About a quarter mile from my home, there is the Pikesville Middle School which has three tennis courts around the back of the school buildings. It’s a very nice setting, with big fields all around, ringed by many full-grown trees, casting their shade onto the otherwise treeless grassy expanses. Around noontime, I would strap my tennis equipment and water bottle to the carrier on the back of my bike, and ride over to the courts, knowing that other older, free-lance or not-officially-working fellows like myself would also show up at the courts, looking for a doubles game. On a good day, as many as a dozen players might show up. I also always brought a Chumash with me (a Saperstein Rashi edition), because there would often be a delay as to when other players would show up – and since there was a picnic bench conveniently located under one of those shady trees adjacent to the courts, I could spend the extra time (five, ten, or fifteen minutes) going over that week’s Torah parshah. Most of the guys who showed up were Jewish (not all), and one or two others were observant. But no matter, we had a nice camaraderie between us.

Now, one day, another chaver had showed up early, and came over to sit with me at the picnic bench, as I was already reading through the Chumash with Rashi’s commentary. He looks over at the Chumash and asks, “What’s that you’re reading?” I explain that it’s the Chumash/Torah with a commentary written by Rashi, one of the greatest Biblical commentators who lived almost one thousand years ago in France; and that it’s customary to go over each week’s Torah portion with explanatory material. Now there seems to be a flicker of recognition in his expression, and he refocuses his attention on me and asks, “Didn’t you already go over that last year?” Indeed, I did. The implied extension of his question was, “… well, if you already went over those Bible stories last year, then why are you reading them again?” Right on; on the face of it, not a bad question.

So, I turned back to him and tried to turn the tables a bit. I said, “Joe (all names have been changed to protect the innocent…), tell me, why are you out here today; didn’t you play tennis yesterday. In fact, haven’t you played tennis every day this week, and last week, and every day this entire month?” And his answer is revealing: “Well, yes, Avraham. But as you know, today’s game is different than yesterday’s game, because – there is just so much to this game! And every day, I get a little bit better, a little bit stronger and a little bit better at mastering this fantastic sport. My backhand is better; my serve is more powerful; my drop shop more nuanced; my aim more precise. And I just got this new racket last month and finally I’m getting the feel for it; my game has definitely improved! Avraham, what kind of question is that? You know how much we love this game; we just can’t get enough of it! There’s nothing like it and you know how it really makes my day – it even makes my life worthwhile!” Indeed; an excellent answer.

There is one thing that just about all of the fellows had in common, and that was their passion for the game of tennis. They literally lived for that day’s tennis game. It was not necessarily a means to an end i.e. a way to stay healthy and get needed exercise – but, an end in itself! They were passionate about their play – and this could be seen in their dedication to playing at every opportunity, intimate knowledge of the rules and tactics, not holding back in purchasing the best equipment, and vociferously arguing over line calls, foot falls and rackets possibly touching the net.

What can we learn from passionate tennis? Maybe we can learn to practice Passionate Judaism (for a great read, see R’ Moshe Meir Weiss’ book of the same title, Judaica Press, 1998). For starters, let’s go back to Joe’s original question regarding our yearly re-reading of the Torah parshah, ““Didn’t you already go over that last year? If you already went over those Bible stories last year, then why are you reading them again?” Here’s a possible passionate answer to why we read over the Torah portion once again each and every year:

“Joe, you ask why I’m reading over the Torah portion once again. Well, for starters, there’s just so much there; it’s pardes, with one level of meaning deeper than the other. There are shivim panim l’Torah – seventy ‘faces’ to the word and world of Torah – and I am just beginning to scratch the surface! The Talmud and Codes of Jewish Law say that we should learn shnai’im Mikrah v’echad Targum – that is, go over the Chumash text twice with the Onkelos’ Aramaic translation and commentary once. I barely have time to go over the text once before it’s read in shul on Shabbos; maybe this year I can read the text carefully twice, search out the meaning of hidden words, and finally try to conquer Onkelos’ Targum/Translation. Joe, there are hundreds – probably thousands – of traditional Biblical commentaries written on the Chumash, and I have barely read any of them! Maybe this year, besides glancing at Rashi, I will try to learn a new pairush on the Chumash. And, not having an intimate knowledge of Hebrew language is not a problem anymore: there are hundreds of books written in English available now with remarkable commentaries. Joe, everything in the Talmud, the Codes of Law, our philosophical texts and overall approach to life is based on Chumash! I just got a new set of Chumashim – not to mention the set of Mikra’os Gedolos which has been sitting on my shelf since my Bar Mitzvah. By mastering Chumash I can begin to really set sail into the vast sea of Torah knowledge, which is mind-boggling in its depth containing powerful messages for living meaningfully. Joe, we daven every day (Maariv service), “Ki haim chayainu v’orech yameinu u’va’him neh’geh yoman va’layla – the words of Torah are our very life and the length of our days; in them we will delve both night and day!” Joe – let’s you and I learn Chumash together, because you just don’t know what you’re missing!”

Just as Joe’s passionate tennis can be inspirational to an onlooker, so can our passionate Judaism be inspirational to those who look upon us. Another true story, also related to tennis:

Once, at the Hilton Tennis and Fitness Club, a bunch of players were sitting on the chairs overlooking the courts, waiting for their court time (which is allocated by the hour). One fellow, who I didn’t know, asked me if I played at the Hilton on Saturday’s, and would I be interested in a game. I had previously seen this guy working out on the fitness machines, and he looked to be in great shape. I told him that I was Sabbath observant and didn’t play on Shabbos. In a tone that may have been slightly tinged with disdain, he said, “Oh, you must be ultra-Orthodox”.

As an aside: I’ve always wondered why the prefix ‘ultra’ always means something wonderful, except when it is attached to stringent Judaic observance. For instance, the best detergents are ‘ultra-bright’, while the best teeth are ‘ultra-white’. The best pickups are ‘ultra-tough’ and the most luxurious hotels and getaways are the ‘ultra’ in a recreational escape and vacation. But if you are ‘ultra-Orthodox’ then there is something a bit extreme and fanatical about your approach to life.

And, so I asked my acquaintance, “Are you an ultra-athlete?” Answering his quizzical looks, I explained, “Well, you look to be in great shape and I see you work out on the fitness machines. I assume you have an exercise schedule and that there are certain foods you will eat and certain foods you won’t. You also probably avoid certain activities and distractions so that you can always be at your peak performance. So, that must make you an ultra-athlete, right?” “Well, I guess it does,” he answered. “Then, you’re right – I’m an ultra-Jew, keeping to a certain schedule and ‘working out’ by learning our sacred texts. I go to synagogue at certain times and eat only certain foods which I know will be good for my soul, and avoiding certain foods and distractions so that I can always try to function at my very best.” When we parted company, I could see he had a new respect for us ultras.

Without passion, we cannot inspire others; we cannot even inspire ourselves. Perhaps most importantly, without passionate Judaism, we will have a tough time of it trying to inspire our children to live as ehrlichin yidden. When our children see that we are willing to make sacrifices and go the extra mile for our beliefs, then they will certainly learn that important lesson as well.

An accountant friend of mine recently told me the following story: “On my office desk are pictures of my large family, children and grandchildren. One of my clients, in his fifties, saw these pictures and wanted to know ‘How do you do it?’ He told how his main drive and passion in life had been money; how his spent all his years working constantly to make his first million, which, he reasoned, he would eventually give over to his children. But, his children did not share his passion for work and money and resented not having him in their lives; they knew nothing of traditional Jewish values. His only daughter grew up and took to hanging around bars to meet a ‘nice guy’. His only son intermarried. Now, my client found out he had cancer and would never see a family like those in the pictures on my desk. ‘How did you do it?’ he asked again. I told him that we had a passion for Judaism: we spent truly joyous Shabbos and Yom Tovim together and our children learned true Jewish values in Jewish day schools. My client died a heartbroken man, realizing too late he had been passionate about the wrong things.”

This New Year, let’s resolve to live passionately and make Judaism an exciting and integral part of our lives.