Un dels meus personatges de dibuixos preferits és l'Snoopy. M'encanta com jeu a la seva caseta i rumia sobre les grans coses de la vida. Quan em vaig parar a pensar en la compassió, el primer que em va venir al cap va ser una tira on està jagut i diu: "Reconec i comprenc perfectament perquè hauríem d'estimar els altres com ens estimem a nosaltres. L'únic problema és que, els altres, no els puc ni veure." D'alguna manera, aquesta és una de les dificultats de com interpretar una bona idea.
One of my favorite cartoon characters is Snoopy. I love the way he sits and lies on his kennel and contemplates the great things of life. So when I thought about compassion, my mind immediately went to one of the cartoon strips, where he's lying there and he says, "I really understand, and I really appreciate how one should love one's neighbor as one love's oneself. The only trouble is the people next door; I can't stand them." This, in a way, is one of the challenges of how to interpret a really good idea.
Tots nosaltres, crec, creiem en la compassió. Si us fixeu en totes les religions del món, veureu que en totes s'ensenya a ser compassiu. Per exemple, en el judaisme la Torà ens diu que hem d'estimar els altres com ens estimem a nosaltres. I entre els ensenyaments jueus i rabínics, trobem a Hillel, que diu que no hauríem de fer als altres el que no volem que ens facin a nosaltres. I totes les religions principals ensenyen coses semblants. També en el judaisme se'ns diu que Déu és anomenat "El Compassiu", "Ha-rachaman". Al cap i a la fi, com podria existir el món si Déu no fos compassiu? I nosaltres, que segons la Torà som fets a imatge de Déu, també hem de ser compassius. Però això què vol dir? Com ens afecta en la nostra vida diària? Evidentment, de vegades ser compassiu ens pot fer sentir coses molt difícils de controlar.
We all, I think, believe in compassion. If you look at all the world religions, all the main world religions, you'll find within them some teaching concerning compassion. So in Judaism, we have, from our Torah, that you should love your neighbor as you love yourself. And within Jewish teachings, the rabbinic teachings, we have Hillel, who taught that you shouldn't do to others what you don't like being done to yourself. And all the main religions have similar teachings. And again, within Judaism, we have a teaching about God, who is called the compassionate one, Ha-rachaman. After all, how could the world exist without God being compassionate? And we, as taught within the Torah that we are made in the image of God, so we too have to be compassionate. But what does it mean? How does it impact on our everyday life? Sometimes, of course, being compassionate can produce feelings within us that are very difficult to control.
Molt sovint, quan he assistit o he oficiat un funeral, o quan m'he segut amb gent que estava de dol, o amb algú a punt de morir, m'aclaparen la tristesa, els problemes i les dificultats que hauran d'afrontar els familiars. I m'emociono tant que em poso a plorar. I, tanmateix, si em deixés vèncer per les emocions, no tindria aquesta feina, perquè precisament jo els he d'ajudar i tenir cura dels rituals i els aspectes pràctics. Però d'altra banda, si no sentís aquesta compassió, sentiria que ha arribat el moment de penjar l'uniforme i deixar de ser rabina.
I know there are many times when I've gone and conducted a funeral, or when I have been sitting with the bereaved, or with people who are dying, and I am overwhelmed by the sadness, by the difficulty, the challenge that is there for the family, for the person. And I'm touched, so that tears come to my eyes. And yet, if I just allowed myself to be overwhelmed by these feelings, I wouldn't be doing my job -- because I have to actually be there for them and make sure that rituals happen, that practicalities are seen to. And yet, on the other hand, if I didn't feel this compassion, then I feel that it would be time for me to hang up my robe and give up being a rabbi.
I tots nosaltres sentim aquestes coses quan fem front al món. ¿Qui no sent compassió en veure els terribles resultats de la guerra o de la fam, o dels terratrèmols o els tsunamis? Conec gent que diu "Mira, passen tantes coses que jo no hi puc fer res. Ni tan sols ho intentaré." Alguns voluntaris l'anomenen "fatiga de la compassió". D'altres senten que no poden seguir afrontant la compassió, apaguen el televisor i no el miren. Però en el judaisme sempre diem que hi ha d'haver un terme mitjà.
And these same feelings are there for all of us as we face the world. Who cannot be touched by compassion when we see the terrible horrors of the results of war, or famine, or earthquakes, or tsunamis? I know some people who say "Well, you know there's just so much out there -- I can't do anything, I'm not going to even begin to try." And there are some charity workers who call this compassion fatigue. There are others who feel they can't confront compassion anymore, and so they turn off the television and don't watch. In Judaism, though, we tend to always say, there has to be a middle way.
Hem de pensar en les necessitats dels altres, però de manera que puguis seguir amb la teva vida i ajudar la gent. Així doncs, part de la compassió consisteix a entendre la gent. I això és impossible si tu mateix no t'entens una mica més.
You have to, of course, be aware of the needs of others, but you have to be aware in such a way that you can carry on with your life and be of help to people. So part of compassion has to be an understanding of what makes people tick. And, of course, you can't do that unless you understand yourself a bit more.
Hi ha una interpretació rabínica molt maca sobre l'origen de la creació que diu que quan Déu va crear el món, va pensar que seria millor fer-lo només amb el do diví de la justícia. Perquè, al cap i a la fi, Déu és just. Per tant, hi hauria d'haver justícia arreu del món. Déu va mirar cap al futur i es va adonar que si només era fet de justícia, el món no podria existir.
And there's a lovely rabbinic interpretation of the beginnings of creation, which says that when God created the world, God thought that it would be best to create the world only with the divine attribute of justice. Because, after all, God is just. Therefore, there should be justice throughout the world. And then God looked to the future and realized, if the world was created just with justice, the world couldn't exist.
Així, Déu va pensar: "No. Faré el món només de compassió." I Déu va mirar cap al futur i es va adonar que, en realitat, si només omplia el món de compassió, hi hauria anarquia i caos. Tot ha de tenir un límit. Els rabins ho descriuen com ser un rei amb una copa de vidre fràgil i bonica. Si hi poseu aigua massa freda, es farà miques. Si hi poseu aigua bullint, es farà miques. Què hem de fer? Una barreja de les dues. I doncs, Déu en va posar de totes dues.
So, God thought, "Nope, I'm going to create the world just with compassion." And then God looked to the future and realized that, in fact, if the world were just filled with compassion, there would be anarchy and chaos. There had to be limits to all things. The rabbis describe this as being like a king who has a beautiful, fragile glass bowl. If you put too much cold water in, it will shatter. If you put boiling water in, it will shatter. What do you have to do? Put in a mixture of the two. And so God put both of these possibilities into the world.
Però encara hi falta una cosa que és la traducció dels sentiments que ens desperta la compassió en un sentit més ampli, en l'acció. No podem quedar-nos quiets com l'Snoopy i tenir grans idees sobre els altres. Nosaltres hem de fer alguna cosa. I també tenim en el judaisme el concepte d'amor i bondat que esdevé molt important. "Chesed".
There is something more though that has to be there. And that is the translation of the feelings that we may have about compassion into the wider world, into action. So, like Snoopy, we can't just lie there and think great thoughts about our neighbors. We actually have to do something about it. And so there is also, within Judaism, this notion of love and kindness that becomes very important: "chesed."
Les tres coses han d'anar juntes. La idea de justícia, que ens estableix uns límits i ens diu què està bé a la vida, què està bé en viure, què hauríem de fer, justícia social. Ha d'existir la voluntat de realitzar bones accions, però evidentment, no a costa del nostre seny. De cap manera es pot fer res pels altres si fem massa. Equilibrant-ho tot trobem el concepte de compassió, que ha de sortir, diguem, de les nostres pròpies arrels.
All these three things, then, have to be melded together. The idea of justice, which gives boundaries to our lives and gives us a feeling of what's right about life, what's right about living, what should we be doing, social justice. There has to be a willingness to do good deeds, but not, of course, at the expense of our own sanity. You know, there's no way that you can do anything for anyone if you overdo things. And balancing them all in the middle is this notion of compassion, which has to be there, if you like, at our very roots.
Aquesta idea de compassió, la tenim perquè som fets a imatge de Déu, que és El Compassiu per antonomàsia. Què suposa aquesta compassió? Suposa entendre el dolor d'un altre. Però molt més que això, vol dir entendre la connexió que tenim amb tota la creació, entendre que som part d'aquesta creació, que hi ha una unitat sobre tot el que veiem, escoltem i sentim. Jo l'anomeno Déu. I que aquesta unitat connecta tota la creació.
This idea of compassion comes to us because we're made in the image of God, who is ultimately the compassionate one. What does this compassion entail? It entails understanding the pain of the other. But even more than that, it means understanding one's connection to the whole of creation: understanding that one is part of that creation, that there is a unity that underlies all that we see, all that we hear, all that we feel. I call that unity God. And that unity is something that connects all of creation.
I és clar, en el món modern, amb el moviment mediambiental, cada cop sóm més conscients de la connexió entre les coses, que el que jo faci aquí sí que afectarà a l'Àfrica, que si abusem de les emissions de carboni, pel que sembla, estarem provocant que deixi de ploure al centre i a l'est d'Àfrica. Així doncs, existeix una connexió. I ho he de comprendre com part de la creació, com part feta a imatge de Déu. I he d'entendre que de vegades les meves necessitats s'han de sotmetre a les d'altres.
And, of course, in the modern world, with the environmental movement, we're becoming even more aware of the connectivity of things, that something I do here actually does matter in Africa, that if I use too much of my carbon allowance, it seems to be that we are causing a great lack of rain in central and eastern Africa. So there is a connectivity, and I have to understand that -- as part of the creation, as part of me being made in the image of God. And I have to understand that my needs sometimes have to be sublimated to other needs.
La història dels 18 minuts, la trobo fascinant. Perquè al judaisme, el número 18 en lletres hebrees vol dir "vida", la paraula "vida". D'alguna manera, els 18 minuts m'estan fent dir que a la vida això és l'important pel que fa a la compassió, però també alguna cosa més. En realitat, els 18 minuts són importants. Perquè a la Pasqua, quan s'ha de menjar pa sense llevat, els rabins diuen: "Quina diferència hi ha entre la massa amb la qual es fa el pa i amb la qual es fa el pa sense llevat, "matzah"? I la resposta és 18 minuts, que és el que diuen que triga la massa en esdevenir llevat. Què vol dir que la massa esdevé llevat? Vol dir que s'omple d'aire calent. Què és "matzah"? Què és pa sense llevat? No ho agafeu.
This "18 minutes" business, I find quite fascinating. Because in Judaism, the number 18, in Hebrew letters, stands for life -- the word "life." So, in a sense, the 18 minutes is challenging me to say, "In life, this is what's important in terms of compassion." But, something else as well: actually, 18 minutes is important. Because at Passover, when we have to eat unleavened bread, the rabbis say, what is the difference between dough that is made into bread, and dough that is made into unleavened bread, or "matzah"? And they say "It's 18 minutes." Because that's how long they say it takes for this dough to become leaven. What does it mean, "dough becomes leaven"? It means it gets filled with hot air. What's matzah? What's unleavened bread? You don't get it.
Metafòricament, el que diuen els rabins és que per Pasqua el que hem de fer és treure'ns l'aire calent, l'orgull, pensar que som les persones més importants del món sencer, i que tot gira al nostre entorn. I alliberant-nos de tot això, dels costums, les emocions, les idees que ens esclavitzen, que ens posen una bena davant els ulls i no ens deixen veure les necessitats dels altres, ens alliberem a nosaltres mateixos. Això també és essencial per a tenir compassió, per a entendre el nostre lloc al món.
Symbolically, what the rabbis say is that at Passover, what we have to do is try to get rid of our hot air -- our pride, our feeling that we are the most important people in the whole entire world, and that everything should revolve round us. So we try and get rid of those, and so doing, try to get rid of the habits, the emotions, the ideas that enslave us, that make our eyes closed, give us tunnel vision so we don't see the needs of others -- and free ourselves and free ourselves from that. And that too is a basis for having compassion, for understanding our place in the world.
Al judaisme hi ha una història molt maca d'un home ric que estava segut en una sinagoga. I, com molta gent, s'estava adormint durant el sermó. I mentre s'adormia, estaven llegint el Levític de la Torà. I estaven dient que antigament al temple de Jerusalem, els sacerdots tenien pa i sempre el posaven en una taula especial al temple de Jerusalem. L'home dormia, però va sentir els mots "pa", "temple" i "Déu" i es va despertar. I va dir: "Déu vol pa. Ja està. Déu vol pa. Ja sé què vol Déu."
Now there is, in Judaism, a gorgeous story of a rich man who sat in synagogue one day. And, as many people do, he was dozing off during the sermon. And as he was dozing off, they were reading from the book of Leviticus in the Torah. And they were saying that in the ancient times in the temple in Jerusalem, the priests used to have bread, which they used to place into a special table in the temple in Jerusalem. The man was asleep, but he heard the words bread, temple, God, and he woke up. He said, "God wants bread. That's it. God wants bread. I know what God wants."
I va córrer cap a casa. I després del Sàbat, va fer 12 barres de pa, les va dur a la sinagoga, va entrar-hi, va obrir l'arca i va dir: "Senyor, no sé perquè voleu aquest pa, però aquí el teniu." I el va ficar a l'arca amb els escrits de la Torà. I va tornar a casa.
And he rushed home. And after the Sabbath, he made 12 loaves of bread, took them to the synagogue, went into the synagogue, opened the ark and said, "God, I don't know why you want this bread, but here you are." And he put it in the ark with the scrolls of the Torah. Then he went home.
L'home de la neteja va anar a la sinagoga: "Déu meu, m'he ficat en un bon embolic. Tinc fills, la meva dona està malalta, no tinc diners. Què puc fer?" Hi entra: "Senyor, ajudeu-me, si us plau. Oh, quina bona olor." Va cap a l'arca. L'obre. "Pa! Senyor, heu escoltat les meves pregàries. M'heu respost." Agafa el pa i se'n torna a casa.
The cleaner came into the synagogue. "Oh God, I'm in such trouble. I've got children to feed. My wife's ill. I've got no money. What can I do?" He goes into the synagogue. "God, will you please help me? Ah, what a wonderful smell." He goes to the ark. He opens the ark. "There's bread! God, you've answered my plea. You've answered my question." Takes the bread and goes home.
Mentrestant, l'home ric es posa a pensar: "Sóc un ximplet. Déu vol pa? Déu, que domina tot l'univers, vol el meu pa?" Corre cap a la sinagoga: "El trauré de l'arca abans que ningú el trobi." I hi va i ja no hi és. I diu: "Senyor, sí que el volies. Volies el meu pa. La propera setmana, amb panses."
Meanwhile, the rich man thinks to himself, "I'm an idiot. God wants bread? God, the one who rules the entire universe, wants my bread?" He rushes to the synagogue. "I'll get it out of the ark before anybody finds it." He goes in there, and it's not there. And he says, "God, you really did want it. You wanted my bread. Next week, with raisins."
I així durant molts anys. Cada setmana, l'home duia pa amb panses i moltes coses bones, i les ficava a l'arca. I cada setmana, l'home de la neteja: "Senyor, m'heu tornat a respondre." Agafa el pa i se l'emporta.
This went on for years. Every week, the man would bring bread with raisins, with all sorts of good things, put it into the ark. Every week, the cleaner would come. "God you've answered my plea again." Take the bread. Take it home.
Fins que va arribar un rabí nou. Sempre ho espatllen tot. Va arribar un rabí i va veure el que passava. I els va cridar tots dos al seu despatx. I els va dir: "Això és el que passa."
Went on until a new rabbi came. Rabbis always spoil things. The rabbi came in and saw what was going on. And he called the two of them to his office. And he said, you know, "This is what's happening."
I l'home ric es va quedar fet pols: "Voleu dir que el Senyor no volia el meu pa?"
And the rich man -- oh, dear -- crestfallen. "You mean God didn't want my bread?"
I l'home pobre: "I que tampoc va respondre les meves pregàries?"
And the poor man said, "And you mean God didn't answer my pleas?"
I el rabí va dir: "No m'heu entès." "No heu entès res de res." "Evidentment, el que tu estàs fent," li va dir a l'home ric, "és respondre les pregàries de Déu perquè siguem compassius." "I Déu," li va dir a l'home pobre, "està responent les teves perquè la gent sigui més compassiva." Va mirar l'home ric i li va agafar les mans dient: "No ho entens? Aquestes són les mans de Déu."
And the rabbi said, "You've misunderstood me. You've misunderstood totally," he said. "Of course, what you are doing," he said to the rich man, "is answering God's plea that we should be compassionate. And God," he said to the poor man, "is answering your plea that people should be compassionate and give." He looked at the rich man. He held the rich man's hands and said, "Don't you understand?" He said, "These are the hands of God."
I això és el que sento jo, que només puc apropar-vos a la idea de ser compassiu, de comprendre que hi ha una connexió, una unitat al món, que vull complir amb aquesta unitat, i que ho puc aconseguir entenent, espero, intentant entendre una mica el dolor dels altres, però sent conscient dels límits, que la gent ha de ser responsable d'alguns dels problemes que tenen, i que he d'entendre on és el límit de la meva energia i la meva entrega. Les he de revalorar, apartar-ne les coses materials i els sentiments que em puguin esclavitzar, per a poder veure el món amb claredat.
So that is the way I feel: that I can only try to approach this notion of being compassionate, of understanding that there is a connectivity, that there is a unity in this world; that I want to try and serve that unity, and that I can try and do that by understanding, I hope, trying to understand something of the pain of others; but understanding that there are limits, that people have to bear responsibility for some of the problems that come upon them; and that I have to understand that there are limits to my energy, to the giving I can give. I have to reevaluate them, try and separate out the material things and my emotions that may be enslaving me, so that I can see the world clearly.
I aleshores provar de veure com puc fer d'aquestes mans les de Déu. I fer així que la compassió cobri vida al món.
And then I have to try to see in what ways I can make these the hands of God. And so try to bring compassion to life in this world.