There is a notable lack of compassion in some of the public initiatives in America and in other nations. These are nations that officially or unofficially identify as Judaeo-Christian.
For some time I’ve focused on that lack of compassion and considered how it might be improved.
But here I move to a predicate question. Why do those traditions or society value and promote compassion at all?
The question particularly arises for students of Buddhism. It may be an overbroad characterization, but it is not imprecise to say that compassion is at the center of Buddhism.
Which leads to the question of whether and how much compassion is at the center of other traditions.
So why compassion at all?
Here a few of the possible answers.
It is the right thing to do.
God wants it and expects it.
The Golden Rule advises it, because we will be treated as we treat others.
It will get us into heaven or keep us out of hell.
It makes us feel good.
Unlike those and other explanations, Buddhism reaches compassion not as an assigned transactional value but as an unavoidable conclusion. To simplify in my own substandard understanding, if there is absolute equality among us, there can be nothing but compassion. If we don’t recognize that absolute equality—and we so often don’t, instead putting ourselves in an unequal position—how can we be genuinely compassionate?
With that, back to the events of the day, and the open question of how, once we have advanced our own compassion, we can find ways to advance it in our traditions and in our nations.
Ashamnu אָשַׁמְנוּ nahn maswuwlun نحن مسؤولون We are responsible
Bagadnu בָּגַדְנוּ nahn nakhun نحن نخون We betray
Gazalnu גָּזַלְנוּ nahn nasriq نحن نسرق We steal
Dibarnu dofi דִבַּרְנוּ דֹפִי nahn nahtaqir نحن نحتقر We scorn
He-evinu הֶעֱוִינוּ nahn natasaraf bishakl munharif نحن نتصرف بشكل منحرف We act perversely
V’hirshanu וְהִרְשַׁעְנוּ nahn qusa نحن قساة We are cruel
Zadnu זַדְנוּ nahn nukhatit نحن نخطط We scheme
Chamasnu חָמַסְנוּ nahn eanifun نحن عنيفون We are violent
Tafalnu shaker טָפַלְנוּ שֶקֶר nahn alaiftira’ نحن الافتراء We slander
Ya-atznu ra יָעַצְנוּ רַע nahn nabtakir alshara نحن نبتكر الشر We devise evil
Kizavnu כִּזַבְנוּ nahn naqul al’akadhib نحن نقول الأكاذيب We lie
Latznu לַצְנוּ nahn naskhar نحن نسخر We ridicule
Maradnu מָרַדְנוּ nahn naesi نحن نعصي We disobey
Ni-atznu נִאַצְנוּ nahn nasi’ نحن نسيء We abuse
Sararnu סָרַרְנוּ nahn natahadak نحن نتحداك We defy
Avinu עָוִינוּ nahn nufsid نحن نفسد We corrupt
Tzararnu צָרַרְנוּ nahn eadaayiyuwna نحن عدائيون. We are hostile
Kishinu oref קִשִׁינוּ עֹרֶף nahn eanidun نحن عنيدون We are stubborn
Rashanu רָשַׁעְנוּ nahn ghayr ‘akhlaqiiyn نحن غير أخلاقيين We are immoral
Shichatnu שִׁחַתְנוּ nahn naqtul نحن نقتل We kill
Tiavnu תִּעַבְנוּ nahn nufsid نحن نفسد We spoil
Ta·inu תָּעִינוּ nahn nudil نحن نضل We go astray
Titanu תִּעְתָּעְנוּ nahn naqud alakharin ‘iilaa aldalal نحن نقود الآخرين إلى الضلال We lead others astray
The Jewish High Holidays 5785/2024—the ten Days of Repentance and Awe—begin with Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, on the evening of October 2, and end with Yom Kippur, the Day of Repentance, on October 10.
Confession is a centerpiece of the holiday. In the liturgy, Vidui includes two confessional prayers, Ashamnu and Al Cheit. Ashamnu is the shorter list of transgressions. Al Cheit is a longer detailed list of particular wrongdoings.
The past year has been one of tragedy, suffering and war in Israel, Gaza, the Middle East, and the Jewish world. Whatever our faith, status, history, ideology, grievances, or rationales, we are reminded now that none of is above responsibility, none of us as above the need for confession.
Above is my adaptation of Ashamnu. In Hebrew it is an acrostic, the first letter of each line in alphabetical order. English translations of those words vary, but all are admissions of conduct to be fixed in the year ahead. I’ve changed the common translation of the first word, Ashamnu. Often translated as “we have trespassed” or “we are guilty”, I have borrowed from Abraham Joshua Heschel. He famously said about his early protest of the Vietnam War: “In a free society, few are guilty, but all are responsible.”
My version also adds a rough translation of each expression into Arabic. Not in the least literate in the language, I’ve relied on a digital translator. For any errors in this, small or egregious, my humble and sincere apologies.
The message is that all of us, from the heinous to the heavenly, are responsible. The High Holidays insist that we are imperfect in ways that we may not acknowledge or may ignore. Our hearts may be hard when they should be soft. Why else do we literally beat our chests as we recite each of our wrongs? So we can locate our hearts, reach in, and know what condition they are in.
One line from the Book of Exodus crystallizes our moment.
As with all biblical Hebrew, the translation is challenging and varied.
Exodus 23:9
You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt. (NJPS)
You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt. (NRSV)
No sojourner shall you oppress, for you know the sojourner’s heart, since you were sojourners in the land of Egypt. (Robert Alter)
Alter addresses one of the translation challenges, the Hebrew word nefesh/נֶ֣פֶשׁ:
“The Hebrew is nefesh, “heart”, “life,” “inner nature,” “essential being,” “breath.””
Another word needing expansion is the Hebrew ger/גֵּ֔ר. Scholars Mark Allen Powell and Dennis R. Bratcher explain in the HarperCollins Bible Dictionary:
alien (ger): In the Bible, one who is not a member of a particular social group. Accordingly, Abraham was an alien (NRSV: “stranger”) among the Hittites at Hebron (Gen. 23:4), as were Moses in Midian (Exod. 2:22) and the Israelites in Egypt (Deut. 23:7; cf. Ruth 1:1). The Hebrew word is ger, and it has often been translated “sojourner” in English Bibles. The NRSV is inconsistent, translating it “alien” in some instances and “stranger” in others. After the settlement in Canaan, the term not only designated a temporary guest but also acquired the more specialized meaning of “resident alien,” one who lived permanently within Israel (Exod. 22:21; 23:9). No doubt because the Israelites were keenly aware of their own heritage as aliens without rights in a foreign land, they developed specific laws governing the treatment of aliens. Strangers or aliens were to be treated with kindness and generosity (Lev. 19:10, 33–34; 23:22; Deut. 14:29). The basic principle was, “You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Deut. 10:19). And, again, “You shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:34)….
“Alien” or “stranger” also appears in a figurative sense, usually in appealing to the generosity and mercy of God in dealing with undeserving people (Pss. 39:12; 119:19; 1 Chron. 29:15). The idea of dwelling in a land owned by someone else is also applied theologically to the relationship of the Israelites to the land; it belonged to God and they were the strangers in it (Lev. 25:23). (emphasis added)
This Passover, we give a thought to the nefesh—heart, life, inner nature, essential being, breath—of the ger—stranger, sojourner, resident alien. As the Bible reminds us, we were strangers too.
You say this is what God wants God told you Or told someone who heard And told you Told someone Who wrote it down Figured out That this is what God wants. I am no more than Moses or others But no less. Here is what I read and heard And write. “Bereshit bara elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz. V’ha’aretz hatah tohu v’bohu.”* In the beginning was tohu and bohu, a formless wasteland. All the rest is commentary For us not God to write create destroy. Write we did Create we did Destroy we did And do. This is what we want.
What is mysticism? One of many words that can mean many things. As Humpty Dumpty said, “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.”
In The Encyclopedia of Jewish Myth, Magic and Mysticism, Rabbi Geoffrey Dennis tries to define it:
The term “mysticism” is one commonly applied, but imperfectly defined….
Scholars have struggled to give a precise definition to what constitutes mysticism within the Western religious traditions. Most regard it to be the impulse, ideology, and discipline to experience the unmediated presence of God or, more radically, union with divinity or a more broadly defined “Absolute.” Evelyn Underhill calls it, “… the expression of the innate tendency of the human spirit towards complete harmony with the transcendental order; whatever be the theological formula under which that order is understood.” Others see mysticism as a project of human transformation, the radical revision of human nature in relationship to the divine.
There is a substantial body of mysticism in Judaism, as there is in its younger siblings Christianity and Islam. The place of mysticism in these religions is complex and varied over time and circumstances. While mysticism might lead to fierce conflicts (“my enlightened vision is better than your enlightened vision”), the “radical revision of human nature” can also lead to followers experiencing other people and things in a more humane, open and divine way.
I don’t know of research measuring the study and adoption of mysticism among contemporary Jews. My anecdotal observation is that it might be small.
To a certain extent, materialism is the opposite of mysticism. Things are things but also transcendentally more than things. Land is land but transcendentally more than land. As religionists say, the phenomenal and the noumenal. We need and can’t avoid having and using the things, but that leads to attaching to the things, which inevitably leads to trouble, within ourselves and in the world. Mysticism, easily lost in the everyday of religions, including Judaism, and certainly lost in the turmoil, could be helpful right now.
Today is the last day of Hanukkah. The menorah was filled up last night and now it’s burned down and done. Just in time to mention the candles.
Once buying Hanukkah candles was simple: a box of white or a box of assorted colors. Now everything is different. Now there are choices. Lots of choices.
Here are some of the choices. For next year.
Dripless Multicolored Striped Tapered Metallic Silver Blue Frost Colorful Beeswax Handmade Sunburst Hand Decorated 3-Tone Pastel Diamond Etched Crayon Spiral Honeycomb Beeswax Blue Hued Natural Organic Vegetable Wax Multi Splash Sweet Scented Tall Wave Etched Twisted Thin Blaze of Fire Purple Paraffin Wax Tri Color Handcrafted
Too long have I dwelt with those who hate peace. I am all peace; but when I speak, they are for war.
Psalm 120:6-7
I am not a pacifist.
There are many definitions of pacifist, including:
A person who opposes war or violence as a means of settling disputes. A person who believes that war and violence are unjustifiable.
Up until now, I hadn’t thought about whether I would classify myself as or be considered a pacifist. The short answer is ‘no”. During the wars I’ve lived through or for those I know from recent or ancient history, I can say that some of the wars and violence pursued were justified. Others were not, or were pursued in ways that were not justified, or for objectives that were not justified, or were pursued without trying other means, or were just stupid or evil.
But I am for peace. Peace should never be a secondary or tertiary objective once the other objectives have been achieved or not, once all the destructive and deadly means have been tried. Peace should have co-equal status at the top of the list.
During the ongoing war in Gaza, I’ve discovered that all the divergent thinking and rhetoric, from me and so many others, from just plain folks up to world leaders, is having little effect on the course of hostilities. Wars are about action, well-chosen or ill-chosen, and stubborn actors convinced of their rightness can be deaf.
Then I realized that if I am going to be using my words to little practical effect, I might as well use them to promote the possibility of peace.
Which is how I came to find a verse in Psalm 120. The standout Hebrew phrase is “Ani shalom”, literally the words are “I” and “peace”. Lacking a verb, it is variously translated as “I am peace”, “I am all peace”, “I am for peace”.
God of Moses God of Jesus God of Mohammed God of infinite names Sitting by the desert sea Pained and grieved. This is madness. These people Every inclination Is only evil All the time.* They take our names In vile vain.** There is the water Let us drive them in And start again Just like days of old Do better next time. But how would they learn? Hard hearts may soften Dissolved in blood and tears. We won’t abandon We don’t approve.
Each year this blog includes different Passover posts. Each year at Passover many readers find their way back to these past posts. For those who haven’t been in these parts much, following are a few throwbacks.
In the Siegel and Shuster version, there is no infant floated off in a basket to avoid his death, and no Egyptian princess to find and adopt him. Instead, the Kryptonian infant Kal-el (a version of the Hebrew phrase Kol El, “the voice of God” or “all of God”) is rocketed off in a space capsule to avoid the planet’s destruction. The capsule crashes on Earth, and he is found and adopted by the Midwestern couple, Ma and Pa Kent.
The biblical infant is raised as an Egyptian and given the Egyptian name Moses; Kal-el is raised as an earthling and given the Midwestern name Clark Kent. The time will come for both of them, Moses and Clark Kent, to reclaim their true identities in order to tap into great power, to become super-men….
Don’t try to make sandwiches. At the seder, the tradition is to eat a tiny sandwich of horseradish and haroset (a sweet paste representing the mortar of the building the Jews slaved on) between two pieces of matzo. The great sage Hillel supposedly created this sandwich, and his name is attached to it. Even this tiny sandwich throws matzo crumbs all over the place. A full-size matzo sandwich is not a good idea. No matter how wise Hillel was….
It’s possible you believe there are some special struggles going on right now in America. Which would make it a good time to gather with like-minded friends and family, brothers and sisters, and as a community share a meal and recall that the struggle is never easy or short (and might include some flat, dry bread), but that there is a better nation at the end of the journey. One hopeful, undiscouraged step at a time….
Passover begins this evening. As part of the festival, many Jews will be eating the flat dry bread of matzo at seder tonight; some will eat it for the next eight days. Matzo is known as the bread of affliction, commemorating the hardship of slavery and the hardship of the flight to freedom. As we break bread—flat or otherwise—we might also remember the plight of millions of refugees around the world….
What does Freud want? He might not want people attending a Passover seder, offering prayers to a God who isn’t there. But things are not that simple.
Sigmund Freud was a Jew by birth, an atheist by belief. He abstracted and analyzed religion as a powerful manifestation of powerful forces at work. But near the end of his career, he considered whether there was something in God that was more than a mere reflection of psychic need and dynamics.
In his final book, Moses and Monotheism, he suggests that while there is no God, the positing of one had forced the Jews—and all who followed on that spiritual path—to think and act differently. The gift of the idea of God was the imperative to transcend instinct and old ways, to make new and positive sense of the insensible, and to act accordingly….
The tradition of Elijah at the seder is common in many Jewish communities. The practice of pouring a fifth cup of wine and opening the door for Elijah has a complex history. The theme is the prophet as a harbinger of redemption. The scholarship on this is voluminous, and it is generally concluded that the practice is not ancient, only coming into use after the Crusades.
Setting aside the fascinating history of the cup of Elijah, this much is clear: at Passover 2020, Elijah will be visiting a lot more seders. Instead of big groups, single family seders—many of them virtually connected—will be pouring that extra cup for Elijah to drink. Not to mention all the other extra cups that will be poured and drunk on this Passover, different than all other Passovers.
According to the Bible story, Elijah, like Moses before him, fled to the wilderness. Pursued by Ahab and Jezebel, Elijah wanted to give up. Instead, he found water and food to sustain him, ending up at the very same mountain where Moses stood:
And He said, “Go and stand on the mountain before the LORD, and, look, the LORD is about to pass over, with a great and strong wind tearing apart mountains and smashing rocks before the LORD. Not in the wind is the LORD. And after the wind an earthquake. Not in the earthquake is the LORD. And after the earthquake—fire. Not in the fire is the LORD. And after the fire, a sound of minute stillness.” (1 Kings 19:10-12, Robert Alter translation)
Wilderness, food, wine, a sound of minute stillness. Happy Passover.
Bob Schwartz 