There seems to have materialized for me a running theme these last few weeks. Simply put...kindness.
Aristotle in book two of “Rhetoric” defines kindness as “helpfulness towards some one in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped”. Kindness is a value universally addressed in religion. One of the Ten Perfections of Buddhism is Metta, translated as “loving kindness”. Confucius tells his followers to “recompense kindness with kindness”. Even the anti-religious existentialist Friedrich Neitzsche argues that “kindness and love, [are] the most curative herbs and agents in human intercourse”.
Perhaps after a bout with a throat infection, bronchitis and a broken rib, preceded by a year of other challenging life events, I am left feeling a little tender. Understandably, I was drawn to the poem, "Kindness" by Naomi Shahib Nye, which I recently discovered in an anthology at the doctor's office. But there is also a less immediate and larger issue brewing for me. I think Neitzsche is onto something. On a personal level, in the aftermath of spending ten years with someone who is generally unkind, kindness is a characteristic which I now see as a requirement of the people I let into my life and more importantly, my heart.
Most of you are familiar with my mother — the one who obsesses over my Twitter stream and whose love and devotion to me and my children smothers in the tradition of all great Jewish mothers. When I was a child, not one Halloween passed where she did not carve pumpkins and fill them with homemade toll house cookies. She distributed these to the office at school, my pediatrician's office and anyone else who had cared for us in some way over the year. The mailman, garbage man, milk man, were recognized each Christmas with cash in their cards. My mother took care of friends' children, knitted a sweater for every baby born within 6 degrees of her circle and cooked a meal for anyone who would eat it. The Talmud claims that “deeds of kindness are equal in weight to all the commandments”. Simplistically, the Jewish religion is based on Mitzvot — good deeds or acts of kindness which connect you with G-d. Certainly it is the part of Judaism that appeals to me most. It speaks of the Jews' care and support of each other as a community. Though I begged my parents (to no avail) to send me to Hebrew school at the local Conservative synagogue with all my friends, I was raised in the spirit of giving, with my mom the embodiment of Mitzvah.
A few years ago I contributed to the formation of a new Reconstructionist Temple in my area by creating a logo and identity for them. My gift was returned with kindness, as shortly after, I endured a complicated pregnancy. I hadn't had a chance to attend more than one or two Shabbat services and to be honest, I wasn't at all sure I wanted to become a practicing member of a temple. When I was ordered to modified bed rest for the better part of the pregnancy, my decision was made for me. The director of Tikkun Olam contacted me to say that they heard I was temporarily in need and wanted to offer their care in the form of cooking and delivering meals, providing transportation for my children, performing household chores, or anywhere else I might need assistance. The offer was made generously and genuinely — purely for the purpose of helping a member of the community, however marginal.
I was reading "Betrayed by Madoff, Yeshiva U. Adds a Lesson" in yesterday's New York Times. Yeshiva University, in Upper East Side Manhattan, has lost $110 million at the hand of Bernie Madoff who has been on the board of trustees since 1996. The school operates on the modern Orthodox Jewish philosophy of "Torah Umadda" in which religious and secular studies are intertwined. Deeper understanding of Torah will be gained through the lens of a greater context. An additional component of Torah Umadda is the emphasis on positive involvement with the broader community. This leaves Yeshiva in a position of considerable angst. In his responsibility for the largest and eventually most devastating Ponzi scheme in the history of the world, not only has Madoff destroyed lives, but dangerously segregated his spiritual and secular ideals.
In the wake of the crisis, the Jewish Philosophy class at Yeshiva changed its curriculum to debate whether or not Madoff sinned and what it means that he is Jewish.
One by one, the students in Rabbi Norman Linzer’s class last week wrestled with the headlines and their emotions. Some said Mr. Madoff’s religious affiliation was irrelevant; others worried that his Judaism might tarnish their own, that outside eyes would not be able to see past his faith.
In reference to the whole situation, Rabbi Blech, who has taught at Yeshiva for 42 years says, “It is an opportunity to convey to students that ritual alone is not the sole determinant of our Judaism, that it must be combined with humanity, with ethical behavior, with proper values, and most important of all, with regard to our relationship with other human beings.”
My son will start preschool in a few weeks. He will be attending the school at the local Orthodox temple. I chose this school for several reasons, not the least of which is the exposure he will get to the rituals of Judaism and the ideals they represent. My favorite is this the Mitzvah Wall. Each morning the children bring a note and place it on the wall. They usually read something like, “Sam tried to finish his vegetables at dinner” or “Oliver shared his toy with his sister”. The wall is a vehicle to help reinforce good behavior in the home and community. On another level, and as it’s name suggests, the Mitzvah Wall provides and opportunity to impart a new generation with generosity of spirit and the kindness which, as Nietzsche asserts, is what really binds us together. I am not sure whether the preschool operates in accordance with Torah Umadda, but in the interest of nurturing well-balanced and integrated individuals, perhaps the Mitzvah Wall experience is followed by a reading of “Thomas the Tank Engine”.
