Eco-Seder
April 22, 2003
Packet compiled by Lauren Shapiro Class of 2005
Co-sponsored by The Outdoors Club and the Hillel At Binghamton
Partially funded by a Kolker-Saxon-Hallock Grant as part of the Tuesdays with Morrie Spirituality Series
Who is Really Free and How Do We Gain Freedom?
The year is 1978 and the man¹s name is Yosef Mendelovich. The setting: a dank cell, deep within the bowels of the Christopol prison in the Soviet Union. The date is April 12. On the Jewish calendar it is the 14th of Nissan, one day before the start of Passover.
Yosef is a prisoner. He is a gaunt human shell, and he is about to light a candle. Made of hoarded bits of string, pitiful droplets of oil, and stray slivers of wax, this is a candle fashioned by Yosef¹s own hands. The candle is lit the search for chametz begins.
Sometime earlier Yosef had complained of back problems. The infirmary in hell provided him with mustard to serve as a therapeutic plaster. Unused then, this mustard would later reappear as maror bitter herbs at Yosef¹s seder table. A long- saved onion bulb in water has produced a humble bit of greenery. This would be his karpas. And the wine? Raisins were left to soak in an old jelly jar, water occasionally added, and fermentation was prayed for. This was wine. The Haggadah which Yosef transcribed into a small notebook before being imprisoned had now been set to memory. The original was secretly passed on to another "dangerous" enemy of the State: Anatoly Sharansky.
Is Yosef free? He cannot do whatever he wants. He has been denied even the liberty to know when the sun shines and the stars twinkle. For Yosef the world of free men doesn’t even begin to exist.
Yet, Yosef, perhaps, is more free even than his captors. Clearly self-aware, he knows exactly who he is, what he wants, and is prepared to pay any price to have it. Today he walks the streets of Israel, studies Torah, and buys box after box of matzah to serve at his Seder. He is a free man now, just as he was even behind those lifeless prison walls.
Self-awareness means that we are able to stand outside of ourselves; to look within and assess our goals, values, priorities, direction and truthfulness. Unaware of these things, we remain mired in a dense fog of confusion and doubt. Can we ever be fully self-aware? Probably not. But aware enough to set ourselves free? Yes, and this is one of life's most pivotal challenges.
Achievement and maintenance of freedom is available only through the ongoing struggle for self-awareness. This process of clarification, coupled with the conviction to follow wherever it may lead, is the only way to achieve a spiritually sensitive, value-driven life of liberty. Ironically, this freedom can land you in a prison where you are the captor, while your guards are the prisoners. Just ask Yosef Mendelovich one of the freest people who ever walked the earth.
If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
The ecological crisis threatens
our health,
our children's future,
If I am only for myself, what am I?
the well-being of all of God's children,
the survival of multitudes of species,
the very integrity of Creation.
If not now, WHEN?
Rabbi Hillel, Pirkei Avot/Ethics of the Fathers
God led Adam around the Garden of Eden and said, "Look at My works. See how beautiful they are, how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil or destroy My world -for if you do, there will be no one to repair it after you." (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7.13)
Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, a Talmudic sage of the 1st century CE, said: Anytime our wisdom exceeds our good deeds, to what are we likened? - to a tree whose branches are numerous but whose roots are few; then the wind comes and uproots it and turns it upside down.... But when our good deed exceed our wisdom, to what are we likened? - to a tree whose branches are few but whose roots are numerous; even if all the winds of the world were to come and blow against it, they could not budge it from its place...... "
"What is this fruit of the tree of loveliness that its fruit is beauty and itself is beauty? It is the etrog. Could it not be the pomegranate? No, for though its fruit be lovely, not so the tree. Could it be the carob? No, for though the tree be lovely, not so the fruit. But where the fruit and tree alike are beauty - that is the etrog alone. (Jerusalem Talmud).
"When you besiege a city many days to bring it into your power by making war against it, you shall not destroy the trees thereof by swinging an axe against them; from them you may eat but you may not destroy them; for is the tree of the field human to withdraw before you?" Deut.20:19-20.
This prohibition serves as the foundation for an important principle of Jewish law: B'AL TASHCHIT - THE NEEDLESS DESTRUCTION OF ANYTHING IS WRONG.
"This text becomes the most comprehensive warning to human beings not to misuse the position which God has given them as masters of the world and its matter by capricious, passionate or merely thoughtless wasteful destruction of anything on earth. Only for wise use has God laid the world at our feet..." S.R. Hirsh, 19th century.
"The Eternal formed a human from the dust of the Earth. God blew into its nostrils the breath of life, and the human became a living being...The Eternal took and placed the human being in the Garden of Eden, to cultivate it and to protect it." (Genesis 2:7,2:15) We are instructed to cultivate for our human needs, but to do it in a manner that does not deplete and degrade Creation, but rather allows all life to flourish.
Master of the Universe,
grant me the ability to be alone;
may it be my custom to go outdoors each day
among the trees and grass - among all growing things
and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer,
to talk with the One to whom I belong.
May I express there everything in my heart,
and may all the foliage of the field -
all grasses, trees, and plants -
awake at my coming,
to send the powers of their life into the words of my prayer
so that my prayer and speech are made whole
through the life and spirit of all growing things,
which are made as one by their transcendent Source.
May I then pour out the words of my heart
before your Presence like water, O Lord,
and lift up my hands to You in worship,
on my behalf, and that of my children!
Reb Nachman of Bratslav
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch
The contribution of the tree is not rooted in its magnificent branches, leaves, and fruits, but rather in its roots, which are held in a place where winds and storms do not reach. They are strengthened by the source of living water of renewal. The tree does not worry when the storms seize it and shake and bend it-it does not stir or move from its place, and as long as it is not uprooted from its place, it shall spring back! Consequently, we find that not only did the tree not lose anything, to the contrary, it gained strength from the struggle.
So too is man. As long as he adheres to his spiritual roots, no wind is capable of uprooting him from his place. The opposite is true: the storms will arouse the power of renewal
THE LORAX
by Dr. Seuss
At the far end of town
where the Grickle-grass grows
and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
and no birds ever sing excepting old crows...
is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.
And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,
if you look deep enough you can still see, today,
where the Lorax once stood
just as long as it could
before somebody lifted the Lorax away.
What _was_ the Lorax?
And why was it there?
And why was it lifted and taken somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?
The old Once-ler still lives here.
Ask him. _He_ knows.
You wont see the Once-ler.
Dont knock at his door.
He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store.
He lurks in his Lerkim, cold under the roof,
where he makes his own clothes
out of miff-muffered moof.
And on special dank midnights in August,
he peeks
out of the shutters
and sometimes he speaks
and tells how the Lorax was lifted away.
He'll tell you, perhaps...
if you're willing to pay.
On the end of a rope
he lets down a tin pail
and you have to toss in fifteen cents
and a nail
and the shell of a great-great-great
grandfather snail.
He pulls up the pail,
makes a most careful count
to see if you've paid him
the proper amount.
Then he hides what you pay him
away in his Snuvv,
his secret strange hole
in his gruvvulous glove.
Then he grunts, "I will call you by Whisper-ma-Phone,
for the secrets I tell are for your ears alone."
SLUPP!
Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your ear
and the Once-ler's whispers are not very clear,
since they have to come down
through a snergelly hose,
and he sounds
as if he had
smallish bees up his nose.
"Now I'll tell you," he says, with his teeth sounding gray,
"how the Lorax got lifted and taken away...
It all started back...
such a long, long time back...
Way back in the days when the grass was still green
and the pond was still wet
and the clouds were still clean
and the song of the Swomee-Swans rand out into space...
one morning, I came to this glorious place.
And I first saw the trees!
The Truffula Trees!
The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula trees!
Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze.
And, under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots
frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits
as they played in the shade and ate Truffula Fruits.
From the rippulous pond
came the comfortable sound
of the Humming-Fish humming
while splashing around.
But those trees! Those trees!
Those Truffula Trees!
All my life I've been searching
for trees such as these.
The touch of their tufts
was much softer than silk
And they had the sweet smell
Of fresh butterfly milk.
I felt a great leaping
of joy in my heart.
I knew just what I;'d do!
I unloaded my cart.
In no time at all, I had built a small shop.
Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop.
And with great skillful skill and with great speedy speed,
I took the soft tuft. And I knitted a Thneed!
The instant I'd finished, I heard a ga-ZUMP!
I looked
I saw something pop out of the stump
of the tree I'd chopped down. It was sort of a man.
Describe him?...That's hard. I don't know if I can.
He was shortish. And oldish.
And brownish. And mossy.
And he spoke with a voice
that was sharpish and bossy.
"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze,
"I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.
And I;m asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs"--
he was very upset as he shouted and puffed--
"What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"
"Look, Lorax," I said. "There's no call for alarm.
I chopped just one tree. I am doing no harm.
I'm being quite useful. This thing is a Thneed.
A Thneed's a Fine-Something-That-All-People-Need!
It's a shirt. It's a sock. It's a glove. It's a hat.
But it has _other_ uses. Yes, far beyond that.
You can use it for carpets. For pillows! For sheets!
Or curtains! Or covers for bicycle seats!"
The Lorax said,
"Sir! You are crazy with greed.
There is no one on earth
who would buy that fool Thneed!"
But the very next minute I proved he was wrong.
For, just at that minute, a chap came along,
and he thought that the Thneed I had knitted was great.
He happily bought it for three ninty-eight
I laughed at the Lorax, "You poor stupid guy!
You never can tell what some people will buy."
"I repeat," cried the Lorax,
"I speak for the trees!"
"I'm busy," I told him.
"Shut up, if you please."
I rushed 'cross the room, and in no time at all,
built a radio-phone. I put in a quick call.
I called all my brothers and uncles and aunts
and i said, "Listen here! Here's a wonderful chance
for the whole Once-ler Family to get mighty rich!
Get over here fast! Take the road to North Nitch.
Turn left at Weehawken. Sharp right at South Stitch."
And, in no time at all,
in the factory i built,
the whole Once-ler Family
was working full tilt.
We were all knitting Thneeds
just as busy as bees,
to the sound of the chopping
of Truffula Trees.
Then..
Oh! Baby! Oh!
How my business did grow!
Now, chopping one tree
at a time was too slow.
So I quickly invented my Super-Axe-Hacker
which whacked off four Tuffula Trees at one smacker.
We were making Thneeds
four times as fast as before!
And that Lorax?...
_He_ didn't show up anymore.
But the next week
he knocked
on my new office door.
He snapped, "I'm the Lorax who speaks for the trees
which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please.
But I'm also in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-loots
who played in the shade in their Bar-ba-loot suits
and happily lived, eating Truffula Friuts.
"NOW...thanks to your hacking my trees to the ground,
there's not enough Truffula Fruit to go 'round.
And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummies
because they have gas, and no food, in their tummies!
"They loved living here. But I can't let them stay.
They'll have to find food. And I hope that they may.
Good luck, boys," he cried. And he sent them away.
I, the Once-ler, felt sad
as I watched them all go.
BUT...
business is business
And business must grow
regardless of crummies in tummies, you know.
I meant no harm. I most truly did not.
But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I got.
I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads.
I biggered my wagons. I biggered the loads
of the Theends I shipped out. I was shipping them forth
to the South! To the East! To the West! To the North!
I went right on biggering...selling more Thneeds.
And I biggered my money, which everyone needs.
Then _again_ he came back! I was fixing some pipes
when that old-nuicence Lorax came back with _more_ gripes.
"I am the Lorax," he coughed and he whiffed.
He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed.
"Once-ler!" he cried with a cruffulous croak.
"Once-ler! You're making a smogulous smoke!
My poor Swomee-Swans...why, they can't sing a note!
No one can sing who has smog in his throat.
"And so," said the Lorax,
"--please pardon my cough--
they cannot live here.
So I'm sending them off.
"Where will they go now?
I dont hopefully know.
They may have to fly for a month...or a year...
To escape from the smog you've smogged-up around here.
"What's more," snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.)
"Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp.
Your machinery chugs on, day and night without stop
making Gluppity-Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp.
And what do you do with this leftover goo?
I'll show you, you dirty old Once-ler man, you!
You're Glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!
No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed.
So, I'm sending them off. Oh, thier future is dreary.
They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary
in search of some water that isn't so smeary."
And then I got mad.
I got terribly mad.
I yelled at the Lorax, "Now listen here, Dad!
All you do is yap-yap and say 'Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!"
Well, I have my rights, sir, and I;m telling _you_
I intend to go on doing just what I do!
And, for your information, you Lorax, I'm figgering
on biggering,
and Biggering
and BIGGERING
and BIGGERING,
turning MORE Truffula Trees into Thneeds
which everyone, EVERYONE, EVERYONE needs!"
And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack!