EXOD246 Trust in God in regard to livelihood. The way one should trust in God in regard to one's livelihood is as follows. If it is withheld from him on occasion, he should say in his heart: The One Who brought me into this world at a certain time and at a certain moment, neither earlier nor later, He is the One Who withholds from me my livelihood until a certain moment and day, knowing what is best for me. So too, when his income is very limited and does not exceed the basic minimum by even the slightest, he should reflect in his heart and say: He provided me, at the start of my life, with my daily food at my mother's breasts, according to my need and enough to sustain me, until replacing it with something better; and the limited supply did not harm me in the least. In the same way, I will suffer no harm on account of the limited, minimal income He now gives me, to the end of my days. He will be rewarded for this, as the Creator said of our forefathers in the wilderness, who were in a similar situation: “The people shall go out and gather that day’s portion each day” (Shemos 16:4).

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EXOD248 One of the purposes of the Torah, the sole purpose, according to the Talmud Kiddushin 21b, was to teach man how to overcome and defeat his desire for evil. God sets up all of human endeavor as a moral test for the human being. He presents the moral situations, and it is up to us to react properly and defeat the desire to do bad, as God did in providing the manna for the Jews in the desert, which He said was a daily test, as Jews were asked to believe in God's promise for daily manna. If we overcome desire and exercise self-control, then we will get reward, whether it be a slimmer figure when dieting or entrance to the world to come. We can indeed view each act in our lives as a test. Every morning, each adult decides whether to go to work or not. At the breakfast table, we choose to be nice or not nice to our spouse. On the road, we must decide to exceed or not to exceed the speed limit. Children must decide each day whether or not to do homework. Because there are so many small and large moral tests each day, we should not look for "extra" situations in which to test ourselves. The evil desire is difficult enough to overcome as it is. Taanit 20b

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EXOD249 The Talmud Sukkah 21a informs us that the struggle against the evil impulse takes place every day of a person's life, as we saw earlier with the manna, [this verse] and that God desired the test to be a daily one. In order to succeed in each of our daily moral choices, Maimonides Hilchot Teshuvah 3:4 suggests that a person view his or her past record as fifty-fifty. Then, the next act will be the one that determines if the person will be judged as a righteous person or as an evil person. Thus, each action will be given proper reflection and importance. It is also important that in deciding to commit a moral or an immoral act, a person be decisive like the people with Elijah the prophet, 1 Kings 18:21 where he urged them to "get off the fence" and decide whether to worship the idol Baal or God.

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EXOD247 … dating isn't marriage. It also isn't something for which there is a set playbook (would that it were so easy!) Instead, it is the chance to be intimately uncertain with another human being. Dating is about uncertainty, about learning to shepherd uncertainty and allowing it either to grow into a commitment or a separation. The question we need to ask, as a result, is how we embrace that uncertainty when we are in relationships, and how we honor it while protecting both people involved. For this reason, I think that the gender and sexuality of the partners does not matter at all. The obligation to protect another human being and treat that person well has no gendered boundaries or boundaries of sexual orientation. The question of how to embrace that uncertainty is a very straightforward one. But the problem with straightforward questions is that the answers are often messy, nowhere more so than in relationships. So to try to answer this question, I want to bring in a metaphor from Torah. One of the pleasant things about our Torah is that it doesn't have much patience for idealized relationships. There isn't a single one in the text that I can think of that isn't fraught with real tensions in a whole lot of problems. As a result, Torah can speak to both difficult relationships and difficulties in relationships with a relevance that is almost surprising. One moment in particular is of use for our purposes, an example of one of the failures in the relationship between God and Israel. During our time in the desert we didn't eat food, per se. We ate manna, which was both quite good and easy to collect. No matter how much time one spent harvesting it, everyone would gather the same amount. The first question to ask, for the purposes of our metaphor, is why manna in the first place? It does not seem, from the biblical sources, that God had any concern about providing regular food. What was the point of the manna? Here's the Torah’s response: “And God said to Moshe, ‘Behold I will rain down bread for you from the sky, and the people shall go out and gather each day that day's portion—that I may test them, to see whether they will follow my instructions or not.’ (Exodus 16:4). There were definitely some who were not satisfied with the situation: (Numbers 11:4-6). God was not pleased with this complaint, and eventually fed the people so much meat that they choked on it. What was the problem? Why was the desire for variety such an anathema? I understand manna as the symbol of the early romance between God and the Jewish people. Manna is both real and not real, like early infatuation. The thing about manna was that you didn't have to work for it; it existed in the same amount no matter how much you invested in collecting it, and it was meant to be replaced by the harvest once Israel made it into the Promised Land. (Deuteronomy 25). Manna hinted at the promise of a fuller relationship, one that was built on work and a mutual covenant, but one that had not yet been realized. Israelites couldn't figure this out. When the newness and novelty of the manna began to fade, they made a double mistake. First, they idealized their life before the covenant with God, “We remember the fish that we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leaks, the onions, and the garlic.” This of course was ridiculous--the life of slavery that they endured had a high price, whether or not their slave masters required them to pay for their food. Second, they weren't able to realize what the manna represented--a honeymoon, as it were--and that the substance for which they were looking required a deeper commitment, not a lesser one. As the mistake was doubled, so was the lesson: In order to protect our partners and ourselves, and in order to allow the possibilities to play out, we have to be able to be patient with the uncertainty of our relationships, be that expressed through boredom, infatuation, or doubt. Both realizing other relationships and expecting more from a relationship we have than that connection is ready to provide are ways of being impatient with what we've got, as the Israelites were impatient with manna. (By Scott Perlo)

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EXOD250 See [[GEN959]] Genesis 18:17 hide DUTIES 587

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EXOD251 Our Sages of blessed memory have said (Sotah 5b): "How great are those who are lowly in spirit, for when the Beis HaMikdash was in existence a person would sacrifice a burnt-offering and would be credited for the burnt–offering, [he would sacrifice] a meal-offering and he would be credited for the meal-offering. Yet he who is humble in mind is considered as if he has sacrificed all of the offerings possible, (Tehillim 51:19): 'The [preferred] Divine sacrifices are [those of] a broken spirit.'" This is the praise given to the lowly in spirit, for they possess humility in their hearts and thoughts. And they also said (Chullin 89a): "[With reference to the verse]' Not because you are more numerous than all the nations did the Eternal desire you' (Devarim 7:7), the Holy One blessed be He said to them (to Israel):' My sons, I desire you, for even when I imbue you with greatness you diminish yourselves before Me. I bestowed greatness upon Avraham; he said, 'And I am dust and ashes' (Bereishis 18:27). I bestowed greatness upon Moshe and Aharon; they said, 'And what are we' [this verse]. I bestowed greatness upon David; he said, 'But I am a worm, and not a man' (Tehillim 22:7)." All of this emerges from a truthful heart that will not be swayed by all the virtues that one may possess. Such an individual knows very well that, due to other shortcomings that are an inseparable part of him, [his virtues] will not elevate him from his state of loneliness.… Any virtue that he acquires is nothing less than a Divine act of benevolence that has been done in his favor, even though he is by his very nature and physical makeup lowly and shameful. Therefore, he must thank the One Who has graced him [in this manner] and humble himself [before Him] all the more so.

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EXOD252 Many of the biblical figures that our Jewish teachers want us to emulate have a strong sense of their personal insignificance. Abraham, who lived more like a sheik than a poor nomadic herdsman, refers to himself as “but dust and ashes” [Gen. 18:27]. Moses and Aaron, after negotiating with Pharaoh to bring the Jews out of Egypt, ask, “Who are we?” [this verse] David poetically disparages himself, saying: “I am a worm, less than human, scorned by men, despised by people” Psalm 22:7. Such putting oneself “in one’s place” continues as a significant theme throughout Jewish literature. The early 13th century Franco-German sage Judah the Pious counsels: “One should remember that snow begins pure white but soon turns into slush. So we, too, despite our great beauty, will one day become a small heap of worm-eaten matter” Judah Hehasid, Sefer Hasidim, 305. The Spanish mystic-philosopher Nahmanides, living about the same time as Judah, gives this advice to his children: “Let your voice be low and your head bowed; let your eyes turn earthwards—every man should seem in your eyes as one greater than yourselves” Hebrew Ethical Wills. Maimonides explains this austere attitude: “Some believe that it is forbidden to take the middle way when it comes to humility. Rather, they think people should distance themselves as far as possible from the one extreme, pridefulness, and go to the other. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deot 2:3. For pride, says the Bible, is the great threat to Jewish character and deserves God’s punishment: “God, see every proud man and bring him low” Job 40:11. “God says, ‘I cannot endure the haughty and proud man’” Psalms 101:5 “Adonai abominates haughty people” Proverbs 16:5   The antidote to pride is humility. For centuries, our teachers have sought ways to keep us from becoming people who “Lie back on our beds, sigh, and say in our heart, ‘How great I am’” Maimon, Sarei Meah [The century’s princes].

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EXOD253 How should a leader behave? In reference to the laws concerning Jewish kings, Rambam defines how a leader should perceive his role: In the same manner as the Torah accords him (a Jewish king) honor, it also commands him to be modest and unassuming. He should not behave in a haughty manner toward his fellow Jews, as the verse says, "… in order that his heart should not become elevated over his brethren…" (Devarim 17:20). When addressing the congregation, he should speak in a soft manner, as the verse says, "Listen to me, my brothers and my people" (Divrei Hayamim I 28:2). He must conduct himself with extreme humility--no man surpassed Moshe Rabbeinu's achievements, and yet he said, "What are we?" [this verse]. He must bear their burden, complaints and angry outbursts (Hilchos Melachim ch.2). If this degree of humility is required of a king, then certainly a common person, even a supervisor over hundreds of people, is obligated to act in a humble and unpretentious manner. In actuality, a person who conducts himself in a self-effacing manner only stands to gain, since people are more likely to be influenced by a humble person than by a haughty one. As the verse says, "The gentle words of the wise are heeded" (Koheles 9:17).

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EXOD254 As we continue our study of Talmudic ethics, it becomes clear that the Rabbis regarded the performance of the Mitzvot not as ends in themselves but as stepping–stones to Godliness. It was because "the Holy One was pleased to make Israel worthy that He gave them a copious Torah and many commandments; as it is said (Is. xlii.21): "It pleased the Lord, for His righteousness' sake, to magnify the Torah and to make it honorable" [Makkot 23b]. This purpose of our Halachah, and its network of regulations, emerges even more strikingly from a passage in the Tanhuma: "Does it then make any material difference to God whether one ritually slaughters a beast before eating it, or if he eats it without Shehitah? Or do you really think it is of such critical concerned to Him if one eats unclean things? No. The regulations governing our food laws were given, so that men through their observance, became purer and holier beings." It is natural that not only the laws themselves but all the wealth of details that grew around them were vested with divine authority. For these helped to teach the Jew to control his desire in appetite, apart from furthering in him regard for hygiene and a striving after holiness. "It cannot be emphasized too often dealing with the laws of the Torah, the Rabbis delved deep in order to discover their underlying ethical purpose. Even ritual laws, perhaps the least expected moral sources, were made to yield of moral laws!" [J.Z. Lauterbach, "The Ethics of Halachah", Central Conference of American Rabbis, Vol. XXIII, 1913]. The two loaves on the table on the Eve of Sabbath must be covered when the Kiddush is recited. Firstly, because the double portion of Manna which came down on the sixth day (of which the two Hallot are reminiscently symbolical) was covered with a fine layer of dew [this verse]. Secondly, perhaps to teach the virtue of consideration; for although the loaves were placed on the table as soon at the table – cloth was spread, they now find themselves "by-passed" by the wine which appeared on the table afterwards. Accordingly, we cover them that they should not, as it were, witness our slight of them. If inanimate things are so considerately treated, how much more so should man?

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EXOD255 Growing [into a fuller maturity] began, says the Torah, in the early days of the Wilderness trek, just after the Breath of Life freed ancient Israelites from the power-greedy Pharaoh who enslaves human beings and brings plagues upon the Earth. The first discovery of these runaway slaves is the Shabbat [Sabbath] that comes with manna --a taste of rest from endless toil, and a gift from the abundant Earth. For manna is the food that the Earth gives freely, so that eating it barely requires any work at all [Exod. 16:14-30]. With the manna comes the information that on the morning of each sixth day, the manna will come in a double portion so that no one will have to do even the light work of gathering it on the seventh day, Shabbat. It is as if the first realization of the people newly freed--Even before they have their Encounter with God at Sinai--is that there must be time to rest and reflect, for otherwise they are still in slavery. If the deep misstep of Eden was refusing to restrain human inclinations to gobble up the Earth, then Shabbat comes as a time for choosing self-restraint--not a grim ascetic self-restraint, but one of joyful abundance in community. And since the mistake of Eden was overeating, then this partial reversal must come with a different kind of eating. Says Isaiah (51:3): "Yayasem midbarah k'eden v'arvatah k'gan YHVH." "You turn the barren place to Eden, and the desert to a garden breathing Life." (By Arthur Waskow, "Jewish Environmental Ethics: Intertwining Adam with Adamah")

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