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On a Friday morning in March, I was
coming back from the dentist. I just had a cavity filled, and I still had the
fat-lip thing going from the Novocain. I had to be at the Westbury Home for
Adults at noon to run a model Seder, and there was Shabbes to get ready for.
Driving back from Manhasset along Northern Boulevard, I decided not to risk the
construction on the Roslyn Viaduct. So I made a right turn onto Shelter Rock
road. It’s a gorgeous stretch of highway there, with some beautiful homes and
estates on both sides of the road. With none of the traffic or lights I would
have had on Northern Boulevard, I was zipping along, enjoying the scenery. All
of a sudden, there’s a siren blaring, and red lights are flashing in my
rear-view mirror. Over a loud-speaker, a policeman is ordering me to pull
over. I’m busted for speeding.
I’ve got to think fast: What do I do?
What do I say?
Should I keep my Yarmulkah on?
Maybe he’ll have compassion for a man of the cloth. Who knows – maybe it’ll
turn out that Cantor Fliegelman Bar Mitzvahed him, 30 years ago, and we’ll talk
over old times and he’ll let me go…
On the other hand, maybe he’s not a
“lantsman”, and doesn’t particularly care for our tribe, in which case I’d be
better off ditching the Kippah…
Maybe I should just tell him that
I’m coming from the dentist, and I’m loaded down with pain-killing drugs, and I
was speeding because my judgment was impaired… On second though maybe not.
Perhaps I should pull out the
clergy card I got from the Patrolman’s Benevolent Society, or tell him that “my
brother’s on the job” – (well, my brother does have a job although not
with the police, and not in this country).
How about if I challenge his
intelligence and his sense of legal priorities – “What – are you stupid?
Wasting your time giving me a ticket when there are real criminals out
there breaking into homes, selling drugs, killing people?” I decide this is
probably not a good tactic.
I could tell him that there’s an
emergency (well there is, somewhere…) and that I’m in a hurry to
minister to the dying (well, we’re all dying aren’t we?) but with my
luck, he’d ask me “where?” and would offer to put the siren and lights on and
escort me when in truth I was actually headed to the bakery to pick up a Hallah
and a chocolate Babka for Shabbes…
Then I thought maybe I shouldn’t
say anything, and take my chances in court with the judge.
There’s better odds that the judge
belongs to a shul somewhere than there is that the policeman does.
Maybe he’ll be merciful when they call out “Next case, Rabbi Katz.”
I could try to play Jewish
geography with him. “You know, your honor, I’ve got three judges in my own
congregation, and I delivered the invocation at the induction ceremonies at
Supreme Court in Mineola…”
Or I could engage in a bit of
Talmudic give-and-take with him: While it’s technically true that I
exceeded the posted speed limit, isn’t it the purpose of the law to
protect people from unsafe drivers, and in as much as that road at that
hour was scarcely traveled, neither I nor anyone else was actually in any
danger – therefore the enforcement of a statute which bring no real benefits to
society is both capricious and a waste of precious resources that could
be put to better use…
Then again, I could always throw
myself on the mercy of the court: “Your honor, I’ve learned my lesson. I promise
to be good. Please let me off this one time. I beg you, give me another
chance – Be merciful even as the Lord our God is full of kindness, patience, is
slow to anger, forgiving, quick to pardon, compassionate, and gracious…
By this point, the policeman has
handed me a ticket, and I see that the radar has clocked me at 62 mph in a 35
zone. Wow, I think: That’s pretty excessive. And as I read the ticket, I
realize I’m pretty lucky. If it was 65 instead of 62, I would have been
forced to appear in court. This way, I could just sign the ticket, send in the
fine and I’m done with it. But 30 miles over the speed limit, and you’ve got
to show up in person, and then there’s me and Lindsay Lohan in the back of the
paddy wagon on our way to lock-up and rehab, with our mug shots all over
Entertainment Tonight.
I set my cruise control for 33
miles an hour, and I pulled back into traffic, headed for the L.I.E. “You
jerk!” I screamed at myself. “Going 62 in a 35 zone! And you had no
idea what the speed limit was. You weren’t paying attention. You were
looking at the fancy houses. That’s not the way to drive. Consider this a
wake-up call. You were wrong. Admit it! Stop trying to blame the cop, or the
Town of North Hempstead, or the State Legislature. Stop looking for excuses.
Stop trying to weasel your way out of your actions. Just confess, accept the
consequences, and resolve not to do it again.”
How many times on Yom Kippur have I
over the years admonished the congregation: “You have to take the Al Hets
seriously. You have to acknowledge your wrongdoing, you have to make amends,
and you have to change the way you’re living your life!”
“Guilty, your honor. I did it.
I’m sorry. I have no excuses. I should have known better. I’m going to drive
a lot more carefully from now on. I’m ready to pay the penalty - $285 to the
Town of North Hempstead. $300 to the State of New York. Who knows how much in
increased premiums to the Insurance Company. Points on my driving record…
“And you’ll hear no lame apologies from
me: “If I was speeding, and if I put anyone else in danger,
and if the radar gun was in good working order, and if the
officer filled out the ticket without error, then I regret it happened,
but…”
“No! I did it. And I’m sorry.
And that’s the very same way I’m going to handle the “Ashamnu,’ and the ‘Al
Hets’: I did it. I admit it. I regret it. I’m going to make sure it doesn’t
happen again. No excuses, no games. You caught me, God. I’m ready to pay the
fine, accept the consequences, and try to do better.
Everyone agrees with the idea
of speed limits. You don’t want cars racing through residential neighborhoods
at 62 miles an hour. And even though Shelter Rock Road on that day, at that
time was pretty empty, it was right for the cop to give me a ticket. First, I
was breaking the law, and laws should be obeyed, and enforced. You can’t leave
it up to each individual to decide when and where a law should be followed.
Unless it’s an emergency, or an act of civil disobedience, laws must be obeyed,
and law breakers should be punished.
Second – Laws are usually based in
a logic that serves the common good. The laws of physics teach us that the
faster you go, the longer it takes to stop. Going over the speed limit
increases the likelihood of an accident. And speed kills.
Third. Many people don’t pay
attention to a sign on the side of the road with 35 written on it. But they will
take notice of a five hundred dollar fine. And if the money doesn’t make them
change their driving habits, the embarrassment will. Sitting by the side of
the road, with a policeman hovering over your window while other drivers pass
by and gawk, shaking their heads at you, thinking: “What a dumb jerk, caught in
a speed trap!”
So far as driving, and speeding
goes, I stand before you a humbled, chastened, and wiser man.
But switch gears for a moment –
from New York State law, to Jewish law. There’s no more important day in the
Jewish year than Yom Kippur, and the most basic law of Yom Kippur is: Today –
you’ve got to fast. No food or drink allowed.
You know, people who run a marathon
always load up on carbs before they run – and that’s for a race that lasts only
5-6 hours. Plus – they are handed drinks of water all along the way. Yet here
we are, on a 25 hour marathon – with life & death on
the line, and we have to do it on no food! Not even a sip of water!
So what would be so terrible, if we
went out and picked up a little energy to help us through the ordeal?
What if, in your Tallis bag, you
stashed a Big Mac, some Fries, and a Coke.
Would it really be so terrible to
eat a McDonald’s cheeseburger on Yom Kippur? Who would it hurt?
To answer that, first we need to
figure out how many infractions would be involved in eating a Big Mac on Yom
Kippur.
#1. Leviticus
23:27 “The tenth day of the seventh month, shall be a Day of Atonement. You
shall practice self-denial.” This is interpreted to mean – we fast. No food,
no drinks.
#2. Leviticus
23:29 “Any person who does not practice self-denial throughout the day shall be
cut off.” We’re not exactly sure what it means to be cut off – but good it’s
not.
#3. Deuteronomy
14:21 “you shall not eat anything that dies a natural death” – which is
interpreted to mean that any animal that was not killed by proper ritual
slaughter is forbidden.
#4. Leviticus
7:26 “You must not consume any blood” – and because McDonald’s beef as not
koshered by soaking and salting to remove the blood, we have another violation.
#5. Exodus 23:19
“You shall not boil a kid in it’s mother’s milk” – interpreted to mean we do
not mix meat and dairy foods. Therefore, no cheese on your burger.
#6. Leviticus
11:47 “The following you shall not eat… the pig.” Assuming of course you ask
for a strip of bacon on your cheeseburger – that takes us from bad to worse.
Those are the six main sins,
though I bet there are a bunch more. The judge would clearly throw the book at
you!
Now we all understand why we can’t
drive at 60 mph down Saratoga Drive. But why can’t we eat a Big Mac on
Yom Kippur?
There are a number of reasons we
have to consider”
First and foremost –
Because God said so.
Do you believe there is
a God?
Do you believe that God
has a relationship with the Jewish people?
Do you believe
that God communicated His will to the Jews, in the Torah?
If the answer is ‘Yes’, then it’s
clear that God doesn’t want us to eat a Happy Meal on the Day of Atonement.
Now if that’s the reason
that you’re shocked by the thought of a Big Mac on Yom Kippur, let me ask: Why
don’t we then follow the other 600 mitzvot on the other 364 days of the
year? The same sins of eating non-Kosher food apply on Sunday, too. Observing
Shabbat is also in the Torah. So is not eating Hamets the entire
eight days of Passover. So is the commandment to put on Tefilin each weekday
morning. As is the prohibition of a couple having intimate relations until to
woman has gone to the Mikveh a week after her period. As is the law against
getting a Tattoo. And so on. And so on.
If God is serious about this,
then wouldn’t He also be serious about those?
Or maybe it’s not about obedience
to God, it’s just about fear. Many drivers who follow the speed limit only do
so because they’re afraid of getting a ticket. They don’t care about safety –
their own or anyone else’s. They’re just worried about the five hundred
bucks. So too, there are Jews who don’t care so much about Jewish law, but are
not prepared to risk the possibility of God’s wrath on this of all
days. They fast, not because it’s God’s will, and not because it might be
spiritually meaningful. They fast because they’re scared of what might happen
if they didn’t. Just in case there is a God, and just in case He does
punish us for breaking the commandments.
Then there are those who fast
because they believe that fasting occasionally is a good thing. It’s a way of
showing God we’re truly sorry for our misdeeds. It’s a way of practicing
self-discipline, an attribute that can be of immense importance in resisting
temptation the rest of the year. It’s a way of feeling empathy with the poor,
and homeless, and hungry, that might inspire us to acts of kindness. It’s a
technique for physical purification, that can lead us to a spiritual renewal.
And there are those who are going
to fast today not so much because God demands it, but because Jews do it. This
is what Tevye meant when he said “Tradition!” We may not understand totally
why we do it or how it got started, but we do it because this is what Jews do,
what Jews have always done. By fasting, we are connected to every Jew who has ever
fasted on this day during the last 32 centuries. And it connects us with every
Jew from Japan, to Jerusalem, to Jericho who is fasting, at this very
moment. Americans eat turkey the fourth Thursday in November; Jews fast on the
10th of Tishre.
Or maybe we’re fasting not for God,
not for the Jewish people, not for ourselves – but because of our parents, or
our kids. Sometimes you do things because your father expects it of you, or
because you don’t want to break your mother’s heart. And there are times when
we do things because our children are watching us. Though it might not be
meaningful for us, it’s meaningful to us, for some reason, that they do
it. And we have to set the example.
And at times, we do it only because
our peers are doing it. When all your friends in school are proudly bragging
about how long they fasted – you want in on the game. When you tell your
co-workers how you stopped off at McDonalds on the way home from Yizkor and
they look at you like you’re a leper, there’s a good chance you’ll change your
behavior the next time the holiday rolls around.
Barring a medical necessity, I’ve
decided to fast this Yom Kippur. For a combination of many reasons, I’m going
to pass on the Big Mac and Fries – for tonight, for tomorrow, for good.
Yom Kippur is the time to ask
ourselves why did we do those things? - was it out of ignorance, or weakness,
or meanness?
Yom Kippur is the time to question:
Why are we here? – is it out of conviction, or habit, or against our
wills?
And Yom Kippur is the time to
figure out what we hope to accomplish with our words, with our actions, with
our fast.
Think of the Mahzor as a summons,
and the Temple as a courtroom. Your case is about to be called. What
are you going to say to the Judge?
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