blogs/rabbi-huberman

About a month ago, as I was completing a Zoom bat mitzvah lesson with Esther—a student who lives in the “bible belt”—she asked me a question many have pondered:

“How is Christianity different from Judaism?”

While our cantor teaches bar and bat mitzvah students within our congregation, I am occasionally called upon to teach children who live in isolated communities where there are no synagogues or Jewish teachers.

Having lived many years in a remote area of northern Canada, I have tremendous respect for families who attempt to embrace Judaism.

I especially enjoy the questions asked by students who do not reside within traditional Jewish communities. So, I responded to Esther’s question:

“First, while many Jewish scholars believe that Jesus was a rabbi, who was unhappy with how the Romans and Jewish leadership were governing Jerusalem, we do not believe that he was the son of God.

“Also, while some Christian leaders believe that the human soul is inherently bad or sinful, Judaism believes that because there is a spark of God in each of us, the human soul is good.”

Then she asked, “You mean like in the Torah where it says after God created things every day, he said, “And it was good?”

“Exactly,” I replied. “The generations of Adam and Noah prayed to objects, but Abraham and Sarah were the first to believe in an invisible god and a religion based on kindness, care and compassion.”

We continued by speaking about last week’s Torah portion, where Abraham and Sarah opened their tent to three strangers who were hungry and thirsty. 

We then talked about this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah—the life of Sarah—which opens with news of Sarah’s death at the age of 127.

Now a widower, Abraham, faces a series of questions: “Will Judaism end when he and Sarah are gone? Who will take over? Who will be Sarah’s successor? What will be the most important lesson to pass on to the next generation?”

We find the answers in this week’s Torah portion.

Concerned that his son, Isaac, is not yet married, Abraham sends his senior servant, Eliezer, to Haran—Abraham’s hometown—with hopes of finding a life partner for Isaac.

After a long trip, Eliezer arrives in Haran and parks his fleet of 10 camels near the town’s central well. Soon, he is met by Rebecca, who not only offers the weary traveler water, but also offers Eliezer’s camels refreshment. It is tedious work, which she completes with empathy and kindness.

Eliezer sees her behavior as a good sign. So, he discusses his mission with Rebecca and her family, and she agrees to join Eliezer on the long trek back to Canaan.

As Rebecca enters the camp, Isaac notices her, and it is love at first sight. I once heard a rabbi refer to that moment as, “Judaism’s first blind date gone good.”

Rebecca takes up residence in Sarah’s vacated tent, and Judaism is guaranteed continuity. 

How interesting that the primary lesson passed to Judaism’s  second generation does not involve prayer, or what we eat, or how much Hebrew we know. It is about intuiting someone’s need before they express it, and—perhaps most of all—an inner desire to put kindness and hospitality into action.

How unfortunate that those two central principals are under attack these days.

Sadly, children are taught to be wary of strangers, and kindness is too often seen as weakness. Immigrants are too often vilified or stereotyped according to race or language.

But “If Judaism is not based upon a foundation of kindness, then what is it founded upon?”

I shared with my student Judaism’s prime directive: to bring God to this earth through acts of kindness, as we work with God to heal this broken world.

Has there ever been a better time?

We live in a world where meanness and selfishness are not only accepted but embraced and codified.

I also observe that these days, so many good-hearted people consider kindness as a given—an entitlement.

But it is not. Kindness often involves heavy lifting, as with Rebecca in this week’s Torah portion.

During our Friday night service, we sing a song based on Psalm 89. Olam Chesed Yibaneh.  “We can build a world of justice.”

But it takes work. It is more than watching a news item on cable television or reading a newspaper article.

It involves volunteering at the food bank or shelter, or making a targeted donation to an agency making a difference. It means making our voices heard through the political process.

It means turning kindness into action.

Esther did a wonderful job last weekend as she became a bat mitzvah. She inspired those in attendance, not only by what she recited, but through her message that kindness, hospitality and optimism live eternally within the core of Judaism.

Rather than succumb to a growing climate of meanness and materialism, we embrace the first lesson of Abraham and Sarah—passed to Rebecca and Isaac—kindness and compassion.

For we are less a religion of faith, and more participants in a system of behavior.

While Jews believe that the world is inherently good, that may not be enough.

Our ancient mystics observed that before we can ascend we must descend.

Let us, therefore, consider and affirm that we are not powerless, and that kindness is not automatic—rather it is a principal worth fighting for.

Indeed, haven’t we descended enough?

It’s what makes us different from most other religions.

Let us ask ourselves how we can each participate in the revival of kindness?

For if not us, then who?

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman