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A Big Goy Tackles the Whole Megillah

Chag Sameach!

So honored to have been included here, tho I’m not sure if Jill realizes what a horrible mistake she’s made. Yes, I write stuff and my kids go to school here; I’m also a big fan of Jill’s and a happy member of this community. But it may interest her to know that the following commentary on the Sukkot torah portion is brought to you by… a major-league goy. A flaming shaggutz. When they talk about “inter-faith couples,” I’m one of the inters.

But I should also say I’m not Christian. I’m not anything really - I come from Quaker stock, and while my parents weren’t particularly religious, after they divorced, my dad sent me to Catholic school to spite my Buddhist nam-myho-ho-renge-kyo mom. Then there’s that first name – no matter that mom was a big AA Milne fan and I’m named for Christopher Robin; I may as well be called Jesus. When I started dating my wife Jenji, the first thing out of her mom’s mouth was, “well I can never put that on a wedding invitation.”

Thankfully, we persisted… and now I happily find myself with a Jewish wife, three Jewish kids and a big circle of Jewish friends. But meanwhile I stubbornly remain non-chosen - even after graduating the intro-to-Judaism class at U.J., attending shabbot every Friday, and coming to recognize a weirdly fanatical enthusiasm for discussing Jewish identity with friends and the Reboot crowd – preferably with a bottle of koher wine and a nice cheese plate.

So not only am I mostly ignorant on the topic of Torah, I’m also what might be called a hostile witness. The problem is that every time I pick up this book, hoping to glean some of that storied wisdom or insight, I land on some tiresome tale of one 900-year-old guy begetting another 800-year-old guy; or an ominous warning about God’s wrath; or instructions on sacrificing animals or keeping slaves; or worst of all, a call to stone homosexuals or heretics or those who dare work on the Sabbath.

I know, I know - it’s literature and shouldn’t be taken literally, and the story of Judaism is in large part the story of a never-ending argument over these texts… and I love that argument is so sanctified in this tradition - but I’ve gotta say, I don’t even know where to start reading this stuff. The promises sound empty, the threats come off as crazy, the injunctions against pleasure depressing, and the certainty about God’s intentions… are just unfathomable.

So let’s just say I approached today’s torah portion expecting to be either bored or put off.

But surprise, surprise – I’m here to testify to something miraculous: this big secular goy found a bit of Torah that’s neither hectoring nor absurd… but actually really pretty awesome.

Ecclesiastes is the magilah for Sukkot, which I’m told means it isn’t the main torah portion but serves as sort of extra credit reading to enhance our appreciation of the holiday. A quick scan and you can see why it was chosen… The text is presented as the collected life lessons from Koheleth, a king of Jerusalem who sounds like a sort of Talmudic Richard Branson – stubbly, glam, up for anything. And so, at the end of a long, learned and adventurous life, he asks himself: what, after one has hung up one’s spurs and come in from the range, is truly worthwhile? What is genuinely good?

His short answer: “There is nothing worthwile for a man, but to eat and drink and afford himself enjoyment of his means.” There’s no talk of God’s wrath, or reward in the hereafter; only this simple directive: “Eat and drink and get pleasure from one’s gains.”

All of which resonates nicely with Sukkot, this happy hedonistic holiday of reaping and sharing and enjoying and getting over of the deprivation and confession and smoked fish on Yom Kippur four days ago. I’m guessing the bearded elders who selected Ecclesiastes as the magillah offer it as a compliment to this party-down holiday, offering divine dispensation for the earthly pleasures of pagan harvest rituals that Sukkot absorbed lo those many centuries ago…

So far, great stuff, especially in a book that is so often stern, obtuse and opposed to the enjoyment of earthly pleasures. But it just gets more surprising.

Koheleth may be all for fun and merriment, but he’s hardly superficial… or even very reassuring. Read beyond the “eat, drink and be merry” headline and you quickly run up against some incredibly bleak and rational insights into our place in the world. The hard fact is, sayeth Kohelth, there’s no real way of knowing what God wants for us. Worse, there’s little use hoping He’ll intervene on our behalf. Life is senseless, tragedy befalls the good, riches rain on the wicked, and the only certainty is death. He caps off this rosy summation with the following doozy: “The only future is nothingness.”

So… let’s party! Honestly, this is where Koheleth comes down, landing on a nugget of pure optimism and happiness in a landscape otherwise showered in injustice and uncertainty. I quote:

“Even if a man lives many years, let him enjoy himself in all of them, remembering how many the days of darkness are going to be…. Whatever it is in your power to do, do it with all your might.”

And to that, I say hallelujah. I’m not a total evangelist –there’s obviously more to life than eating well and enjoying our stuff. After all, even if God doesn’t seem particularly interested in injustice or suffering here on earth, we humans should be.

And there’s another problem: there’s probably some rule against cherry-picking your passages – you’ve gotta take the whole megillah. So if anyone needs me after this is over, I’ll be in the main sanctuary, stoning homosexuals…