Remind Yourself

I "retired" from my last job, religious school director at my local synagogue, in May of 2011. At a special Shabbat service for graduates -- and I felt like one that night, I gave this drash. I unearthed it while looking for another file, and it's pretty darn good. Not only that, it has some messages, messages I originally intended for my audience, that I need to revisit myself.

I used to have a sign hanging on my wall. On it was a quote from Rabbi Mecham Mendel, about whom I know next to nothing. And I mean that – nothing is here, and here’s what I know. But I know he spoke truth. The quote was, simply,

“If you truly wish your children to study torah, study it yourself in their presence.”

That sign got lost in the move, and I never did bother to make another one, and now the time for that has past, but that saying was always in the back of my mind – it was my guiding principle as principal.

Rabbi Mechem Mendel was a sneaky one, of course. Any parents who takes upon his or herself the study of Torah because they want their children to also study gets a double benefit – the also get to study Torah, and they raise someone to study it with.

In this way, I have learned so much more than I could have ever imagined teaching in the walls of these buildings, this school, this shul. Every time some pesky high school kid asked me a question that required grabbing the Chumash for an answer, I was blessed. Every time a young child imitates a madrichim’s movements during shira, or follows them in a dance, learning is happening…twice.

Ghandi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Rabbi Mecham Mendel tells us to be the Jew you want to see in the world. As Jewish parents and educators, this is important..much more so than the stories we tell, or even the Torah we read. You never know what a child will take from those.

One year, a fourth grader, Isaac, was asked by his mother what he had learned in Sunday School.

"Well mom," said Isaac, "Our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. When he got to the Red Sea, he had his combat engineers build a pontoon bridge and everyone walked across safely. Then, he used his walkie-talkie to radio headquarters for reinforcements. They sent Seal Team Six to blow up the bridge and all the Israelites were saved."
"Really Isaac," said his mother, "is that really what your teacher taught you?"
"Not really mom. But if I told it the way the teacher did, you'd never believe me."

The Judaism you tell your child may be dismissed; the Judaism you live will get into them, down in the kishkes, and that stuff never leaves.

Speaking of leaving, then. This week's Torah portion, Behar, is not one that will inspire much disbelief. There are no talking snakes or donkeys; no magical splitting of the see, just what seems like mundane advice for a future agrarian society, what I like to call the TRFF (turf) -- Torah Rules for Fair Farming.

God tells Moses, while they're having a chat on Mount Sinai, hence the name of the portion, b'har, at the mountain, that every seven years the land gets a year off. No tilling, no planting, no sewing, no hoeing. It is, literally, "released" from its burden. We are guarantors of a sacred trust -- this land, this earth -- and we must find a way to balance productivity, reset, and release. After seven series of seven years, in the 50th year, the Jubilee year, not only does the land lie fallow, but ownership returns to the orginal owner, indentured servants and slaves are freed, and everyone returns to their homes, their families.

And we rest.

And the land rests.

And we enjoy the work of our labors that we have stored up for six years...and we breathe -- kol ha neshama tehalel yah...halleluyah....

Punctuating the productivity of life with long pauses lends perspective and encourages us to express gratitude for our bounty, and what can be produced without our work, but with our gratitude...

kol ha neshama tehalel ya halleluyah

And so this time in my life is a punctuation mark as well. At this point, I'm not sure if it's a comma, a period, a question mark, an exclamation point or one of those little smiley face emoticons.

I imagine many of the other graduates feel the same way. It is the end, and the beginning. The path to many hello's and perhaps a few too many good-bye's. Accomplishments writ on paper and your hearts, and blank pages to come before you. Change happens.

But I'm not too worried about feeling like I have a good grasp of the ways and workings of life just yet, although some of you here perhaps should be.

Between Pesach and Rosh Hashana, in the afternoons, we are to study Pirke Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers. If any of you have seen Yentl, this is the book she and her father are studying. Who is rich? He who is happy with lot, etc.

Near the end of the book (I skipped ahead) the rabbi's get presumptuous and lay out the milestone of a life, by age.

At 5, a child is ready for scripture.

at 10, mishnah

at 13, an observer of the commandments

at 15, gemara

at 18, chupa

at 20, pursue a livelihood

at 30, full strength

at 40, understanding

at 50, offers counsel

at 60, attains seniority

at 70, tips old age

at 80, strength

at 90, stooped over

at 100, as if dead...

So I am a full 7 months away from full understanding. But to quote the great tzadik of our time, Oprah Winfrey, there is one thing I know for sure.

Delve into torah

and delve into it again

for everything is in it

look deeply into it

grow old with it

and share all of this, as I have shared it, with your children.