The last day of Hanukkah, which this year falls on December 23rd, is thought to have special significance. Generally speaking, it is the time when the celebrations and observances of the current Hanukkah festival reach their climactic conclusion. Hence, the last day was always referred to as Zot Hanukkah (i.e., "This is Hanukkah") to indicate that our observance of the occasion was completed. Historically, it also reflects the fact that the miracle of the cruse of oil which lasted eight days was not fully realized until the end of the festival. It was also on the final day that the Temple was fully dedicated and procedures restored to their normal status.

Many other occasions in Jewish life recognize the importance of enthusiasm and vigor at the conclusion of an undertaking. Thus, the completion of the reading of the Pentateuch calls for the special celebration of Simhat Torah. Similarly, the completion of a section of our rabbinic literature was followed by a party known as a siyyum. Hence, our tradition made an effort in many ways to counteract the normal, human tendency to lose interest and concern the longer one was involved in a particular activity, by stressing the significance of the conclusion.

This is what our Sages had in mind when they taught: "Let not him who is putting on armor act like him who is taking it off." "Do not believe in yourself until the day of your death." We must always be on our guard to fulfill our obligations properly and responsibly at every stage of life's journey because it is so easy to go astray and follow the line of least resistance. How many child prodigies reach maturity in oblivion! How many dedicated physicians start out their careers with an idealistic zeal to heal the maladies of mankind but end up slaves to avarice and greed! How many lawyers who are initially motivated by a passion for justice become prey to cynicism and skepticism with the passing years! The newspaper headlines are filled each day with tales of corruption regarding businessmen, politicians and community leaders who somehow lose the sense of direction and purpose with which they launched their careers.

There is a revealing midrash which relates that Adam foresaw that someday the Holy Scriptures would say of Moses: "and there never arose another prophet in Israel like unto Moses whom the Lord knew face to face." Adam complained to God that such adulation was not paid to him considering his glorious beginning as the only human being ever formed by an act of divine creation. Adam was told that even though he began life so gloriously, within twenty-four hours he had violated the only commandment imposed upon him by Almighty God. As a result, Adam and his family were punished by expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Adam, unlike Moses, lacked the all-important capacity to stay on the right track until the end of his life. More significant than our origin is our staying power.

In my younger days as a camp counselor, the owner of the camp would always give us weary counselors a pep talk during the last week of the season at which time he exhorted us to remember the initials: S.A.T.F. (Strong At The Finish) as the key to a successful summer. We need to be reminded of the essential role of endurance and persistence as human qualities. The good intentions and noble resolutions we made last Rosh Hashanah tend to lose their potency as the frigid weather moves in. As we complete our celebration of Hanukkah and brace ourselves for the cold winter ahead, let us be sure to keep alive our fervor and zest for Jewish living, study, and observance throughout the entire year.

Miryom, Sarah, Lewis and Sarah, Danny and Debby, Judah and Bennett, join me in wishing you and yours a Happy Hanukkah.

Rabbi Alvin Kass

Excerpts from Rabbi Kass' sermon of December 9, 2006.

During my recent trip to Israel, the group heard an address by the commander of the Israel National Police. In the course of his remarks, he asserted: “We live in a bad neighborhood.” By that he meant that geographically e Jewish State is situated in a region where she is encompassed by enemies on all sides including the Palestinian Authority, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq and Iran whose president has publicly called for the eradication of Israel on many occasions. Although Israel is technically at peace with Jordan and Egypt, it is no secret that there are many people in those countries who would also welcome the destruction of the Jewish State.

The expression, “We live in a bad neighborhood,” certainly resonates among American Jews. Many of us grew up in bad neighborhoods or good neighborhoods that went bad. What did we do? We moved! However, you can’t move a country. You can’t physically lift a nation from its locale on the map and place it somewhere else! Of course, Jews in Israel could theoretically move to a different spot on the globe and establish a Jewish State there. From a practical standpoint I know of no country in the world which would be happy to have a Jewish State created in its midst, except perhaps Antarctica. Even there, I suspect we would probably run into some anti-Semitic penguins.

Actually soon after the establishment of the Zionist movement, Theodor Herzl was offered another country where Jews could create a homeland – Uganda. Uganda was located in a part of Africa with a temperate climate where Jews would feel comfortable. The Jews, however, refused to go there. Herzl, who was not raised as a traditional Jew, couldn’t understand the powerful opposition to this proposal. He was concerned only with a refuge where Jewish lives would be saved. The Jewish people, however, wanted only the country promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the place to which Moses brought the Israelites after a forty year trek through the wilderness, the domain over which David and Solomon had ruled.

Hence, Israel is stuck living in a bad neighborhood. The Jewish State can’t do what many of us did. But, even we in America who moved discovered that you can’t run away from your problems. People went to the suburbs to escape crime, drugs, and violence only to discover that all these problems followed them. What this has taught us is that you can’t flee from life’s challenges and adversities. The only satisfactory option is to deal with them. We have done that in New York City which is universally acclaimed the safest large city in the United States. Israel too will have to deal with its problems. To do that she will require prodigious quantities of strength, love, patience and the capacity for compromise. She has already manifested these in incredible abundance; but she will still need loads more.

Will peace ever come to the Middle East? No matter how discouraging the realities, we have to believe and act as if it will. To do otherwise is to set in motion a self-fulfilling prophecy of endless hatred and violence. The late Golda Meir actually knew when peace would come. In her view, the Middle East will become a good neighborhood when the Arabs love their own children more than they hate ours. May that day soon dawn!

Americans are highly conscious of pain. We've been indoctrinated for as long as we can remember that pain can and should be banished from the instant we become cognizant of its presence. Purveyors of pain medicine and tranquilizers have become very rich as we elevate even the slightest discomfort into an intolerable condition.

Some psychologists maintain that the basic reason we have so many drug addicts in America is the pervasiveness of a culturally reinforced need to avoid pain at all costs. The problem of pain, however, can't be dealt with simply by getting rid of it. Pain has to be dealt with! Pain is nature's way of telling us that something is awry and requires a response. To conceal or deny pain is self-defeating in the extreme. It is the genius of Judaism that it recognized pain as an essential ingredient of existence to be confronted with courage and confidence.

It is incontrovertible that pain can fulfill several indispensable functions in life. In the Book of Job, for example, Elihu speaks of pain as an instrumentality for educating and disciplining human character. Indeed, the Hebrew word for suffering, yissurim, suggests both the element of chastisement and instruction. The pain of life often reveals depths of strength and greatness that we never thought we had. To experience pain is also a prerequisite to feel the pain of others. Thus, historians have pointed out that it was not until he was afflicted with polio that Franklin D. Roosevelt showed any concern for the sick and poor. As Robert Gordis has written: "Those who have never suffered are all too often insufferable."

Pain can also be a spur to constructive endeavor. The pain of hunger and cold surely drove our ancestors at the dawn of civilization to develop the skills of farming and shepherding. It was the need to resolve real and pressing problems that led to the emergence of science and mathematics. Sigmund Freud has testified that the most fruitful and productive periods of his life occurred when he suffered from "moderate anxiety." The mechanism whereby pain is transformed into meaningful achievement is referred to by psychologists as "compensation."

Pain can also ignite the human aspiration for social justice and freedom. The suffering in Egypt played a dominant role in shaping the Jews' unquenchable thirst for independence as well as their inner capacity to accept God's moral law. Who could imagine the American Revolution without the pain resulting from British misrule? Would there have been a French Revolution had the Bourbon kings been more enlightened? Is the Russian Revolution of 1917 conceivable without the pain of Czarist tyranny? Cruelty and bondage have often been blessings in disguise impelling people to seek liberty and justice for all.

There is a story about a man who saw an emperor moth struggling furiously and beating its wings wildly in an effort to force passage through the narrow neck of its cocoon. The man took a knife and slit the cocoon enabling the moth to emerge without effort. However, its wings never expanded and its magnificent colors never materialized. The moth crawled about listlessly for a short time and then expired. Apparently, the pain struggling to get out of the cocoon is nature's way of strengthening the moth's wings and stimulating the vital process that actualize its beautiful colors.

The pain of human life also plays a crucial role in elevating and exalting the quality of our existence. Don't run away from pain. Heed it! Face it! Use it is a means of coming closer to each other and to God.

Our nation is rife with debate over President Bush's new "surge" strategy in the Iraqi War. Even as we argue over the pros and cons of this conflict, the rhetoric is rapidly heating up over Iran's meddling in Iraq as well as her nuclear aspirations. Much of the discussion is uncomfortably familiar to what was heard just prior to launching the battle against Saddam Hussein. However laudable and justifiable you might think the goals of the Iraqi War are, it is clear to one and all that the conflict has not gone well, and the President's surge tactics are a last-ditch effort to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The events in Iraq ought to give us pause as we ponder what to do about Iran.

It would certainly be a tragic mistake to assume that military action is the only efficacious response to diplomatic deadlocks. Indeed, there is a limit to what can be accomplished by flexing American muscles. In reality, patience, tact, and diplomatic skill should not be regarded as signs of weakness, but of exemplary strength.

That patience and restraint can be a virtue, not a vice, was surely evident to the Talmudic sage, Ben Zoma, who declared: "Who is strong? He who can control himself, as it is said, he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth over his spirit, than he that taketh a city" (Proverbs XVI:32). The average person is inclined to think that a strong person is someone who can beat up all the challengers. The Jewish view, however, is that conquering yourself is the most difficult feat of all. History normally regards Alexander the Great as one of the strongest men of all time since he forged a huge empire, but in the eyes of the Talmud, he was a weakling whose inability to subdue his appetites resulted in his eating and drinking himself to death at a young age. The most outstanding warrior in the annals of our past was the scholarly patriarch, Jacob, who spent a whole night wrestling, not somebody else, but himself, with the consequence that he emerged as the progenitor of an important people.

To be sure, there may be times when a military response is called for. Different situations require different strategies. The proper option has to be determined on a case by case basis. Certainly in Jewish history, the events of Chanukah show what valor and courage on the battlefield can achieve. The military feats of the Maccabees succeeded magnificently in preserving the religious freedom of our ancestors. On the other hand, the holiday of Purim, which will be observed this month, celebrates the defeat of Haman's designs to exterminate the Jews of Persia, the name by which this country used to be known prior to Iran; and this was a feat attained by non-military means.

The joyous observance of Purim was made possible by the political and diplomatic skills of Mordecai and Esther who foiled Haman's nefarious intentions. When Mordecai heard about Haman's evil designs he said to Esther: "Think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the king's house, more than all the Jews. For if thou altogether holdest thy peace at this time, then will relief and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place, but thou and thy father's house will perish; and who knoweth whether thou art come to royal estate for such a time as this?" Esther then proceeded to utilize her position and her talents to expose Haman's malicious plot against the Jewish people. Although the Bible informs us that many enemies of the Jews were killed after Haman was dismissed from power, it is clear that Purim is a celebration, not of military prowess, but of political tact and skill. It is hard to imagine that a military upheaval against the Persian government would have been more effective in foiling Haman than the shrewd diplomatic maneuverings of Mordecai and Esther.

The story of Purim demonstrates the venerable diplomatic adage: "Patience is a bitter cup that only the strong can drink."

The Biblical narrative of the Passover saga informs us: "And it came to pass at midnight, that the Lord smote all the firstborn of Egypt" (Exodus XII: 29). Midnight gives an immediate impression of dark times and obscure deeds, of wild beasts foraging, robbers plying their trade, men stumbling with injury, ghosts haunting.

Yet, the same misfortunes which struck down the Egyptian firstborn in the middle of the night proved to be good fortune to the Israelites, who as a consequence were finally freed by the obdurate Pharaoh. We have long associated the day of Passover with freedom and light; likewise, we might be apt to look upon its night as something fearful. But darkness too can be given for human blessing.

The Greeks spoke of "Evening, that brings all things home." Then the child at play returns to his parents, the bird to its nest, the laborer to the warmth and comfort of his household. It is at night that the plants grow; and man is revived and strengthened. Physicians tell us that it is during night sleep that the body releases melatonin which is the key ingredient in the fortification of our immunological defenses against illness. We often read about people who get the blues because of the long nights of winter; however, I personally find the darkness extraordinarily relaxing and calming. I also prefer jogging in the darkness rather than the light.

In the Bible the night plays many important roles. It was a time for vision – for then Jacob saw the angels ascending to Heaven and was given the lasting name of Israel. Then did David weep for his misdeeds and feel the supreme agony of penitence. As a rule the day is for action, the night is for contemplation. What a marvelous time to straighten out the tangled web of one’s daily striving and strife, as well as to plan long-term objectives.

The Passover ritual found in the Haggadah states: "Most of Thy wonders didst Thou work by night. Lot escaped from Sodom and Gomorrah, the cities of sin, at night. Israel wrestled with God and won, by night. Sennacherib’s army melted away in the night. …Riddles were solved by Daniel in the night…Proclaim, All-High, that Thine are day and night!...Make bright as day the darkness of the night!"

These are some of the lines chanted at the seder. They are well-suited to a ritual banquet that takes up so large a part of the evening, and they are designed to remind Jews that they may use every part of the day for such noble purposes as those for which the festival was ordained.

The chant seems to ask all mankind: what do we do with our evenings? Do we too have visions of a more heavenly world? Do we then contemplate the acts of the day, and feel penitence for deeds of error? Do we add to our store of culture after the day’s work is done? Do we use the night for healing and completing our record of the day?

The observance of Passover can train all of us in the proper use of the years and the months and the days and the nights allotted to us. Even the darkness of midnight can serve the glorification of human existence through remembrance of the ancient redemption. It is good for us to recall in triumphant song that the darkness must pass; that the midnight of slavery will yield to the dawn of freedom; and that in the hour of greatest obscurity we can and must prepare ourselves to march toward the light.

Miryom, Sarah, Lewis and Sarah, Debbie and Danny, Judah and Bennett, join me in wishing you and yours a hag sameah, a Happy and Healthy Passover.

by Rabbi Alvin Kass.

It would be impossible to overstate the important role Jenny Brooks played in the intellectual life of the East Midwood Jewish Center. She had an amazing rapport with teenagers. No matter how many years passed, she never lost the gift of being able to communicate with the young. Most of us who are parents and often found ourselves terribly frustrated when our children went through the teen years, watched in awe at the ease of her interaction with them. No wonder she was so successful attracting post Bar and Bat Mitzvah young men and women to continue with their Judaic studies. Our Talmud Torah high school under her tutelage attracted Jewish young people from all over Brooklyn.

Her adult education classes at East Midwood were also legendary. What an amazing pedagogue! Erudite, articulate, and enthusiastic, her passion for learning was contagious. She had a special gift for demonstrating the relevance of past events to the present. The students were able to express their opinions without restraint.

When East Midwood went through particularly tough times a few years ago, Jenny refused to take salary for her services. For her, money was secondary to the all-important goal of serving God and the Jewish community.

From a personal point of view, Jenny was a dear friend to both Miryom and me. She was on the phone with Miryom many times a week to discuss the high school. We shared an office together in the school building. My children’s picture proudly decorated her desk. After graduating from the high school, my children taught on the faculty of the high school. They learned so much from her and she became a warm personal confidante to them and their families.

She was productive and creative to the very end, making the transition from this world to the next doing God’s work as an educator.

All of us at East Midwood are saddened by her departure and we want to extend our heartfelt sympathies to her family. We want them to know that she was also a part of our family and we pray that her memory will always be a source of blessing to them and that her soul will be bound up in the bond of eternal life.

One of the strangest religious practices of the ancient Israelites was the rite of the Red Heifer, which had the purpose of purifying those who were contaminated through contact with the dead. Essentially the law provided that one must take a red heifer and have the priest slay it outside the camp. Afterward the animal was burned with cedar wood, hyssop, and scarlet added to the pyre. The ashes were then dissolved in fresh water which was to be sprinkled upon the defiled individual.

How and why these procedures were used to attain purification is one of the great mysteries of our faith. Tradition says that even the wise King Solomon did not understand this rite. The eminent sage, Johanan ben Zaccai, exclaimed: "The dead man does not make impure neither do the ashes dissolved in water make pure; but the law concerning the Red Heifer is a decree of the All-Holy whose reasons for issuing the decree should not be questioned by mortals." Thus, the law of the Red Heifer is a prime example of those Biblical statutes whose meaning was not understood but which Jews observed simply out of a desire to remain obedient to God's word.

The most fascinating provision of all in the law of the Red Heifer is the statement that "it purifies the impure and at the same time renders impure the pure." What that means is that while the rite of the Red Heifer removed defilement from those who were unclean, it simultaneously defiled those pure individuals who were in any way associated with preparing the ashes and the water of purification. That may seem paradoxical, yet it suggests a very important historical truth. For the annals of mankind are replete with examples of movements and personalities who set out to purify society of terrible social wrongs and abuses, but in the very process of trying to do good, some of these worthy institutions and leaders themselves suffered defilement and brutalization. Thus, the French Revolution of 1789 marked the overthrow of Bourbon tyranny in an effort to create a social order based on "liberty, equality and fraternity." However, Robespierre, one of the great leaders of the Revolution, in the name of the principles of that noble social movement, introduced a Reign of Terror which exceeded in horror and depravity the worst crimes of the Bourbon monarchs.

The same paradoxical processes can be observed from a study of Jewish history. King David, for example, was the greatest king of Israel, a man of piety who composed the Book of Psalms which forms the basis of our religious liturgy. Yet, the fulfillment of his military duties as king had so stained his hands with blood that God forbade him from carrying out what had been his greatest dream - to build the Temple of the Lord. The process of brutalization helps us to understand as well how a man of David's eminence sank to the depths of depravity in arranging the death of Uriah the Hittite so that he could carry out his sexual designs upon Uriah's wife, Bat Sheva.

Lord Acton alluded to this truth when he wrote: "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely." The history books are full of stories about people who inspired others to live lives of holiness and sacrifice at the same time that they became egotistical and hard-hearted tyrants. Unfortunately, even the most selfless and idealistic human beings can sink into greed, inhumanity and brutality. That is why our Sages warned us against self-righteousness and the weakness of the will.

The paradox of the Red Heifer reminds us of the paradox of the human personality. Even the noblest dream can change into a nightmare. The utmost purity can become a source of defilement. Therefore, self-scrutiny is always in order; most important of all is to heed the Talmudic counsel: "Don't believe in yourself until the day of your death!"

Religion and politics have been part of the social scene since the dawn of civilization. Moreover, they have intermingled with each other throughout most of that time in a very intimate way which has had disastrous consequences for human freedom. Tyranny, oppression, and intergroup hostility constitute the lot of most countries where church and state have acted in alliance with each other. It was an appreciation and understanding of this fact that led the Founding Fathers of our nation to advocate the separation of church and state and to prohibit the creation of a religious establishment. Indeed, according to the eminent historian, Henry Steele Commager, it was the separation of church and state which marked the most revolutionary aspect of this country’s formation and which evoked more attention, applause, and censure than anything else. No other Western nation had ever ventured upon so reckless an endeavor.

What is, of course, most remarkable, is that the separation of church and state worked so well, to the benefit of both. Politically, ours is the freest country on the face of the Earth. Religiously, this nation has managed to include people of all faiths and still maintain peace and harmony among them. Furthermore, all of the religions have flourished in an atmosphere which forbids the government to meddle in their affairs.

The separation between church and state, as envisioned in the Constitution, however, was never intended to be total. If it were, how could the government grant tax exemption to religious institutions, pay for chaplains in the armed forces, sponsor the recitation of prayers in Congress, inscribe “In God We Trust” on our currency, and include the phrase “Under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance? In truth, advocates of total separation have from time to time challenged these “religious” practices by the government as unconstitutional; but these changes have been consistently rejected by the courts.

The principle of church-state separation was also not intended to deprive religious leaders of the right to express their views on public issues. Throughout the history of this Republic religious leaders have spoken up on important social problems and played pivotal roles in influencing public opinion. That is important to think about as the nation readies itself for the election of 2008.

What is essential is that when religion enters the public arena, its spokespersons observe the rules of political debate in a democratic society. The first of these is to respect the right to dissent without impugning the sincerity and motives of your opponents. The second is to recognize that no one has a monopoly on truth and virtue. Your opponents might just turn out to be right, and they are entitled to a sympathetic hearing no less than yourself. The third is to understand that the principle of pluralism undergirds our diverse society so that each group must exercise a measure of self-restraint when seeking to promote its point of view. Not all privately held ideals can or should be translated into public law. Finally, the government and its leaders must seek to refrain from actions which would tend to make any religion the official faith of the country since there could be no more blatant violation of the First Amendment than that.

Within these constraints, religious groups have the right and obligation to play an active role in the public arena. Democracy depends upon all citizens and groups being informed and getting involved in what is going on around them. Let the institutions of church and state remain separate from each other in the future as they have in the past; at the same time, however, may the religions of America continue to cast a shaft of illumination on the pressing questions of our times so that we can move forward in providing solutions that meet the highest standards of probity and propriety.

On television recently, I saw a replay of Woody Allen’s famous movie, Zelig, the story of a “chameleon man” named Leonard Zelig who possesses the amazing ability to take on the characteristics of anyone he finds himself near. Hence, in the presence of Asians, his eyes become slanted. Among fat people he acquires substantial girth. In proximity to underworld figures he looks like a gangster. In the company of African-Americans, his countenance assumes swarthier features. Indeed, he is accused of marrying an African-American woman on the pretense that he was the brother of Duke Ellington.

Leonard Zelig also happens to be Jewish. At the outset of the film we are informed that he is the son of a Yiddish actor who played Puck in the Orthodox version of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” We also learn that the Ku Klux Klan is highly agitated by the Zelig phenomenon because a Jew who can change himself into an African-American or a Native American constitutes a triple threat.

Woody Allen really doesn’t do much with Zelig’s Jewishness except to make it the butt of a few wisecracks. In truth, however, Zelig’s Jewishness is no accident because throughout our long history of persecution and oppression many Jews have sought survival by taking on the qualities of whatever group historic accident happened to inject them into. Like Leonard Zelig, they became chameleons in order to be accepted. In abrogating all sense of self, Zelig represents the ultimate conformist. As the well-known writer, Irving Howe, comments in the movie, multitudes of American Jews have likewise chosen assimilation as the most effective channel for “making it” in this country. If they were indistinguishable from their neighbors, they reasoned that they would surely fulfill their aspirations and feel completely at home. In so doing, however, they become shallow human beings whose deliberate rejection of their past left them totally adrift, without identity, and the benefit of a sense of purpose, meaning and direction in life.

Leonard Zelig solves his psychological problem only when he recovers an awareness of who he is and develops a capacity for self-respect and self-love. As Jews in the twenty-first century, we are also involved in a journey toward self-knowledge and self-understanding. The first step toward this goal is to recognize that the word “Jew” is a shortened from the name “Judah,” which was the most famous and most important of the twelve tribes who comprised the original Israelites; Judah was the leader of the rest of the tribes, and thus in time the whole nation came to be called by his name, the people of Judah, or Judeans, and later on, just plain Jews.

Judah had a flag which symbolized its values. The flag was blue, as blue as the sky on a clear day, and on it was painted the figure of a lion. Judah excelled in physical prowess and strength. The tribesmen were brave and courageous, the finest soldiers of their people. But the lion of Judah was engraved on a background of blue in order to remind the Jewish soldier that there is a God above who insists that one must be compassionate and just to both the weak and the strong. The flag taught them that the lion of Judah must keep in step with the ideals symbolized by the blue of the sky.

I can’t think of a better definition of the Jews. As we prepare to celebrate Thanksgiving Day this month, we should be grateful for who we are and what we are as Jews. As long as we remain committed to the qualities of Judah we can avoid the trials and tribulations of Leonard Zelig. Then God’s blessings will rest upon us as individuals, as members of the Jewish community, and as part of the family of humanity.

Have a great holiday!

At this Hanukkah season of the year our minds turn to events that happened thousands of years ago when a small band of Judeans risked all in order to preserve their freedom. They were led by Judah Maccabee, a brave and fearless leader, who inspired his countrymen to manifest the highest standards of idealism and valor. Unfortunately, he was killed in battle before his goals were achieved. In many ways, Judah Maccabee reminds me of the late President John F. Kennedy, who also lost his life in the midst of his presidential battles on behalf of the people of the United States.

It is now 44 years since that fateful November 22nd when Lee Harvey Oswald deprived us of a leader whose charisma, style, humanity and courage caught the imagination of this country in a way that very few, both before his time and after it, have been able to do. No amount of historical revisionism has succeeded in diminishing his hold on public affection. Not that Kennedy was perfect. He stressed civil rights insufficiently, at least in the beginning. He permitted himself to be misled by the inept authors of the Bay of Pigs. He ignored the possibilities of reconciliation with China and Cuba. But all people err. The greatness of Kennedy lay in his capacity to acknowledge mistakes and change course. This, indeed, is the most exalted of all virtues in the eyes of Jewish tradition. The Talmud tells us that not even the noblest saint can reach the level of a man who sincerely repents and endeavors to do better.

In his moments of greatness, he ranks with the most eminent leaders of human history. Surely the finest of these occurred in October 1962 when he set up a naval blockade that forced Nikita Khrushchev to remove the missiles that the Soviets had sneaked into Cuba. That dramatic showdown brought the world to the brink of thermonuclear war; however, Kennedy demonstrated that the possession of military strength and a willingness to use it if necessary are indispensable to the preservation of peace. It is a position with which Judah Maccabee would heartily have agreed and one which harmonizes with the Talmudic dictum: "If anyone comes to kill you, then you may kill him first."

With all of Kennedy’s tenacity and fighting spirit if he felt he was in the right, there was nothing jingoistic or aggressive in his demeanor or policies. What he wanted, above all, was peace; and for that reason he would surely have regarded as his greatest triumph the negotiation of a limited nuclear test ban treaty with the Soviet Union. In any event, détente is a product of power, not the renunciation of military potency. That has surely been the credo of the Jewish people for whom shalom is the supreme value; yet they have not hesitated to fight when necessary from the days of Judah Maccabee down to the era of David ben Gurion and Ariel Sharon.

Kennedy’s empathy with Jewish thinking is also evident in his pragmatism. The Sages say that a man must have his feet on the ground but his head in the heavens. It was their way of indicating the importance of combining vision with practicality. This was without a doubt one of Kennedy’s greatest strengths. He was an "idealist without illusions."

At the time of his death there were many other things that President Kennedy wanted to do both domestically and internationally. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Yet, the importance of what he did accomplish is suggested by a memorable passage from his inaugural address: "All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days, nor in the life of this administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin." If Kennedy had known the Talmud better, he might have said: Lo alecha ha’m’lacha, Ligmor, v’ee atto pattur haymenah, "Yours is not to finish the job, but neither are you exempt from it."

The holiday of Passover, which will soon be upon us, reminds us of the crucial role of freedom in Jewish life. To be sure, freedom to the Jew has a much different meaning from that which governs the life of contemporary man. Today people regard freedom as the right to “be yourself,” “do your own thing,” “find your own space,” and “get yourself together.” The essence of this freedom is the removal of strictures upon your conduct, the notion that no one can tell you what to do, when to do it or how to do it.

In Jewish tradition freedom was far more limited. It consisted essentially of the right to be subject to God’s law. Indeed, the significance of the Exodus was that it marked the exchange of one bondage for another. Instead of being enslaved by Pharoah the Jew would henceforth be enslaved by God. In fact, even while the Jews were still in Egypt they already were given laws by Moses to carry out. Of course, the ultimate goal of the Exodus was to travel to Sinai where the Jew would receive the Torah whose rules and regulations would spell out his behavior every day of his life to all eternity.

The traditional Jew has a great deal of trouble in accepting the very popular notion of freedom as the absence of restraint. There are just too many directions in which it is possible to move. To be sure, there is a legitimate negative dimension to freedom. One must first be liberated from tyrannies of the mind, body, and spirit which Pharoah symbolized. But it can’t stop there. Ultimately, freedom is meaningless unless it is channeled in a positive direction. Erich Fromm, the eminent psychologist, described this dual aspect of freedom as “freedom from” and “freedom to.” Thus, freedom presupposes liberation from autocratic restraint, but one must likewise move forward at the same time and utilize his freedom to achieve something meaningful.

Abraham Lincoln once said that truly free men are ready to accept discipline. In his time, that involved the discipline of service in a war to preserve the Union and a national commitment to prevent the spread of slavery. There are those who misunderstand the essence of democracy. They think of it simply as a form of government in which the state does not interfere with the individual’s life. If that’s all there were to it, the fiber of such a society would be soft, weak, and confused. You must go on to ask the next question: “Why doesn’t the state interfere with the life of its citizens?” The state’s self-limitation exists only to enable each person to choose his own ideals and to select restraints that are as free as possible from limitations that he did not choose. However, restraints there must be. Blessed is the state whose denizens accept the restraints set forth by Lincoln which lead to shared goals and cooperative endeavors for the general welfare.

The most urgent need of our time is to get past the negative side of freedom, which is consumed by a sense of self and isolated from the community. Freedom may begin with the self but it must move on to positive effort on behalf of the community for whose well-being we are all morally responsible. To reach that august goal we need a maximum of learning and knowledge. Maybe that is why the wise son is so highly esteemed in the Haggadah. The more we know about our past the easier it is to move from the self to the community, from “freedom from” to “freedom to,” from negative freedom to positive freedom.

Miryom, Sarah, Lewis and Sarah, Danny and Debby, Judah and Bennett join me in the prayer that our Passover observance will stimulate us all to the realization of our total potential as free, concerned, responsive, and committed human beings. Chag sameach v’kasher!

As Israel celebrates its 60th birthday, the touchiest subject in the relationship between the Jewish State and Diaspora Jewry remains aliyah, the encouragement of American Jews to emigrate to Israel. Indeed, the attitude of the American rabbinate toward aliyah has, for the most part, vacillated over the years. On the one hand, we are aware of the indispensability of an ample quantity of Jews making their home in Israel in order to insure the viability of a Jewish State. On the other hand, if all or most of American Jewry heeded the call to go on aliyah, we would have no one to whom we could speak or with whom we could work.

In truth, we have little cause to worry that the bulk of American Jewry will go to Israel. (They may move to Florida or Arizona; but that’s another story!) What’s more, there is no reason to bemoan the fact that most of our co-religionists prefer to remain in this country. The Jews of America have evolved a vital, vibrant, and creative life here. They have erected a most impressive array of institutions which minister, outstandingly and effectively, to the religious, educational, social and health needs of the Jewish community. Over 300 of the finest colleges and universities in the United States have chairs of Jewish studies. To be sure, we have our difficulties, most especially intermarriage and assimilation; but none of the negatives can gainsay the reality that one can most certainly live an authentic and genuine Jewish life in America.

To be sure, as good as things are in America, our Jewishness will always be a secondary element of our lives; since the dominant American way must, of necessity, constitute the principal priority of our thoughts and actions. Only in Israel will it ever be possible for Jewishness to be completely natural, without having to compete with conflicting ideologies and orientations towards life. Aliyah is the sole option available to those who desire to live totally integrated Jewish lives, free of intrusive and alien elements.

The most potent force that will galvanize the interest of American Jews to make aliyah is the desire to be part of the incomparably exciting and exhilarating drama of a people returning to its home after two thousand years of wandering all over the globe. Jewish history possesses a grandeur and nobility which cannot be adequately grasped by the powers of the human intellect. These qualities can, nevertheless, be most fully experienced in the land of Israel. Although the Middle East is currently the focal point of so much enmity and violence, it continues to arouse the imagination, concern, and involvement of the greatest nations and religions of the Western world, and to constitute a source of inspiration and encouragement to countless millions everywhere. To play a role in establishing amity and harmony in that spot of the globe which is the crossroads of the human race is the kind of challenging aspiration that can fire the idealism of some of our finest young people.

Such elevated and noble objectives will probably never motivate more than a minority of our co-religionists in this country. But we American Jews, rabbis and laity alike, have a duty to encourage and support that minority. While most American Jews will elect to stay here, that special and blessed group which makes aliyah will prove that American Jews are not hopeless captives of the fleshpots of wealth and security. These noble and sanctified Jews, finally, have the best chance to succeed in the all-important task of building a living bridge between us and the people of Israel which alone can assure the survival of the Jewish people and the Jewish way of life everywhere.

Shavuot, first and foremost, celebrates the gift of the Torah, the Law, the Ten Commandments, to the Jewish people. It is, in a way, the high point of the calendar since everything else was a preparation for the climactic moment when God revealed His will to mankind at the foot of Mount Sinai. The Exodus from Egypt which we recall on Passover and the Wanderings in the desert that we highlight on Sukkot were all aimed at making possible a land and a people where the Word of God would be revered and fulfilled.

That fundamental law is as important and indispensable today as when it was first promulgated. Thou shalt not kill – How wonderful it would be if there were no more wars abroad and homicides at home. Thou shalt not steal – How wonderful it would be if we didn’t need twenty locks on our doors and windows to keep out burglars who get in anyway. Thou shalt not commit adultery – How wonderful it would be if men and women remained faithful and devoted to each other instead of causing the termination of one out of every two marriages. Thou shalt not covet – How wonderful it would be if we could teach people that their happiness depends not on how many things they possess but how much they love God. Thou shalt not bear false witness – How much heartache and needless pain could be avoided if people simply told the truth. Honor thy father and mother – How wonderful the world would be if children treated their parents with respect instead of disdain and vice-versa. Remember the Sabbath Day – How badly society needs a chance on a regular basis to get off the daily treadmill that drives so many to psychiatrists or to an early grave. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain – How blissful and pleasant it would be if people felt the sacred presence of God and used language carefully and meaningfully. Thou shalt have no other gods – How many have substituted worship of the one true God with homage to the bitch goddesses Money and Fame with disastrous consequences. I am the Lord thy God who brought thee out of the land of Egypt – How badly we need to return to the history and the traditions of our forefathers.

The rabbis tell us that when the Israelites stood at the foot of Mount Sinai, “The Holy One blessed be He tilted the mountain over them like a bowl and said to them, ‘If you accept the Torah, it is well, if not there shall be your sepulcher’” (Sab. 88a). This tale proclaims a clear warning to the Jewish people of the seriousness of this historical occurrence in the eyes of God. The acceptance or rejection of His Moral Law is not a matter to be lightly regarded. The Almighty has given us a mandate to preach His word to the world in order to elevate our mundane concerns into intimate involvement with matters of the spirit.

The tilted mountain represents the gravity of the assignment. To practice righteousness and to teach the truth in a world which is hostile to such values is not an easy undertaking. At times it appears hopeless to think that our efforts can appreciably alter or illuminate the ways of our civilization. But we dare not give up the struggle, for humanity’s regeneration depends upon us. No matter how long or how hard we need to work, we must not falter in our labors. God chose us to be Eved Ha-shem – the suffering servant of the Lord. The survival and well-being of our people depends upon our willingness to remain faithful to this charge.

The laws given on Mount Sinai are more urgently required by the human race today than ever before. Our forefathers accepted the duty of observing and teaching these laws on the first Shavuot. We, their descendants, can do no less than rededicate ourselves to the same lofty aims.

No experience in the world can exceed the excitement and meaningfulness of a trip to Jerusalem. That is true not only for Jews, but all people; for in Jerusalem you will find the holy places of the great faiths of the Western world. Of course, for me and for all Jews, the Kotel, the Western Wall, what used to be called the “Wailing Wall,” is the focal point of all our prayers and supplications. I have also visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where Jesus was buried; and I walked the route followed by Jesus when he made the fourteen stops on the way to Calvary. I likewise spent time at the magnificent Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aksa Mosque, which are revered by many millions of Muslims.

One might have thought that a city filled with so much spiritual richness would have produced an aura of inspiration that would have endowed Jerusalem with a legacy of enduring peace and good will. The reality is, however, that in spite of the fact that the name Jerusalem means “City of Peace,” it has been the locus of multitudinous wars and conflicts. Indeed, archeologists tell us that Jerusalem has been built, destroyed and rebuilt forty times in the course of its long history. No other place on the face of the Earth has been the focus of more contentiousness and violence.

Obviously, it is not enough for people zealously and faithfully to follow the tenets of their respective faiths. They must also seek common ground which will make possible a minimal consensus. Diversity of viewpoints is wonderful; but it can create problems unless there are some shared assumptions. Justice Felix Frankfurter once said that the “ultimate foundation of a free society is the binding tie of cohesive sentiment.” Here in the United States of America that cohesive sentiment is fostered by our schools that gather up the traditions of the nation, transmit them from one generation to the next, and thereby create the continuity of a treasured common life.

In the New York City Police Department cohesiveness is generated by our common mission as well as the blood shed by our colleagues. Officers called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice were not selected on the basis of their race, color or creed. They lost their lives solely because of their membership in the Police Department; and included men and women of all backgrounds. The tears we shed for them and their families are more powerful than laws, court rulings or constitutional amendments ever could be in drawing and binding us together.

When it comes to religion no one has ever suggested a better meeting ground than the proposal contained in that marvelous play, Nathan the Wise, by the great German playwright Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. It is the story of a father who possessed a magic ring. The ring had the power of making the owner well-liked and beloved. When the father approached the end of his life, each of his three sons wanted the ring. To which one of them should he give it? He didn’t know what to do since he loved each of his three sons equally. Therefore, he hit upon a scheme. He called in a jeweler and asked him to make two rings exactly like the magic ring. When each of the three sons approached his father and bid him farewell, he handed them each a ring. Now none of the sons were aware of the father’s scheme.

After the father’s death, they discovered what had happened, and each maintained that his was the genuine article. The argument divided the family so they decided to go before a judge to settle the matter. The judge listened to all the brothers, and then he gave his decision: only time will decide. Whoever proves to be the most beloved and best-liked is the one that has the magic ring. Thereupon, each tried to live in accordance with the highest precepts in order to qualify for the title.

In like manner, the major faiths that possess holy sites in the city of Jerusalem believe very strongly in their own importance. They would do well to substantiate those claims by trying to outdo each other in the love and warmth they manifest to all people, believer and non-believer alike. Such a competition would insure that Jerusalem would never have to be rebuilt again. Jerusalem could then become truly a city of peace, inspiring men and women everywhere to lives of sanctity and good will.

At the start of human civilization, we are told that God asked Cain: “Where is Abel, thy brother?” Cain replied: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” With that response of indifference and apathy began the long and disturbing tale of man’s inhumanity to man which comprises the bulk of history. The nadir of this human inclination occurred during World War II when six million Jews were annihilated as countless multitudes of so-called “good” and “decent” people looked on in acquiescence, if not approval.

Fortunately this is not the whole story of mankind’s career. We also have the case of a woman who cares for lepers in the Far East and a man who runs an international adoption agency for crippled or unwanted children. Indeed, the same Holocaust which affords the most glaring manifestations of cruelty and brutality likewise produced unbelievably moving and touching tales of human concern and self-sacrifice. There is the case of an S.S. officer who concealed a Jewish couple until the end of the war in his living quarters above the S.S. Center in Berlin. There was also a Belgian countess who not only hid 100 Jewish women and children on her estate but also cooked kosher food for them. What can you say in sufficient praise of a Raoul Wallenberg, the Swedish diplomat, who used his status to save hundreds of Hungarian Jews? Wallenberg manufactured passes that made Jews candidates for Swedish citizenship, thereby protecting them from the Germans. He even risked his life by giving out these passes to Jews who were waiting in line for Nazi deportation trains.

What is it that turns some people into a Cain and others into a Raoul Wallenberg? Interestingly enough, these two types who represent the opposite poles of human behavior have more in common than you might think. To be sure, the Cains of the world are totally self-centered and completely preoccupied with their own wants and needs. That does not mean, however, that the Wallenbergs are bereft of self-concern. On the contrary, the preponderance of thinking among contemporary psychologists, including such eminent experts as Abraham Maslow and Erich Fromm, is that altruistic people have a strong sense of self-worth and security. People who are happy with themselves, care about themselves, and feel good about themselves are the ones most likely to do a good turn for another. This was, incidentally, the thinking of Hillel whose ideas on this subject began with the observation: “If I am not for myself who will be for me?” The difference between the Cains and the Wallenbergs is that the former stop here while the latter go on to raise the second point in Hillel’s aphorism: “But, if I am only for myself what am I?”

The big question is what is it that triggers this capacity to transcend self in behalf of others. Many psychologists believe that the most crucial role is played by such positive role models as parents and teachers. Professor David Rosenhan of Stanford University did a study of civil rights activists which found that most of the outstanding leaders of that movement had parents who exemplified for their children such qualities as perseverance and courage. It is the absence of positive role models that explains “the disappearance of character in our society.” As Dr. Rosenhan puts it: “Altruism and courage are often connected issues, they are part of the right thing to do! There was a time when we did this. But now kids don’t see these qualities in their parents or teachers. Everyone is sort of trying to get along, stay out of trouble and make ends meet.”

In the long run, altruism may be the most enlightened form of self-interest. If we go out of our way to try to help others, maybe in our hour of need, people will do the same for us. Thus, in explanation of the altruistic act of planting trees which will be enjoyed only by future generations, the rabbis of the Talmud declared: “My fathers planted for me, and I will plant for my children” (Tannit, 23A). Reasonable people desire nothing for themselves which they do not also desire for the rest of mankind.

Acts of altruism may still be the exceptional reality which we encounter only occasionally in a world dominated by selfishness and egotism. Nevertheless, it is what makes the whole enterprise of civilization worthwhile. As Rabbi Abbahu put it: “The world exists only because of those who disregard their own existence” (Hullin, 89A). As we prepare to celebrate Thanksgiving Day, it behooves us to express our gratitude for these special people who think of others besides themselves.

The recent presidential inauguration will be long remembered as a pivotal historic event. The eminent writer Richard Rodriguez was particularly struck by the farewell salute performed by former President George W. Bush as he was boarding the plane that took him home after relinquishing the office to his successor. Apparently every outgoing president gives this salute including Presidents Clinton, the elder George Bush, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter and even the disgraced Richard Nixon as they left Washington for the last time as the chief executive of the nation.

The salute is a symbol of transition. We can be very proud as a nation of the peaceful transfer of power following a presidential election. It must, however, be difficult psychologically and spiritually for the incumbent to do. After all as President of the United States you are the single most powerful person on the face of the Earth. It is true that the burdens of the office are heavy and the responsibilities arduous; on the other hand, it is heady stuff to be surrounded by people twenty-four hours a day prepared to carry out your every wish. Given the tremendous effort that people exert to acquire the office, the pluses must surely outweigh the minuses. Even after experiencing what the post is like for one term, most occupants of the Oval Office try very hard to get reelected.

In truth, all of us periodically need to perform such a wave, at least symbolically; because nothing lasts forever. Our youth passes. Our children grow up. Life itself must be given up at some point. Like an outgoing president, we need the courage and grace to accept the transitions that life imposes upon us.

The obverse side of life’s ephemeral and transitory nature is that we ought to treasure the blessings that come our way to the greatest extent possible. Don’t waste your youth! Enjoy every available experience of your children’s growing up years. Cherish your friends and family while you have them! Appreciate the infinite value of your own life! Know, however, that no matter how much you may value them these treasures will not be yours forever. You may appreciate the sunshine on a lovely spring day; but the sun is still going to set. You may enjoy every milestone in your child’s life; but, God willing, he or she will still grow up and away. Indeed, there is something grotesque about trying to hold onto something beyond the appropriate time.

The late Rabbi Milton Steinberg, in a moving sermon delivered after his recovery from a serious heart attack, commented upon our simultaneous duty both to cherish life’s blessings and also to be prepared to give them up. To describe this phenomenon he used the metaphor “to hold with open arms.” In physical terms it is impossible to hold something with open arms. In order to clasp something, you have to clench your fists or close your arms. To release it, you have to open your hands and your arms. To both hold and open them at the same time is a logical and physical contradiction in terms. Yet, says Steinberg, that is precisely our duty as human beings. He believes we can do it when we realize that the obligation comes from God who made reality this way; and in God all paradoxes are harmonized.

Ecclesiastes was trying to get at this same truth when he wrote: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.” We need the knowledge and maturity to know when to do what. We celebrate Purim this month, observe it happily and zealously while you may; for the holiday like all else will soon be history.

Former President Bush in offering his farewell salute has set the proper example for us all. He gave up the greatest job in the world even as we all at some point have to give up our own most cherished treasures.

Every morning we recite a prayer praising God as “the creator of light and darkness, the maker of everything.” The blessings of light are obvious. The benefits of darkness,
however, are not always immediately apparent. Indeed, darkness and night have become metaphors for all the evil and hostile forces in the universe. But darkness also has a powerfully significant role of a positive nature to play in our lives. As if to underline that fact, the principal observance of Passover, the seder, has to be held at night. The reason is that the plague of the firstborn and the miracle of the Exodus happened at night. In a beautiful poem contained in the Haggadah many other major night-time occurrences that brought benediction to the Jewish people are cited: Abraham’s victory over his enemies; Jacob’s striving with the angel; Deborah’s defeat of Sisera; Daniel’s rescue from the lion’s den; and the humiliation of Haman.

Our nation is currently grappling with the darkness of an economy in free fall and the banking system in a state of complete collapse. Vast numbers of Americans are downsizing their standard of living. These problems, serious, baffling and saddening as they are, may not be all bad. Many social commentators have reminded us that the night of adversity can bring out our finest qualities. We Jews certainly know a great deal about that. We have made a specialty, not only of surviving horrendous trials and
tribulations, but responding in brilliant, creative, and effective ways. Although the Middle Ages in Europe are often referred to by historians as the Dark Ages, it marked a magnificent and glorious efflorescence of Jewish culture. This was the epoch which produced such giants of the mind and spirit as Rashi, Yehudah Halevi and Moses Maimonides. In the nineteenth century Czar Nicholas I of Russia introduced the cantonist system which forcibly removed young Jewish boys from their home and forced them to serve in the army for twenty-five years. It was part of the czar’s strategy to destroy the Jewish people. But the cantonists, despite the paucity of their Jewish knowledge and separation from their familial roots for a quarter century, manifested astounding tenacity and determination to remain Jews. The modern State of Israel has never known a day of real peace during its 61 years of existence; nevertheless, it has enriched human civilization in such disparate areas as science, medicine, engineering, agriculture, literature, music, city planning, and military defense.

The realization that many of our current problems are the result of greed and avarice has also led to a reexamination of our values. It used to be that we unquestioningly accepted the axiom that wealth equals worth and that money is the scorecard which measures how well we are doing. Indeed, for many the pursuit of profit had become “the civil religion” of America. Judaism is certainly not opposed to affluence. As Tevye puts it in Fiddler on the Roof: “Poverty is no crime; but it’s no great honor either.” What is important is how we get it and what we do with it. When wealth is acquired immorally, as it was by Bernie Madoff, it destroys both the perpetrator and the victims. When wealth is achieved honestly, it is a useful and necessary instrument for human betterment.

The genius of Judaism consists precisely in its offering the blueprint for the proper use of wealth that is so lacking in the general society. How else do you explain the astronomical sums that Jews donate to charity every year far out of proportion to the paucity of their numbers? The Jewish commitment to tzedakah is the result of three thousand years of indoctrination. No more graphic illustration of this fidelity to charity exists than the life of Moses who gave up the delights, the security, and the prerogatives of the royal palace in order “to go out to his brothers and see their burdens.” Tevye the milkman also knew and appreciated the Jewish philosophy of wealth. That is why, when he muses about what life would be like “if I were a rich man,” he affirms that “the sweetest thing of all” would be the opportunity to pursue the spiritual and educational purposes of life such as spending more time in the synagogue at prayer in “a seat by the eastern wall” and “discussing the holy books with the learned men seven hours every day.”

Even with a paucity of cash, life can be beautiful. Instead of constantly running to a million destinations and doing a multitude of useless things, we can enjoy the pleasure of our home and family. Maybe now we can finally read that book we were supposed to get through but kept postponing. Most important, perhaps we will at long last take the time to think about the really important things in life.

I certainly hope that before long, the current financial crises will pass over. I suspect that sadly people will then go back to their old ways. But I hope that at least some of the valuable and constructive experiences generated by the current situation will yield enduring insights. Remember, God created everything. The night, like the day, has its purposes!

Miryom, Sarah, Lewis and Sarah, Danny and Debby, Judah and Bennett join me in wishing you a chag sameach v’kasher, a Happy and Kosher Passover.

In a recent issue of The Atlantic, there is an article entitled “What Makes Us Happy” by Joshua Wolf Shenk which reports the results of the Grant Study, a longitudinal examination of the Harvard class of 1942. Although George Vaillant, the man who supervised this work for 42 years, makes some suggestive correlations such as that men coped with their problems better as they got older and those who were close to their siblings had a healthier old age, what is most striking is the surprising variety of their destinies in life.

Clearly, to go to Harvard, the most prestigious college in the country, is an auspicious beginning. What’s more the 268 members of the class were for the most part intelligent, suave, rich and ambitious. Some of them did very well such as John F. Kennedy and Ben Bradlee. However, more than a third of the class suffered at least one serious bout of mental illness. Alcoholism was a
chronic problem. Indeed, the class jester, who had a wife and three children, battled depression and fell to his death at 64 down a flight of stairs in his apartment building while drunk. The most promising student who manifested at the College superior stability, intelligence, sound judgment, good health, idealism and noble aspirations died young after a life spent wandering, smoking pot and courting a psychotic woman. Some of the most banal personalities in the class turned out to be the most successful while people who at one point in their life were cautious and well- organized displayed diametrically opposite qualities at a different stage.

What is most fascinating about all this is how difficult it is to predict human behavior. Indeed, I would say, impossible. Obviously, heredity and environment play important roles in our growth and development, predisposing us in certain directions. But we don’t have to go in that direction, and many people don’t. Human behavior possesses a complexity which transcends scientific certitude. In short, the Grant Study confirms the principal underpinning of our Judaic faith: human beings possess free will.

Free will is the basis of man’s responsibility as a member of society. Without it, the whole concept of these High Holy Days that God judges our behavior would be meaningless. What right would God have to evaluate our conduct, if we could not behave in a manner other than the way we actually did behave?

To be sure, the rise of modern science has created problems for those who believe in free will; because the scientific principle of causality affirms that every phenomenon is the result of an antecedent cause. Man is part of nature; therefore, his being and acting are the effect of an infinite number of prior factors, which determine what he is and does today. Indeed, Spinoza accepted that line of thinking and concluded that free will is an illusion. If he is right, it would spell the total paralysis of thought and action. Once you accept the notion that there is no freedom of choice, there is no logical reason for wrestling with any given problem or for weighing alternatives before coming to a decision. Scientists today, however, have retreated from a totally mechanistic view of the universe which maintains that every action is predetermined. The physicist Heisenberg has promulgated the principle of indeterminacy which declares that one cannot predict with perfect accuracy the path of any atom. Max Born postulated what has been called “the principle of limited measurability.” Certainly, the range of human freedom is limited by scientific law; but, however limited, we have sufficient freedom to be held responsible for our actions.

We may find it difficult to understand precisely how causality and freedom blend with one another, but life testifies that they do; because both are real. Rabbi Akiba in the second century expressed the paradox by declaring: “All is foreseen, yet freedom is given.” Samuel Johnson articulated it a little bit differently when he declared: “With regard to freedom of the will, all philosophy is against it, and all experience is for it.”

Certainly, the Grant Study reaffirms that life has a complexity which behavioral science and objective analysis could never predict. The destiny of the Harvard Class of 1942 is a powerful argument for free will.

Miryom, Sarah, Lewis and Sarah, Danny and Debby, Judah and Bennett join me in wishing you a Happy and Healthy New Year. L’shanah tovah tikatevu.