There was once in the land of Egypt a Jewish doctor. He was recognized by the highest government officials there, along with officials from communities all around the world, for his talents and knowledge. One reason for his success, perhaps, was that he thought a little differently from most. He would look around and think, maybe that could be done a little more efficiently, and this information be made a little more accessible. What this doctor did was take centuries of confusing material and lay it out in a concise, organized, and easy to read manner.
I’m sure that he was expecting the world to embrace the change initiated by his incredible gift, and while a few did, many were enraged, and furious, and ready to toss it off the shelves. They said things like: what audacity! What hubris! How can he claim to know all the answers and yet not show us every single step he’s done, as those before him have, to come to the conclusions he’s forcing us all to accept? And I think that they must have been thinking to themselves as well that in making his answers easily available for all, he was putting the rest of them out of work!
But his changes eventually succeeded. The doctor had been right, and this kind of a work was deeply needed by the entire Jewish people, who were spreading out farther and farther across the globe, away from the masters of our tradition.
This doctor was none other than the great rabbi, Moses Maimonides. And the change? The Mishneh Torah, a work that sifts through the seemingly infinite pages of Torah, Talmud, and rabbinic answers, and lays out exactly what a good Jew should do and believe, in 14 relatively accessible volumes.
To give us more of an idea of what Maimonides was thinking in the creation of his magnum opus, I would like to share with you a part of his introduction. Maimonides wrote,
[The intent of this text is] that a person will not need another text at all with regard to any Jewish law. Rather, this text will be a compilation of the entire Oral Law, including also the ordinances, customs, and decrees that were enacted from the time of Moses, our teacher, until the completion of the Talmud, as were explained by the Geonim in the texts they composed after the Talmud.
Therefore, I have called this text, Mishneh Torah [“the second to the Torah,” with the intent that] a person should first study the Written [Torah], and then study this text, and comprehend the entire Oral [Torah] from it, without having to study any other text between the two.1
In other words, Maimonides explained that instead of having to sift through more than 1000 years of texts, all one has to do to know the Jewish sources is study Torah and his Mishneh Torah.
This change was bold and unexpected by most in the Jewish community. It broke with custom in a brazen manner, and seemed, to his critics, to disrespect his colleagues and predecessors, and the holy work to which they had devoted their lives.
And yet, even his critics acknowledged that there was some value to the work— to this first Jewish code of law. Indeed, within a few generations the Jewish community figured out that it indeed had great value, and the Mishneh Torah ended up being the first of many law codes of this nature. But, this change only succeeded after the many Jewish communities— the stakeholders— had time to grapple with the text and become familiar with it, and with room for dialogue between the change-maker— Maimonides— and all those who would come to use it.
This dialogue is made clear in the fact that the Mishneh Torah now comes to us like every other significant Jewish text. Though Maimonides sought for it to stand on its own, it now shows up in print surrounded by commentaries clarifying, disagreeing, and elaborating, just like the page of Talmud Maimonides wanted to leave behind. One of these works, by the great legalist Joseph Caro, actually tries to show the background work behind the rulings, which is exactly that which Maimonides deliberately left out.
The Jewish people was very much in need of a law code, as decentralization and spreading out across the globe had made it harder and harder to get legal rulings from the experts. Maimonides saw this. We needed change. But that did not mean that we were ready for it. The change wasn’t easy or pleasant, and it only really succeeded when brilliance and audacity was met by compromise and humility.
Change is rarely easy, and, in fact, often difficult; sometimes for those who initiate it, and most always for those who have to face it. Change can rock our foundations, and alter or even destroy the systems to which we’ve been habituated for as long as we can remember. Even when we know that whatever change we’re meeting is a good change, it is still hard to navigate, and remaining in the old mode is often still more attractive. When it is a bad change to which we have to adapt, all the more so do we want to return to that which was.
This past year of 5778 has been a year of significant change— at the global and national scales, but also, right here in our own community. Worlds have been shaken with job loss, financial distress, mental, physical, and spiritual illness, and so many losses of loved ones. Worlds have been rocked by positive changes too, with babies and children entering our community, wonderful changes, and yet, challenging too, especially for the young parents.
And we continue to face great change in our Temple community. We experienced the departures of Cantor Aviva Marer and Dara Winston. Though we recognize the blessings for them, we simultaneously experience loss. And yet, we have the positives of three new wonderful staff members: Samantha Eichert as Temple Administrator, Shira Friedman as Youth Advisor, and of course, Sharon Kohn as our Cantor.
Our way of doing business is changing— we’ve been going digital and paperless. While this is good for the planet and in line with the way that business everywhere is conducted, online interactions remain foreign, unknown, and intimidating for some. And, our very home is in question as we contemplate how we can make all the structural changes that are needed.
Most of us today were greeted by the words, Shanah Tovah. Happy New Year, or literally, a good year. But there’s another possible meaning. The word ‘Shana’s root is connected with the verb L’shanot— to change,2 which means that when we say Shana Tova, we might in fact be wishing someone, “Good Change”! And the transition from year to year, especially in these times, is exactly when we need this kind of wish, because change is hard!
I came across what I found to be a really helpful idea from a meditation teacher named Shinzen Young. He teaches that suffering in life comes not from pain alone, but from pain plus resistance. Suffering comes not in what we feel, but in how we react to what we feel, to the defenses we put up, to the anger that burns within us. And this suffering, in the face of change, can be avoided. I want to suggest two steps in which to do so. The first, comes from our mystical tradition, and the second from Pirkei Avot.
Hence Ayurveda acharyas recommend use of “masha” in many health conditions. fast generic cialis On the contrary, you will get lots of ads viagra uk for making a reasonable market in the competitive world. In simpler terms, Kamagra is your simplest solution for treating Erectile dysfunction in men and is by far the most effective, hence very popular among those struggling with impotence. try here purchase levitra online reached in popularity the legendary levitra that created the whole market of ED pills like Kamagra. 5 Easy Tips to Overcome Performance Anxiety in Bed is always being worried about pleasing your partner effectively. On the other hand cheap cialis, must be taken orally with the help of the normal water but not frequently, in fact the time of sexual encounter. That first step, is mindfulness practice: a very common practice these days, corroborated by many scientific studies and the subject of numerous self-help books, and yet it is a deeply Jewish practice, rooted in ancient tradition. Mindfulness is quite literally taking a moment to stop and be mindful of what’s going on outside and inside of us. What are we feeling, saying, and doing, and what is it inside of us that’s really causing us to react in this way? Do we need to react this way, or could there be a better path?
Sefer Yetzira, a 3rd century mystical text, reminds the practitioner, v’im ratz libeich, shuv lamakom— if your mind is running, return to the place at which you started. A t’shuvah, if you will. When the world is racing, return to that which is core to us. To God, to a familiar mental or physical space, or simply to our conscious breathing, as we do most Friday nights. Sometimes, what we need most when we are distracted, is to stop and come home. When change, or anything else, is knocking at our doors, before greeting it, think, who am I, and how can I meet what’s coming with my best foot forward? 11th century Andalusian rabbi Bachya ibn Pakuda saw that we needed mindfulness not just for the challenging moments in life, but for prayer! He taught that mindfulness and meditation are themselves 50% of all that prayer is— we need them to be able to get into the necessary headspace for meeting God.
We have known for centuries that mindfulness practice helps us remain calm and adapt to whatever changes the world is bringing. Tapping in, finding stillness, listening to what’s truly going on in our own minds can help us to see the change for what it really is, to see our reactions for what they really are, and pause, to better respond.
And what about the second path towards reducing resistance and meeting change? For this, there’s a teaching from Pirkei Avot,3 one that understands that part of change is about connecting with, rather than positioning ourselves against, those involved in the change.
Rabbi Joshua ben Perachya stated the famous teaching, Oseh l’cha rav, Koneh l’kha chaveir, v’hevei dan et kol ha’adam l’khaf z’khut—make for yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person favorably.
When difficult change is happening and there are people involved, it has been my experience that it can often feel good in the moment to blame, to get angry, and to push away those who we associate with the change. It may be that they are responsible, it may be that they tried to help us through the change they themselves are navigating, and it may be that they’ve been through it before. They may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rabbi Joshua tells us, don’t push away those people around you. Turn to them, and let them be of help!
He starts, “Make for yourself a teacher.” We always have something to learn from another. We can gain from their experience in coping with whatever’s going on. If we’re angry at this person for being the cause of this change, perhaps thinking of them as our teacher, if only for a moment, forces us into a position that is more ready for learning, adapting, and growing, thus helping us to actually meet whatever’s coming. The key, to Rabbi Joshua’s dictum though, is in the word Oseh. It is not enough to accept the teaching when it’s offered; it’s upon us, to Oseh, to make for ourselves, a teacher— to actively treat whatever human being we’re looking at in that moment, as someone from whom we can learn. We can only learn from others if we actually open ourselves up to learning from others.
Rabbi Joshua continues, “Acquire for yourself a friend.” In times of tension, we are often quick to anger and slow to forgive. And yet, it is only in making peace and forming connections that we can really find the support we need. This is so important that 15th century Italian commentator Ovadiah Bartenura teaches that ‘acquiring’ means that we have to do everything we can to make this person our friend even if it requires a large sum of money to be spent. Particularly in times of trouble, we need allies, we need colleagues, and we need to do whatever we can to build positive relationships with those around us. After all, our tradition reminds us: Who is a hero? One who turns his enemy into his friend.”4
Last, and perhaps most importantly, Rabbi Joshua instructs us to “judge every person favorably.” Even if you can’t make someone your teacher, even if there’s no way they’ll be your friend— perhaps that thing they said that came across as completely inappropriate, hurtful, and infuriating, and that quite possibly made our lives more difficult, perhaps their intentions were good and it came out the wrong way. And more, maybe they’re right, and it was our state of mind or place in life that made their words or actions difficult to swallow. Making that effort can not only make us less angry and allow for a deepening of relationships, it can also help us move to accept the change that is coming.
Let us consider for a moment, what is it that carries us through times of challenge? I would venture to say that there are two answers, each entirely necessary. Our spirits— our mind, our soul, and our sense of being— which enable us to rise up and meet the moment; and our communities— the many people in our lives ready to lend a hand when we are in need.
Mindfulness and raising others to positive roles ensure that we have the tools necessary for the challenges ahead. Had Maimonides’ critics made good use of these tools, and maybe had Maimonides himself used them when initiating this change, perhaps his Mishneh Torah might have made it into the Jewish canon without the great controversy.
When facing change, rather than raging, lashing out the world, and issuing public outcry, we need to pause, take stock, be mindful, and then connect with all those involved— in learning, in love, and in kindness. And for those of us making change, the same rules apply. We know that change is difficult, even if it has to happen. So let us be sure to be mindful of all that’s involved in the process, knowing how it will affect others. Let us be humble and learn from all who might be connected, form relationships with them, and assume, when facing their criticism and resistance, that they’re doing so for a higher purpose.
In this stormy sea of change, these High Holy Days, may we all take that pause for mindfulness, and may we stop, connect, and find support in those in our midst. Let us do that necessary turning of T’shuvah and steer a straighter route, so that we can better meet the changes to come. In so doing, we may very well find ourselves back in still, predictable waters.
To happy and sweet change, and to a happy and sweet new year. L’shanah Tovah U’m’tukah.
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1. Mishneh Torah, Introduction.
2. From Rabbi Carl Perkins, “Have a good change!.”
3. Pirkei Avot 1:6.
4. Avot deRebbe Natan 23
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