By Ozzie Nogg, Special to JTNews
Why do Jews volunteer to dish up meals at soup kitchens, donate blood, march arm-in-arm through Selma, join the Peace Corps? I’m betting the motivation comes from the words of Isaiah in the haftarah for Yom Kippur. Nowhere will you find a more powerful call to social action.
The text asks: Is this the fast I desire? A day for us to afflict our souls and starve our bodies? To droop our heads like a bulrush, to dress in sackcloth and ashes? Do you call that fast a day favorable to God?
Then the answer is given: No! This is my chosen fast: to unlock the chains of injustice and set the oppressed free. To break every yoke that binds men unfairly. To share your food with the hungry and to take the poor wanderer into your home. When you see the naked, to clothe him, and to not ignore your own kin.
The message is clear. Show, don’t tell. Without concrete action, prayers and rituals are meaningless.
The rabbis of the Talmud engaged in endless debates regarding our responsibility to others. The story goes that when Rabbi Hayyim of Brisk was asked, “What is the duty of a rabbi?” he answered: “To redress the grievances of those who are abandoned and alone, to protect the dignity of the poor, and to save the oppressed from the hands of his oppressor.”
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, one of the preeminent Orthodox theologians and Talmudic scholars of our time, agrees. He teaches that ritual decisions are not the main task of an observant Jew. Instead, Soloveitchik writes, “The actualization of the ideals of justice and righteousness is the pillar of fire which halachic man follows.”
The Avodah service of Yom Kippur describes the rituals performed by the kohen gadol — the high priest — in the Temple in Jerusalem. Rituals intended to bring atonement and purification to our ancient ancestors. It’s interesting to note that the Hebrew word avodah has several meanings, including work, service and worship.
As we sit in our sanctuaries this New Year season, perhaps we should consider that the word worship may also have several meanings, and that to work for justice — to strive against suffering — can be a spiritual path.
According to Dr. Richard Kalmin, Professor of Talmud at the Jewish Theological Seminary, “Religious experience does not begin and end in the synagogue, but leads through its doors and out into the world.” Into the world around us where (to paraphrase Viktor Frankl, the noted Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist) being fully human means being conscious, aware, ready to take responsibility for those injustices we can prevent or correct.
For those who ask, “Why can’t God simply address the ills of the world without my help?” here’s a possible answer, taken from a midrash on the Book of Numbers:
At one point in the desert wanderings, the Holy One said to Moses and Aaron: In the beginning, I blessed my creatures, but from now on, you will have to bless the Israelites. And God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to Aaron and his sons. This is how you shall bless the people of Israel. Say to them: May the Lord bless and keep you. May the Lord let His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. May the Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace.
But the Jewish people wanted their blessing to come directly from God. They cried: “Master of the Universe! Why have you instructed the priests to bless us? We need no blessing other than yours.”
And the Holy One answered: “Even though I instructed the priests to bless you, I will be standing right behind them. When the priests spread forth their hands to make the blessing — when they make a latticework of their fingers — I will be there to peek through.”
The Torah calls the Jewish people a nation of priests, suggesting that each of us has the responsibility (and honor) of serving God through service to our fellow human beings. Could we then presume to say that in every blessing we bring to others, we act as holy middlemen? God’s intermediaries? That each time we reach out in acts of loving kindness, observe what is right and do what is just, we are the human face of divine good?
In the Talmud, Rabbi Tarfon reminds us, “It is not up to you to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”
Isaiah teaches: “Build up, build up a highway! Clear the road! Remove all obstacles from the road of My people!”
In this New Year, may our communities continue to be blessed with volunteers willing to do the work, determined to remove obstacles and make a difference in the world.
Shana tova to all, the far and the near.
Ozzie Nogg is a freelance writer in Omaha, Neb. For a peek inside her book, Joseph’s Bones: A Collection of Stories, visit www.rabbisdaughter.com.