Building for the Sake of Heaven: The Inertia of Good Will
16 Sivan 5771 / 18 June 2011
Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg, Beth Am
Recently, much has been written and said about the phenomenon of “food deserts” - urban neighborhoods lacking in sufficient access to fresh and healthy food. This was an interest of mine before I moved to Baltimore and Reservoir Hill and found myself, ironically, living in such a food desert. I am pleased to report, though, that our neighborhood has made significant strides in addressing this “food insecurity.” Since only this time last year, Reservoir Hill is, for the first time in decades, in walking distance of a food co-op on 28th Street and a weekly farmers’ market in Druid Hill Park. We also boast a one-year-old community farm which this summer unveiled a twice-weekly farm stand and a ten-year-old community garden. Like our ancestors in the Torah’s narrative who continue to wander, this Shabbos, through the desert, we have farther to go, but I think we can safely say we are on the right path!
But in addition to living in a food desert, Miriam, the kids and I have, at least until this week, also lived in a “play desert.” Reservoir Hill has, for many years, been cursed with a great dearth of safe, clean and beautiful play spaces for the hundreds of kids in our neighborhood. Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock for the past two months, you are well aware of our KaBOOM!/Ravens playground build. I stand here before you this Shabbat to report: we did it! We built a world-class playground, in one day, with our bare hands. So many of you contributed to the effort with your time, your leadership, your dollars, your tools, your connections and more.
As we know from our parasha, deserts, almost by definition, are difficult to escape. But I feel absolutely confident in saying that this new playground in German Park will be a tremendous asset for the community. Indeed, this has been one of the most inspiring weeks for me since coming to Beth Am last summer. And though the product is useful and beautiful, I was even more inspired by the process through which our new play space came about.
This has been a week of inspiring stories:
There’s Louis who lives across the street and is excited for his four-year-old granddaughter to have a safe place to play. There’s the story of Miss Georgia who lamented that she had attended “thirty years of meetings with nothing getting done.” She was so inspired by the effort that, moving slowly, cane in hand, she collected $25 from the neighbors on her street to support the effort. And then there’s Calandra Bennett who grew up next door to the Pressmans and can show you the scars on her knees from the old playground where, as a child, she would go down the slide and land on cement. Calandra is now raising children of her own in Reservoir Hill and is thrilled to have a different sort of play space in the same location for kids to enjoy.
This week we’ve witnessed the story of over 300 volunteers, including 100 walk-ins from the neighborhood and a very respectable number from Beth Am. Each person who showed up made this happen. And, perhaps most important, there’s the story of terrific collaboration among local organizations, some of which have not always been on the best of terms. And of course, there’s the story of my wife, who continues to inspire me with her fierce dedication to tikkun olam and her incredible ability to dream, not just big but relevant, and then realize those dreams.
If I were a more cynical man, though, when confronted with this preponderance of good will, this gluttony of human kindness, I might ask why. Why did so many people dedicate so many hours or take days off from work? Why did the build feel, instinctively, like something so many of us simply wanted to be a part of?
I think it speaks, frankly, to a difference between “good” building and “bad” building. Our Sages offer us the construct of “arguments for and against the sake of heaven.” But, Jewish tradition includes equally powerful examples of what I would call b’nia l’shem shamayim, building for the sake of heaven, and the converse: building that which can only be described as an affront to God.
The paradigmatic example of this latter building is, of course, migdal bavel. You might argue that the difference between the Tower of Babel and our KaBOOM! build is about the product. After all, who can argue with a playground? It’s a place to do what kids do (and should do) best &endash; play! By contrast, the Tower of Babel was an exercise in human hubris, an attempt to reach the heavens and challenge God’s authority! But, if we stop to think about it, do we really believe that the Kadosh Baruch Hu would be so concerned about a city and a tower, a coup d’etat by ziggurat? Can we accept this Yertle the Turtle theology? No, I do not believe that it was the product, the tower, which was truly of concern. So, what of the process? Well, on the face of it, the builders of Babel seemed to be “doing it right.” In fact, the Torah’s description of their build-day sounds pretty much in-line with the KaBOOM! playground philosophy. “Hava nivneh lanu ir u’migdal, come let us build for ourselves a city and a tower, “v’rosho vashamayim, v’na’aseh lanu shem,” it’s apex will be in the sky and we will make a name for ourselves. “pen nafutz al p’nai chol ha’aretz,” lest we are dispersed throughout the land.
Simply reading the text, the Tower of Babel sounds like a good project. They do it to “make a name for themselves,” a true grass-roots effort. They do it to avoid being “dispersed throughout the land,” &endash; and isn’t this the great goal of community-building, to create familiarity and cohesion? And finally, they aim high! What’s wrong with that? Indeed, none of these descriptions merits the dubious distinction for which Migdal Bavel is known.
So if not product or process, we are left with only one thing to blame: the producers, the builders themselves. There must have been something nefarious undergirding the actions of those who worked on this seemingly benign building project. And in fact, the midrash &endash; the interpretive tradition &endash; (Pirkei d’Rebbe Eliezer) teaches that the behavior of those who collaborated on the Tower of Babel were led by their baser human instincts. When, in building the tower, a person would occasionally fall to his death, the others paid little attention, remaining singularly focused on the task at hand. But if a brick would fall, there would be an outcry of lament at their delay in progress.
This midrash should not surprise any of us who are familiar with our species’ potential for collective evil. The mob mentality takes many forms, but at its worst, always seems to involve a broad willingness to overlook basic human rights. The same mentality which allowed those laborers to elevate their concerns for bricks over people is the underpinning for countless abuses from human trafficking to full-on genocide. This is a common theme in the desert narrative. This week it’s the collective failure of the spies, next week, the revolt of Korah and the mob he inspired to revolution.
Our playground by contrast then, while similar in product and process, was a wonderful example of b’nia l’shem shamayim, it was truly about the people doing the build. When someone fell on Thursday, ten others immediately stopped to make sure she was okay. When someone stood alone with a piece of equipment too heavy to carry, another was immediately there to share the load. And those randomly assigned to clean up or schlep mulch or mix concrete felt as much a part of the process as those assembling the actual playground equipment. The playground build could also boast a mob-mentality, but this mob was about the inertia of good will, what KaBOOM! Founder Darell Hammond calls “cascading steps of courage.”
And there is a deep and wonderful sense among those of us who were privileged to participate that what we were doing was about the best of human potential: identifying a clear communal need, lack of play space, and providing a catalytic, one-day response whose impact will be felt for many years to come. Identifying this need was what led Hammond to create KaBOOM! in the first place. He read an article in the Washington Post about two small children who had suffocated playing in an abandoned car because there was nowhere else for them to play. Fifteen years later, our Reservoir Hill build was number 2001.
This initiative, I’m sure you’ll agree, was a terrific effort which involved our Social Action committee, our members, our community and our community partners! It was truly an example of b’nia l’shem Shamayim, building for the sake of heaven. But June 16th was just one day. Building a playground is a project. Using and enjoying it is something else. My friends, now begins a different sort of work. Last week, we had a wonderful conversation in our chapel service about Beth Am’s relationship with the neighborhood. I want to suggest to you that this new reality, of a beautiful outdoor space around the corner from our shul, is no less than a watershed moment in the history of Beth Am. For those of us who live in Reservoir Hill this is delightfully, but quite simply, our new neighborhood playground. For the rest of you, and on behalf of the neighborhood, I hope it is not presumptuous for me to extend an invitation. Please, come play! Bring your children, your grandchildren, your nieces and nephews. Take a picnic lunch and sit at one of the many refurbished benches or tables, or &endash; in a few weeks &endash; on the grass we just planted. Enjoy our new butterfly garden and our stage or examine the colorful new mural (I personally like the guy with the yarmulke). By virtue of your affiliation with this synagogue, this is your neighborhood too! Enjoy it.
If you do this, I am confident that the relationships you build, with one another and with the residents of Reservoir Hill will leave a lasting imprint on you and your families. And, perhaps even more than the good work of volunteer projects like our playground build, it will be these relationships: the conversations, the breaking down of barriers &endash; of race and class and, yes, religion too, that will be truly transformational for our community. Mazel tov to all of us! May we continue to see this neighborhood, our neighborhood, rebuilt &endash; bimhera v’yameinu &endash; speedily and in our day.