May 30th: Bamidbar and Shavuot
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
On Shavuot, we celebrate Matan Torah, the Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and there is a tradition that all Jews of all generations were there—even the people destined to convert to Judaism. Here is the passage whose interpretation leads to this teaching:
“Atem Nitzavim: You are standing this day, all of you, before the Lord your God…to enter into the covenant of the Lord your God…I make this covenant…not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the Lord our God and with those who are not with us here this day.” (Deuteronomy 29. 9-14)
One figures that the original meaning had to do with those Israelites who were back at camp and not at Mount Sinai. Notice that the Torah talks about moving from the camp to the mountain: “Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain.” (Exodus 19.17) So, with 600,000 people, it only stands to reason that some Israelites were ill, or infants, or taking care of them, or even standing guard. The verse probably meant that they too were included in the covenant with God. All were part of the Israelite people, and all were included.
However, the Rabbis see this verse as a spiritual and exponential expander in which those “not here today” include all future Jews, both those destined to be born into Jewish families and those destined to be born into non-Jewish families—who will work themselves toward Judaism and eventually convert. There is something mystical and beautiful about this incredible moment, a moment when we all stood at Mount Sinai and together encountered the Holy One.
However, there may be other possible reasons why some Israelites were not there at the mountain that day. Given human nature, I can imagine some Israelites choosing to separate themselves from the community. God includes them, but they choose not to be too close.
Think about the Passover Seder and the second of the Four Sons/Children. Tradition calls him the Rash’a, the Evil Son, but some wonder if evil is the best diagnosis. Could a better term for this son’s separation from the story be better characterized as standoffish or not-a-joiner? This modern question was incorporated into our congregational Haggadah in my rewriting of the traditional text:
The Wicked (or Standoffish) Child asks, “What do you mean by this celebration?” The Rabbis interpreted the word you as the child saying, “This is your celebration, and not mine.” The Traditional answer is, “It is because of what the Lord did for me when I went free from Egypt.” By emphasizing the words me and I, the suggestion is that you would not have been included. Only those who included themselves as members of the Israelite people were saved. Would you have included yourself?
(We may also add, “If you do not feel part of us today, we shall miss you and hope that you will come back soon.”)
There are those of us who, for a variety of reasons, do not feel part of the group. Some of those reasons may involve a lack of hospitality or inclusion, and we are obliged to change such impediments and welcome everyone. However, not every case of alienation is the fault of the community, and there are some people who just do not want to join in or affiliate themselves.
Years ago, Joni and I were visiting two of my great-aunts. They lived in a Jewish neighborhood, belonged to a Jewish community swimming pool, shopped at a grocery that catered to Jews, and even went to an all-Jewish beauty parlor. However, they did not belong to a congregation or attend services. I asked them why, and they replied about a problem that prevented them from going to shul. Trying to be helpful, I offered a solution to that problem. At which point, they gave me another problem. Being both helpful and knowledgeable, I offered a solution to that problem. At which point, they proffered yet another challenge. This went on for a while, until Joni gave me a gentle kick under the dinner table. It was a cease-and-desist order. On the way home, she said, “Don’t you see? They don’t want to attend services. All their reasons are just excuses so that they don’t have to tell the real reason. Better to just leave them alone about it. They just don’t want to go; there is no problem to solve.” Smart lady, my wife.
Over the years, I have spoken to all kinds of Jews and noticed a great variety of attitudes. Some join, pay, and attend. Others join, pay, and do not attend. Some attend and do not pay. Others feel a sense of Jewishness but do not have an interest in affiliating or paying or attending. There are lots and lots of variations on this theme, and our desires to affiliate or participate often change through the years. The vagaries of affiliation are expansive, and we in congregational life are not in control of the thinking or decisions of our fellow Jews. They are their own people.
There may be things to fix in our congregation--ways to make people feel more welcome, but ultimately, the decision to affiliate, to pay, or to participate is an individual one and one that is not based on the way we run our synagogue.
How do we live with this lack of control? Some congregations yearn for enticement strategies—sure-fire ways to “bring ‘em in” like the free caps or hot-dogs that baseball teams offer to fill the ballpark. Some of these can be fun or touching or both, but ultimately people join and attend synagogues for their own personal Jewish reasons. So, to me, the answer is to focus on the quality of what we do: meaningful services, sincere spirituality, real concern for people, thoughtful sermons, good religious school, engaging social events, stimulating programs, etc. If we do what we do well, we will create an atmosphere of spiritual and emotional engagement in our congregation, and life at Brit Shalom will be good.
The Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai is neither the conclusion nor the definition of the Jewish story. It is a moment of meaningfulness that touches Jews in a variety of ways, and the panoply of Jewish responses to Sinai is the history of our people. Our synagogue is one of Judaism’s traditional responses to Sinai, and it is a precious vessel of holiness. People will come and go. Some will stay, and others will choose to be Jewish in ways other than congregational membership. That is their decision, and rather than focusing on those who are not here, our job is to make everything we do good, kind, and spiritual for those who are here--who choose to be part of our Jewish community and who find the Presence of God in this place.