BUILDING A MISHKAN IN MASSAPEQUA
I’m a big believer in unprovoked, senseless and gratuitous acts of kindness. Do you ever think about what kind thing you did today—throw a stranger a smile, open a door for a co-worker, listen to a colleague’s worries, or volunteer at a local hospital, food pantry or shelter? This probably sounds hopelessly trite but it is these very acts of kindness that make life worthwhile and inspire others.
Let me say something about the younger generation. They get dumped on a lot for not showing up at church or synagogue and perhaps not engaging in formal rituals the way their parents did, but I don’t think they are any less religious than we were at their age. I think they are searching for new ways to experience God. Their sense of religiosity is almost synonymous with the very acts of kindness this world lacks. The younger people get it and maybe their love for ma’asim tovim, good deeds, should in fact be the success stories that generations of Jewish leadership have been looking for. The kids have really absorbed what we have always taught them is most important: making this world a better place.
According to a recent Pew study, one in four American millennials—that’s the name for people born after 1980 and came of age around the millennium—identify themseves as "atheist," "agnostic" or "nothing in particular." And yet when it comes to a variety of faith beliefs, their beliefs are not far from those of their parents. The implication is that although they define themselves as secular, they’re fairly lousy secularists, which is what I’ve suspected all along.
I meet kids with good hearts all the time, willing to do for others, intersted in learning, honest—sometimes to a fault—and I wonder why they would not find religious services deeply appealing. Those are all the values we talk about. Oh well—I guess when we’re reading in the Torah about building a mishkan, a portable sanctuary in the wilderness, they too are thinking about building their portable sanctuaries—but in Massapequa (that’s just a figurative expression for anywhere or no where in particular—I liked the alliteration of “mishkan,” “Massapequa,” but you know what I mean). They’re building the places where God may dwell in their communities, their neighborhoods, their families, and their businesses. I can live with that. God said to Moshe—“..make Me a sanctuary that I might live among [the people]” (Exodus 25:8). So wherever the people are found, that is where God may be found—as long as you are willing to build that sanctuary—with good deeds, kindness, sacrifice and gifts given with no expectation of reward. If you can’t find God in shul, find Him wherever you want, find Him in Massapequa, but you’ll have to do some building. Consider this piece your building permit.
I’m a big believer in unprovoked, senseless and gratuitous acts of kindness. Do you ever think about what kind thing you did today—throw a stranger a smile, open a door for a co-worker, listen to a colleague’s worries, or volunteer at a local hospital, food pantry or shelter? This probably sounds hopelessly trite but it is these very acts of kindness that make life worthwhile and inspire others.
Let me say something about the younger generation. They get dumped on a lot for not showing up at church or synagogue and perhaps not engaging in formal rituals the way their parents did, but I don’t think they are any less religious than we were at their age. I think they are searching for new ways to experience God. Their sense of religiosity is almost synonymous with the very acts of kindness this world lacks. The younger people get it and maybe their love for ma’asim tovim, good deeds, should in fact be the success stories that generations of Jewish leadership have been looking for. The kids have really absorbed what we have always taught them is most important: making this world a better place.
According to a recent Pew study, one in four American millennials—that’s the name for people born after 1980 and came of age around the millennium—identify themseves as "atheist," "agnostic" or "nothing in particular." And yet when it comes to a variety of faith beliefs, their beliefs are not far from those of their parents. The implication is that although they define themselves as secular, they’re fairly lousy secularists, which is what I’ve suspected all along.
I meet kids with good hearts all the time, willing to do for others, intersted in learning, honest—sometimes to a fault—and I wonder why they would not find religious services deeply appealing. Those are all the values we talk about. Oh well—I guess when we’re reading in the Torah about building a mishkan, a portable sanctuary in the wilderness, they too are thinking about building their portable sanctuaries—but in Massapequa (that’s just a figurative expression for anywhere or no where in particular—I liked the alliteration of “mishkan,” “Massapequa,” but you know what I mean). They’re building the places where God may dwell in their communities, their neighborhoods, their families, and their businesses. I can live with that. God said to Moshe—“..make Me a sanctuary that I might live among [the people]” (Exodus 25:8). So wherever the people are found, that is where God may be found—as long as you are willing to build that sanctuary—with good deeds, kindness, sacrifice and gifts given with no expectation of reward. If you can’t find God in shul, find Him wherever you want, find Him in Massapequa, but you’ll have to do some building. Consider this piece your building permit.
