As I prepared for shul on Shabbat morning, I asked my children if they’d like to come with me. Most weeks they are excited at the prospect, but this week proved a little more challenging. Before making her decision, my daughter Rosie wanted to know one very important thing: is there going to be a Kiddush after services?
Now, in our shul it is the norm to have a Kiddush each week, but the week before was President’s Weekend and a lot of congregants were out of town. We also didn’t have a sponsor.
So for the first time in a while there was no Kiddush. Apparently, Rosie wasn’t too happy about that and wanted to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.
“Yes, there will be a Kiddush this week,” I assured her.
“Good,” she said.
“It will be a big dairy one,” I added, thinking that would surely entice her.
Boy was I wrong!
“Will there be cholent (meat stew)?” she wanted to know.
“No, only dairy.”
And that’s when Rosie insisted, “Then I’m not coming.”
I tried to convince her. I described all the food that would be there. I told her which children she would play with at shul. I had hoped to give my wife a break from the children, but it seemed that was not to be. Rosie was adamant. No cholent, no shul.
Actually, one of my close friends recently confided in me that he used to come to our shul because we had the best Kiddush in town. But after a while, he got used to coming to shul and started coming early enough to join in some of the service. Gradually he came earlier and earlier. Now he’s in shul at 9:15am week in and week out!
I began to think about all those J.F.K.s – those people who come Just For Kiddush. And they exist - all over the world. Wherever there’s a shul with a Kiddush, you’ll be sure to find some J.F.K.s. But the more I thought about it, I started to see them in a different light.
I was reminded of the woman I know who is adamantly against people giving charity to have their name displayed on a plaque or building.
I was reminded of my friend who always refused to put on tefillin until I said to him, “I know you don’t believe in G-d, but do it for me.” And he did.
And I realized that all these people are still doing the mitzvah despite their intentions or lack thereof. My friend was still putting on tefillin and saying the blessing, the people who give charity for publicity are still giving charity, and those who come just for the Kiddush are still coming to shul.
Of course, it’s best when a person does a mitzvah for the right reason: to connect to G-d. It would be better to give charity because G-d said, “Give charity,” it would be better to put on tefillin for G-d and it would be better to come to shul for services. But I strongly believe that even if one starts out doing a mitzvah for the wrong reasons, eventually s/he will do it for the right reasons. And apparently G-d thinks so too.
About 3,300 years ago, G-d presented the Jewish people with a most drastic marriage proposal. In an elaborate gesture of romance, He suspended Mount Sinai over their heads, declaring, “Today is our wedding day! If you agree to marry Me, you will receive the Torah and the Jewish nation will be born. But if you reject Me, I will drop this mountain on you and you will all die!”
Chassidic thought explains that G-d did not physically hold the mountain over the Jewish people. Rather, he displayed His love so absolutely that the Jewish people could not resist His offer. When a man falls in love with a woman, he pursues her endlessly, lavishes her with gifts, wines and dines her until all her resistance melts away. Just like the Jewish nation, she, in a sense, is forced to marry him.
And for the first thousand or so years, we served G-d because we “had to”. Not because we wanted to.
But then along came Haman and King Achashverosh, Mordechai and Queen Esther, and the Purim story began to unfold. Over the course of an entire year, practicing Judaism in Persia came with the threat of death. And yet, during this tumultuous period, with the horrific decree of annihilation hanging over their heads, the Jewish people turned to G-d with stark sincerity and pure devotion. It was then that the Jewish people accepted G-d purely because they desired to, and not because they were forced. It was during the Purim saga that they accepted what they had agreed to at Mount Sinai.
During the Purim story G-d was almost completely concealed from the Jewish people. Certainly, no mountain hovered above them, no thundering heavenly Voice demanded a union, no seas split and no obvious displays of love colored their vision. But it was against this backdrop that the Jewish nation reaffirmed their wedding vows, accepting G-d and His Torah. And because of their pure love and acceptance, the marriage took on a new, deeper, more meaningful dimension.