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In our liturgy, sometimes we are asked to engage our minds, sometimes to open our hearts, and sometimes to use both of those faculties.
In the prayer Ahava Raba, we are asked to open our eyes. In the Shema we are asked to open our hearts.
The mind is thought, analysis, calculation, dispassionate reasoning. The heart represents emotion, feelings, love. The heart also can be hardened, as was Pharoah's when he became cold and indifferent in the face of the suffering endured by the Israelites.
There is a debate going on within the Conservative movement over heart versus mind. The outgoing chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Ismar Schorsch, bemoaned what he saw as Conservative Judaism breaking loose from its intellectual models, and drifting into mysticism and emotion-based religion. A new generation of clergy and congregants however, have been pushing for what often is labeled spirituality, but which in practice translates into a yearning to engage the heart in services as well as all aspects of Jewish living.
Now, in the debate of heart versus mind, let us move past the obvious answer that we need both. The real challenge is to examine how we use our hearts and minds, and how the interaction of heart and mind creates a wholeness in each of us that neither alone can achieve.
Let us then first consider the characteristics of heart and mind. With respect to the mind we should take an example. A Jewish example. And I'll use a fairly common example. Learning a torah portion. The consonants have no vowels, no trope. You study, you learn, you memorize, you internalize, until that Shabbat morning, when the scroll is opened, and although there are only consonants on the parchments, you can actually see the vowels and trope, and you read and sing the words, just as you studied, and you have a proud moment of intellectual accomplishment.
Now, let us consider the heart. Picture an infant smiling at you. I don't know why, but I just seem to have infants on my mind lately. Is there anything in the world that compares with that expression of pure joy - of a full heart? Well, actually there is. Our reaction to that smile. Have you ever seen anything more radiant than a mother and father reacting to their smiling infant - or any adult for that matter. It is as if a heavenly beam radiates out, and turns on a switch in us, lighting us up. Our faces shine, our hearts fill with joy and love.
Let us now consider how our minds and hearts develop. We develop our minds through learning from our parents and other relatives, through our secular schooling, Jewish education experiences, and our self-motivated study and analysis. We hopefully continue that process throughout our lives, and develop our ability to make well-reasoned decisions, develop new ideas and concepts, and apply our knowledge to problems and challenges.
We have the capacity, and indeed the obligation, to develop our hearts as well. By our experience in living with and loving our parents, children, spouses; by sharing in the joy of others at a bat or bar mitzvah, at weddings, and even at a bris or two. By attending funerals and paying a shiva visit, seeing and sharing the pain of loss; reading about and experiencing the poverty and suffering in the world, and taking steps to change those conditions.
Now what is the dynamic that occurs when heart and mind work together? Unfortunately, winning hearts and minds is a phrase that we too often have heard in connection with war.
In the June 2004 Congressional hearing on the Iraq conflict, it was stated: "The United States and its Coalition partners are attempting to win the hearts and minds of the people in Iraq while providing military security and support to economic and political reform programs." How interesting that when we invade a country, unless we "win" both the people's heart and mind, we will not have achieved victory in the heart and mind war. And if we do not win the heart and mind war, we do not win the war at all. We want the Iraqi people to conclude that our presence in Iraq is good for them economically and from a security and stability perspective, but also to open their hearts to us and believe that we are acting in their best interests. We are not winning the heart and mind war because even though many Iraqis intellectually accept that our presence may be the only bulwark between instability and total chaos, our presence is not welcome.
Winning the heart and mind is still a useful metaphor for us, because in a very real sense we all conduct a personal battle to achieve our true potential. Let us then consider how our mind and heart combine to make us full human beings, full in the sense of using all the faculties that God has endowed us with. Indeed, making us more God-like. God takes on many characterizations in the Torah, and in our prayers, but above all God is both just and merciful, judging us but tempering dispassionate justice with a merciful heart. When we achieve that state, we act is God's image.
During this past year, we have held a series of creative services on Shabbat morning, one of them being a meditation Shabbat. To prepare, I attended several sessions at a Darma house here in Miami, and studied meditation techniques. During the service, the congregation first went through several meditation exercises, in which we focused on controlling our breath and our bodies. Then, Cantor Kula led us through the musaf service for Shabbat utilizing some of these same meditation techniques. And although I wasn't thinking this at the time, I now realize that the meditation Shabbat was a good example of how learning a breathing technique, combined with prayer that evoked an emotional response, did create a different experience, more than either action would have achieved on its own.
Let me give you another personal example. Last Rosh Hashana, I discussed the idea of the "Mitzvah child", of bringing one more child into the world for the sake of the Jewish people. I discussed this idea with some of you after the holidays, and then Michelle and I started asking ourselves the same questions. As all couples do, we talked about the pros and cons of having another baby, and if so, when. First, the mindful approach: the calculus of the cost in expense and time weighed against bring another Jew in the world, another one for our team. And then the experience of our hearts, that was developed from the joy we both gave and received with our other children. I think our hearts and minds working together ultimately made a good decision.
Another situation in which our hearts and minds can work successfully in tandem is the giving of Tzedakah. Now, many of you were here when Rabbi Elliot Dorff, our scholar in residence last Spring led a fascinating discussion on the American view of charity vs. the Jewish view. To the American way of thinking, we earn money, which is ours to spend as we chose. And if we chose to give some of that money to charity, then we have voluntarily done a good deed. We have, so to speak, earned extra credit points.
In contrast, the Jewish view is that our earthly possessions are on loan to us, and we have an obligation, not a choice but an obligation, to give tzedakah. Think then how much more powerful our willingness to give tzedakah is when our mind directs us to do that which is required, and our heart propels us to perform those acts with willingness and joy.
The power of heart and mind working together was foremost in our planning when Bet Shira decided to embark upon its torah project.
When Len and Randi Rothenberg decided to dedicate a rescued Torah to the memory of Randi's parents, Herbert and Lillian Hochfelsen, they did so because their hearts wanted to honor them in the best way they knew how, by bringing a Torah back to life. But not just any Torah; a Torah that has a personal story. A Torah that survived the Holocaust. It was during the war that several monks from a monastery near Tarnow, Poland found this Torah and buried it underground for safety, a selfless act borne out of feelings for the Jewish people. They saved this Torah and others from complete destruction. Ultimately the Torah reached a monastery in Kiev. Just over 10 years ago, after a few teenagers saw the Sifrei Torah, they contacted a sofer, a scribe in Baltimore who they knew who both writes and repairs Sifrei Torah, and the process of rescuing this Torah began.
You have in front of you a brochure entitled: "Tarnow to Tomorrow, Torah forever." Beginning today, we will embark on a journey as we prepare to bring this Torah to Bet Shira. One of our 613 commandments is for each of us to both own and write a Torah.
Bet Shira has commissioned a Sofer named Rabbi Meachem Youlus to repair our rescued torah. On October 7th and 8th, Rabbi Youlus will bring the torah with him to Bet Shira. He will tell us the story of our Torah and share with us how our Bet Shira family can take ownership of this torah. There are different levels of "ownership" as the brochure indicates, enabling all of us to participate in this wonderful experience. All are encouraged, and everyone is welcome to participate in this amazing experience.
We will be secure in the knowledge that our contributions will go directly towards sustaining our Bet Shira home, but our contributions will be so much more meaningful because we will be expressing our love for Judaism and for our brothers and sisters in Tarnow who perished in the Holocaust, and for Jewish continuity.
One of the areas where heart and mind do seem to be at odds is when we talk of God. Probably for all of us at some time, we struggle with the admonition to open our hearts to God. We struggle because our rational side demands proof, and the proof is not susceptible to our usual intellectual tools. Several years ago after the 4th of July, my daughter Brianah asked a beautiful question. She asked, "How does God know when to make the fireworks?" She was trying to explain with her heart something her mind didn't yet understand, and her only explanation was that it must be because of God.
The following story illustrates this idea that even though we cannot see God, we know with our hearts that God exists.
Someone knocked on the door of Rabbi Akiva's house of study. "Come in," said the great rabbi, interrupting a discussion he was having with one of his students. The person who entered was a stranger. He did not wear the traditional ritual fringes nor did he have the long beard and hair of the Jew. His hair was cut in the Roman style. "I have a question to ask you," the stranger asked. Akiva nodded. "Who created the world?" the stranger asked. "God, the holy one," answered Akiva. "Prove it," said the stranger, smirking. "Come back tomorrow," Akiva answered.
After the stranger left, Akiva resumed his teaching. When his students asked him what he would say to the stranger the next day, Akiva answered only, "You will see."
The man returned the next day and knocked on Akiva's door in the middle of the morning. "Come in," said Akiva, greeting the stranger. "Today, I have a question for you. What is it that you are wearing?" "Why, a robe," answered the stranger, a bit surprised that Akiva should be interested in his clothing. "Who made it?" "The weaver," answered the stranger, "Of course." "Prove it," said Akiva. "How ridiculous," the stranger blurted. "Can't you tell just by looking at the cloth and the design that this is the work of the weaver?" "And can't you tell just by looking at the world, that it is the work of God, the holy one?" said Akiva. The stranger looked dumbfounded. And as he had nothing more to say to Akiva, he left the house of study. Akiva turned and explained to his students, "Just as a house was obviously built by a builder and a garment sewn by a tailor, so the world was obviously made by a creator."
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are the time of year when we come before God and ask for forgiveness. It is quite difficult to do so when we physically cannot prove that God is present. But we have the Torah, and Talmud, and 3000 years of history that instructs us how to behave and how to live, and a faith that God resides in each of our hearts. By endowing us with a mind that thinks and a heart that feels, God indeed guides us through our lives each and every day.
Shana Tova.
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