blogs/rabbi-huberman

About 30 years ago, shortly before I left the communications profession, I sat on an advisory council for a college’s journalism program.

Twice a year, two dozen senior representatives from journalism, public relations and government assembled in Calgary to advise the college on its journalism curriculum.

One October morning, as we assembled, the dean shared statistics regarding the number of graduates working in the radio, newspaper and television fields.

Employment was down.

Next, the head of the photography department made an incredible prediction: Photographers would one day throw away their film and darkroom chemicals.

All photos would be digital.

But the most radical news we heard was that the college’s journalism program would be discontinuing several courses, including the history of journalism, laws of libel and slander, ethical reporting and proper grammar.

“These do not lead to getting jobs,” said the dean.

I was flabbergasted. I waited, as the people around the table furrowed their brows and nodded.

 I considered holding my tongue, but a minute later my hand was in the air.

“Yes,” responded the dean.  

I replied, “Man does not live on bread alone.” 

“Excuse me?” he responded. 

I repeated, “Man does live on bread alone.”

And I quietly launched into a monologue, which had been building inside me for months.

“Journalism, and for that matter any profession, is not just about jobs and money,” I began.  

“Courses such as history, law and ethics build depth within a student that will lead to better jobs, professional stability, and—dare I say—better reporting.

“Please reconsider.”

When I finished, there was silence. The meeting chair eventually thanked me for my “valuable input,” and we moved on to the next topic.

That was the last meeting of the journalism advisory council I attended.

That quote—“Man (a person) does not live on bread alone.”—found in this week’s Torah portion, has always reminded me that while earning a living is vital, the depth and meaning of our work is linked to its ethical practice.

As this week’s Torah portion—Eikev—opens, the Israelites are a few weeks away from crossing the Jordan River into the Promised Land. Moses will not join them, but he still has a lot to say.

Moses reminds the Israelites that through their 40 years of wandering, they have sometimes been concerned about hunger and thirst. But God has provided.

And, that their relationship with God has been about more than “bread and shekels.”

It has been about history. It has been about laws. It has been about moral behavior. It has been about—as the college was about to abolish—the humanities.

It has been a tragic consequence of this century that we have become fixated on transactions and profit at the expense of the health of the planet, racial equality, history, integrity and truth.

Funding for arts programs is being cut throughout the country, as if such courses are only for the privileged.

Culture and artistic expression benefit all economic levels. They help to imbue our society with curiosity and passion, based on a firm ethical foundation.

The Etz Chaim Bible Commentary notes, “This familiar verse is taken to mean that people need ‘more than bread,’ including culture, arts, and food for the spirit.”

More than a century ago, James Oppenheim, a champion of equal rights, wrote, “Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses.”

It has often been asked, how did the Jews survive slavery in Egypt?

Answers the Talmud: “We survived because we kept our names, our language, our way of dress and the integrity of our behavior.”

Prior to 1948, the Jewish people rarely lived in a land of their own. Often, we were impoverished. But we survived because of our dedication to the study and transmission of ethics and words.

As I approach the Sunday of my parents’ unveiling, I recall the comfort of my mother playing piano.

I remember the times my parents took me to the ballet, the museum and the yearly performance of the local Gilbert and Sullivan light opera company.

I may have rolled my eyes at the time, but after many years, I realize that the exposure contributed to my natural curiosity and respect for all human expression. 

Indeed, as this week’s Torah portion reminds us—the person who lives chained to “bread alone” is destined to live an often cold and tasteless life.

This week, the Torah reminds that the pursuit of materialism and immediate gratification is not enough.

Indeed, our souls require so much more.

Shabbat shalom v’kol tuv

Rabbi Irwin Huberman