Choosing Hope
Rosh Hashanah 2024 edition 46
Sandra Lilienthal, Ed.D.
October 7, 8:30 a.m. My husband comes into the women’s side of the mechitza (the partition separating men and women in Orthodox synagogues) and calls me outside. He tells me Israel is under attack. My first reaction is one of complete fear and I burst out in tears, as two of my three children are in Israel at that time. I will have no access to a phone or computer for the next 36 hours or so. 36 hours of worry and concern for my children and for my People.
Sunday night, October 8, I am able to check the news. It is at that time that I realize the enormity of what happened the day before. My children are safe, thank G-d, but Israel has been attacked as never before. And I, who had always held the hope that we would find ways to live in peace with our neighbors, am terrified. Terrified because at this point, I see no solution, no bright future, no peace. I have completely lost hope of better days to come.
But G-d has an interesting sense of humor: among my classes that are to start that week is a 10-week course, “Choosing Hope.” It is based on a book written in 2022 by David Arnow, and the premise is that Judaism has survived because our ancestors refused to respond to their circumstances with despair and instead, chose to be hopeful. In Arnow’s words, “despair knows not; hope knows not yet.”
And so together with my learners, I embark on this journey of exploring how Judaism has, over and again, shown itself to be a religion of hope, of possibilities, of a belief that better times lie ahead and that our efforts to achieve that are not in vain, even when it seems they are. Let me share just a small part of this journey with you, and feel free to read the biblical stories literally or metaphorically – it works either way. Let us go to the very beginning of the Torah, when G-d creates the first family – Adam, Eve, Cain and Abel – He most likely expects things to work as planned. But they don’t – it only goes downhill from there and by the time we get to the generation of Noah, G-d decided to send a flood and restart. But right after the flood, we hear about the Tower of Babel and once again, G-d brings destruction (of the tower) and dispersion. Having tried twice and seeing humanity not living up to the standards G-d had designed for them, G-d could have given up. And yet – G-d tries again, this time with Abraham. Either G-d is naïve, at best, or G-d is acting on hope that this time, it will be different.
Abraham and Sarah enter a covenantal relationship with G-d and are promised a brighter future: progeny and a land. But not only does Abraham have to leave the land shortly after getting there, but he also has no children with his wife. And then, when he does, G-d asks him to bring the child up to be sacrificed (or at least this is what Abraham understands). Most interpretations point to Abraham’s complete submission to G-d, but a Talmudic passage and some midrashim offer the possibility that Abraham had hopes that Isaac would survive if G-d somehow decreed so. In other words, Abraham hoped either that G-d would not ultimately go through with his demand or that he, Abraham, had misunderstood what G-d has asked him to do.
On the first day of the upcoming holiday of Rosh Hashanah, we read the story of Hagar and Ishmael, where Hagar despairs in the desert, seeing her son in danger. On the second day, we read the story of Abraham and Isaac, pointing not to despair, but to hope.
But our focus on hope begins a month before Rosh Hashanah and does not stop there. During the entire month of Elul and all through the end of the Tishrei holidays, we focus on teshuvah, on becoming a better person. We begin with self-reflection, which will lead us to see the gap between who we are now and who we can become. And we make an effort to change because hope says we CAN change. This time of the year, we are also reminded that G-d has not lost his hope for us. Yom Kippur, which commemorates the day when G-d gave a second set of tablets to Moses forty days after the episode of the Golden Calf, reminds us that there is always hope that we will change, make amends, and return to a relationship with G-d and others from whom we may have been estranged.
I could also speak about how both the concept of Tikkun Olam – being able to repair the world – and the notion of a Messianic Era are intrinsically built on hope, but that can be the topic for another edition of this magazine.
This is all to say that as the holy days are approaching and I think of celebrating Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah this year, which will fall on the first anniversary of the tragic October 7, I will temper my sadness with my hope that the world can and will be better, and will promise myself to do that which is in my power to bring more kindness into it. It may just require an extra smile, an extra “good morning,” an extra “how are you doing?” If everyone makes small changes, we will go far. L’Shanah Tovah – may we have a year of peace both in America and in Israel and the whole Middle East.
Sandra Lilienthal is an adult Jewish educator (www.sandralilienthal.com) and co-founder of Wisdom Without Walls: An Online Salon for Jewish Ideas (www.wisdomwithoutwalls.org).
Unfolding the plagues
By Sandra Lilienthal, Ed.D.
As we get closer to Pesach, we spend so much time preparing, cleaning, cooking and stressing, that we many times miss the opportunity to think about the story in a deeper way.
I believe that leaving Egypt is much more than what initially meets the eye: the story of the enslaved Israelites reaching freedom.
The Torah is a blueprint for life, a manual for the development of the human race – not merely a record of ancient tales. The episodes recorded in the Torah represent timeless, spiritual tales occurring continuously in the heart of each person. In that vein, I would like to examine the purpose of the plagues and how we can apply that event to our personal lives in the 21st century.
You may have heard that mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt, is related to “constraints,” and that each and every one of us has to leave behind, move away, from those things that oppress us, that make us feel as if we are in the situation of slavery, enslaved to outside forces.
Inspired by a lecture by Rabbi YY Jacobson on the kabbalistic understanding of the plagues, I say that Egypt, in our personal lives, represents the situations in which our ability to be who we are meant to be is hindered.
Blood represents excessive confidence. As important as confidence is, if excessive, it will lead to destruction and death. I need to go no further than the events of the last few months to explain this.
Frogs represent an emotional state of detachment. They are cold-blooded animals. When we are emotionally detached, we are unable to experience genuine emotional intimacy with any other person, be it friends or relatives, spouse or child.
The third plague, lice, represents unhealthy humility. As important as it is to be humble, being able to recognize our weaknesses and where we need to grow, excessive humility will ultimately lead to submission. When one thinks of oneself as being worthless, one is deprived of one's vitality.
The fourth plague is that of arov, a word that means mixture (of wild animals, as it's mostly understood). It represents unhealthy ambition. Of course, having ambition can drive a person to greatness. But excessive ambition turns a person into a “wild animal,” devouring anyone who is standing in one’s way.
Pestilence is deceitful compassion. When one presents oneself as compassionate in order to exploit others for selfish purposes, they damage the person they are pretending to be compassionate toward.
Boils are associated with fire, and kabbalah relates it to rejection. Rejection removes us from others and can easily turn into hate, bitterness and cruelty which affect both ourselves and those around us.
Hail, the seventh plague, is frozen water. Water is symbolic for generosity, which flows. But frozen water is love and generosity which has become cold and no longer nurtures.
Locusts represent a corrupted mind. How many times do we find ways to justify our actions intellectually, when we know they are morally questionable?
Darkness represents the darkness one’s soul can feel in a world that pays so little attention to it. How many times do we deprive our soul from growth because we are more concerned with growing our bank accounts or our muscles?
The last plague, the death of the firstborn, represents the destruction of the purest instincts and motives of the soul
As discussed by many commentators, the plagues undo Creation. Egypt, the strongest empire of the time, ends up in a state of darkness and chaos. Looking back at Egypt from the other side of the Sea of Reeds, one would see a land with no people, no animals, and no vegetation – a land that seems unformed and void exactly as the whole world was before Creation.
The plagues and the subsequent Exodus create a strong distinction between Israel and Egypt. G-d took chaos and ordered the universe so that there would be light. Egypt led the world to darkness, and Israel will be called, shortly after the redemption from Egypt, to lead it back to light.
When they arrive at Sinai, the Israelites will be told to build a society that is almost the exact opposite of what Egypt was, especially in regard to bein adam l’chavero, the interaction between human beings. They are expected to create a society in which every human being is respected and valued.
If we are to build such a society (and such a world) we must leave Egypt; from a moral and practical standpoint, we must leave behind the chaos which the world presents as “normal.”
If we have learned anything from the plagues, we have a lot of work to do – both on a personal, spiritual level, and on a communal level. We are being called to work on ourselves and to make our souls stronger as much as we are being called to follow G-d’s instructions to build a better world, to be a light unto all nations. We will have 49 days, starting on the second night of Pesach, to work on ourselves. Let’s take it seriously.
Let’s understand that Pesach is not about an abstract freedom, a freedom from everything, a do whatever you want freedom. It is about bringing a redemptive freedom into the world, which cannot happen without inner and external work on our part. I hope all of us are committed to this and successful in our efforts. May we start building the days in which the world will see no wars, famine, destruction and will – instead – be restored to what it was meant to be.
May this be a meaningful holiday for you and your loved ones. Chag Sameach!
Sandra Lilienthal is an adult Jewish educator (www.sandralilienthal.com) and co-founder of Wisdom Without Walls: An Online Salon for Jewish Ideas (www.wisdomwithoutwalls.org)