Nike Judaism

Just do it! This famous Nike tagline summoned us to fearlessly pursue our dreams and resist the forces that inhibit that pursuit. Just do it! No excuses. You can rest when you’re dead!

For Jews, however, these very same words summon and evoke a very different connotation, one that has had disastrous consequences. Just do it! Sound familiar? How often have those words been invoked to compel a child to do something or make a decision that we wanted him to do. How many Jews over the last 100 years and beyond have drifted away from their roots and from the stunning depth of their heritage because they were told to “just do it.” Just do it for me. Just do it for your grandparents. Just do it for your people. Just do it!

Now don’t get me wrong, our tradition teaches, and I strongly believe, that our actions, our mitzvot, even when uninspired, help us internalize the messages implicit in those actions. As such, my faith is not at all conditional upon my complete understanding of the mitzvot. They are after all, a prescription for life from the Creator of life. Nevertheless, it is also clear that unconditional faith not accompanied by dynamic learning and striving can become vulnerable faith, can become conditional faith.

This fundamental point is most eloquently expressed in a pithy phrase that has come to embody the Jew’s unconditional faith in God. It is a phrase that was spoken thunderously by every Jew, in anticipation of the greatest sound and light show in history (Cirque de Sinai).  That radical statement “na’aseh v’nishma,” translated as “we will do and we will understand,” coupled our unconditional faith in God with a determination to explore, dissect and excavate the depths of the Torah. This definitive statement exploded “just doing it.” It proclaimed that just doing it just doesn’t cut it. Didn’t then. Doesn’t now.

In order for our tradition to stimulate us and our children, in order for it to bond us to our mission, it needs to speak to us, it needs to excite and challenge us. For me, I approach Torah study with the excited giddiness of an archaeologist on the verge of a major discovery, with one fundamental difference. Torah study does not excavate the fossilized remains of an ancient world, but rather unearths living, dynamic and relevant insights into our lives, our world. Every time we open the Torah, we receive a text message from the deepest and most essential place.

So now that I’ve preached to the choir, where do we go from here? In a world that offers such easy access to so much stimulation, how can we facilitate a Jewish bond that will withstand and endure?

As with every question, there is no one definitive answer, but I believe that the Passover seder offers us a simple yet profound insight into these questions.

The primary objective of the seder is drawn from a verse that charges us to transmit to our children (v’higadata) the story of Passover and the experiences that we saw with our own eyes. The section that pursues this goal is called Magid, and the piece that initiates this prerogative is the Ma Nishtana. The Four Questions. We’re so familiar with this section that we don’t even ponder its deeper significance. But I would like to posit that the placement of this piece at the beginning of the section that focuses on transmission, is significant. The haggadah is revealing to us that the secret to effectively transmitting, effectively communicating any message to anybody is through the dynamic process of asking and seeking. Every question is a quest. A quest for meaning, a quest for depth, a quest for more. But we only quest when we are intrigued and we only question when we are intrigued by the quest. I heard a wonderful quote a while ago that captures this point: “There is nothing more irrelevant than an answer to a question that wasn’t asked.”  If we want our children to “do it” then we have to motivate them to want it.  We have to elicit and encourage their questions, their challenges, and only then will their search nourish a deeper connection. The Ma Nishtana needs to be My Nishtana.

The role of questions as an indispensable tool for connection and aspiration is also intimated, I believe, through a famous statement regarding the haggadah. At the seder, there are sections our rabbis tell us are there to “keep the children awake.”  So let me ask you: If you don’t have children, do you eliminate those sections? Do you remove the Ma Nishtana?  Of course not. But why not? I would like to suggest an answer that spins the rabbis’ statement and objective of keeping the kids awake. Perhaps the sections that were ostensibly designed to involve and elicit the attention of the children are not there to merely keep the children awake but also to awaken the child within us. Because what does every child do exhaustingly, incessantly? Ask questions. They never stop, they never tire. They are creatures of wonder, uninhibited by the considerations and insecurities that arise as we grow older. Somewhere along the road, many of us lose that insatiable hunger. But, as the quote goes: “Ask a question and you’re a fool for a moment; refrain, and you’re a fool for eternity.”

On Passover, at the seder, we don’t focus on merely telling a story but on transmitting a mission, a destiny. If we hope to be successful, we must both awaken and be awakened. Inspire and be inspired. We must question and quest.

So, Madison Avenue, I have a different tagline for the Jewish people — Just ask it!

Happy Passover!

Rabbi Shlomo Seidenfeld is the director of Isralight L.A. and is also a residential real estate agent.