Rabbi's Blog

Shanah Tovah! You know those lists, the ones that media outlets put out to highlight who is cool? The 100 richest people, 50 most beautiful people, the 50 most influential people, the ones to watch for, the 30 under 30…and the one that rabbis love to hate: America’s 50 Top Most Influential Rabbis.

This Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I’d like to share a countercultural “top of the charts” enumeration, one that’s not about adulating the most beautiful or powerful. On the contrary, this Jewish tradition insists that kindness and compassion are the most important forces on earth. This is the centuries-old Jewish legend that there are 36 amazing people in the world who don’t seek publicity. They aren’t notable for their looks, wealth, or influence. They are humble but extraordinarily caring and good.

The legend begins in the Talmud and is developed in Jewish mysticism and folklore. "Lamed Vavniks" are 36 (or maybe more) righteous individuals whose goodness sustains the world. These extraordinary ordinary folks, whose identities are unknown perhaps even to themselves, quietly uphold the moral fabric of existence. The world, it is said, continues to survive only because of the presence of such folk in our midst. They live humbly and unnoticed, yet their righteousness serves as the very foundation upon which the rest of us stand.

Rosh Hashanah reminds us of our interconnectedness. Just as the Lamed Vavniks sustain the world with their quiet goodness, each one of us has the power to tip the scales of justice through acts of compassion and kindness. Even though we may not think of ourselves as saints or tzadikim, our small acts of care, empathy, and justice ripple through the fabric of existence in ways we may never fully comprehend.

Do you think you might be a lamed vavnik? Tradition would say, if you think so, you aren’t one! But let me suggest that in today’s big and troubled world, we all need some lamed vavnik moments in our lives.

Living with lamed vavnik energy means living with compassion and seeing the divine spark in every person we encounter. It means recognizing that every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God, regardless of their background, beliefs, or social status.

Dr. Naomi Remen's relates in her book, My Grandfather's Blessing, that her rabbi grandpa told her as a child: “Anyone you meet might be one of the thirty-six for whom God preserves the world…It is important to treat everyone as if this might be so. [The Lamed-Vavniks] respond to all suffering with compassion. Without compassion the world cannot continue. Our compassion blesses and sustains the world.”

A contemporary psychotherapist wrote how he was given the impossible task of treating criminals in a very dismal and hopeless jail setting. The only way that he could cope was by following the model of the lamed-vavniks in the Talmud, striving to greet the Shekhinah in every person. He learned that according to Talmudic tradition, the Shekhinah is the feminine, compassionate aspect of God, that embraces repentant sinners, comforts those in pain, and lifts up the lowly. The therapist entered the jail, not with a goal of employing the most brilliant therapeutic tactics, but with the intention of being truly present in the most painful situations, of seeing his clients as tragically damaged human beings who were nonetheless formed in G-d’s image. His work went from being a seemingly impossible challenge to being “one of the most profound learning experiences” of his life.  And who knows how many people in the world were ultimately affected because this one man practiced compassion?

This reminds me of a Talmudic story in which the immortal Elijah the prophet tells a rabbi that he can find the Messiah/Mashiach, the anointed leader who will usher the world into the Messianic era of peace and harmony. The Mashiach is disguised as a ragged beggar at the city gates. The rabbi will recognize the Mashiach because while the other beggars tend to their leprous wounds all at once, the one who is really the Mashiach only unwraps one bandage at a time, so that he will be ready to be called into service at any moment. The rabbi does find the Mashiach but is disappointed because the anointed one says that he will come today, but another day goes by, and the world remains the same. Elijah explains it this way, “he will come today, any day, if we are ready.”

Perhaps if we believe that any beggar may be the Messiah, or Elijah the Prophet, or any ordinary person might be a lamed-vavnik, we will be bringing that Messianic Era one day closer.

         So here’s another story, a more modern one, not in the shtetl or ancient Jerusalem, but at a small synagogue, somewhere in America. The shul had once been vital and full of life, but was now struggling. There was a lot of infighting, people were leaving, and the leadership was burned out. All of the experts couldn’t help them fix things.

One day the rabbi invited in a Jewish mystical teacher for a Shabbat. It was a very spiritual and meaningful gathering, and people were feeling opened up and a little more hopeful. At Havdalah time, some of the congregants were sitting around with their visitor, and someone asked her: “We’ve tried everything. What can we do to revitalize our community?”

The teacher said, “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing. Last night I had a strong dream that in this very congregation, one of you is a lamed vavnik. I’m sure it is so.” Pretty soon the word got out. Someone in our midst is a lamed-vavnik! Whom could it be?

Everyone began to get curious. They stopped arguing and gossiping to speculate about the lamed-vavnik’s identity. Maybe it’s the member who always shows up with a meal when someone is ill. Maybe it’s the person who never fails to call and visit people who have had a loss, not just for a week, but for months to come. Maybe it’s that couple who have dedicated their lives to social justice. The school director was sure that it was one of the children and urged the teachers to consider that any one of those children might grow up to do world-changing things. Some people, even thought, what if I am the lamed-vavnik? I think I’ve been shirking my job! When a situation came up that required peacemaking or generosity, they began to rise to the occasion.

         You can guess that the synagogue began to change and thrive again, all because people saw each other differently. For it mattered not if any member of the synagogue was really a lamed vavnik, but when each was treated as such by the others, the community flourished.  Imagine what would happen if we all saw everyone like that.

Rabbi Raymond Zwerin teaches, “And what might happen if we treated ourselves as if we were one of the 36?...So long as we don’t think that we are, we are still in the running. If we were one of the 36, why, the world rests partly on our shoulders. We can’t afford to fall down on the job when the world may depend upon us. As Maimonides taught, every deed has the power to tip the scales of our merits and to tip the scales of the world. Our every little act of tolerance, generosity, kindness, or patience could have the power to change the world for the better.”                                       

Come to think of it, it already does.      

Shanah Tovah U'metukah! May we be inscribed and sealed for a year of compassion, healing, and peace. Amen.