JEWISH AND DRUNK

My father drank. Every night as he sat down to dinner, he opened a cabinet door behind him and pulled out a bottle of Canadian Club. He filled a shot glass full of Canada’s famous 80 proof whiskey, lifted his glass, turned to everyone seated at the table and pronounced the following toast:

Mi zol d’leiben iber a yur

We should all live one more year…

and downed the spirit in a single move. I never saw my father drunk. I rarely saw him take a second drink.

Among Noah’s other distinctions is his being the first of humanity to become inebriated. Let’s not hold this against him. After the flood, he established a vineyard, sold grapes and grape juice, some of it fermented and when he drank enough of it, the erstwhile captain of the most famous ark in history fell into a drunken stupor. The Torah makes no mention of Noah repeating his mistake. But experience tells us that there are plenty of people who do, and among them, are plenty of Jews. How many Jews? Enough for there to be an active organization addressing the issue: JACS, which stands for Jewish Alcoholics, Chemically Dependent Persons and Significant Others.

It is clear from all the research on the subject that some people are prone to addiction. But at the same time, it is equally clear that people need to learn how to drink responsibly. That knowledge is gained by emulating a model. One such model is of the person who drinks with moderation. Another such model is using wine to sanctify a moment in time, that is, to say kiddush on Shabbat.

You may have heard the words “Savri Maranan?” just before the blessing over the wine with the rest of the congregation responding, “L’hayyim.” “Savri Maranan?” is Aramaic for “Gentlemen, have you formed an opinion?” and “L’hayyim” means “To Life!” What is the origin of this fun yet odd minhag (custom)? An explanation for what it is all about comes to us from the Midrash, specifically Midrash Tanhuma, Parashat Pekudei (Siman 2), in which we learn about the interrogation protocol in the case of capital crimes. After all the evidence has been analyzed and the witnesses examined, the head of the trial would turn to those charged with the task of casting a verdict and ask, “Savri Maranan?—Gentlemen, have you formed an opinion?” And if the gentlemen had found the defendant innocent, they would say “L’hayyim—For Life.” But if the defendant was found guilty, they would say, “Lamavet—For death.” The condemned prisoner would then be given wine, and lots of it, in order to numb the condemned to the punishment of death. The Midrash goes on to explain how important it is then, prior to the blessing over the wine, for the gathered to shout “L’hayyim—For Life.” We all know just how dangerous irresponsible drinking can be. For those of us who do drink, it is critical that we drink responsibly” L’hayyim—for life,” and not irresponsibly, “Lamavet—For Death.”

I once asked my father why, in his toast, he asked for only one more year of life. Why not ask for several, as long as he was at it. And he thought for a minute and responded, “One should never ask for too much.” Moderation: the guiding principal in how we drink, the guiding principle in how we live.

RAW DEAL?

\The name Abd al-Aziz Salaha means nothing to most of us, but we all remember his hands. Back in 2001, he was one of the Arabs who beat an Israeli soldier to death in Ramallah and then proudly thrust his blood-covered hands out the window to a cheering Palestinian crowd. He has been released in exchange for Gilad Shalit. Nasser Yataima was the brains behind a Passover tragedy in which 30 seder participants gathered at Netanya’s Park Hotel were murdered and 140 wounded. He has been released in exchange for Gilad Shalit. You might recall the bombing of the Moment Café in Jerusalem in 2002 in which 12 people were murdered and 54 wounded, thanks to Walid Anajas. He has been released in exchange for Gilad Shalit. 477 convicted criminals and terrorists have been released with another 550 to be released in the next two months, a total of 1,027 people in exchange for one Jew. I mention all this by way of saying that the first casualty of the Shalit deal (I hesitate to call it a prisoner swap) is justice. Actually, this is an egregious example of how emotions can move us to compromise our sense of justice, if not to undermine it completely.

Back in 2004, you might recall Israel released 430 prisoners in exchange for three dead soldiers and one Israeli businessman, a deal struck with the terrorist organization, Hizbollah. Writing for the Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs, Nadav Shragi determined that by 2007, only three years later, those who had been freed were responsible for the deaths of 35 Israelis.

Trying to understand the benefits of the Shalit deal is actually mind-boggling. From the perspective of Middle East shuk haggling, the Arab world couldn’t be happier. With one Jew they were able to secure the freedom of 1027 prisoners, many who had been serving life or multiple life sentences. Will this encourage future kidnappings because as everyone can see, kidnapping is profitable? Because Israel has handed a dramatic political victory to Hamas, the violent face of Palestinian identity, has it strengthened Hamas at the expense of the more reasonable Fatah, which would not bode well for future peace negotiations? While we might say that Shalit’s victory has been won at the price of 1027 prisoners, only time will tell if that price will go up, as released prisoners return to their pernicious ways and take the lives of other sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters. It’s only a conjecture, but history has shown it a probability.

So why did Israel do it? How do we explain it? Robert H. Mnookin, a Harvard professor and chair of the university’s negotiation program offers this unique perspective.

"Gilad Shalit is a known individual: what psychologists call an 'identifiable being.' His picture has been plastered throughout Israel. The Israeli press has written hundreds of articles speculating about his well-being. By contrast, the Israelis who are endangered by this deal are mere statistics—an unidentifiable group of people who may die in the future. Psychologists call these “statistical lives.” There is a long line of psychological research showing that, in making decisions, human beings will incur far greater costs to save one identifiable being from immediate peril than to enact safety measures that might save many more statistical lives."

The Wall Street Journal, October 17, 2011

You know, I’m delighted that Gilad is back with his family and returned to our people. I am not delighted by any stretch of the imagination with the price that has been paid for his freedom. But I am not an Israeli politician and I do not bear the joys or responsibilities attendant with that venerable role. And thank God for that because were I in that position, and were I to wake up one morning to learn of news of a terrorist attack perpetrated by someone I released, I don’t know how I’d get the blood off my hands.

YOU CAN GET SOME SATISFACTION

Over Sukkot, there is a tradition to read Kohelet, otherwise known as Ecclesiastes. It is a biblical work attributed to King Solomon, and as the rabbis put it, a King Solomon whose cynicism, so prevalent throughout the work, is a reflection of his advanced years and a man who has possibly seen more than one would ever care to see. In fact, some have read Kohelet and come to the conclusion that it is a depressing work. As a case in point, consider this verse from chapter three (19):

“…they [man and beast] have one and the same fate: as the one dies so does the other,and both have the same life breath; man has no superiority over beast,

since both amount to nothing”

Ouch. I wonder if the depressing valence of Kohelet is due to the absence of a strong rock beat that might mask the otherwise gloomy lyrics? For example, have you ever considered this song dark and gloomy?

I can't get no satisfaction / I can't get no satisfaction

'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try

I can't get no, I can't get no...

OK, OK…we hear you! Now it is unlikely that Kohelet was written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones, but the plaintive cry of an unfulfilled life is strangely contemporary. In fact, Kohelet could be, in some sense, a precursor to modern day existentialists were it not for Kohelet’s profound belief in a God who is very much in charge of the world. But absent that significant detail, I would not characterize Kohelet as depressing as much as brutally honest. The realities of life ought to put a few questions in our heads about our own self-importance or the possibility of a just world. Maybe our discomfort with Kohelet stems from the fact that it sounds so at odds with what we would expect from the Bible. Then again, Kohelet is part of the Bible. What we ought to expect of the Bible is brutal honesty and in Kohelet, we get it in spades.

Kohelet recognizes that human beings are simply animals (chapter 3), which just happens to be the conclusion of contemporary anthropologists; that the wealthiest among us leave this world naked and penniless—our apologies to the Trumpster (chapter 5); and that governmental patronage makes for unjust and corrupt judgments against the innocent (chapter 5). This may cynically be framed as pessimism, but a more sobering assessment may be that it is simply reality.

Kohelet, the man, tells it like it is, and aside from his disturbing misogynistic views (to be fair, he isn’t terribly fond of men either), he ends up advising us to follow a very pragmatic and balanced lifestyle which includes keeping our promises, tempering our Temple attendance, enjoying what we have, seeking companionship, being discreet, dismissing much of the gossip around town, and most importantly, following God’s mitzvot and, as Kohelet put it, to “cast your bread upon the waters for after many days you will find it” (Ecc. 11:1). I was always bothered by that phrase because as a metaphor, it’s impossible. After you’ve cast your bread upon the water, you never find it—a bird eats it, a fish swallows it, or the waters dissolve it. Cast your bread upon the waters and it’s gone, period. But not according to Kohelet. Be generous, be giving, loosen your grasp on your material wellbeing, share with others and in time, your generosity will be requited in some way. And in this world of longing and desire, in this world of existential meaninglessness, that may just be the way to get some satisfaction.

THE BIG IDEA

One of the explanations for the fast of Yom Kippur is that in keeping with the profound sanctity of the day, we liken ourselves to angels who neither eat nor drink. Some go so far as to explain the white kittle as the dress of the angels and the fact that we stand so much on Yom Kippur has to do with the single-leggedness of angels. They actually do have a leg to stand on, but only one, and it has no joints, so they are forever standing. Just thinking about it makes my feet sore.

Nonetheless, I love this explanation, which is really odd because I don’t think, in my heart of hearts, that I actually believe in angels of any sort. But I do believe that some people demonstrate a quality of goodness and selflessness in their lifetimes which is angelic in nature. Even more importantly, I believe that human beings ought to do what angels are supposed to do which is to be the messengers of God. In Hebrew, the term for angel is malakh, and malakh is a messenger. So if on Yom Kippur we are meant to be angels, what exactly is God’s message we are to be delivering?

God’s message at this time of year is that of a poorly run airline which gets you to where you need to be, but sadly, not your baggage. In this case, however, the loss of baggage is a boon to you and all those around you. You are going to make it into the New Year, but without all the baggage you’ve been schlepping around for years—the anger, the frustrations, the disappointments, the resentments, the cynicism and the grudges. Lost. Misplaced. Disappeared. Irretrievable. We can enter the New Year with an opportunity to focus our energies on productive growth, our thoughts turned to the future, not the past.

OK—there are angels. But not in heaven. The angels are here with us on earth, in a multitude of personalities who refuse to let negative energy dominate their lives. The message of God is a big one and yet so simple. Forgive others their sins against you, and you can live freer and more positively focused than ever before in your life.