Ah, yes. There’s a subtle chill in the morning air. The school buses start to appear on your street corner. Suddenly, you find yourself thinking about…football. Yes, it’s true, the NFL season started in early September. Are you ready for some football? I admit, the Super Bowl is months away, but football is football. Sit back on your couch, pull up some chips and dip, and read.
Devarim 29:14
The synagogue Super Bowl party was one of Congregation B’nai Joshua’s premiere social events. Other than the High Holy Day services, it was perhaps the best attended function on the shul calendar. It was held at Melvin Schwartz’s house, both because he was a football fanatic and because he had the largest television (also, his wife Leslie made a nasty bean dip).
Usually the men huddled around the television screaming for their favorite team and ribbing fellow congregants if they were rooting for the opposition (as this was central New Jersey, half of those present were New York Giants loyalists and the other half were Philadelphia Eagles adherents). The women normally went to another room in the house to discuss anything but football. The advertisements held as much interest as the game itself for most of the men watching, but since Rabbi Zuckerman was present, everyone tried–or at least pretended–to avert their eyes if an ad was too racy.
Instead of watching the halftime show, the television would be shut off, and everyone would gather together to hear a dvar Torah from the rabbi, known as the Halftime Chizuk. This gave the event some religious content. Also, the halftime show was usually not worth watching, what with its aging rock and roll performers and its wardrobe malfunctions.
Rabbi Bahar, the Assistant Rabbi at B’nai Joshua, excelled at the Halftime Chizuk. He knew his football, having grown up in Cleveland as a rabid Browns fan, and he always managed to integrate a play from the game into his message. If the New England Patriots ran an efficient two-minute drill before the half to score a touchdown (Super Bowl XXIX), it was somehow reminiscent of Joshua defeating the Canaanites. And if the Seattle Seahawks’ kicker shanked a field goal attempt under pressure (Super Bowl XL), it brought to mind the Philistines persecuting the Israelites in the time of the Shoftim, the Judges. He always told the story like he was giving the play by play coverage of the Torah. Everyone loved it. Perhaps his crowning moment was his analogy between striving for personal perfection and the career of Peyton Manning, quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts (Super Bowl XLI) and later the Denver Broncos (Superbowl XLVIII).
This year Rabbi Bahar had to go back to Cleveland for a family simcha and was unavailable to give the Halftime Chizuk, so the honor fell to Rabbi Zuckerman, the Senior Rabbi of the synagogue. Though a warm and beloved community leader, Rabbi Zuckerman was not particularly athletically inclined. He normally avoided the television during the party and hung out near the chips and bean dip, guzzling from a bottle of root beer soda Leslie Schwartz had put out just for his consumption. But this year Rabbi Zuckerman was being called in for a substitution. He was off the sidelines and back on the gridiron. He was calling the plays in the huddle. You get the idea.
When halftime began, the shul president shut off the TV, as was the tradition, and everyone took a five minute bathroom break. Then all the partygoers gathered in the den for the Halftime Chizuk.
Rabbi Zuckerman stood before the crowd and smiled.
“It’s no secret to anyone in the room that I don’t know much about football. When I was a kid, back in Brooklyn, I used to play a mean game of stickball, but that was more than a few years ago.
“Now I know that Rabbi Bahar usually gives a dvar Torah filled with football imagery. I sat with him before he left for the Midwest, and he tried to teach me about first downs and forward passes, but it was no use. I just couldn’t get it. I even tried to throw the football, but it just kept slipping out of my hands. So here’s my take on the Super Bowl.
“Does anyone know how many people watch the super bowl every year?” the rabbi asked.
“A million!” Ben Zion Straub called out.
“That’s a little low,” the rabbi said.
“A gazillion,” Ezra Loring offered.
“I’m not exactly sure how much a gazillion is,” Rabbi Zuckerman said, “but I’d say that’s a little high.”
“A billion,” Shuli Mendel said.
“That’s pretty close, Shuli,” the rabbi said. “I read this morning that eight hundred million people worldwide are expected to watch the Super Bowl. Now that’s a lot of people.
‘Not only that,” Rabbi Zuckerman said, “but I read in the paper this morning that–the rabbi pulled a small notecard out of his pocket–“while watching the game, people are going to eat fourteen thousand tons of chips and eight million pounds of guacamole. And I’m sure that the dip numbers would be even higher if most of the world had access to Mrs. Schwartz’s amazing bean dip.”
“Thanks, Rabbi.”
“Don’t mention it, Leslie. It’s really delicious.
“Anyway, as I was saying, can you imagine eight hundred million people watching one event! Are they really all football fans? Personally, I don’t think so. I think that watching this game gives all these people a sense of community. This whole Super Bowl thing kind of reminds me of a scene from the Torah, in the book of Devarim. Does anyone know what scene?
Silence.
The rabbi took advantage of the pause to take a sip of his root beer.
“Moshe Rabeinu gives his final address in front of the whole Jewish people, millions of them, and they’re all standing there in the desert, listening to him speak. There are old people there, who witnessed the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, and young people who barely know of the miracles God performed in the wilderness, and they’re all there together. And Moshe’s telling them of their past and their future. It’s like a big, spiritual Super Bowl. Everyone was there as one community to hear his words, like the whole world watching one divinely inspired sporting event.
“But do you know what the difference is between the super bowl and Moshe’s final address to the Jewish people?”
Again an opportunity to take a sip of root beer, nice and cold.
“In Parshat Nitzavim, near the end of his speech, Moshe tells the Jewish people that he is speaking to ki et asher yeshno po imanu omeid hayom lifnei Hashem Elokeinu vi-et asher enenu po imanu hayom. With whoever is here, standing with us today before Hashem, our God, and whoever is not with us today. Who does Moshe mean by those who are not with us today? Any ideas?”
Quiet crowd. More root beer.
“Rashi explains that this comment is intended to include future generations. Even future Jews are witnesses to what Moshe was telling the Israelites on that day.
“So the book of Devarim is even greater than the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl may bring together a billion people in the world in one shared experience, but the Torah binds together the Jews of the desert generation and the Jews of all time. The covenant of the Torah includes all of us, even if we weren’t physically present at Sinai, we were there spiritually, and we accept the commandments as a nation. It makes us feel like we were there personally.”
Ben Zion Straub raised his hand.
“Yes, Ben Zion?”
“I guess that would be like watching a replay of the Super Bowl years later on ESPN. Like last week my Dad and I watched Super Bowl III, where the Jets dismantled the Colts, and even though I wasn’t born yet, I felt like I was at the game.”
The rabbi considered Ben Zion’s words for a moment.
“Gee, Ben Zion, I guess you’re right. The pasuk in Nitzavim is sort of like a game replayed on ESPN. That was very insightful.”
“And I guess Moshe was the MVP,” Ezra Loring suggested.
Rabbi Zuckerman didn’t know what to say to that and smiled politely, sipping the last of his root beer from between his melting ice cubes.
And on that note the congregants dispersed to refill their plates and glasses before the second half began. Rabbi Zuckerman returned to the bean dip, and the women retreated once more to another room. And unlike in Devarim, where the Israelites stayed until the very end of Moshe’s oration, most of the party goers started heading home before the end of the third quarter, to tuck children into bed and get ready for work the next day. And many of the members of Congregation B’nai Joshua were among the 175,000 people who partook of antacids immediately after the game.
Larry Stiefel is a pediatrician at Tenafly Pediatrics and a rabid Giants fan.
By Larry Stiefel
