14 Sep FORGET THE RABBI THE CANTOR, THE LION & THE FOX

The Last Wish On Rosh

Hashanah night, the

Kazaks captured the

rabbi, the cantor and

the president of the

synagogue, and granted

them a final wish

before they would be

put to death. The

Rabbi: All year round I

prepare for my Rosh Hashanah

sermon. You can’t kill me before you let me present

this sermon and get it out of my system. “OK,”

proclaimed the Kazaks. “We well allow you to give the

sermon.” They turned to the cantor. “How about you?

What is your final wish?” “For 364 days a year, I

prepare for my cantorial presentation on the High

Holidays. For this year I composed many new brilliant

and extraordinary compositions. You have to let me

sing them before you kill me.” “Granted,” said the

Kazaks. “And you,” they said, turning to the president,

“what is your final wish?” “Kill me first,” he said.

Sermons and Melodies It’s been a longstanding

tradition among Jewish communities the world over, to

employ for the High Holiday services cantors, often

accompanied by choirs, to entertain, engage and inspire

the multitudes of crowds flocking to synagogues during

the three days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In

many a congregation, the cantor embodies the primary

focus of the High Holiday experience. As in a concert

or opera, the cantor’s choice of melodies, his cantorial

skills and manipulation of sounds and pitches

constitutes the zenith of the services. Especially if the

musical presentation is coupled with a rabbi who

knows how to tell a good joke or bring a tear to the eye,

it is a hands-down success story. “Spit not in the well

from which you drink,” suggests the Talmud. I should

be the last one to find fault with this phenomenon, since

I, too, am employed by a lovely community in New

York to serve as a cantor and pontificator. Yet a

moving thought from the great master the Baal Shem

Tov concerning this “cantor” and “rabbi” phenomenon

may be worthwhile for all synagogues and all of us to

reflect upon. An Angry Lion The Baal Shem Tov, one

of the most profound thinkers in the history of Jewish

spirituality (1698-1760), once shared this following

allegorical story. Once upon a time, says the Baal

Shem Tov, the lion grew furious with all of the other

jungle animals. Since the lion is “the king of animal

life,” and is most powerful and dominant, his ire

evoked deep fright in the hearts of the other animals.

“What should we do?” murmured all the animals at an

emergency meeting. “If the lion lets out his anger, we

are all done.” “No worries,” came the voice of the fox,

known as the wiliest of animals. “In the reservoirs of

my brain are stored 300 stories, anecdotes and

vignettes. When I present them to the lion, his mood

will be transformed.” A wave of joy rushed through all

the animals as they embarked on a march toward the

lion’s home in the jungle, where the fox would placate

him and restore the friendly relationship between the

lion and his subjects. The Fox Forgets During the

journey through the jungle pathways, the fox suddenly

turns to one of his animal friends and says, “You know,

I forgot 100 of my entertaining stories.” Rumors of the

fox’s lapse of memory spread immediately. Many

animals were overtaken by profound trepidation, but

soon came the calming voice of Mr. Bear. “No

worries,” he said. “Two hundred vignettes of a brilliant

fox are more than enough to get that arrogant lion

rolling in laughter and delight. “They will suffice to do

the job,” agreed Mr. Wolf. A little while later, as the

extraordinarily large entourage of animals was nearing

the lion, Mr. Fox suddenly turned to another colleague.

“I have forgotten another 100 of my anecdotes,”

lamented the fox. “They simply slipped my mind.” The

animals’ fear became stronger, but soon enough came

the reassuring voice of Mr. Deer. “No worries,” he

proclaimed, “One hundred fox stories will suffice to

capture the imagination of our simple king.” “Yes, 100

jokes will assuage the lion,” agreed Mr. Tiger. A few

moments later, all of the hundreds of thousands of

animals were at the lion’s den. The lion rose to his full

might and glory, casting a fierce gaze at all of his

subjects, sending a shiver through their veins. The

Moment of Encounter As the moment of truth arrived,

all of the animals looked up with beseeching eyes to

their bright representative the fox, to approach the lion

and accomplish the great mission of reconciliation. At

that very moment, the fox turned to the animals and

said, “I am sorry, but I forgot my last 100 stories. I have

nothing left to say to the king.” The animals went into

hysteria. “You are a vicious liar,” cried they cried.

“You deceived us completely. What are we to do

now?” “My job,” responded the fox calmly, “was to

persuade you to take the journey from your own nests

to the lion’s nest. I have accomplished my mission. You

are here. Now, let each and every single one of you

discover his own voice and rehabilitate his own

personal relationship with the king.” Lacking a

Personal Relationship This story, concluded the Baal

Shem Tov, illustrates a common problem in

institutionalized religion. We come to synagogue on

Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, or any other time of

the year, and we rely on the “foxes” — the cantors and

the rabbis — to serve as our representative to the King

of Kings. “The rabbi’s sermon today was

unbelievable,” we often proclaim after services. “He is

really awesome.” Or, “That cantor? His vibrato just

melted my soul.” These clergy all-too-often become

the “foxes” who know how to get the job done for us.

Yet, sooner or later, we come to realize that the foxes,

with all due respect, don’t really have what it takes to

address the king on behalf of you and me. Each of us

must discover his or her own inner voice and inner

passion and spirit, and speak to G-d with a distinct and

unique. Cantors and rabbis during the High Holidays

(and the rest of the year) ought to view themselves as

the Baal Shem Tov’s foxes: Their function is to

persuade and inspire people to leave their own

self-contained domains and embark on a journey

toward something far deeper and more real. But each

and every one of us must ultimately enter the space of

G-d alone. So this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur,

don’t rely on any foxes. Speak to G-d directly. With

your own words, with your own soul. Heart to heart,

from your truest place to His truest place. Nitzavim A

Small Step for Man; A Giant Step for G-d It’s Never of

All Nothing Teshuvah Relativity An Odessa Jew meets

another one. “Have you heard, Einstein won the Noble

Prize. “Oh, what for?” “He developed this Relativity

theory.” “Yeah, what’s that?” “Well, you know, five

hairs on your head is relatively few. Five hairs in your

soup is relatively many.” “And for that, he wins the

Noble Prize?!” Today we will discuss this “theory of

relativity” in Jewish spirituality. What may seem small

on one plane is seen quite differently on another.

What’s the Novelty? Teshuvah, or repentance, is one of

the greatest gifts that Judaism and Torah have given

humanity is the idea that G-d gives second chances.

This is a fundamental part of the Jewish experience and

is written in innumerable places in Torah — and it is the

focus during this time of the year, as we welcome Rosh

Hashana and Yom Kippur. Which is why it comes as a

surprise that Rabbi Akiva, the famed Jewish leader and

Talmudic scholar living in the second century CE,

some 1500 years after Sinai and the writing of the

Torah, seems to have been surprised, inspired, and

even astounded by the idea that G-d gives a second

chance to the sinner who repents. I refer to a statement

Rabbi Akiva made which has since gained fame in

Jewish songs, chants, and liturgy, and it is recorded in

the Mishna.1    -     !             -,

      !             -?              –

      ,       -                 -      (        )-

   -             -.’             -(        )

               “    -   ,      . Rabbi Akiva

said: How lucky are you, O Israel! Before whom are

you purifying yourself, and who purifies you? Our

father in Heaven! As it is written (Ezekiel 36), “I will

sprinkle upon you purifying waters, and you will

become purified,” and it is said (Jeremiah 17),

“Hashem is the mikva of Israel,” just as the Mikvah

purifies the impure, so too does G-d purify Israel.2

What innovation, what revolutionary idea is Rabbi

Akiva teaching that has not been taught for over a

thousand years? That G-d purifies the impure, forgives

the penitents, and absolves the sinner? This is an axiom

of Jewish thought dating back to Abraham! This idea is

fundamental to Judaism itself. It is as old as Moses and

the Jews of the Golden Calf, as Joseph forgiving his

brothers, as G-d giving Adam a second chance after

eating from the tree of knowledge. The entire concept

and institution of Yom Kippur—discussed at length in

the Book of Leviticus—is that G-d cleanses the people

of Israel! Comes Rabbi Akiva 1500 years after Yom

Kippur was created, and declares a novelty! How

fortunate are you Israel. Why? Because your father in

heaven cleanses you from your blemishes. It seems that

Rabbi Akiva has suddenly “discovered America,”

when in essence he is repeating an ancient axiom of all

of Tanach! The question is stronger: To support this

thought, Rabbi Akiva quotes verses that were

transcribed some 500 years earlier which clearly state

this very truth! Yet even the verses he quotes are from

Ezekiel and Jeremiah, rather than from the Five Books

of Moses, which clearly state the same truth.3 Even if

you can find some reason why Rabbi Akiva repeated

this ancient idea, why did the Mishna have to record it?

The Mishna is a collection of original Jewish Law, and

not the place to record inspirational sentiments that do

not teach us anything new and innovative. Two Extra

Words Many times, when studying Torah we will find,

that if there are two questions on the same text, one

question will be answered by resolving the other. Here

too, there is another problem on the concluding words

of Rabbi Akiva: -            –

      -         “   . “Just as the Mikvah purifies

the impure, so too does G-d purify Israel.” Every word

in Mishna is precise. There is not an extra word used,

not even for esthetical beauty. Every word of the

Mishna was carefully edited by Rabbi Judah the Prince

and is exact and necessary. Rabbi Judah chose from

thousands of collected records of teachings and

manuscripts and redacted in the Mishna only the best

and most exact wordings. In this statement of Rabbi

Akiva, it seems, we have two superfluous words. It

should have written simply, “Just as a Mikvah purifies,

so too does G-d purify Israel”? Why add the extra

words, “purify the impure”? We all know that a mikvah

is designated to purify someone who is impure! Who

else would be going to the Mikvah but someone who is

impure? Why state the obvious? Yet, in these

seemingly superfluous two words lies a wondrous

secret. But first, we have to understand a little about the

functioning of a Mikvah. Two Types of Impurity There

are different degrees of impurity, and there are

different methods of purification from these various

states of impurity. [These were mostly relevant in

biblical times and during the days of the Temple, when

people had to be very careful to maintain their ritual

purity in order to enter the Temple, or east the sacred

food of sacrifices. Today, we don’t pay much attention

to these ritual patterns; which is why most Jews would

not tour the Temple Mount, since you may not enter the

space of the Temple if ritually impure.] For example, if

one touches a dead rodent, he becomes impure for a

day and can become pure simply by immersing in a

mikva and waiting for nightfall. On the other hand, if

he touches a human corpse he becomes impure for a

week, and needs a lengthy process of immersing in a

mikvah, as well as being sprinkled by mixture of water

and ashes of the red heifer. Now imagine if someone

has become impure, on both accounts, he both touched

a rodent, and a human corpse. He is inevitably impure

due to the corpse for a week regardless of whether he

goes to the mikva or not for the rodent-tumah. The

mikvah, usually potent for purification from

rodent-impurity, seems now meaningless and impotent

due to the stricter corpse–impurity that remains

inevitably for a week. Is there any benefit of him going

to the mikvah? It would seem not. He will anyway

remain impure because he has also touched a corpse.

However, that is not the case. And here we discover

something fascinating. The law is that a mikvah will

purify and remove the lesser impurity even if the

stricter degree of impurity remains!4 This then is the

profound innovation of Rabbi Akiva. “Just as a Mikvah

will purify the impure person” who is destined to

remain impure, even after going to the mikvah, so too

does G-d purify the penitent who still remains, in some

ways, distant and separate from G-d! A person who is

not prepared to repent and to return to G-d fully, he is

not ready to take the plunge and surrender away all of

his sins and pet peeves, this person might think that

G-d accepts all or nothing. He might think: Either I

truly repent for everything, or I do nothing. Either I

entirely change my life, or not bother at all. Since I

know that I cannot make so many changes in my life,

let me not even begin. Imagine if someone—a

borrower, an investor, a partner—owes you $50,000,

but really has neither the desire nor intention to pay you

now. It’s not that he denies that he borrowed the

money, it’s just that he cannot be bothered, and maybe

does not have the money. Then one fine morning,

perhaps the day before Yom Kippur, your dear

ungrateful and audacious borrower or partner shows up

at your door announcing proudly: “I want to pay you

$5,000!” “$5,000?? What’s that for? You owe me

50,000!!” “I know, but seriously, I only feel like paying

you back 5,000. For now, let’s forget about the rest. We

will deal with that another time. Ok? Deal, or no deal?”

How would you react? Chances are you would throw

this man out head first, with his measly $5,000. And

rightfully so. The sheer chutzpah! What is he thinking?

How Lucky! This is what Rabbi Akiva is talking about.

As Jews we turn to G-d each year, and all of us, to some

degree or another, feel some sense of remorse or regret

for one or two or three things in our life that need to be

mended. Not that we are ready to turn over a new leaf,

not that we are ready to make the serious changes in

our life, not that we are ready for a complete

transformation, but there is that one little aveira, that

one little sin, that one little lie or cheat, that is nagging

me. And I really want to get it off my chest. I may have

hurt someone in a dramatic way and it sits on me; I may

have done something wrong that is really perturbing

me; I may have insulted someone in a nasty way and I

am upset at myself; I may have been involved in

something that is eating up on my conscience. So I

repent for just that one thing. I ask G-d, or whoever it

was that I wronged, to forgive me for that one act.

What is going to be with the rest of my issues I cannot

be bothered, and I neither know, nor care too much at

the moment. I don’t have time or energy to deal with all

my sins. But this one thing I am ready to deal with. Is

this worth anything? Does G-d care for this type of

repentance? Comes Rabbi Akiva and says:

          -    . Just as a Mikvah purifies the

impure, the one who will remain impure even after the

mikvah, the one who either way has contracted a much

more severe and serious impurity which he is not

dealing with right now, yet, the mikva works and will

purify him at that moment for the lesser impurity,

exactly so does G-d purify Israel! Why? Why doesn’t

G-d act as any normal person would, and throw our

measly attempt at reconciliation back in our faces? To

this Rabbi Akiva tells us:       -?

      ! Because G-d is our “Father in heaven,” father

who is anxiously waiting for the merest sign of positive

movement from, us, his child. A good father will

embrace and appreciate the tiniest effort his son makes

to connect with him, regardless and oblivious to the

fact that the son has done wrong in so many more areas.

Today, all psychologists and educators agree that the

way to educate is by focusing and drawing attention to

even the smallest positive successes of our children and

building on them. Education through criticism has been

debunked and proven to be futile at best, and

destructive at worst. But Rabbi Akiva said this almost

2000 years ago. G-d is the ultimate loving parent.

When he sees that a Jew makes even the slightest

movement of Teshuva, regardless of how much he has

left to go, G-d immediately embraces this movement

with the deepest love, and purifies him just as the

mikvah does.5 Fix One Thing How many of us have

not attempted something because we are afraid of

failure? How many of us give up on our dreams

because we know we will never fulfill them perfectly?

How many of us remain paralyzed by perfectionism?

How many of us look at things as all or nothing, and

therefore do not begin jobs that we know we can never

fully complete? How many of us deprive ourselves of

this gift of a mitzvah that is so dear to us, just because

we are scared to become “completely religious?” We

feel that if we do not get it all right, we will get nothing

right, and it is not worth the effort? Rabbi Akiva is

telling us that a Jew must know, that G-d values and

cherishes every single mitzvah a Jew does. G-d

embraced and cherished every act of change. Even if I

regret one mistake in my life and change that, G-d

accepts it fully and purifies me. Whatever you manage

to accomplish, any step you manage to take forward,

towards a better more inspired, G-dly life, is infinitely

treasured by G-d who can purify even the one who still

remains impure. It may be one small step for man; but

a giant step for G-d.