Ian Silverman, Rabbi

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The Importance of Civility

It's always been a bit ironic that as we move into the more carefree summer months, in which we hope to relax and to live a life of leisure, that the Jewish calendar calls for us not to relax but to move into a three week period when we don't eat meat (except for Shabbat), and when we limit swimming, weddings and shaving. The three week period commences this year on July 1 and ends with Tisha B'Av July 21-22 (beginning after Shabbat). All this quasi-mourning-like behavior is due to the fact that we twice lost Jerusalem and the Holy Temples on this day. Our sages taught that we were exiled and destroyed, not because we were outmatched militarily, but also because we were weak inside. 

One of the people's flaws was that of sinat chinam, unwarranted hatred of our fellow man. The classic story is told of a host, Kamza, who was not ready to forget the dislike of his guest, Bar Kamza, even though the guest had come to Kamza's home thinking he was forgiven. The story's pathos is the missed opportunity of civility, forgiveness and friendship. In its place, the host humiliates the person who tried to build a relationship with him. Our sages compare the act of shaming another as the equivalent of shedding blood (murder), because humiliation drains the blood from the face or fills it with redness. Rabbi Shammai, a great rabbi, humiliated a potential convert by throwing him out of his Yeshiva when the convert challenged Rabbi Shammai to tell him about Judaism while standing on one foot. When the convert came to Rabbi Hillel with the same challenge, Rabbi Hillel responded, “That which is hateful to you, don't do to another, all the rest is commentary.” “Receive everyone with joyful countenance,” he says elsewhere. Anger and impatience get the best of even the greatest among us. Moses doesn't get into the Promised Land because of it and even God, at times, is held back and talked down by the righteous. Rabbi Meir once prayed for the death of sinners. “Pray instead,” says his wife, Bruria, “ for their repentance and change, and there will not be any sinners and wickedness will cease.” Rabbi Meir admits that his wife's solution is far better.

Another of the people's flaws was the way they spoke to and about one another. Lason Hara, or evil speech, is a grave sin, even if what we say is true. Motzi Shem Ra is badmouthing another. It's not even permitted to praise a person in front of someone who dislikes that person because it will often elicit words to the contrary! These laws are not easy to follow. All the more difficult is to hold one's tongue. Our sages tell us that we have one mouth and two ears, so that we can listen twice as much as we talk, and that we have teeth and lips to restrain our tongue from what we shouldn't say. There are even rules against rebuking another. It is an important mitzvah to call out another when they are doing something contrary the the Torah, but it should be done in private so as not to embarrass them. And if one knows that it will only entrench the bad behavior, it too, should be avoided.

A passage in Psalms reads, "Mi Ha ish HaChafetz Chayyim"– "Who is the lover of life? He who guards his mouth from speaking guile.” A sage asks, “Why are these two things, living life and guarding our lips, together in a sentence and what does one have to do with the other?” He tells us that everyone is born with a budget of words–a million and a quarter–whatever. Once they are uttered, that's it. It's all over and a person dies. But the words of the Torah, of comfort, counsel and empathy–those words don't count. This is why a person who guards his speech extends his or her life (Nachalat Zvi). I do not know if this is literally true, but it is clear that a person who is careful with speech will have more friends and confidants than one who isn't. I know that extends and enriches life.

These lessons of long ago apply doubly today, in the current atmosphere of insult and innuendo. Unfortunately, the media and the highest echelons of government and leadership have not learned these lessons. It is leading to unparalleled bipartisanism and polarization. It is affecting the way we and our children speak to one another. May we endeavor to strive toward the Jewish ideal of civility, and in so doing, help to transform the present climate as well as we can.

Please join us as we commemorate Tisha B'Av on July 21-22 and recall its lessons. May your summer days be longer, brighter and more relaxing, even as we observe our calendar's demands.

Ian Silverman, Rabbi

View current news articles, commentary, videos and more that have an impact on Jewish culture, politics and religion at Rabbi Silverman's Sites to See

• Why the Apple and Why the Honey for Rosh Hashana?

Why not bananas or pears, as they are too, very sweet? A myriad of reasons accompany the ancient tradition of using apples and honey. One reason is that the apple ripens just at this time of year and is at maximum sweetness. Honey is also coming into its own very strongly at this time. Apples have a tartness to them even as they are sweet, and honey, while sweet, brings with it the honey bee, which can sting. This duality reflects the idea that not every day will be sweet. Some days will be bitter and perhaps biting. Yet, we must attribute both the good and the bad to God, and seek to find some aspect of holiness in even those bitter moments.

Steven Walvick, Rabbi/Hazzan

“Adonai is my light, whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27) Starting with the beginning of the month of Elul, through Hoshana Rabba, we recite these words every day in the morning and evening–Fifty days, the same length of time we count the Omer in the Spring, but unlike the Sephira where each day is a new number, a new blessing, these words remain static, unchanging. And yet, they DO change. They change within the very lines of the Psalm itself. For it is not simply a declaration of confidence in the Lord that it's first lines imply. Certainly it starts that way: “Adonai is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid? …If an army should encamp against me, my heart would not fear.” And yet there are the seeds of doubt. The Psalmist prays for “One thing, I request of Adonai”–namely, that he may “dwell in the House of Adonai, all the days of my life.” And here we see the fear actually creep back in as the description of God’s house becomes less and less stable. From house-בית to tabernacle-סכה to tent-אהל our Psalmist betrays his fear within his prayer. Surely one who is confident that God will always protect them wouldn’t need to pray that God “Conceal not Your Presence from me…neither cast me off nor abandon me.” Again they acknowledge their tormentors that surround them, these false witnesses who have risen against them and breathe violence, concluding with words seemingly aimed at themselves more than any future reader: “Hope to Adonai, be strong and God will give you courage; Hope to Adonai.”  

This ambivalence of presenting a strong confidence while betrayed by inner turmoil feels all the more timely this year as we begin this reverse-Omer leading to the Holidays. In fact, it was the day AFTER we stopped reciting this psalm that Hamas launched the most deadly and vicious attack on our brothers and sisters in Israel, which has led to the great tragedy that this entire year has been. It hits me even harder as we read how the enemy ‘breathes violence’ or in the Hebrew “Vi-fayah Hamas”, and I mourn the physical violence going on in Israel and the territories, as well as the mental and emotional violence we experience as bifurcated along party and political lines, blaming each other for the terrible situation. We watch the ignorant and the cynical parrot lies and misinformation that tell less than half of the story.  We see our political leaders on both sides of the aisle, and both sides of the ocean drive a wedge between us, so we forget the true perpetrators of this Hamas, this violence. And so we yearn that God “conceal me in the shelter God’s Tent.” With no end in sight, with our remaining hostages approaching a horrific anniversary, with our honored dead approaching a Yahrtzeit that still feels unreal, there is only one thing we can control: how we treat each other. Whether your fellow congregants support or question the current Israeli or American governments, don’t let those cynically trying to divide us succeed. For rather, I choose to seek “the Goodness of Adonai in the land of the living” and I will continue to “Hope to Adonai” that this terrible chapter comes to a close, and we can begin a new one of true peace, and harmony, and rebuilding, and Hope.

Shana Tova, may 5785 be a year of blessing and health, and of peace.