When It's Time to Change A Leader: Parashat Chukat

Over the past several weeks, two high profile organizations made stunning changes in leadership. Travis Kalanick, the founder and CEO of UBER, the ride sharing company, was forced to step down as its leader amidst accusations that he has fostered a workplace culture of abuse, discrimination, disrespect of women and sexual harassment. This led the five major investors in Uber to demand that Mr. Kalanick leave his post immediately.

Phil Jackson of the New York Knicks was forced to step down as President of the professional basketball team. Jackson came to the Knicks in 1967 as a player, went on to win eleven championships as head coach of the Chicago Bulls and the LA Lakers, and is a member of the Basketball Hall of Fame. Yet, in his three years as President of the Knicks the team got worse. His critics charged that he was wedded to the triangle defense, a system with which he had success as a coach but which most current teams had abandoned in a more up-tempo game. His relationship with players deteriorated as he tried to fit them into a system that did not play to their individual strengths. As his team was losing more and more, he became critical of more successful teams, those that relied on the three point shot, like the two time champion Golden State Warriors. He made poor strategic decisions in trying to build the team. So, after three years of futility, he and the Knicks came to a parting of the ways.

Sometimes the reasons for a change in leadership may be obvious, as in the case of Travis Kalanick of Uber and Phil Jackson of the New York Knicks. They make the newspapers and are exhaustively analyzed by business and sports journalists. Other times the change in leadership is shrouded in mystery, as in the case of Moses and the People of Israel in this weeks’ parasha. For it is in this week’s Torah portion that G-d, the chief investor and most passionate fan,  so to speak, of the Jewish people, decides that the CEO that he appointed over 40 years earlier  to lead this enterprise, Moses, must go. The Jewish people are about to enter the Land of Canaan. But they are thirsty, and complain to Moses. G-d tells Moses come before the people and order a rock to yield water before their very eyes. Instead, Moses takes his rod, assembles the people before the rock, and addresses them. “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?” Then Moses strikes the rock, twice, with his rod, and water gushes forth.

G-d responds to Moses, “Because you did not affirm my sanctity before the Jewish people, you shall not lead them into the Land that I have given them.” And generations upon generations of rabbis and scholars have analyzed and debated the reasons that G-d gave Moses the pink slip.

Generations upon generations of rabbis and scholars have tried to reconcile the harshness of this verdict with the seemingly minor transgressions of Moses in this situation. They recognize that Moses struck the rock instead of speaking to it. In this, they acknowledge that Moses did not precisely follow G-d’s command. They recognize that Moses called the people “rebels”. In this he was perhaps not as patient and compassionate as he ought to have been with the people’s complaining. He did address the people saying, “Shall WE get water for you out of the rock?” seemingly taking personal credit for a miracle performed by G-d. But none of these, nor all of them together, seem to be valid reasons for G-d to give Moses his notice. After all, everybody is entitled to a bad day once every 40 years….We all come upon situations where, for one reason or another, we are not at our very best. Where is G-d’s mercy? Where is G-d’s compassion? Where is G-d’s understanding for the enormous burdens that Moses has endured over forty years?  Where is G-d’s appreciation for the sacrifice of his servant, Moses? Where is G-d’s vaunted forgiveness – “slow to anger, abundant in kindness” and so forth and so on.

Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein was the pre-eminent Modern Orthodox rabbi of his generation. He died in 2015 at age of 81. Rabbi Lichtenstein suggests that this episode represents just the beginning of difficulties that Moses will have in relating to the People of Israel throughout the remainder of the Book of Numbers. A daunting gap has opened between the leader, Moses, and the Israelites, the people he is leading. The generation that Moses led out of Egypt has died. Moses is speaking to a younger generation, those who have not known slavery. He was hopeful that this younger generation, born into freedom, would be different from the generations of their parents and grandparents. Yet his hopes are dashed. They gripe about the very same things that their parents and grandparents complained about! The incident at the rock is emblematic of the rift that has grown between Moses and his people. He can no longer lead them.

Several years ago the business magazine, Forbes, published an article entitled “Eight Clear Signs Its Time to Make a Leadership Change".  One sign is that the leader’s style and approach are outdated. They can no longer inspire and motivate. They themselves have stopped learning and growing. Could it be that Moses style, his way of communicating, was not reaching the new generation? Was he becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to inspire them? Was this newest generation equally exasperated with his ways?  Another sign that it is time for a leadership change is that the leader begins to mistreat others.  This is a sign the leader feels weak. The leader compensates by becoming abusive in an attempt to make him or herself feel important. In other words, the statement, “Can WE bring water out of the rock” is a sign that Moses feels he is beginning to lose the respect of the younger generation that has grown up in the desert. Finally, there are a number of episodes in the rest of the Book of Numbers where Moses appears to be passive and unable to make a decision. He is no longer influencing the direction of events, but rather, reacting to them. For example, when the Israelites lapse into idolatry at a place called Baal-peor, Moses tells others to deal with the situation. He then goes to the Tabernacle and weeps at its entrance. Seeing ones leader openly display his vulnerabilities -- like withdrawing and crying during a crisis --does not inspire confidence and may be another sign that a change is in order.

We can now understand that it was not this one event which caused G-d to replace Moses with Joshua as the Israelites entered the Promised Land. The one event at the rock was simply symbolic of the crisis in leadership that the Israelites were enduring as a new generation arose in the wilderness. 

Whether one is 40 years old and leading a modern tech company like Uber, a legendary 71 year old hall-of-famer leading a basketball team, or a 120 year old and leading a holy nation, sometimes a change in leadership is necessary to advance the overall mission of the group. We might feel some sympathy for Moses, but we ought not feel that this change at the top was unjust.

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Shlach Lecha -- A Sense of Purpose

Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of Face Book, gave the Commencement Speech this year  at Harvard University. It caused quite a stir in the Jewish world. At the conclusion of his hour long speech Zuckerberg, said that whenever he faces a challenge he recites a prayer that he also sings to his daughter at bedtime.  He told the commencement audience that the name of this prayer is “Mi Shebeirach” and  that it goes like this:

"May the source of strength, who blessed the ones before us, help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing."

Sound familiar? He ended his message to the graduating seniors by charging the Harvard Class of 2017 to find the courage to make their lives a blessing.

Zuckerberg’s shout out to his Jewish heritage was enough to garner headlines in news outlets around the world. It also raised a question. Hadn’t Zuckerberg publically identified himself as an atheist in the past? Zuckerberg responded, “No. I was raised Jewish and then I went through a period where I questioned things, but now I believe religion is very important.” 

In his speech to Harvard seniors Zuckerberg reminisced about the night he launched Facebook from his dorm room when he was a student there.  He remembered telling a friend that he was excited to connect the Harvard community. He predicted that one day, someone would connect the whole world.

 “The thing is,” he said, “It never even occurred to me that someone might be us. We were just college kids. We didn't know anything about that. There were all these big technology companies with resources. I just assumed one of them would do it. But this idea [that all people want connect] was so clear to us! …….. So we just kept moving forward, day by day.”

Zuckerberg told the Harvard Commencement class that the key to success was to have a sense of purpose in your life, and to communicate that sense of purpose to others. His purpose, he said, was never to build a company, although he did build a company. His purpose was never to become wealthy, although he did become extremely wealthy.  His purpose was to make an impact on the world by connecting us to one another.

It is vital, he counseled, to keep moving forward with that sense of purpose.  When I read his words it dawned on me that this is precisely where the Israelites  fail as described in in this week’s Torah portion.  As you may recall, two years after the Exodus from Egypt, Moses leads the Jewish people to the border of the Land of Canaan. At the border he sends twelve spies to reconnoiter the Land. The spies return with a mixed report. Yes, the Land is a rich land, a land flowing with milk and honey. But it is also well defended by the inhabitants there. Ten of the spies say that the Israelites are too weak to conquer the land. Two of the spies urge the Israelites forward. With G-d’s help, they argue, they will prevail. The people rebel. They are afraid. They threaten to kill Moses and replace him with a leader who will return them to the security of slavery in Egypt.

In that commencement speech, Mark Zuckerberg speaks of a similar experience. Two years into the development of Face Book, he writes, the “start-up dream” came true. Bigger companies wanted to buy Face Book. Zuckerberg did not want to sell. He wanted to see if they could connect more people.  Almost everybody else wanted to take the money and run. He had a rebellion on his hands. Tensions flared. Within a year, every single person on the management team was gone. He was left feeling alone. He began to doubt himself. Years later, he said, he understood that this is what happens when a group loses its sense of having a higher purpose.

This is what happened to the Israelites as they were poised to enter the Promised Land. Somewhere between their acceptance of the covenant at Sinai and this crucial moment of decision to enter the land, they lost their sense of having a higher purpose. Somewhere in their journey they lost their sense of being a Holy People with a mission. Without that, they could not move forward. They too wanted to sell out, to return to Egypt.

We all know what happened after that. They would not enter the Promised Land. Instead, they would wander in the wilderness for the next thirty eight years until that generation died. It would be up to their children, to rediscover their purpose and move forward to change the world.

Without a sense of purpose, without a feeling that we are part of something greater than ourselves, it is easy to get lost in the wilderness.  Early in our morning prayers, toward the beginning of the Siddur, there is an unusual prayer. I call it “unusual”, because most prayers are hopeful. We want prayers, especially those we recite in the morning, to help us to meet the challenges of the day ahead. But after reciting this prayer, one might just want to climb back into bed.   “What are we?” goes the prayer, “Of what meaning is our life? What good is our kindness and loyalty? What comes of our strength? Everything we accomplish disappears like vapor in the air. There is little difference between human beings and dumb beasts!” End of paragraph. Pretty bleak, isn’t it? This cry of existential anguish, this look into the abyss, this howl of despair is, fortunately, rejected in the paragraph that immediately follows. “BUT,” the prayer continues, “We are the children of Abraham and Sarah, who You loved and to whom You promised, “You shall be a blessing”; We are the descendants of Isaac and Rivka, of Jacob and Rachel and Leah, who You adored.” Having said that, our prayer concludes on a high note: “How good is our portion, how pleasant our lot, how beautiful our heritage!” As Jews, our lives are not in vain. We remind ourselves that we have a divinely ordained purpose in our world.

With the help of G-d and with that sense of purpose, we will never get lost in the wilderness. We will never decide to turn back, to give up, to return to Egypt. We will move forward and push on, day after day, with confidence that we are making progress toward our Promised Land.

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Korach: How to be Disagreeable

On Friday evening, April 6, 1962, Leonard Bernstein was to conduct the New York Philharmonic in a performance of Brahms D minor Concerto. The guest soloist was Glenn Gould, one of the most celebrated classical pianists of the 20^th century. Before the concert began, Mr. Bernstein did something that initially puzzled and frightened the audience. He spoke to them. Mr. Bernstein was only in the habit of speaking to the audience at Thursday night previews, so many thought that he was going to announce that the soloist had become ill. Instead, Leonard Bernstein told the audience that they were about to hear an “unorthodox performance” of Brahms D Minor Concerto, a performance unlike he had ever heard, or even dreamt of. Mr. Gould was going to play the concerto in a way that departed significantly from the way it had traditionally been performed, with broad tempi and frequent departures from Brahms’ own dynamic indications. In fact, Mr. Bernstein told his audience, Mr. Gould’s conception of the piece raised the question of what Mr. Bernstein was doing conducting it! Sometimes, he said, a soloist and a conductor have different ideas about how a musical composition is supposed to be performed. But they almost always manage, through persuasion, or charm, or even threats, to achieve a unified performance. This time, however, Mr. Bernstein said, he was forced to submit to Mr. Gould’s wholly new concept of Brahms D Minor Concerto that was incompatible with his own understanding of how this was to sound. Why then, Mr. Bernstein asked the audience, did he agree to conduct an interpretation of music with which he so thoroughly disapproved?

 He could, after all, have caused a minor scandal by getting a substitute soloist, or, letting another person conduct! He gave three reasons for his decision.  First, he said, Glenn Gould was such a valid and serious artist that he ought to take anything he conceives in good faith. Second, he found moments in Mr. Gould’s performance that emerged with astonishing freshness and conviction. Third, Glenn Gould brought to music a curiosity, a sense of adventure and a willingness to experiment which Mr. Bernstein admired. Maestro Bernstein felt that we can all learn something from hearing the concerto as performed by Glenn Gould. With that introduction, Mr. Bernstein went on to conduct Brahms Concerto in D Minor with Glenn Gould as the piano soloist, doing it Mr. Gould’s way.

This is a wonderful example of how two highly principled and talented people dealt with what appeared to be an intractable disagreement. In this week’s Torah portion, and with that concert in mind, I would like to highlight another intractable disagreement, and a different kind of outcome.  Moses’ cousin Korah confronts him, along with 250 followers, demanding that Moses share leadership with them. Korach puts forth what appears to be a valid point. All of the Jewish community is holy, yet Moses has elevated himself above them all. They accuse Moses of being a despot who has engaged in nepotism by appointing his brother as High Priest and his nephews to key positions. Moses reaches out to the protesters and tries to meet with them, to reason with them, but they refuse to talk. Moses is left with no other choice than to arrange a test. The rebels are to appear the following morning, each with their firepans, which are used for sacrificial offerings. They are to stand across from Moses and Aaron, who will also each have a fire-pan. Moses promises that G-d will give a sign indicating who G-d has chosen to lead the Jewish people. The next morning Korach and his followers appear as instructed. A fire goes out and incinerates the 250 followers of Korach. Then the earth opens and swallows Korach and his family alive, along with all of their possessions.

What is the difference between the disagreement between Leonard Bernstein and Glenn Gould and the disagreement between Moses and Korach? One is that the disagreement between Leonard Bernstein and Glenn Gould resulted in an artistic performance still remember by many all over the world to this day. The disagreement between Moses and Korach ended in the disappearance of Korach and his followers from the face of the earth. It is a wonderful illustration of an ancient rabbinic teaching. The rabbis say that in every argument that is for the “sake of heaven” both parties involved in the dispute are destined to endure. If it is not “for the sake of heaven”, both parties are not destined to endure. Then they give an example of each. An argument for the sake of heaven is the argument between the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai. Both schools sought to understand the true will of G-d through study of Torah. They did so with respect for one another, never resorting to personal attacks, understanding that each school of thought was searching for the truth in earnest. But they arrived at different conclusions. It wasn’t the conclusion that really mattered; what mattered in the long run was the equanimity and love with which they accepted their differences. Korach wasn’t seeking the truth, according to the rabbis. He was making an argument that was merely a pretense for his lust for power, his thirst for victory, and his desire for honor and glory. Therefore, he, and his party, did not endure.

Leonard Bernstein was able to conduct the Brahms Concerto in D Minor with Glenn Gould because he was willing to seek the truth of the music and put that above any considerations of power or prestige. He believed that Glenn Gould had something to offer despite his own almost total disagreement with his offering. He was able to put his ego aside for a higher purpose – or, in the Rabbis words, “for the sake of heaven.”

So the next time you have a disagreement with someone, I ask you to take a step back. Is our own ego, our own pride, or our own fear, getting in the way?  Korach refused to talk. Are we really talking or are we are simply waiting our turn until the other person finishes, so we can talk. In other words, pretending to converse, but failing to truly communicate and engage with one another. Are we really willing to concede the truth of the other, or do we have no intention of changing our minds, arguing for arguments sake? That type of dispute results in no benefit and no hope for the future.  Are we willing to acknowledge that truth, respect it, even if we cannot share it? If we can, then that relationship shall surely endure.

Shabbat Shalom

O Jerusalem! Parashat Bahaalotecha

Isn’t it amazing the things from childhood that stick in one’s mind?  Why do we remember some things, and not others?  Psychologists tell us that events which are emotionally charged with surprise, joy, anger, shame, or fear are more frequently recalled than neutral ones.  As Maya Angelou says, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

I remember one such event with my father that occurred on April 12, 1963. That night, my dad and I were watching the Jack Paar show. I know the date, because I was able to find information on the broadcast of this particular show on the internet.  It was a Friday night, and there was no school the next day, so I got to stay up late! Jack Paar was showing some home movies of his recent trip to Jerusalem in honor of Good Friday. I remember watching with my dad as donkeys carried satchels on their backs through the dusty streets of the Old City. That is all I can remember of the show. But I clearly can remember the conversation that occurred afterwards.  Turning to my father I asked, “Wouldn’t you love to go visit Jerusalem someday?” My father answered, that no, he did not want to visit Jerusalem someday. He had been there as a soldier during World War ll and he had not been impressed. It was hot, and dusty, and smelly, he said. It was not a place to which he had any desire to return.  

I have to admit that I felt deeply disappointed and let down by my Father’s response. And I felt confused, because I knew Judaism was very important to my father. How could he NOT want to visit Israel? We had been learning about Israel in our Hebrew School and I, at least, was very interested in going. I remember in the 6^th grade scouring the current events magazine for schoolchildren, “My Weekly Reader” for news of Israel, and never finding a mention of it. That disappointed me too!  Now my Dad not only said he did not wish to visit Israel, but he had strong negative feelings about Jerusalem, our Holy City! I did not yet understand that the Old City was under Jordanian rule and was not part of Israel proper. I also did not understand that, while,  Jack Paar , a Christian, was permitted to visit Christian holy sites in the Old City,  Jews were barred from visiting any of the Jewish holy sites that the Jordanians had been unable to destroy when they captured the city in 1948. 

A few weeks ago, Rabbi Mitch Wohlberg of Baltimore wrote a sermon that helped me to understand my father’s attitude toward Israel so many years ago. In 1966, Mitch Wohlberg was a 22 year old graduate of Yeshivah University with a Master’s Degree in English. His father, a prominent Orthodox rabbi, had been a delegate to the World Zionist Congress in 1935 and rose to become President of the Religious Zionists of America, an Orthodox Israel advocacy group. As a child and young adult, Rabbi Wohlberg recalls prominent Israeli religious and political figures speaking at his father’s synagogue and having dinner at their home. Yet Rabbi Wohlberg writes that he felt very little connection with these people. Israel, he says, seemed so distant to him. His father’s guests might have been from Afghanistan, or China for all it mattered!   When he married in 1966, he and his wife were given Israel Bonds that, they were told, could be cashed in when they went to Israel. But they had no intention of going to Israel either! They were honeymooning in Caribbean!

Rabbi Wohlberg goes on to tell us how his feelings towards Israel changed a year later. On June 7, 1967, Israeli Defense Forces Paratroopers advanced through the Old City of Jerusalem toward the Western Wall, bringing this holiest of Jewish sites under Jewish control for the first time in 2000 years. The lightening victory in the Six Day War of Israel over the combined forces of Egypt, Syria and Jordan captured the imagination of people all over the world. Overnight the image of the Jew as weak cowards was replaced by one of the Israeli soldier, combat helmet in hand, Uzi slung over his shoulder, gazing in awe at the Western Wall. Shortly after the victory, Rabbi Wohlberg and his wife did travel to Israel. In his sermon he writes about the transformative effect that this post Six Day War visit to Israel had on his life:

“All of a sudden, words of Torah that I had been taught as a child were unfolding before my very eyes.  All of a sudden, there was talk of the Temple Mount and the Beit Ha-mikadesh.  All of a sudden, there were victorious Jewish soldiers and there was talk of the return of the Maccabees……….And I was never the same.  Being Jewish was no longer an accident of birth.  It was a source of pride!”  …………. “All of a sudden,” he writes, “I could trade in the bonds and was loaded with cash.  All of a sudden, my Masters in English lost all meaning and I wanted to be a rabbi.”  

If the son of a leading Orthodox rabbi so involved in Israel could feel so disengaged from Israel prior to the Six Day War in 1967, I can understand how my Dad, the son of a small grocer in Northeastern Pennsylvania, could have felt so detached  from the Jewish state back in 1963. For many Jews around the world, that apathy was transformed into pride fifty years ago this week. Whereas in 1963 I longed to see Israel featured at least one time in “My Weekly Reader”, suddenly Israel was all over the news – and it has stayed that way! 

 The news of Israel’s victory even penetrated the Iron Curtain. Natan Sharansky, who would go on to achieve world-wide fame as a symbol of Soviet Jewry, was a 19 year old at the time of the Six Day War. He writes about the effect the Israeli capture of Jerusalem had on Soviet Jews who were denied the right of religious expression by the communist government:

“And while we had no idea what the Temple Mount was, we did know that the fact that it was in our hands had won us respect. Like a cry from our distant past, it told us that we were no longer displaced and isolated. We belonged to something, even if we did not yet know what, or why.”

Our Haftorah for this week, from the Prophet Zachariah, begins with the stirring words, “Rejoice and be glad, O Jerusalem, for G-d returns to dwell in your midst….. G-d will choose Jerusalem once more.” Fifty years ago this week that hope for a return to Jerusalem expressed by the Prophet Zacheriah was fulfilled as the young nation-state of Israel captured the Holy City and began a new chapter in the story of the Jewish people.

Shabbat Shalom

Drink "Lechayim -- To Life"! Parashat Naso

Can drinking wine help you at work? This was the question that blared from the headlines of this Monday’s Business Section of the Chicago Tribune.  Maybe some of you saw it. Upon reading the article one found that it was not about the benefits of drinking wine at work. The piece was about the lessons Bianca Rosker discovered when she quit her job as executive tech editor of the Huffington Post to become a professional wine taster. As a sommelier, Rosker had to develop and expertise in “blind tasting” – identifying a wine’s origin, grape and flavor notes without any previous knowledge of the wine that might cloud her judgement.  Through developing this skill, Rosker deduced a number of principles that could help people in their daily work. She learned that in order to accurately assess wine one had to quiet one’s mind and focus on the task at hand. Staying in the moment and concentrating on the qualities of the wine before you is critical to success as a sommelier. One also needs to trust one’s own judgement. In blind tasting you have nothing but your own sense of taste, smell and sight to assess a wine.  She also learned that one must not be swayed by hype. Extravagant publicity, celebrity endorsements, sophisticated marketing or aggressive promotion introduce bias into our assessments and/or decisions. What is most heavily marketed or popular is often not the best. In tasting wine, one also needs to cultivate a critical eye, to learn to discriminate between what is excellent and what is mediocre. This too, is an important skill to develop in other professions.

Wine, of course, is important in Jewish ritual life. We sanctify each Sabbath and Festival with wine, we solemnize marriages with wine, wine is present at a bris and at Havdalah, and let’s not forget the four cups of wine we drink at the seder! The majestic Psalm 104 mentions wine and bread as two things that G-d created for humankind’s benefit – “G-d made wine that gladdens the heart of humankind …. And bread that sustains the heart of humankind”

That makes it all the more strange that in this week’s Torah portion we find that abstaining from wine is one of the requirements in achieving a special state of holiness. A person who takes upon themselves this additional dedication to the Divine is called, in the Torah, a Nazarite. This is not to be confused, as it often is, with a Nazarene, a person from the town of Nazareth. Jesus was a Nazarene, not a Nazarite! The Nazarite is a Jew who takes a vow to let their hair grow, to avoid coming into contact with the dead, and to abstain from wine in an effort to come closer to G-d.  These are the outward signs of their consecration to G-d. Given the centrality of wine to the Jewish ritual, the rabbis ask why the Nazarite needs to abstain from wine.  One key to solving this mystery, say the rabbis, is to look at it in the context of the Torah as a whole. Just prior to the Nazarite section in the Torah, we have a section on the laws pertaining to a woman who is suspected of adultery by her jealous husband. Both adultery and jealousy represent serious character flaws. The medieval sage Rashi says that the laws of the Nazarite follow the laws of the adulterous wife to teach that, “One who sees the moral failure of a husband or wife should abstain from wine.”

How might we understand this latter statement?  Perhaps Rashi is saying that if you can so clearly see a character flaw in someone else, it is quite possible that you have the same character flaw yourself! “It takes one to know one,” as the saying goes. For those who are struggling to contain destructive inner forces – like their anger, their jealousy, their greed or their desire, for example -- the lowering of inhibitions can be disastrous. Therefore, one should give up wine, for wine is the middleman between such a person’s latent moral shortcomings and their sinful expression acted out in the world.

The Baal Shem Tov teaches that it is not just an “accident” that one observes a character flaw like this in another. There are some people who are consciously looking for the shortcomings in others. These are folks that go about examining others to discern their moral blemishes, their weaknesses and their failings. They might even take pleasure in the downfall of others. These people, according to Chassidic thought, ought to abstain from wine, for the effects of wine will only magnify their tendencies to see others in the worst possible light.

For most people, wine, in moderation, is generally a good thing – it lowers inhibitions a bit in social situations, relaxes us and can enhance conversation. Enjoying wine, in itself, can be a pleasurable experience.  That is why one rabbi of the Talmud said that in their effort to dedicate themselves to G-d, the Nazerite, in fact, becomes a sinner! According to this rabbi, it wasn’t that G-d gave us wine so that we can learn good work habits. G-d created wine solely for our enjoyment! G-d wants His creatures to enjoy this world fully. To abstain from a pleasure that is permitted in this world – the taste, the smell, the sight of a fine wine – is to transgress against our Creator who created this “fruit of the vine” for our delight.

And to that, I think we can all drink, “LeChaim”.

Shabbat Shalom