction of his wife?

Still unclear to me.

But in this week’s parsha, Parshat Toldot, my mind just truly draws a blank. It’s one thing if the Torah speaks of a story happening twice to the same person, but to have the story happen yet ANOTHER time, but this time to Avraham’s son Yitzchak, well that’s just starting to sound bizarre.

I want to yell: In two generations of very intelligent people, was no one able to think of a better way of dealing with these issues? In two generations were we not capable of preventing ourselves from angering kings in the different lands to which we travelled?

And I know that there’s nothing less satisfying than hearing a good question followed by a nonchalant: That’s just the way it is.

But:

That’s just the way it is.

Going where we don’t belong. Instinctual reactions. Repeated reactions. Kids doing what their parents do, despite everything they now know and/or thought they might do under the same circumstances.

People rarely change. People rarely update their ways of handling things. And if it worked out once the first time, they’re even more reluctant to alter their modus operandi.

The original leaders of the Jewish people were wonderful individuals.

But they were people.

I will always love how the Torah presents our heroes with all their nuances. They make mistakes. Sometimes they improve. Other times what you see is what you get. They’re reactive on occasion. They have family and personal issues. They laugh. They cry. They feel.

You know, when I was growing up the founding fathers of the United States of America were presented to me as flawless heroes. As I got older, the story kept on getting repeated, but each time a few more details were added as I could “handle it”. And by the time I got to college there were no heroes left. Everyone was bad. Everyone did horrible things. Everyone made despicable decisions along the way.

But isn’t that real hero?

What benefit do I gain from learning about people who are above mistakes and flaws? I could never relate to them. If I cannot relate to them, I can’t compare my life to their life, or my decisions to their decisions.

But the Avot, the forefathers of the Jewish people, are loaded with qualities that I can relate to. Nevertheless their accomplishments have gone farther than any others in the history of the world.

I too can make a difference… and I can be just a regular guy while it happens. 

I’ve often said that television will most certainly have an impact on what people do and think, sometimes very obviously, and sometimes deep, deep in the inner psyche of the viewer.

For example, I believe the television show 24 simultaneously (and perhaps paradoxically) prepared the American public for the concept of an African-American president, as well as convinced many that torture is an extremely effective tool to gain essential and accurate information from people in custody. I would take this to such an extreme level as to say that this show (and others like it) made it that when Americans elected Barack Obama it was just a given that such an accomplishment could happen, and not the historically shockingly incredible event that it truly should have been.

If the show didn’t exist, I’m willing to bet the world would be a very different place right now.

But I digress…

Knowing how intrinsically connected television shows are to public perception makes me a bit on the edgey side when it comes to the character of Ziva David on CBS’s NCIS.

Whereas I love the fact that a Chilean Catholic actress (Cote de Pablo) is portraying an Israeli (very successfully I might add), I am somewhat unnerved by the show’s vilification of Mossad.

Perhaps I’m a little too connected to Israel and the Israeli army to look at the whole picture objectively, but I can’t ignore how much their portrayal reminds me of Ayn Rand’s philosophy which I encountered in my teenage years.

As I remember it, the philosophy places YOU at the center of everything, and you must do everything in your power to accomplish your own goals. So much so that it was entirely fine to stomp on others, even the people closest to you, to accomplish those goals.

In NCIS the director of Mossad is more than willing to incriminate or even murder his own relatives so long as it serves his own needs.

Israel is a country where it is forbidden to put a soldier on the front line without express written permission of both parents if he is either an only child or had a sibling die while serving in the army. Israel is a country that is willing to trade scores of imprisoned terrorists in exchange for one captured Israeli, just so he can once again be in his mother’s embrace.

Not very Ayn Randish.

I’m not saying Israel or its military is perfect, but NCIS’s portrayal is not even bordering on truthful.

Nevertheless, de Pablo is a great actress and should keep up the good work. The show in general… well, every plot they do has been done before, and every character is heavily contrived and overdone, but the show more or less remains entertaining regardless.

I just hope they don’t shape the world’s opinion for the worse…

The post I wanted to write would have been me talking very excitedly about how I feel like the last person in America to not own a cellphone…

I love the notion that I’m never talking to someone face-to-face, when all of a sudden I interrupt because my pocket rang.

I love the notion that I’m never that annoying person who almost drives into someone because they’re too busy blah-blahing to realize there are other humans around.

I love never being that bozo whose phone rings during the meeting with the boss, or at the movies, or at the funeral.

That’s not me!

I love the freedom that accompanies inaccessibility.

I actually do have occasional moments in my life where I really am alone. And it’s all because I don’t own a cellphone.

But unfortunately, that’s not today’s post…

Today at everything short of gunpoint my wonderful spouse has forced me to embrace modernity, and the evil little time and attention sucker will accompany me once again.

I’m nauseous just thinking about it.

Oh, people will shout at me and say, “How can you not have a cellphone!? It’s so dangerous!”

This argument makes me giggle with scorn.

Check out the statistics. 25% of car accidents are caused by cellphone usage!

Dangerous indeed!

I suppose after I skid off the road and flip over three times because I was texting while driving, I will be able to lift up my bloody hand to use my cellphone to call for help.

Hmm.

So please world, try not to call me too much.

If you do, and I don’t answer, please don’t try again.

Maybe I’m praying right now. Or talking to someone else in person. Or I’m driving and don’t need to hear my phone ringing repeatedly. Or (yup, I’m saying it) I JUST DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW.

It is my God given right to be left alone sometimes. It is not your God given right to speak to me when you want to, and to bug me incessantly until I pick up.

I gained a cellphone today.

I feel like I lost so much more.

Parshat Chayei Sarah is one of my favorite parshas in the entire Torah.

… But not really.

Let me explain.

The parsha is kind of short. The main story is repeated twice. The character development is relatively bland. And it’s topped off by a dull list of genealogy. In short, it just doesn’t compare with the complexity and excitement of so many other parshas in the Torah.

So why is it one of my favorites?

In this week’s parsha Avraham (Abraham) purchases the land which includes the Meirat HaMachpelah (The Cave of Machpelah), the burial site of six out of seven of the matriarchs and patriarchs of the Jewish people, in the holy city of Chevron (Hebron).

Every time I read this parsha I can’t help but think about all the times I visited Chevron, about the amazing historical sites, and about how when I went to these places I literally stood at the center of some the key locations of the earliest moments of my people’s long and incredible past.

And that’s enough to make this parsha great for me.

… But I’m a teacher.

And my students are by and large not from very observant families.

And this isn’t anywhere close to enough to make this parsha exciting for them.

And I once again find myself asking a question for which I do not yet have an answer:

How do I create in the impressionable young minds of my students a sense of ancient Jewish heroism?

I’m willing to bet if you ask the average kid in my school to name their favorite heroes throughout the history of the world you would hear such deserving names as George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King.

But unfortunately you are far less likely to hear such names as Avraham Avinu, Yosef HaTzadik (Joseph), Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses), and David HaMelech (King David).

The simple mention of these names stimulates my interest. Looking at a picture of a location where they once lived gets me excited. I recognize and appreciate all their accomplishments, and how different my life would be if they hadn’t done the things they did.

But my students don’t.

If I show them a photograph of the place where Avraham is buried, they’ll just see a nice building.

It might as well be in Detroit.

Why am I failing where the average history teacher is succeeding?

Where does the disconnect originate?

How can I create Jewish hero?

I’ve been an avid reader of Men’s Health magazine for many years now. I can say with sad honesty that the Jewish people are not featured very often in said publication. On occasion a person’s Jewish upbringing is mentioned, or the discovery of an Israeli professor gets a shout out, but this month’s edition features a rather unique hop into the Jewish world.

In an article called “Party Cheer, with Beer” (full article) this recipe is given:

Lucky Dreidel
Drink and dessert? L’chaim!

1 oz vodka
2 oz Manischewitz wine
1 splash cider vinegar
4 oz IPA beer (try He’Brew Bittersweet Lenny’s R.I.P.A.)
1 piece of chocolate gelt (those gold-wrapped chocolate coins)

Shake together the vodka, Manischewitz, and cider vinegar. Pour the mixture into a glass with ice, add the beer, and stir.* Garnish with gelt.

*Stir while rotating the spoon with your fingers, so that its back is always against the inside of the glass. Do this for 30 seconds. That will create more movement in the liquid, allowing flavors to mix better. Go ahead, have the chocolate. Your memory improves after you eat milk chocolate, according to a 2007 study in Appetite.

I said in my previous ‘Jews in the Media’ post how amused and surprisingly happy I was when I heard a song about partying toss in Jewish phrases. The joy continues.

I for one am going to try this drink this Channukah.

Thank you Men’s Health. I don’t think today you’ve made me a better Jew…

… but a happy, less thirsty one!

Those of us involved daily in education know things don’t happen like they always do in the movies.

Picture it:

The kids are all misbehaving.

Then the teacher does something. Says the right word. Smiles the right way. Beats up the right hooligan.

And from this point onward everyone hangs on their every word, treating them like the parent they always wished they had.

Sounds great.

But it’s just the movies.

Real moments of inspiration are rare. And they don’t come without hard work.

And they also seldom come when you expect them.

I recently met a parent who told me one of his son’s most precious and inspirational moments this year occurred during my class.

I beamed with pride.

I started flashing to all the brilliant things I had said, delving deep into the magic of my own profundity to try and discover what I had done that had touched this child so.

And daddy told me…

During class I had the students do a small art project. Their son was in the center of the room, so when I put down the supplies, I put them on his desk.

Their son, who was new to the school and had yet to meet many of the other students, was all of a sudden surrounded by the entire class.

He felt so wonderful and special being the instant center of attention.

And all I had to do was… nothing at all.

The greatest inspiration I provided came completely and totally by accident…

* * *

At first this idea bothered me.

I try so hard each and every day to have an impact on my students’ lives.

Why can’t it be that I touch their hearts when I’m trying to, rather than when I arbitrarily throw some construction paper on a student’s desk?

But after some time, this no longer bugged me.

I became very contented by this thought:

Here I am on the front lines every day of my life, trying my hardest to make the greatest impact possible on the children I interact with.

If I’m not there, no one is.

Inspiration is possible because I try and make it possible.

Sometimes I succeed when I want to.

Sometimes I fail no matter what I do.

Other times I succeed when I least expect it.

But if I wasn’t there, it would never happen.

I’m trying, and that’s what matters.