Oh, who am I kidding? I've been cheating on my blog with Twitter and Facebook and Jewish Values Online (though to be fair, that's all I've had time for recently).
So here's my last sermon about Penn State, the IOC and the need for admonition. Expect more on the olympics at the high holidays, by the way.
This past Wednesday was an exercise in my least favorite
part of parenting: discipline. We were supposed to have chicken dinner at the
JCC pool. Instead we had the opposite of that. Elishai, while we were on
vacation, got a little punchy, literally. After a year of communicating more
and more effectively without resorting to physicality, E decided this vacation
to communicate through fisticuffs. So Wednesday, after repeated smacks by him
and repeated warnings by us that if he continued, we were going to pack it up,
and like little bunny foo-foo, he had to get in one more bop. So, up he was
scooped and home we went, with a long, firm conversation about the consequences
of our actions.
To say that he was most displeased would be an
understatement. Oh, did I get the sulky Kindergartener routine. And really, can
you blame him? No one likes to be disciplined. No one wants to reflect on their
poor decisions or bad choices, or their repercussions. No one wants to be
called on their actions, whether you’re five or 50. Look at the response at
Penn State to the Freeh report and the punishment meted out by the NCAA. While
the new leadership has accepted the lumps and is trying to move forward,
countless alumni and boosters continue to refuse to accept the truth: that there
was a colossal failure of leadership leading to real harm, and that the school
and especially the football program must suffer the pain of discipline. One
comment I saw from a booster claimed that this was their 9/11. I don’t know
what he meant by that, but it seems to me that there is a strong desire to
avoid the ugly facts and portray themselves as victims instead.
I think there’s an element of that with regard to the IOC in
their refusal to observe a moment of silence at the 27th summer
Olympic games for the 40th anniversary of the 1972 Munich attacks
that killed 11 Israeli athletes. Many have claimed it’s a statement of
anti-Semitism, of cowing to the wishes of Arab states who don’t want to see
Israel honored in any way, or a more overt anti-zionist sentiment. I think it’s
just arrogance. Jacques Rogge and his
associates made a decision to not honor the memory of those killed in 1972. It
was a bad decision, but they decided that admitting it was a bad decision was
worse than holding the line and insisting blithely that they had too packed an
opening ceremony. More to the point, to remember the 11 who died would be to
also remember that their security wasn’t tight enough, that the IOC didn’t do
enough to protect their athletes and an event that is supposed to bring nations
together for sport. A reminder of two failures is too many. Better to skip it.
The truth is, though, most of us don’t like doing the
disciplining either. It’s painful. It’s exhausting. It’s disappointing. It’s
embarrassing. I listened to myself talking to my son and my inner teenager was rolling his eyes at me: “here you go, another
lecture from dad.” While others may rejoice in schadenfraude, the reality is
that most of us would rather not have to call people on their errors. And in
this week’s portion, there’s an element of that present as well. The Book of Devarim, of Deuteronomy opens with Moses
recounting the story of Israel’s liberation and wandering. He could have
glossed it over, accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. Moses doesn’t
do this, but recounts again and again Israel’s failure—with the Golden Calf,
with the spies—and his own failure in the wilderness of Zin and the waters of
Meribah. Much has been made of this being Moses’ last statement to Israel—more
than that, this is his last opportunity to discipline his children, to hold
them accountable. Indeed, the rabbis imagine this in two discreet ways. The
first, Rashi (and others) describe this scene as a speech where all of Israel was present, and where
Moses rebuked all of Israel, enumerating all the places God’s anger was
wrought. Alternatively, Rabbi Simcha Bunem argues that Moses spoke to each
person individually, according to their age, personality and level of
understanding. In both cases, Moses calls Israel out, disciplining them with
love and respect, but also with need. As Rabbi Pinchas Peli writes: "Moses realizes that only a leader who had
risked his own life and brought much good to his people has the right to rebuke
them for their shortcomings. He must have wanted to say these "words"
earlier, but he waited for the right moment. That is why the biblical narrative
puts so much emphasis on the place and time of Moses' speech." Even Moses
is reluctant to admonish his people, but criticize he must; only then may they
enter the Land under Joshua’s leadership.
Proverbs 28 reminds us that
"He that rebukes another shall in
the end find more favor." There is no joy in being disciplined, whether
for a childish act or one of great seriousness and harm. But also, there is no
joy in rebuking or correcting either, a moment that tests the spirit of every person. But without
loving discipline there can be no learning, no growth, no entering the Promised
Land, and as Elishai learned Wednesday, no chicken dinner at the JCC. May we
all learn to listen and learn to share, and in doing so may we do God’s will.
Amen.
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