[Barmitzvah of Philip Margolis Jr.]

Turning to God

In a letter that I addressed to the Congregation [Mikveh Israel, in Philadelphia] last week, I referred to your barmitzvah as being an event of great importance in your life. As it happens, your barmitzvah has a rather special meaning to me too. I don't know if I have ever mentioned the fact to you, but for a couple of years your name, or at least your surname, used to travel around with me constantly in my pocket. It was printed on the cover of an Aramaic grammar written by your grandfather [Max L. Margolis] the compilation of which is well remembered by your grandmother [Evelyn Margolis] and an interesting story it is too. I used to study this mainly on top of double-decker buses, since it slipped easily into the pocket, and filled in the time spent traveling between home and college rather usefully. I little thought at that time that I should one day officiate at the barmitzvah of the grandson of the writer of that book, and this fact makes me realise that this is really quite a small world, in which great distances mean very little.

Your grandfather, who did so much for Biblical studies, would, I think, have been gratified that you undertook such a difficult haftarah [reading from the Prophets] today. The book of Hosea, from which it comes, has a very clear message of the love and compassion of the Almighty towards his stubborn and backsliding people, but it is indeed difficult to understand the individual verses of the book, for they are all like sobs coming from an overcharged heart, often disconnected and hard to follow.

One verse, however, in your haftarah does not need a volume of commentaries to understand:

Therefore turn thou to the Lord thy God. Keep mercy and truth; and hope in thy God continually. (Hosea 12.7 -- v.6 in English versions)
The verse is a three-part verse, and I should like to expound it accordingly.

The first part expresses what Judaism means by a personal God. The Jewish view does not see God as a blind force uninterested in mankind, but rather as a father to whom we can turn, and more importantly, to whom we can return, as the Hebrew word tashub suggests. This turning to God implies many things: it implies worship both publicly in the synagogue, and privately -- in the words of the Shema [the Jewish profession of faith] "when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way." More than that, it implies living a life in which God plays a part. Let me explain this further. There are essentially only two ways of living. One can center one's life on one's self, or one can center one's life on God. If you adopt the first course, then the good things that befall you are the greatest thing in life; you don not have to worry about anything outside you. Yet if anything bad happens, you have no one to fall back on but yourself, and if that self fails you, all is lost. If, on the other hand, you make God the center of your life, you are put to much more trouble because you have to concern yourself with all men, since God cares for all men. But you are richly compensated in that you can withstand the troubles and setbacks of life, realising that you are not the total of existence, but just a part of it, and, moreover, you do not have to bear your burdens alone.

The second part of the verse tells us that the most important element necessary in this turning to God is "keep mercy and truth." The Hebrew word hesed is a difficult word to translate, and the translation "mercy" hardly does it justice. Perhpas its most essential element is that of "faithfulness" or "loyalty." This is a quality that modern life notoriously lacks. There was a time when people would keep an old book when it was tattered, or an old car when it had passed its prime, not because they could not afford a new one, but because they felt a sense of loyalty to an old servant. I do not want to put in a plea for inefficiency, but I hope you will realise, whatever you may choose as your career, that possessing this hesed, having a sense of loyalty, a heart, if you like, is more important than the acquisition of those extra dollars and cents. It is this mingling of loyalty and mercy that makes turning to God possible.

The last part of the verse is perhaps the hardest of all to observe: "hope in thy God continually." You ought to find this dreadfully hard. If you do not, it means that you are either a saint for whom there are no problems of belief, or else self-centered rather than God-centered, with they result that your relationship with God presents no problems, because as far as the self-centered man is concerned, God virtually does not exist. But if you are the normal type of human being, basically good, yet trouble like us all by temptations from the straight path, then you must hope in God even when he seems far, hope in him, even when he seems not to care, for we are assured that he is near to those who call upon him in truth. I should like this verse, which you read to us today, to become your motto for life.

One final point. This would hardly be a verse in the Bible if it had but one interpretation. Some commentators render the first part "Thou shalt find rest in the Lord thy God." We live in an immensely restless world, but the man of faith finds a kind of rest which does not lose its meaning for him, even though his entire day be spent in speeding from one part of the city to another. This is the rest and tranquillity that comes from faith in God and his goodness. Seek it, and find it! May you grow up to be a joy to your parents, and a source of pride to your community.


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Alan D. Corré
corre@uwm.edu