Rabbi Joshua Waxman: October 2006 Archives

“Throw the Jew down the well” is the chorus to a Kazakh folk song brought to us by Borat, starring in his own movie opening in just a few days. Of course as everyone knows, both the song and the character of Borat himself are made up, inventions of British comedian Sacha Baron Cohen.

The Kazakh government is up in arms, and the Kazakh Embassy even devotes space on its home page to rebutting the movie’s assertions. Less predictable is the response of the organized Jewish community, which usually jumps at the slightest hint of anti-Semitism, reflexively bringing down the full force of its anger on any perceived infraction. For once, however, it seems that they actually get the joke--the Anti-Defamation League, for example, released a statement saying that Borat is not anti-Semitic, winking along with the viewer as it mocks the red-neck character and everything he stands for.

Of course, all this is easier because Sacha Cohen himself is Jewish. He’s one of us, so of course he’s in on the joke.

A pro-gypsy group, in contast, is not nearly so understanding of the film’s mockery of gypsies, launching a lawsuit in Germany to try to prevent the film’s distribution there. And of course, the Kazakhs are up in arms. And it’s a safe bet that the ADL and other groups wouldn’t be so blasé if Cohen weren’t "safely" Jewish.

This is a shame. Satire is an important part of comedy–the part that has the ability not only to make us laugh, but to make us wince and make us think. What’s more, reflexively decrying anti-Semitism at the slightest whiff of something offensive is not the way to combat this scourge.

We all remember how the ADL’s campaign against Mel Gibson’s "The Passion of the Christ" backfired and helped drive up the movie’s profile and ticket sales. Yes, Mel Gibson is unquestionably a jerk and an anti-Semite, but how many press releases do we need to send out about it?

The fact is, constantly crying wolf or going into red-alert mode at every perceived slight does Jews a disservice, making us less likely to respond seriously to the very real threats that do exist. Similarly troubling is the trend to use the charge of anti-Semitism as a cudgel to silence opposing points of view, as some have recently tried to do with the political activist group MoveOn.org or with anti-war activist Cindy Sheehan last year.

The fact is that anti-Semitism is on the rise worldwide, and we would do our best to combat it by addressing its real underlying causes–the mistrust and anger that exist toward Jews in many parts of the world–rather than by bullying and cowing easy targets, which only increases resentment.

Sometimes we need to poke fun at our sacred cows to keep us from taking ourselves too seriously. Sacha Baron Cohen provides this necessary service.

Rabbi Grossman sees McMansions as a sign of status and wonders how much money their owners gave to tzedakah, as opposed to pouring it into gold bathroom fixtures–a fair question.

In fact, Judaism is not an ascetic religion and encourages us to live comfortably and enjoy ourselves. The key is to do it with a certain degree of moderation.

When people move into McMansions in planned developments surrounded by people who, at least socio-economically, largely resemble them it is very easy to lose the sense of proportion that’s the key to moderation. An indoor jacuzzi? Why not! Stainless steel outdoor appliances for the patio area? Everybody else is doing it!

When one lives only with wealthy people, insulated from the wider world, it’s easy to lose that sense of proportion or connection to the wider community. I don’t mean to romanticize the shtetls or the crowded tenements of the Lower East Side, but at least people bumped into each other on the street corner or jostled elbows at a crowded market. They became more aware of each other and each other’s needs and concerns. Now we have our own largely separate worlds, in which we lose touch with the wider reality of those far less fortunate than ourselves. Now we’re suddenly spending hundreds of dollars a day on yoga and aromatherapy for our pets at doggie spas–what happened to that sense of proportion?

Chapter 25 of Leviticus demanded periodic reshuffling of property in the Land of Israel as a reminder that the land didn’t really belong to us–it was a gift from God. We were reminded that our wealth was not our own to use only for our own gratification–that it was a blessing which we had an obligation to share with our neighbor.

The key is to be open enough to the world to appreciate and be grateful for the things we do enjoy, and to seek to extend those same benefits to others. When we each live behind the doors of our own gilded castles, this lesson becomes all too easy to forget.

Both Rabbi Stern and Rabbi Grossman correctly point to the hypocrisy of those who claim moral authority acting in immoral ways. But the issue goes deeper than that when we come to the question of people in positions of political authority.

The charges against Israel's President Moshe Katzav would be deeply disturbing under any circumstances, no matter who he was. That we’re talking about a political leader who is charged with the public trust makes them all the more distressing.

Power corrupts–we know that. It’s why Jewish tradition suggests avoiding picking leaders who have ambition to power, guiding us to choose instead those who serve reluctantly, who see their leadership as a burden and responsibility.

Of course it doesn’t work that way contemporary society. Usually, our political leaders are highly ambitious, motivated, and ego-driven people with a talent for self-promotion–important qualifications for getting elected, but not perhaps for holding office.

I think this is why we see so many examples of public officials betraying the trust their positions entail, whether we’re talking about a Tom DeLay, a Mark Foley, or a Moshe Katzav. In all these cases there’s a failure of humility–of recognizing that public service means just that.

It’s good that the Israeli police weren’t too intimidated to go after Katzav. Sometimes our leaders need to be reminded that they work for us and not the other way around.

The Torah scroll is taken out of the ark. The rabbi walks in a procession around the synagogue holding the Torah as congregants reach out with their tallises (prayer shawls) or siddurim (prayer books) to touch the scroll and then put the tallis or the siddur to their lips, thus giving the Torah a kiss. It’s the way I’ve always seen it done, and I never gave it much thought.

Until, that is, a couple of years ago when a non-Jewish congregant expressed confusion and distaste about the tradition. An avid student of Judaism who was committed to raising her children Jewish, she explained that she had always appreciated Judaism’s absolute refusal to worship objects, a check against idolatry.

But wasn’t kissing the Torah just that, an idolatrous act? I gave an answer about how kissing the Torah was simply a way of showing respect, but I wasn’t entirely convinced–and I still am not.

The fact is, kissing the Torah as it is carried through the congregation does look a lot like practices in other religions that seem idolatrous to Jewish eyes, such as placing food before statues or venerating icons. When do you cross the line from respect to honor to veneration to worship?

The fact is, many traditions have entered Judaism as folk practices, discouraged or denounced by rabbinic authorities–from lighting Hanukkah candles to the Kol Nidrei prayer. Perhaps kissing the Torah found its way into our practice as a folk tradition–a tradition of the people. It's a physical way of showing reverence and awe, but one not necessarily based on the bedrock Jewish principle of rejecting idolatry. Interestingly, many traditional authorities are troubled by the same concerns and proscribe kissing the Torah, or wish to see the practice limited to young children.

Of course we want to honor the Torah for the sacred texts it contains, including God’s name. At the same time, it is vital to remember that the holiness we cherish lies in the content–the wisdom, the stories, the laws–and not in the vessel.

I still reach out my tallis to touch the Torah and kiss it but, thanks to my congregant, it is now accompanied by a conscious reminder to myself of just how easy it could be to slip into idolatry.

I’m inclined to agree with Rabbi Grossman about the virtues of Sukkot relative to Yom Kippur. Too many American Jews are "twice-a-year Jews," meaning they show up at synagogue for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Now granted, these are extremely important holidays, but they also give a skewed picture of what Judaism is, with their emphasis on sin and atonement. More than one rabbi has observed how different American Jews’ sense of Judaism would be if they came twice a year, on Simchat Torah and Purim. The sense of joy and celebration would certainly be a corrective to a stereotype of Jews as anxious and guilt-laden. Again, not that the High Holidays and their message aren’t important–but they need the other holidays of the annual cycle–not to mention the weekly celebration of Shabbat–to put them in their proper perspective.

Why does Sukkot get such short shrift? I think in part because American Jewish life operates against the background of Protestant life, where there are only a few major holidays. Easter is the holiest day of the year, so in Jewish terms, that’s either Yom Kippur (with Rosh Hashanah thrown in for good measure) or Passover (connected by season). Christmas is an important wintertime holiday, so that gives Jews Hanukkah–but that’s about it.

I think that many other Jewish holidays go unobserved because there isn’t a convenient Christian analogue (either thematically or seasonally) to "justify" them. This hypothesis is supported by a completely unscientific measure of the relative prominence of various Jewish holidays in the popular mind: seeing how many results you can get of Microsoft Office Clip Art designed for each holiday. The instructive results follow:

• Chanukah - 111 - all out of proportion with its importance in the Jewish calendar!
• Rosh Hashanah - 25
• Yom Kippur - 14
• Passover - 12
• Purim - 8
• Sukkot - 6
• Shavuot - 3
• Simchat Torah - 1

More seriously, my guess is that following Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, "holiday fatigue" sets in, which sadly prevents many American Jews from getting to know and explore the joys of Sukkot and Simchat Torah.