Community Magazine September 2019

22 Community Magazine Her son was Sisera, the military hero of the Canaanites, to whom they looked to defeat and destroy Beneh Yisrael . But instead, Beneh Yisrael miraculously crushed the Canaanite army, and their decorated hero was killed by a woman – Yael – who shrewdly pretended to offer him refuge in her tent. The prophetess Devorah sang a famous song of praise to Hashem after this victory (Shoftim, chapter 5), in which she described how Sisera’s mother wept as she waited in vain by the window, waiting for her son to return. As the hours went by, she envisioned him celebrating, perhaps in a bar drinking with his troops, or perhaps collecting and distributing the valuable spoils seized from the enemy. Eventually, though, she realized that her son was not returning home. According to tradition, she wept 100 times – and so we blow 100 sounds with the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. Why, of all people, is it Sisera’s mother whom we commemorate through the sounding of the shofar ? There have been, unfortunately, many holy, righteous women throughout history who wept in pain after experiencing terrible tragedy. What is unique about themother of Sisera’s cries that they are forever memorialized through the sounding of the shofar ? Rav Shmuelevitz explained that what we recall is this woman’s thought process as she sat by the window and the clock ticked. Understandably afraid to consider the most likely possibility – that her son fell in battle – she made up stories. Maybe he was in a bar. Maybe he was resting. Maybe he was collecting riches. For as long as she could, she devised every scenario her imagination was capable of devising so she could ignore the truth. And this is precisely what the shofar calls upon us NOT to do. As the judgment of Rosh Hashanah approaches, our instinct might be to enlist our imagination to help us ignore the truth. To blame him, her, them, whomever or whatever, so we can comfortably exonerate ourselves. The shofar cries like Sisera’s mother cried after her “excuses” were all gone. This is how we are to “cry” – without excuses, without casting the blame on others, without making up stories. Elul is all about taking responsibility. It’s about stopping to pretend that everything we do is fine, and that the problems lie elsewhere. It’s about recognizing the truth, as Sisera’s mother eventually was forced to do, and owning up to our mistakes and our faults. Our Generation’s Excuses Today it is so easy, and so convenient, to point fingers all around us and make excuses. We’ve all heard this countless times, and for good reason: we live in a time when we face enormous spiritual challenges that no generation of Jews has ever faced before. We live in a society whose values, beliefs, culture and lifestyle are, in many ways, antithetical to ours, and modern technology puts these values and norms right in front of our faces – quite literally, in fact – around the clock. We live in a time of constant temptation. We live in a time of great confusion, as we are exposed to so many conflicting ideas. We live in a time of distraction, when it is so very hard to focus our attention on the things we are supposed to be focusing on – Torah, prayer, mitzvot , family. The challenges are enormous. 18 COMMUNITY MAGAZINE A man once came into the synagogue, sat down near me, stretched his arms and legs out as far as they go, and let out a loud – and probably exaggerated – yawn. It was pretty obvious that he was waiting for a comment about how he was very tired. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I acknowledged his apparent fatigue. “Yeah, rabbi,” he said. “Every night, I wake up in the middle of the night to recite tikkun hatzot ,” referring to the midnight prayer bemoaning the exile, which is recited mainly by Kabbalists and especially devout individuals. He then continued, “And then I go back to sleep and wake up early for Shaharit .” It doesn’t take an advanced degree in psychiatry to understand what this fellow was doing. He came into the synagogue looking for a way to publicize his noble practice of reciting tikkun hatzot . This is an example of a phenomenon which I fear is becoming more common in today’s day and age – the tendency to “advertise” one’s piety and religious devotion, to not feel content with being devout, and to instead sense the need to make people aware of it. A Different Kind of Tzeniut This month, we read a portion from the Prophets that warns against this tendency. The haftarah (section from the Prophets) read on Sha bat Parashat Balak comes from the Book of Michah, and speaks of our indebtedness to Gd, how kind He i a d how gr teful we must feel for all that He has don for us. At one point in this prophecy, Michah brings as an example the story told in Parashat Balak – the story of the Moavite king who summoned the gentile prophet Bilaam to place a curse on Beneh Yisrael and annihilate them. Gd foiled the plot, transforming Bilaam’s curses into beautiful blessings. But what is of interest to us in this context is the final verse of this prophecy, in which Michah concludes by asking, and answering, the question that we should all be asking ourselves each and every day – and perhaps each and every moment! – of our lives: “What does Gd want from you?” Considering all that Gd has done for us, the prophet tells us, He does not ask for very much. All He demands is three things: Words of Rabbi Eli J. Mansour “The Torah ideal of 'tze iut' has as much o do with our behavior on social media as it does with hemlines.” לעילוי נשמתם של משה בן עליזה, יצחק הלל בן עליזה, והנרייט לאה בת עליזה, דוד בן גילה, רבקה בת גילה, יהושע בן גילה, משה בן גילה, שרה בת גילה, יעקב בן גילה, ואליאנה בת גילה. ולרפואה שלמה ליוסף בן אהובה מסעודה, שילת אהובה בת עליזה, ודניאל בן עליזה. Masquerading Greatness