(For)Getting God's Goat: T.O.R.A.H. Part 2

In anticipation of Yom Kippur 5771, a Potzker tale


1001 Jewish Nights


The Potzker Rebbe (if he ever existed) taught the following (if it ever happened):

In the formative years of rabbinic Judaism, the schools of Shammai and Hillel were burdened with the task of directing the Jewish people onto the path of God’s vision for mankind.

Conflicts regularly arose between the two schools as to which tracks were true to the path, and like partners in a marital dispute, each school was sure it held the correct opinion. However, their shared love of Torah helped them to realize that they could both be right, and peace prevailed for the sake of a higher purpose.

Their world was Torah, and Torah was their world.

A non-Jew, hoping to bring order to the chaos of his personal world, heard of the reputations of these two schools, and decided to seek spiritual guidance from their heads.

He first presented himself to Shammai, who was busying himself in his trade of carpentry by building a stool.

“Please teach me the minimum I need to know to become a Jew. What are the core principles that come together to create a unity of purpose? Is your religion like the stool that you are creating, such that, if you remove one of its legs, the whole entity falls over and breaks? What is that leg?”

Being the carpenter that he was, Shammai did indeed see the world as a finely crafted but precariously balanced stool. The world, represented by the stool, only continued to exist because of mankind’s collective pursuit of the three legs of the stool: truth, justice and peace. The fragile balance of these three legs was dependent on a state of constant dynamic correction by their three feet: scholarly pursuit, humble worship and deeds rooted in compassion and understanding.

The somewhat hostile nature of the question posed by the potential convert seemed to indicate to Shammai an attitude that was ill-prepared to handle the nuances of the stool metaphor. His reluctance in answering the question was quickly superseded by a sudden realization that the stranger’s inquiry may have been motivated by a desire to somehow use the answer at a later juncture in time as ammunition against the Jewish people. Fueled by the paranoia that comes from living in dangerous times, Shammai chased the potential student away with the measuring stick that he had been using to cut the wood for the stool. Shammai thought that the symbolism involved in that action would give the gentleman something to ponder should he wish to make a second attempt at feeding his curiosity.

Disappointed but not discouraged, the next day the man sought out Hillel, who had a reputation for being more compassionate.

The stranger asked Hillel the same question.

“I would like to become a Jew. What is the one principle that I have to understand?”

Hillel looked the man straight in the eyes in order to assess the questioner’s sincerity. It appeared authentic

Hillel responded.

“Do not do unto others as you have just done unto me. Do you understand the pain that you can bring upon another by asking a bad question? There is one answer to your question. Go and learn how to ask questions.”

The stranger, having experienced the pained expression in Hillel’s eyes, understood the potential toll that a bad question could take, and made a commitment to become a master of the art of the question.

His name, you ask?

Yehuda ben Damah.

Never heard of him? Perhaps you are aware of his work. For example, he was the person who popularized the custom of answering a question with a question, a Jewish tradition that exists to this very day.

By the time he officially converted, Yehuda was recognized as a person who could capture the heart of any matter with a few simple questions. Some say that his simple but profound questioning purified his soul to a level that no other rabbi of his era ever matched.

Day after day, Yehuda sharpened his mental probe, until one sunny afternoon, he came upon what seemed to be the ultimate simple question that could serve as his companion throughout his life journeys.

“Where is it from?” he would inquire of all that was presented to him.

Yehuda loved tracing anything to its roots, whether it was an idea or a material object. At his Shabbat dinner table he would pick an item and trace it back to its origins, telling stories for hours on end about all of the components of the subject under consideration and the different types of people it may have met along the way, until ultimately, the question and answer became one.

The source?

The Source!

Iconoclastic by nature, people lovingly embraced this mischievous but penetrating question, and the man who introduced them to it. Whenever the rabbis of the day insisted on enforcing religious rituals, the people insisted on asking where the idea came from in the first place, and it wasn’t long before they simply reduced the process to singing the two word chant with the musical inflections and intonations Yehuda had taught them:

The source???

When they were convinced that the source of the rabbinic ruling was indeed the Source of All, the people praised the rabbis and the God who gave them the wisdom to ask questions.



Yehuda made a point of visiting both the schools of Shammai and Hillel on a regular basis to hone his skills and enlarge his base of knowledge. He was fascinated by their ability to agree to disagree on most issues, and studied the dynamics of how they managed the questions before them.

Each school saw brilliance in the other school’s arguments, and day after day strove to rise to the challenge of coming up with points to outshine the other. This process took an enormous toll on Hillel, Shammai, and their students, physically, mentally and at times emotionally.

It is said that in a low moment, Shammai thought to himself, “Better that Hillel was never born so that God’s vision, as I see it, can unfold smoothly.”

Hillel was once overheard mumbling to himself, “Better that I was never born, so that I would not have to suffer endless nights of sleeplessness trying to counter Shammai’s brilliant arguments, for a man needs his sleep. Without sleep, I am not myself, and if I am not myself, who am I?”

Once, in the heat of an argument with Hillel, Shammai blurted out, “Better if man had not been created.” Hillel did not realize that Shammai was referring to Hillel, and, according to the rules of engagement, accepted this argument as the opening question for a debate between the two schools.

Thus began a mental battle that went on for day after day, and for Hillel, night after night, for two and a half years.

In the end, both schools agreed with Shammai’s argument that it would have been better if God had not created man.

Upon further reflection, Hillel suspected that this declaration may be misunderstood over time, so he insisted that the statement be amended. Since there was no way of reversing God’s mistake in creating man, and since every human being, having been created in God’s image, was therefore also vulnerable to mistakes, Hillel made it clear in his amendment that it was incumbent upon each individual, when challenged with a decision, to carefully examine the deeds involved in the decision making process for potential errors, such as the error Hillel had made in agreeing to debate Shammai’s ill-conceived argument. Hillel regretted the fact that he engaged in debating a bad question, unsure as to why he had pursued a line of action that he would normally strongly advise others to avoid. It is said that when Hillel encountered Rabbi Yehuda after the compromise with Shammai had been publicly proclaimed, both men simultaneously avoided making eye contact in order to avoid inflicting unnecessary pain on the other, a pain that only a teacher and student can share.



Nevertheless, after 900 days, the issue had been resolved. At least that is what Hillel thought at the time, especially after Shammai had accepted his amendment. However, for the next 100 nights, he still had problems sleeping, frequently waking to the bitter aftertaste of the sour compromise that he had agreed to.

On day 1001, Hillel’s world changed.

It was on that day that the soul of Yehuda ben Damah was severed from its connection to its body.

Hillel witnessed the public execution of Rabbi Yehuda at the hands of his Roman torturers, a death so horrible, that the details are still unspeakable to this day.

That night, it is said that Rabbi Yehuda visited Hillel in a dream. Yehuda taught his teacher that God was delighted that Hillel and Shammai reached the appropriate conclusion in their debate, confirming that the human animal was encumbered by some truly significant design flaws. However, Yehuda also taught that any aggrieved individual who had suffered as a result of these flaws should carefully listen to the shofar blasts on Rosh Hashanah, because within the silence between these sounds one can hear an apology from God for that person’s pain. Yehuda urged Hillel to teach people to pay attention to this silence in order to give them the opportunity to fulfill the mitzvah of forgiving all sincere repentance offered during the Ten Days of Repentance, even if the repentant is God himself.

Personally, Hillel did not need to wait for Rosh Hashanah. That very night, within the period of time that flies within one dream, Hillel was able to fully forgive God by liberating all of the healing power found within the soul that God had given him.

Hillel slept peacefully through the rest of that night for the first time in 1001 nights.

The source of his peace?

The Source.



ADDENDUM

Some question the authenticity of this teaching, as converts are usually named after our forefather Abraham, i.e. ben Abraham.

The Potzker tells a tale about how Yehuda ben Damah was named.

Those in the Shammai camp had heard that their teacher had initially rejected Yehuda’s request to be taught to be a Jew. In the Rabbinical Court prior to the conversion, they raised concerns about his lineage.

“This man descends from a long line of butchers, and we suspect he may in action be a spiritual descendant of Cain, the first human to shed the blood, the dam, of his brother on God’s holy adamah, the earth granted to him by his father Adam. Slaughtering animals and eating their blood is in his blood. What if he is damah, resembling his ancestors in ways that cannot be changed? He has tasted of the finest of meats, from all of the animals that non-Jews enjoy. Surely he will drift into his old ways and taste the forbidden.”

Hillel is said to have risen and taught those present:

“I personally will train this man to become a ritual slaughterer. Let him be named Yehuda, in recognition of his sensitivity to the largest of our tribes to survive slaughter. And let him be named ben Damah in recognition your concerns. You, who doubt that this man is entitled to a name with the holy letter aleph in it, will some day in your minds recognize that he is indeed a man of adamah, the pure earth that existed in the paradise of Eden before the creation of Adam. But, because of your baseless hatred, his name shall forever be ben Damah, stripped of its holy aleph, as a reminder to others not to do what you have done today with your prejudice toward this man’s spiritual purity, for such hatred only brings calamity upon all of us.”

And so, after the conversion, Hillel took Yehuda under his wing and taught him how to approach all creatures with the purest of mindsets, recognizing the Creator in each and every business encounter with an animal in his new job as a ritual slaughterer.

As Yehuda continued in his studies with Hillel, his attitude at work began to shift. It was not long before Yehuda cried tears of compassion prior to each and every slaughter, no matter if the animal before him was the most magnificent of cows or the lowliest of chickens.

Identifying a need in the community, Yehuda opened a butcher shop that was innovative for its time. He lovingly cleaned and properly salted all of the meat, liberating the women of the town from this non-rewarding task and thereby giving them more time to attend to higher tasks. The townspeople appreciated his efforts and grew to love their butcher who loved them back, and he showed it through the quality of the food that he tenderly prepared for them. In his efforts to make life more meaningful for his clients, he added one innovation to his store that changed everything. Yehuda sold meat that he had personally cooked, using a special blend of herbs and spices. The aromas wafting from his shop filled the neighborhood, and people flocked to his store to taste what Yehuda had prepared to please God’s nose. Hillel had taught Yehuda that when God was angry, his nostrils flared. Yehuda undertook his cooking as a form of prayer aimed at bringing peace upon the heavens by appeasing God’s nose, and thereby indirectly bringing peace back upon the earth. The people of the town gave Yehuda plenty of opportunity to worship God in his unique way, and within a short period of time, they stopped cooking meat altogether and relied upon Yehuda. After a while, the people even forgot how to cook meat, but that did not matter, as they had a taste of heaven readily available at the local butcher shop.

Over the years, the people noticed a change in Yehuda. He would serve each customer with a tear in his eye, and the people soon realized that they were not just purchasing meat, they were buying the flesh of animals that Yehuda had a personal relationship with. As a result, the townspeople eventually lost their appetite for eating any animal from which blood had to be drained. Out of compassion for the man they had grown to love, business dwindled to a trickle before it ceased altogether, making Yehuda the happiest man in town. Eventually Yehuda the butcher became Yehuda the baker, creating the most aromatically pleasing baked goods known to man and God. From that time on, the only tears that ever crossed his eyes were tears of joy.


It is said that the torture and execution of Yehuda ben Damah by the Romans involved a roasting pit and a special blend of herbs and spices. No other details were ever spoken. Since his death almost two thousand years ago, Jews throughout the world remember the name Yehuda ben Damah every Yom Kippur.

No additional words are said. Just the name, followed by silence.

Some contemplate the connection between the Hebrew word for teardrop, dama, and the Hebrew word damah, which means bearing a similarity to, and shed tears in comparing our world to his.

Some meditate on the aleph that is missing from his name, channeling the energy of this letter through the pain in their hearts, releasing it through a thin crack in their lips as a whispering sigh, a kol demahma dakah.

Others strive to smell the aroma of his baked goods and mingle that sensation with the one emanating from their empty bellies, creating a craving that, for a moment, fulfills the task of the day, the affliction of the collective Jewish soul.

Others can smell the odors of his execution, odors that mysteriously re-appeared in Europe generations ago, and worry about the vulnerable humans who can still to this day be seduced by these very same odors.

A few maintain the name Yehuda ben Damah in their heads from the time his name is mentioned until the end of the Yom Kippur service. Upon leaving the synagogue, they gaze upwards at the almost full moon and silently contemplate a midrash about the moon’s creation. Legend has it that God, feeling guilty for humiliating the moon by asking it to diminish its size relative to the sun, ordered that a goat that be sacrificed every new moon as atonement for his sin. They find some solace in thinking to themselves that, even if they failed to hear an apology between the shofar blasts ten days earlier, it is easy to extrapolate that a God that could feel guilty over the suffering of a huge rock would logically be apologetic for the unnecessary suffering that his human creations inflict upon one another. Seeing the moon not quite full serves as a reminder that, being a human with limitations makes it difficult to emulate Hillel and fully forgive God, as history teaches that events over the course of the upcoming year will surely challenge even the most sincere desire to forgive the Creator of All. Nevertheless, in memory of Yehuda ben Damah and other role models from the past, these people dedicate themselves annually to redeeming God’s vision for what mankind could be.

The story of Yehuda ben Damah, as taught by the Potzker, can generate much thought and action. But it is characterized by the silence. By not saying anything about Yehuda ben Damah on Yom Kippur, we emulate the example set by Aaron after the fiery death of his two sons, Nadav and Avihu.
Vayidom Aharon (Leviticus 10:3).
And though Aaron’s blood was hot, his lips were not.

And by remembering the encounter between Shammai and Yehuda, we are reminded that the world is, indeed, a stool.

Rosh Hashinui: The Potzker's T.O.R.A.H. (Teachings Of Repentance And Healing).

The following is presented in honour of the upcoming New Year 5771.
May we all be blessed with a sweet year.

Magen Avraham


The Potzker Rebbe taught:

“Understanding comes from reading between the lines, but wisdom comes from reading within all spaces.” He meditated upon these words daily.

Every Rosh Hashanah, the Potzker was troubled by the lack of peace he found within the choice of the binding of Isaac as the Torah reading of the day. Every year he wished with all his heart and with all his soul that this time, somehow, he could find some mental stillness within the reading. Anticipating the usual commotion in his mind during the Torah reading, he rose early one Rosh Hashanah morning and took a walk through the woods near his home, while vigorously and repeatedly chanting to himself:

“Understanding comes from reading between the lines, but wisdom comes from reading within all spaces.”

That morning, as the time for the Torah reading approached, an air of melancholy swept through the Potzker’s soul. It appeared that there would again be no respite from his discomfort, despite the efforts exerted during his walk. However, as the holy passages of the Torah portion were read aloud, the Potzker noticed that the melancholy began to lift, and was replaced by a lightness, a physical illumination that became brighter and brighter with the recitation of each word. By the conclusion of the Torah reading, the Potzker had found a new interpretation of the binding of Isaac that, at least temporarily, resonated peacefully within his sense of reality. What follows is that teaching:

The human being proved to be one of God’s greatest creative challenges. Despite the initial setbacks of the Garden of Eden, Cain and Abel, the Nephilim episode, the Great Flood and the Tower of Babel, God balanced his disappointment with divine optimism. God felt that, with Abraham’s moral development, he had finally succeeded in creating a human being that captured the essence of what he had envisioned at the conclusion of the sixth day of creation, when he saw that all that he had brought into motion was full of potential for good.

The angels as a group were never supportive of the creation of the human, and dutifully reminded God of the previous setbacks on a regular basis, while repeatedly and lovingly encouraging God to the abort the project.

God countered their arguments by demonstrating to them Abraham’s pureness of heart through a series of nine tests. As Abraham passed each test, his soul rose to a higher level. With each level of ascension, the angels felt increasingly threatened, because a human was approaching a level of sanctity that they believed only angels were entitled to possess.

The Satan stepped forward.

“Clearly Abraham has the purest heart of any human that has thus far to set foot on the planet. But as we all know, your spiritual shield, the magen, the invisible constant presence that keeps his hands clean, protects him from harming another human being. On behalf of all of the angels, I respectfully ask for one final test, one where you remove your shield from Abraham. Let him show us that he is capable of mastering the vulnerability involved in free choice. With that success we will thereafter praise you night and day for finally having created a human that has achieved a level of spiritual growth that separates him from his predecessors, many with blood on their hands.”

God withdrew to consider the request of his loved ones and came up with a plan to satisfy the angels. He then assembled them together and revealed it to them.

“ In this test, I shall, at the proper time, completely remove the magen that allows a man of absolute faith, such as Abraham, to function in this world. I will present Abraham with a challenge that will demonstrate to all of you that a human is capable of managing the rigidity that stabilizes the core of his spirituality, without any intervention on my part. He will rise to the challenge of the choice between employing rigidity and flexibility, for a healthy spiritual being is a master of both. You will witness for yourselves my ultimate animal creation, a person who, by independent choice, has both clean hands and a pure heart.

I shall command Abraham to sacrifice his son to me. He will sanctify me by defying me. When he passes this test by challenging the limits of intelligent design with the laws of intelligent defiance, you will know that I have finally successfully created a human of integrity who is able to stand on principle, the world’s first true mentsch. I have so much confidence in the success of this test that at its conclusion I shall reveal myself directly to a human being for the first time, face to face. I shall be seen.”

The Satan applauded, and the other angels, taking their cue from him, created a chorus of approval, winking to one another with an air of relief.

.And so, after the above, the process began.

God called out: “Abraham.”

Abraham replied: “Here I am, at your service.”

God proceeded.

“ Take your son, and go to yourself.”

Abraham recognized the latter part of the request from a previous request from God, and awaited further instructions. There were none.

Abraham broke the silence.

“Forgive me, but I do not understand.”

God attempted to clarify the situation by presenting it as a demand.

“Find your selfish side, and indulge it.”

The muscles of Abraham’s forehead wrinkled to form what looked like two gigantic questions marks.

God realized that Abraham was not aware that he even had a selfish side. He decided to clarify the principle to Abraham.

“Take your son, the one, who opened your heart to the love that emanates from creation, Isaac by name. Sacrifice him to me upon my altar, and I will reward you with a blessing, a blessing that is even beyond your imagination. Do this for your self, for the reward.”

Abraham, still not fully comprehending the mission, responded.

“I will do and through this I will understand.”

Abraham slept poorly that night, perplexed by God’ strange request.

In the morning, he awoke to the realization that perhaps that it was not God who had created this scenario, but the Satan masquerading as God. Abraham decided to test his hypothesis. He began talking to himself.

“Many living creatures, from the largest of beasts to the smallest of insects can see what humans cannot see. Surely the donkey of a prophet should have this ability. If I saddle up my donkey and take him on this journey, surely it will refuse to proceed further once it spots the Satan on the road, and this bizarre circumstance will come to its timely end.”

And so, Abraham, the donkey, Isaac, and his two companions began their pilgrimage to the holy mountain. On the third day, Abraham saw the humble elevation to which God had directed his attention, and realized that the donkey hypothesis was not valid. At that point, he decided to proceed without the donkey, and left it in the care of the companions, asking them to watch it carefully for any sign of distress, and to shout to Abraham should it act strangely.

Abraham understood the power of pilgrimage to open the eyes of the heart to the guts of the soul, but was at a loss to explain why he was still on the path that would lead to the sacrifice of Isaac.

Suddenly he was inspired.

Surely God would reject a sacrifice that had a flaw. All he had to do was discover a flaw in Isaac’s soul, and the nightmare would be over.

The questioning began. Abraham probed and probed, but could not find anything to indicate that his son’s heart was impure.

Abraham and Isaac reached the base of Mount Moriah. They bowed towards its peak and then Abraham turned around, hoping to see the companions beckoning them back because the donkey had spotted the Satan. All he saw were smiles and waving arms, blessing them on a successful journey.

The ascent began. Bearing the firewood on his back while his father carried fire in one hand and a knife in the other, Isaac became suspicious.

“Where is the lamb for the sacrifice we are about to make?” he asked.

“God will show himself the lamb to be raised up,” said Abraham cryptically.

Isaac flawlessly accepted the explanation.

The two journeyed together as one up the mountain.

Once they reached the peak, Abraham, maintaining the silence that carried them up the mountain, gave Isaac a look that sent chills up his spine. No words were spoken. No words could even be imagined that could be spoken.

Isaac’s eyes darted back and forth, from the fire to the long shiny knife that was looking more and more like a sword of battle. His eyes finally reconnected with his father’s. Something was missing. The glow of kindness and compassion that usually emanated from the face of Abraham was not there. Not a single blink disturbed Abraham’s focus.

Isaac wanted to speak out, but suddenly fell to the ground paralyzed, unable to move a limb or say a word. At that moment, God temporarily replaced Isaac’s consciousness with that of his own, and waited for events to unfold as he had planned.

Abraham bound the body of Isaac and laid it upon the altar that he had constructed.

God tried to make eye contact with Abraham through Isaac’s eyes, expecting his loyal servant to recognize that it was now God himself that was upon the altar. But something went terribly wrong. Abraham’s glazed eyes soon became filled with tears. To make matters worse, Abraham’s tears dripped directly into the eyes of the body on the altar, disrupting the connection that was essential for Abraham to recognize God in Isaac’s body.

Abraham had a crazed look in his face that so distressed the angels, they began to cry like colicky babies. A salty rain started to descend from the heavens, and God, gazing upward, struggling to make eye contact with Abraham, was hit by a torrent that made it painful to keep open the eyes of the body that he temporarily inhabited. Abraham sent his hand to overcome the force of his mind that prevented him from raising the knife for the completion of his task. Sacrifice was imminent.

The Satan could take no more.

“Abraham!!!!!” yelled the Satan.

The trance failed to be broken.

“Abraham!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he yelled once more, this time breaking the spell that only fanatics can relate to.

“Here I am” responded Abraham.

Abraham’s eyes were now wide open. He at last saw The Presence in the light spot of Isaac’s eyes, and trembled.

The Satan continued.

“Do not through your handiwork inflict your flaw upon this innocent being. I have been authorized by God himself to read to you the following statement.”

The Satan opened up the envelope marked “B.”

“And you did not withhold thy son, thine only son, from me.”

Abraham understood. He had failed the test.

Distraught and panicky, he started searching for an animal, any animal, to sacrifice in order to complete his mission. After all, wasn’t the purpose of the mission, to go to the mountain and make a sacrifice to God? How did Isaac get on the altar and what was God doing in his body, and…...?

Abraham’s mind whirled and whirled, and to regain his balance, he whirled his body in unison with his brain. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a ram with its horns stuck in a bush. Abraham stopped spinning and approached it in silence. He channeled all of his energy into his knife. With one quick swipe across the innocent animal’s neck, Abraham swiftly separated the head from the rest of its body. Leaving the head still entangled in the bush, he gathered up the ram’s body and offered it upon the altar as a sacrifice.

“Yeah, that is it, that is what I came here to do,” he thought to himself.

God was not impressed.

After confirming that Abraham would receive the blessing that was promised to him, from that point onward, God refused to ever speak to Abraham again.

But that did not stop Abraham from speaking to God.

“I name this place God Will See, Yeraeh. In this humble space that barely qualifies as a mountain, you will see in the future how mankind will see you, in this very place that today you hoped to be seen by a simple man. May the blessing that you bestowed upon my self today come to completion, shalem, here. Here, the place where, I, on a mission from God, was ready to kill God in the name of God. Yeraeh Shalem. Yerushalem. Jerusalem.”

Abraham descended the mountain in silence, alone, and for the first time in his life, without the heavenly shield that protected him in the past. God decreed that no human being would ever again have the privilege of experienciencing the shield that protected Abraham. Instead, on another mountaintop in the Sinai desert hundreds of years later, God instructed each of us to become that shield, to take on the duty of protecting the naïve, the innocent and the pure of heart from others and from their own extremism. Jerusalem awaits the sacrifices required to fulfill that vision.