Spiritual Action

Cultivating Awareness

2012-01-27T09:09:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Va’eira, which means, and He appeared. God speaks to Moses about the Divine Name and promises to redeem the Israelites and take them out of Egypt, leading them to the Land. Moses has doubts about the success of his mission and voices his frustration to God, who instructs Moses and Aaron to go to Pharaoh and demand that the people be freed. Pharaoh repeatedly refuses, bringing upon himself and his people the plagues of blood, frogs, lice, swarms of beasts, and fiery hail. Each plague brings Pharaoh to consider freeing the people, only to go back on his word and reconsider, once the plagues have been removed.
In this Torah portion, the theme of knowing is introduced in the very beginning, the 3rd verse, which reads: “through my name God I did not become known to them.” Then, as the portion proceeds, this theme is restated eight more times. The Torah says, “so that you will know that I am God.” It’s repeated a few different ways to include Moses, the Israelites, Pharaoh, and the Egyptians. Anything repeated in the Torah has significance and something that appears eight times bears further investigation. So we might ask, what does God want us to know and why does God want us to know it?
The “what” is fairly easy: there was no monotheism at that time, except among us, the Hebrews. God wanted a universal truth to come into the stream of human knowledge, that there is one God and that all other gods are not real. This God did through what we now call plagues. The Women’s Torah Commentary points out that the phrase, 10 Plagues, eser makkot, does not appear anywhere in the Torah. God calls these events signs, otot or wonders, moftim, and not plagues. One would think that the seven years of plenty and seven years of famine in Joseph’s time would have ushered in a period of monotheism. It’s possible that it did, but 200-400 years later, Egypt was again a polytheistic society. The Ten Wonders were designed then, to get our attention, get Pharaoh’s attention, and get the Egyptians’ attention, which they certainly did. We should remember that the first few wonders were merely annoying and not life threatening: the Nile turning to blood so that the Egyptians had to dig to find fresh water, frogs, lice, and insects; later boils, hail, and darkness. Only cattle disease, and the final plague, killing of the firstborn destroyed animal and then also human life.
When God first appeared to Moses, the Torah says: “God saw that Moses turned aside to see and God called out to him from amid the bush.” Moses’ capacity to notice something unusual, to be aware of the inconsistencies of life, was what recommended him for a special spiritual relationship with God. The painter Eugene Delacroix once said, “The eyes of many people are dull or false; they see objects literally; of the exquisite, they see nothing.” And a writer, the Reverend Erie Chapman, who contributed to an online site for caregivers commented: “The decision to see with "dull eyes" or to open to "the exquisite" is very personal. It takes work to learn the appreciation of the sacred.” This is what God wants us to do: to be able to notice and see beyond the obvious. Everything that we encounter has the potential, like the wonders, to educate us: to allow us to see and understand more of the underlying truth of God’s existence and our place within it. The Apter Rebbe, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel of Apt once asked, “Why do we need such a strong reminder from God?” I might also ask, Why isn’t truth evident to us and why can’t we automatically notice God’s presence in the everyday occurrences of out lives? If everyone could realize truth innately, there might be no need for a Torah to tell us what is real and what is only an illusion. But also, there would be no progress for us: no learning, no spiritual attainment. We would already be living in the messianic era, called the end of days. That we have the capability, like Moses to notice and learn from the marvels of our everyday lives is a great gift that we are asked to develop and use: to become aware of more than just the physical and receive the knowledge that is being sent to us. This was said ever so much more elegantly in the Reform movement’s siddur, Gates of Prayer: “Days pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles. Eternal One, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing; let there be moments when Your Presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk. Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed. And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness, and exclaim in wonder: How filled with awe is this place, and we did not know it! Blessed is the Eternal One, the holy God!” May we become more and more aware of the Divine Presence, who now as then, wants to be known and to bless us with knowledge and wisdom.

Receiving What You Want

2012-01-20T11:48:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayechi, which means, and he lived. Jacob has come to live in Egypt with his family. He is very elderly and asks Joseph to bury him in Canaan. He adopts Joseph’s two sons as his own and blesses them. Feeling that he is about to die, he calls all his sons to gather for a prophecy and a blessing. Then, having said everything he wanted to say to them, he lays back and dies. After they return from burying him in Canaan, Joseph’s brothers fear that Joseph will take revenge, and they lie to him. Joseph sees through their scheme and reassures them that he has forgiven them. With Joseph’s death, the book of Genesis comes to a close.
There are two incidents in this portion where someone wants something that they are not granted. First, Joseph is displeased that his father blesses Ephraim, the younger son, with a greater blessing than Manasseh, the older son. Later, Reuben, the eldest, is passed over for the leadership of the family. The sages taught that we should have faith that what we are supposed to receive, we will receive. And one of the Chassidic masters, the Rebbe of Lechen specifically said, “Jacob blessed Joseph’s children that they ought to bless and thank God for today and never worry about the morrow.”
In assembling all his sons, Jacob avoids the mistake his father made: only blessing the firstborn. Jacob tells all the sons who will assume the leadership of the family and explains his reasons. He begins with the eldest and says: “Reuben, you are my firstborn, my strength and my initial vigor. Greater by rank and greater by might. Water like impetuosity; do not take more, because you mounted your father’s bed; then you desecrated the one who ascended my couch.” Reuben is disqualified because he had sexual relations with Bilhah, his stepmother and also because Jacob feels he is temperamentally unsuited for the leadership role. Some commentators have suggested that by laying with Bilhah, he was trying to supplant his father, laying claim to his father’s power and leadership.
It is one thing to work for what we want to achieve and try to live up to our aspirations and goals; and it is something very different to force God and the Universe to conform to our will or to take something that is denied to us. Rabbi Gelberman was quoted in a very beautiful presentation at a Yoga retreat, where he spoke about achieving holiness and wholeness (The Full Chair, Vol. II). As he did so often, he gave meanings to the letters of words. The word LIFE he interpreted two ways: first, for someone with a big ego, little faith, and not much joy, and second, for someone who is joyous, ready to embrace life, has faith, and whose ego is not so inflated. For the second person, the L stands for Love. Rabbi Gelberman says: now the i in there is a little i: secure, at peace. He doesn’t talk about himself: he is included in everybody….he knows who he is. His i is a part of the overall I.” This is exactly what Abraham Joshua Heschl of Apt taught: “The Tzaddik is joyous when he sees others receiving blessings in abundance.” And also there is a Taoist teaching that is just the same: Regard your neighbor’s gain as your own gain and your neighbor’s loss as your own loss. Harry Ellison carries this one on his list of affirmations in his pocket. What these teachings try to tell us is that by finding our attachment to the Source of Life, we can relax and stop straining to outdo each other. We can live cooperatively and not competitively. When we realize the truth of our connection to the Wellspring of Life and each other, then we can have confidence that by striving to live from that place of wisdom, we will be taken care of. We don’t have to worry about a lack or about someone else getting what we want. There is more than enough for each of us. Not that we should not make any effort. We should make every effort, but effort of the right kind: the effort to love more fully. The effort that the S’fat Emet calls, arousing the life force through desire,” and the effort to attach oneself to the “Source of Life” through the personal struggle to improve in our thoughts and behavior toward others; the effort to trust that God will take care of us if we do our part. In the rest of the word, LIFE, the f stands for freedom; and I would like to suggest that knowing the truth of our connection and Oneness allows us to have the understanding to be truly free: to choose for each other and not just for ourselves: to choose for the Whole, all of life, and not just the small part, which is me as an individual. Then we participate in a life of giving; and from that generosity, we receive whatever we need; maybe not whatever we want, but what we need. The last letter of Life is E: to be excited. When we love and are secure and are free, then we become eager to be of help, eager to connect with others, eager to fill the little gaps of life, to make the world more whole. Then we live not just for our own sake, but for a larger purpose: to express the goodness and generosity that is within life and within us. Then we are most fully alive. May we accept the gifts we are given, and be glad for those who receive their gifts. May we dwell in security, knowing that because we are attached to the Source of Goodness and Blessing, that goodness and blessing will surely come to us.

In A Real Place

2012-01-13T10:48:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayigash, which means, and he approached. Joseph, viceroy of Egypt, had framed Benjamin, his youngest brother, in order to take him into custody and find out whether his brothers would abandon Benjamin, as they once abandoned him. As this portion opens, Judah, the fourth brother, who had promised their Father, Jacob, to return Benjamin unharmed, comes forward to plead for Benjamin’s freedom. His speech to the Viceroy Joseph, not knowing that Joseph is his brother, is said to be one of the most beautiful orations in the Torah. He says, toward the end: “Now please let your servant remain in place of the youth as a servant to my lord, and let the youth go up with his brothers (Gen 44:33),” offering himself as a slave so that Benjamin can go free. By sacrificing himself, Judah melts Joseph’s heart and Joseph then reveals himself to his brothers.
Judah, the fourth brother was the child of Leah and Jacob. When Leah gave birth to him, she said, “This time I will give thanks to God,’ therefore she called his name Judah.” This is significant because, in next week’s portion, Judah receives a blessing from his father, Jacob, appointing him the leader of the family, and also giving him a prophecy: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a scholar from among his descendants until Shiloh arrives.” This prophecy has come true. The leadership never departed from the tribe of Judah, for we are descended mainly through Leah and Jacob, from Judah, and some of us from Levi. Most of the other tribes were assimilated into the Assyrian Empire. And we, who call ourselves Jews today, are called Jews because of Judah, because we are mostly of Judah. When Leah said, now I will give thanks to God, she named us, those who give thanks. Judah is that same word we have spoken about: Toda, thank you; Modim, we give thanks; and Tov L’hodot, it is good to give thanks. What is a Jew? Who are we? We are those who give thanks, who express gratitude to God.
In saying who we are, it is also important to say who we are not. We are not a people who affirm the innate sinfulness of human beings. We are not taught to go through our days laden with guilt and fear; and so far removed from God by our transgressions that the divide is unbridgeable. We place ourselves, through gratitude, in a realistic place, Makom, in Hebrew. When we do something for someone else, usually that person thanks us, expressing their gratitude. In terms of interpersonal dynamics, by doing something nice for someone we put ourselves in a place of humility relative to that person. Our act of goodness allows the other person, likewise, to inhabit a new place, a place of humility, from which their gratitude can flow. This mutual lowering is actually a relaxation: allowing ourselves to be who we really are: not constantly struggling to prove that we are better than others, but inhabiting the place from which we can express our finest qualities and feel our connection to God and each other.
This place, Makom, is our true place, for Makom is another word for the Divine Presence. When we live from the place of Divinity, which is our true reality, we are naturally able to express many things: our gratitude for life, for all the gifts that we are given by God and the Universe; love and appreciation for each other, and our feeling of relief at finally being able to live in that thankful and prayerful place.
The Baal Shem Tov taught, as quoted in the teachings of Rabbi Elimelech, that “the highest levels of prayer are when prayers are directed at God to elevate the Shechinah, the Divine Presence, and to end the Shechinah’s exile, not because of our own suffering, but rather because of the suffering of the Divine Presence, which is exiled along with us. This transforms the prayer service into a prayer for the Shechinah rather than for ourselves.” In the same way, when we do something nice for someone, we heal the divide between earth and heaven.
In this New Year, there will be many opportunities to put ourselves into a real relation, a real place, Makom, with others. Every time we choose to be in that holy place, we not only feel better about ourselves, but we serve as a connection between earth and heaven. May we choose lovingly all year, and may we express great joy and gratitude for all the opportunities given us, to do so.

Flawed and Holy

2012-01-01T18:58:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayeishev, which means, and he settled. Jacob settled in Canaan with his wives and 13 children. This begins the Joseph stories, in which the favored young dreamer, hated by his brothers, is sold by them into Egypt, has a series of misadventures, and eventually becomes, in next week’s Torah portion, a high official in Pharaoh’s court.
There is an important incident which interrupts the main story, concerning Jacob’s fourth son, Judah, and his family. This story could be called The Education of Judah. Judah marries a Canaanite woman. Their eldest son, Er, later marries a girl named Tamar, but Er dies. As was the custom at that time, Tamar is given as a wife to Judah’s second son, who also dies. When Tamar, who is childless, realizes that she will not be given to Judah’s youngest son, she impersonates a prostitute and arranges to have sexual relations with Judah without revealing her identity. Judah offers to pay her with a baby animal, which he promises to send to her. Tamar insists on a pledge of good faith: his staff, his wrap, and his signet, with which he signs documents. When Judah tries to send the payment, no prostitute can be found. Tamar becomes pregnant by Judah. When her pregnancy becomes known, Judah sentences her to die for sexual transgressions. But she sends him the pledges and he learns that it is he who committed the sin. He acknowledges his failure to keep his word about her marriage to his third son, and he relents. Tamar gives birth to twins; and one of their twin boys becomes the ancestor of King David and also the Prophet Isaiah.
This portion is full of ancestors with flaws. Jacob, like his parents, has a favorite child, creating a poisonous atmosphere. Joseph is an obnoxious, gossiping teenager. The brothers are full of jealousy and hatred. It was Judah’s bright idea to save Joseph from death and sell Joseph into slavery, and his brothers listened to him. We learn that Judah’s two eldest sons displeased God and so died. It is hard to find a person, other than possibly Tamar, with any redeeming character traits. Why are we told about all these people’s worst actions? Perhaps it is so that we can recognize ourselves in these people. This story is important because it portrays life as we know it and people as we know them. There are no saints in Judaism. The Torah is completely honest about how imperfect we all are.
There is example upon example here, of people experiencing the results of their actions, otherwise called, Divine justice. One who separates, through favoritism like Jacob; by lying, like Judah; or by tricking, like both of them, is himself separated from those they love. But the Torah teaches us that mistakes don’t have to be fatal. Even a truly evil deed can be forgiven. If we compare this story about Judah with the story about how Rachel stole her father’s household idols, an interesting parallel emerges. We may think that selling your brother is much worse than stealing some idols. That may be so. But the difference between the outcomes of these two stories shows us where our attention is being directed. Rachel’s Father pursued and caught up with Jacob and his family. Rachel had the opportunity to give the idols back to her Father. But instead of doing so, she sat on the idols to conceal her theft and compounds the deed with the lie that she can’t get up because it’s her time of the month. When given a chance to confess and make it right, she adds one sin to another. For her refusal to repent, she dies early, in childbirth. But Judah takes another path. When given the opportunity to confess, he admits he was wrong. He creates the conditions that lead to Divine forgiveness, and the resumption of the flow of God’s blessings to him. He is blessed by two new sons who become great blessings to the Jewish people and beyond.
So many people have characterized the God of Genesis as a vengeful, angry God; a God of strict justice. But in my reading, the text does not bear this out. When Cain killed Abel, if God were an angry, unforgiving God, God would have killed Cain. But Cain was given the opportunity to live, to wander, and to be set free into a life of learning and growth. When the sins of the people of Noah’s time became known to God, God’s first reaction was heartfelt sadness, not anger. And in the story of Judah, it doesn’t matter how grave his sin is: one who admits their error, owns up to what they have done, and tries to make it right is pardoned. God knows how many mistakes we make: how selfish and dishonest we can be. How absolute truth and absolute integrity often elude us. What needs to be purified in us is often hidden, even from ourselves. As with our very flawed ancestors, God wants us to become aware of those problematic parts of ourselves; to admit what we have done, to grow from our realizations, and go on to make new mistakes from which we can also grow. Mistakes, sins, errors, are our reality checks, showing us what we really are like, and helping us to see ourselves, so that we can leave these current selves behind, like an animal that molts and sheds its skin, and emerge reborn into goodness. This is the process of becoming holy. We are the flawed descendants of flawed ancestors who find holiness through embracing the process of seeing, realizing, and letting go of flaws. Like Tamar, may we not hesitate to act where there is an opportunity. Like Judah, may we be big enough to be able to admit our mistakes. And like all the patriarchs and matriarchs, may we continue to be guided by God to grow in goodness.

Active Repair

2011-12-16T12:05:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayishlach, which means and he sent. Jacob, with his wives and children is very relieved to have left his father-in-Law Laban, and is on his way back to Canaan, only to have to confront his twin brother Esau. Jacob sent malachim, angels or messengers, ahead of him to try to gauge what kind of reception he might encounter from the brother who wanted to kill him 20 years before. Jacob finds out that Esau is on his way to meet him with 400 men. It does not sound good. This is one of my very favorite Torah portions, containing so many vital teachings. Tonight I’d like to focus on the beginning of this portion, which reads, “Then Jacob sent angels ahead of him to Esau his brother.” After finding out about the 400 men, Jacob takes several further actions. He divided his family and possessions into two camps, for safety. He prayed to God, reminding God of the promise that Jacob would be protected. He prepared a large gift of tribute from his flock and herds and sent it to Esau, perhaps in admission of guilt over his actions of so many years before. He instructed his servants to be very polite and gracious to Esau, and he also, when the opportunity was given to him, engaged himself, wrestling, perhaps with an angel, or also with his own integrity, his fears, and his past actions. This is what I’d like to call active repair. The Apter Rebbe, Abraham Joshua Heschl of Apt, wrote, “His actions, he knew, would leave an impression on the physical world.”
When I see someone who is otherwise healthy, but has hurt their arm and it’s in a sling, or broken their foot and it’s in a soft cast, I say to myself, being very careful not to judge anyone, “just because we are human.” The Torah portion, Noah, teaches us that our sins have to be expiated and mopped up, so to speak, in the course of our lives; or the world would get worse and worse, not better and better. Just because we are human, we make mistakes. We do the wrong thing. Or we are unkind, doing the right thing but not with enough love and patience. We let opportunities slip past us. Sometimes we are tired or hungry, and we are just not up to the task. So our sins, omissions, and mistakes pile up for a time. But then the slate has to be wiped clean and we have to pay for our mistakes and be cleansed. So perhaps we have a small accident or other tiny, we hope, misfortune. But Jacob shows us another possibility: Active Repair. It’s not as good as not making mistakes in the first place, but it helps. Rabbi Elimelech wrote that “Our prayers and holy words ascend upward and these are called Angels.” Martin Buber has also written about the Chassidic tradition, which teaches that our actions produce energies or angels. As Rabbi Nachman of Breslov also taught, If we can damage, we can also repair. We can atone for an offense and try to do as much good as we can, to make it better. And it does, as the Apter Rebbe teaches, make a difference in the physical world. We can apologize. We can find a way to give. And since we are all connected to each other and God, and all existence is One, giving to anyone helps. We can give love, we can help another person, we can make a donation; we can be there for someone. We can also pray: admit to God that we know we did something wrong, and then make a decision to do better next time. We can face ourselves and wrestle down our less than worthy impulses; and by falling down emerge better than we were before the mistakes. As the Chassidic masters and our teacher Rabbi Gelberman taught, we are God’s partners. We are meant to be co-creators of a peaceful world and God wants us to continue to improve creation. This goes as well for our own lives. By our free will we are given the ability to fix what we have broken. We don’t have to passively wait for the next difficulty to arise, for the next small disaster. We can make changes in the Universe, just like the Tzaddikim, the holy, righteous teachers of old. We ourselves have great power to create wonderful angels: angels of beauty and goodness, energies of healing and repair for ourselves and those who we touch. Not only can we fall down, but we can rise up, and take a small part of the world with us.

Being Ready to Receive

2011-12-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion, Vayetze, means and he left. Jacob leaves his parents and brother Esau, to escape Esau’s rage after Jacob tricked his Father and stole the blessing from Esau. He travels to find a wife from his mother’s family in Haran. On his journey, he dreams of a ladder with angels going up and down on it. God speaks to him in his dream and promises to be with him, to guard him, and to return him to Canaan where he will have many offspring and inherit the land. On his arrival he falls in love with Rachel, the younger daughter of his Uncle Laban, and works for Laban 7 years, for Rachel. Laban makes a wedding feast and tricks him, by giving him Leah instead of Rachel. Jacob is outraged and Laban promises Rachel to him after one week of marriage to Leah, on condition that he work another 7 years. Over 20 years he has 12 children, and at the end of the portion, he leaves with them to return to Canaan.
Right after Jacob’s dream about the ladder, the text says, “And Jacob awoke from his sleep, and he said, Surely God is in this place; and I did not know. And he became frightened and said, How awesome is this place! This is none other but the abode of God, and this is the gate of heavens.” (Gen. 28:16-17) We might ask why Jacob was afraid. He had just had this wonderful dream about angels; and God’s reassurance that he would be protected. God has just repeated the promises made to Abraham and Isaac: that Jacob’s offspring would be as numerous as the dust of the earth, that they would be a great blessing, and that he would inherit the land. We never hear about Abraham or Isaac being afraid when they received reassurance or prophecy from God. So why is Jacob afraid? It could be that he had a guilty conscience from tricking his Father and stealing the blessing from his brother, for forcibly taking what did not belong to him. His actions showed that he was not ready for such communications from God. He was not spiritually prepared for such blessings. This is borne out by what God caused him to experience over the next 20 years. First, what he did to others, was done to him: the trickster was tricked. Since he had not learned enough about inner goodness from living with his parents, from mostly good models, he was put into a household where he had to learn from Laban: to do the opposite of what he saw. He, like Moses who came later, was afforded the opportunity to learn patience, and integrity, and compassion by long days alone, pasturing sheep and goats. Then he experienced another six years in the school of life, before God felt Jacob was ready to take possession of the gifts he had been promised.
This same situation can be seen in the different lives of Leah and Rachel. Leah, the compassionate one, whose eyes were tender, was the unloved sister. She was ready to receive the blessings of having many children (she had six); and to appreciate and enjoy those blessings properly. But Rachel, the beautiful sister, was barren. She needed to experience deprivation in order to grow in kindness. She could not be trusted to use great blessings the way God expected her to use them. She was just not yet ready. The Zohar speaks bout this: “ if one wishes to set in motion the powers above, whether through action or words, a person produces no effect if that action or word is not as it should be. All people go to synagogue to influence the powers above, but few know how to do it. God is near to all who know how to call upon The Eternal and to set powers in motion in the proper manner, but if they do not know how to call, God is not near… those who do know draw forth blessings from the place which is called Thought until upper and lower beings are blessed and the Holy Name is blessed through them. Happy are they in that God is near them and ready to answer them when they call..”(ZoharIII, 183b-184a).
The issue of preparation and readiness applies to our lives as well. Being ready was a quality that was well known among the ancient kabbalists. Rabbi Gelberman also wrote about it in his book, Nine lessons in Kabbalah: that one must be ready in body, mind, and soul, to receive: kabel, the word on which kabbalah is based. We can purify our bodies. The ancients did it by going to a mikveh. We can eat pure food, get exercise, turn away from negative influences and bad habits. Then to purify the mind, he suggests, just like the psychologist Carl Jung, that we must harmonize and accept our total selves, the yetzer hatov, the good impulse, and the yetzer hara, the negative impulse. We can speak words of kindness, patience and peace. We can perform acts of loving kindness. And for the soul we can sing, meditate, and open our hearts to live in joy, love, and goodness.
We desire so many things: most of us desire good health, some desire wealth or achievement, power, or fame. But God teaches us patience. What we wish for may not be good for us. God waits until we are capable of being a blessing. And then the things we have waited for just may appear. We can participate in our growth by intentionally engaging in the process of perfecting our inner natures: of setting about becoming more compassionate and caring, more deliberate and less automatic in our human interactions; less irritable, and less likely to be selfish and abrupt. It is a process of preparing ourselves to be ready for the blessings that we would be happy to receive. This preparation can be compared to any spiritual practice: of meditating for years, of studying an art form, like the Japanese Tea Ceremony, or like singing; or the discipline of regular Torah study or study of the Talmud. Any practice which opens us up to our own inner goodness and our connection with God and others makes a huge difference in our readiness to receive the goodness that is being sent to us. May we dedicate ourselves to participating in our spiritual growth, so that we, like Leah, may be ready to receive every blessing that God would like to send to us.

The New Understanding

2011-11-14T05:01:00.000-08:00

On both days of Rosh Hashana our Torah readings center on Abraham. Perhaps one reason Abraham spends every Rosh Hashana with us, or we with him, is hinted at in an observation by Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchak, the Seer of Lublin, quoting the spiritual Book, Duties of the Heart. It says: Abraham understood the Torah before it was given. Not that Abraham was perfect, although we know he was generous, compassionate, caring, smart, and selfless. But that Abraham was able to understand and live by concepts that his contemporaries didn’t yet comprehend. Physically, we are much like the Israelites who lived 3,000 years ago; or even the humans who lived 10,000 years ago. We are probably not very much smarter, either. But there has been a huge shift in our consciousness: We now understand and take for granted ideas like: There is one God; there is only one earth so we had better take care of it; or: freedom is a right; women and men deserve the same opportunities, rights, and pay for the same work. Education is a basic right for all. We strive to include minorities, people with disabilities, people of different races and sexual orientations into our tent of acceptance. Have things really changed? Well let’s see: 1,000 years ago human being were sold with the land they inhabited. 400 years ago there was no freedom of religion in most of the world. 250 years ago someone even so spiritually evolved as the Baal Shem Tov thought he could force the coming of the Messiah. 150 years ago there was legal slavery in this country. 100 years ago, women did not have the vote. 75 years ago there were so many quotas and restrictions for Jews in this country, including education and employment, that it was not always comfortable or convenient to be Jewish. Three months ago Gay and Lesbian citizens could not marry in New York, barring them from the same legal rights as heterosexuals. And there is still much work to be done. However, there is beginning to be a consciousness that all life is connected and that our society must reflect that truth. Religion is being greatly affected by changing attitudes in society as well. The differences between religions are not so important as they once were. Rabbi Zalman Schacter Shelomi quotes Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach quoting another sage, Rabbi Zadok Ha Kohen of Lublin, who said: “People say, the world is becoming less and less religious, but I say, on the contrary, the souls of people are becoming more and more refined. Perhaps on the outside it looks as if they are breaking away from God, but on the inside they are getting closer and closer.” In other words, it might not be obvious what is happening, but our consciousness is shifting yet again. We are moving into a new way of understanding the world and our place in it. My teacher, Rabbi Gelberman used to tell the story that “when he was eleven he knew the whole Torah by heart. He went to yeshiva where his teachers tested him on the portion each Thurs. Then at home each Sat. before the service his father, a chasid himself, would test him. Early one Sabbath morning his Father said to him, let’s see what you learned this week. Being young and cocky Rabbi Gelberman said to his Father I don’t know why you insist on doing this, it’s the same text I studied last year. You know I learn my lessons by heart. His father could have given him a slap, instead he said, you’re right, Chaim, it‘s the same text you studied last year, but are you the same person you were then?” We could ask the same question: Are we the same as we were last year? We know that we are changing and we hope that we are acquiring wisdom and understanding. Last year I spoke about Oneness, the idea that we are all connected to God and each other, as the Shema tells us. This has been known for 2,500 years. The truth of our lives is that we understand much more than our Israelite forebears who wandered in the wilderness, and not enough to be able to end war, create a just society or even make peace in our families. We are all in a manner of speaking, Not Yet. There are things that we might understand intellectually, like God is existence and being; and all being is One, so we are a part of God and each other. But on a day to day level, we are not yet spiritually evolved to the point that we can live out of that reality. So though we are moving in that direction we know that we, in our own lives, will never arrive there. We are all in the process of becoming. We are all Not Yet. And what makes things difficult is that my Not Yet may not mesh with your Not Yet. It’s as if we each of us may have a small piece of the puzzle at times, in terms of our understanding, but that my piece may not fit easily into your piece and there may be friction and conflict because of our incomplete world views and our incomplete understandings. What can we do about it? First, we can give up judging each other. We each start from such different places and our circumstances and experience can widen the gaps between us. We can only judge how far we ourselves have come, not anyone else. We can have compassion for ourselves and others while we are all still learning, and not try to punish each other for not understanding more. The Chassidic masters taught a marvelous lesson, as quoted in Martin Buber’s The Ten Rungs: “How can I love my neighbor as myself if my neighbor has wronged me? Love your neighbor as something which you yourself are. For all souls are one. Each is a spark from the original soul and this soul is inherent in all souls, just as your soul is inherent in all the parts of your body. It may come to pass that your hand will make a mistake and strike you. But would you then take a stick and chastise your hand because it lacked understanding, and so increase your pain? It is the same if your neighbor, who is of one soul with you, wrongs you, because of a lack of understanding. If you punish your neighbor, you only hurt yourself. And will you have no mercy on a person when you see that one of the Divine, holy sparks has been lost in a maze and is almost stifled?”
We can take our baby steps in the direction of love, giving up hatred and anger, vengeance and grudges. But most of all, we can deepen our commitment to keep growing: in goodness, caring, compassion, and holiness. And this is so important because we are here, alive on this earth, to continue the work of the evolution of human consciousness. We are human links in a chain stretching back over 10,000 years and forward over many more millennia than that. It is our task to bridge the gap between what was, forming a link from the old understanding, a time of greater brutality and cruelty, to what we can only now dimly imagine: a time when we will be so spiritually advanced. that we will know that we: all people; are one soul, one body, one being, and be able to live on that high plane. Perhaps this is one meaning of the verse from Genesis” And God placed the earthling in the Garden of Eden to work it and to guard it.” Perhaps this verse describes the work we are meant to do: that of spiritual evolution. Working the Garden. As the sage R. Tarphon said in Pirkei Avot, Chapters of the Fathers, it is not up to us to complete the work, but it is not up to us to desist from it either. No one can do this work of spiritual evolution for us. It has been given to us to struggle with ourselves so that we continue to purify the soul matter within us and make spiritual progress in our lives. The Garden of Eden in the verse from Genesis is the same spiritual Garden of simple Oneness & elevation that the four sages entered, as described in the Talmud (Chagigah 14b) As the legend goes, Four [Sages] entered the Garden. Ben Azzai, Ben Zoma, Elisha ben Avuya, called Acher - the other one - because of what happened to him after he entered the Garden, and Rabbi Akiva. Ben Azzai gazed [at the Divine Presence] and died. Ben Zoma gazed and lost his sanity. Acher became a heretic. Rabbi Akiva entered in peace and left in peace.” We are meant to do certain spiritual work while we are alive, but likewise, most of us cannot go too far beyond our spiritual understanding, or try to force the time of peace and harmony before we are ready. We know it will not be realized in our lifetime, yet we will experience it because we are part of the great soul that is One. And we will always be a part of that One. We cannot demand the coming of the Messiah, or, as I prefer to think of it, the messianic age, until all people alive, not just the Jewish people, have evolved spiritually to the point that we don’t leave anyone out: until everyone is ready and able to live in peace and harmony. When we stop and consider the past and the future, we can actually see that we are at a midpoint between the brutal and cruel time of constant death and struggle in our human past, and the place we know we have to arrive at to realize our highest aspirations as human beings. May each of us take a step into spiritual growth this year: developing an attitude of acceptance of each other’s Not Yets, giving each other the benefit of the doubt, forgiving each other, and striving to behold & respect the pure, Divine soul in every person. May we nurture our vision of how holy we could be. May we extend our innate love, the Divine love in our souls, to others, bringing healing to the world, and helping each other to overcome our lesser tendencies. This year may we choose for love, for harmony, for compassion, for forgiveness, for kindness, and for peace. Then we will surely be of those, like Abraham, whose labor and understanding will help to bring about the time of wholeness that we and God have dreamed of together.

It's Not About Sin: Jewish Week Article Unabridged 10/21/2011

2011-10-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

The story of Adam and Eve is laden by centuries of commentary. But what is it really about? We are told that Adam and Eve first acquire language (Genesis 2:20) and then form the first marriage (2:24). But they lacked one thing more for the establishment of civilization: consciousness. The allegory of the Tree of Good and Evil relates how Adam and Eve become fully conscious. God has forbidden them to eat the fruit of the tree. The serpent then speaks to Eve, telling her that if she eats the fruit, “You will not surely die, for God knows that on the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and bad (3:4).” Eve then evaluates this piece of information. She looks at the tree and its fruit, using her senses and intelligence to decide whether this information is correct. And then she decides that this alternative source of information can be trusted. She acts, eating the fruit, and giving the man some too. They then become fully conscious, making aprons to cover their nakedness. God, of course, has been watching; and for their disobedience, the man, the woman, and the serpent receive “punishments.” But are they really punishments?
Eve will bear children in pain. This is because, being conscious, humans can imagine what the future may bring. Fear has now come into the world. Animals have no smart phones or calendars. They can’t plan for or imagine what might happen if they give birth, go for surgery, or take a flight to Hawaii. Because of Eve’s decision, women due to have babies know that it will hurt and anticipate their pain. But wait! Before Eve receives her “punishment,” fear has already come into the world, just from having left the Animal State. Adam has already said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden and I was afraid because I am naked, so I hid (3:10). From this we see that consciousness can’t exist without fear. It’s an either-or proposition.
Adam’s “punishment” is that he has to work for a living, unlike the animals, whose food is provided by God. We might think that we’d prefer a world in which we don’t have to get up each morning and go to work. But we know it would be perfectly boring. And would we ever exchange the great gifts of being fully human: the ability to grow intellectually, spiritually, and morally, to be all that we can be? Would we ever give up Art, Science, Philosophy, Music, learning, beauty, and human achievement to return to the Animal State? Surely not.
The serpent’s “punishment” is to be despised. Who or what might the snake represent? The serpent is an alternative source of knowledge. Perhaps it is that non-intellectual, deeper knowing that some call “women’s intuition.” In our scientific society, non-intellectual sources of information are generally disparaged. In the story, the serpent’s information is, in fact, correct. The Chassidic Masters teach: everything is God. If so, the serpent is God too! Why would God ask Eve to go against a direct command? Perhaps God wants Adam and Eve to take responsibility for their decision. God has clearly planned for humanity to become conscious, but only if we agree to take responsibility for our choice. In effect, God is saying, don’t kvetch if you have to work for a living. Don’t complain that there is fear in the world. You chose it. And here is a detail that is often overlooked: God commanded us not to eat the fruit before we became fully conscious: before we knew right from wrong. In a certain sense, we can’t be held fully culpable for eating the fruit. However, God made sure that we could take responsibility for our choice.
Thank God that Eve ate the fruit! We owe her a great debt. We couldn’t be simultaneously in Gan Eden - the Animal State – and be fully, gloriously human. As soon as we became conscious, we had already left the Garden. But far from being angry, God gives the humans the gift of a suit of clothes and bars the way back into the Garden, sending us the important message that the way to experience re-union with God is never to go back to an imagined, idyllic past, but always forward, stepping eagerly into life, taking responsibility for our choices, traveling on that wondrous human path that leads back to God. Barring the way back into the garden describes the “hole” all of us human beings experience in our hearts: that feeling that we used to be smarter, happier, and more whole. The feeling that something is missing within us is a precious gift from God. It propels us into life to seek that union with God that we feel we have lost; before we received the blessing of the dance of choice that we engage in with God. The Eternal has dignified us, expressing unbounded love for us, and great confidence, that we are worthy of the tremendous power of choice and the ability to be responsible for our choices. May we express our love and gratitude to God by living up to the faith God has in us, and choosing to walk that path of spiritual and moral growth that surely leads back to reunion with God.
(Note: This article was abridged for inclusion in The Jewish Week, by editors.)

Volunteer Guest Bloggers from 9/11 Package Delivery in conjunction with Dorot

2011-09-16T11:29:00.000-07:00

Marilyn and I visited R___ G___ .She was amazing. Smart, coherent, interesting, cultured, etc. She is 92 and has family in NY, children, etc. Nevertheless, she (to use her words) gets lonely at times and enjoyed the one hour visit. Marilyn and I both enjoyed meeting her and were pleased to participate in this wonderful outreach. --Jill Altman with Marilyn Scher

Unfortunately, B__ (our person) was not able to receive visitors. His wife answered the phone and said that he was very confused today and that we should not visit. We went back to Dorot for another name, then they let us know that there were no more visits. Good in a way that they had so many volunteers. -- Barbara Bova with Ruth Samberg

Betty, Bob and I visited a very sweet lady in Schwab House (West End Ave &
73rd St) and she was so pleasant and so lonely that we stayed about 2 hours.
She kept offering us Coca Cola and wanted to be a good hostess. She's about
85 and does get out a little but she fell last week and it's a little harder
for her now. But I think she will heal and Betty offered to come to her
house and take her to JASA on Fridays where they serve lunch and have
entertainment. I gave her the address of the Actors Temple and she may call
Access-A-Ride to bring her on a Friday night. She was exceedingly happy
with our visit.

We were also given another gentlemen to visit in the same building. Bob tried to contact
him but he had gone out for a walk with his aide. Bob left the package for him. --Florence Cohen with Betty Steiner and Bob Reicher

It went very well. Carlos and I got along very well and A__was very happy to see us. We were there about an hour an a half chatting about her and ourselves because she was interested and pleased with our visit. She's alert, articulate, goes to a synagogue nearby. We met her home care person but she did not join us; we learned about her family. She would like to see the Actors’ Temple but doesn't go out at night; she needs a walker. I suggested that maybe the day event (a tour of the synagogue) which started with the United Federation of Teachers (group visiting) would come up again and if it did I'd let her know; but the problem for her would be the stairs. She said she was going to request Dorot to have us both be sent there again; and as we left she said she couldn't wait to see what was sent in the bag. We told her about the Actors’ Temple, Rabbi Jill, and her music quest. She told us about her children and grandchildren. Carlos and I found it to be a gratifying experience --Estelle Levy with Carlos Ramirez

Our visit went well! Michael and I met a 95 year old holocaust survivor from Poland. Her daughter and son-in-law were also there. I played my violin for them all and fortunately they thoroughly enjoyed it. The daughter, who used to play violin herself, enjoyed it especially. Unfortunately, our visit wasn't long, as the daughter and her husband were due to go out and celebrate their anniversary. Still, we had a good time, however brief it was. I look forward to doing this again!--Daniel Constant with Michael Verdel

Guest Bloggers: Volunteers Who Delivered Packages on 9/11 in conjunction with Dorot

2011-09-14T18:58:00.000-07:00

Marilyn and I visited R___ G___ .She was amazing. Smart, coherent, interesting, cultured, etc. She is 92 and has family in NY, children, etc. Nevertheless, she (to use her words) gets lonely at times and enjoyed the one hour visit. Marilyn and I both enjoyed meeting her and were pleased to participate in this wonderful outreach. --Jill Altman with Marilyn Scher

Unfortunately, B__ (our person) was not able to receive visitors. His wife answered the phone and said that he was very confused today and that we should not visit. We went back to Dorot for another name, then they let us know that there were no more visits. Good in a way that they had so many volunteers. -- Barbara Bova with Ruth
Betty, Bob and I visited a very sweet lady in Schwab House (West End Ave &
73rd St) and she was so pleasant and so lonely that we stayed about 2 hours.
She kept offering us Coca Cola and wanted to be a good hostess. She's about
85 and does get out a little but she fell last week and it's a little harder
for her now. But I think she will heal and Betty offered to come to her
house and take her to JASA on Fridays where they serve lunch and have
entertainment. I gave her the address of the Actors Temple and she may call
Access-A-Ride to bring her on a Friday night. She was exceedingly happy
with our visit.

We were also given another gentlemen to visit in the same building. Bob tried to contact
him but he had gone out for a walk with his aide. Bob left the package for him. --Florence Cohen with Betty Steiner and Bob Reicher

It is very encouraging. Unfortunately, Bert (our person) was not able to receive visitors. His wife answered the phone and said that he was very confused today and that we should not visit. We went back to Dorot for another name, then they let us know that there were no more visits. Good in a way that they had so many volunteers. --Barbara Bova with Ruth Sandberg

It went very well. Carlos and I got along very well and A__was very happy to see us. We were there about an hour an a half chatting about her and ourselves because she was interested and pleased with our visit. She's alert, articulate, goes to a synagogue nearby. We met her home care person but she did not join us; we learned about her family. She would like to see the Actors’ Temple but doesn't go out at night; she needs a walker. I suggested that maybe the day event (a tour of the synagogue) which started with the United Federation of Teachers (group visiting) would come up again and if it did I'd let her know; but the problem for her would be the stairs. She said she was going to request Dorot to have us both be sent there again; and as we left she said she couldn't wait to see what was sent in the bag. We told her about the Actors’ Temple, Rabbi Jill, and her music quest. She told us about her children and grandchildren. Carlos and I found it to be a gratifying experience --Estelle Levy with Carlos Ramirez

Our visit went well! Michael and I met a 95 year old holocaust survivor from Poland. Her daughter and son-in-law were also there. I played my violin for them all and fortunately they thoroughly enjoyed it. The daughter, who used to play violin herself, enjoyed it especially. Unfortunately, our visit wasn't long, as the daughter and her husband were due to go out and celebrate their anniversary. Still, we had a good time, however brief it was. I look forward to doing this again!--Daniel Constant with Michael Verdel

Taking and Giving

2011-08-28T10:46:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Korach, the name of a cousin of Moses, who sought to wrest power away from Moses and Aaron with three of his neighbors from the tribe of Reuben and 250 other leaders. Korach and two of those neighbors, die in an earthquake; and the 250 other rebels also perish. Moses and Aaron, with God’s help and support, survive the insurrection. The portion (Num. 16:1) begins, “Now Korah, son of Izhar, son of Kohat, son of Levi, and Dathan and Abiram, sons of Eliab, and On, son of Pelet, sons of Reuben, took.”
The Zohar (III 176a) asks, “What did he take? “ And the answer given is: “He took an evil counsel for himself.” The Zohar goes on to explain, “If one runs after that which is not his, it flies from him, and what is more, he loses his own as well. So Korah pursued that which was not his, and he lost his own without obtaining the other. Korach quarreled with peace, and the one who quarrels with peace quarrels with the Holy Name, because the Holy Name is called peace. Korah tried to upset peace on high and below. The words, “Korach took,” are telling in this portion, because they say it all. When we were young many of us thought we were given life to become the best we could be in order to be able to learn how to take all that might be available to us. Korach too, misunderstood his mission on earth. He thought he was placed here, at that location and time, to make a name for himself, to win respect and power, to take what he could, and to enjoy all the fruits of life.
It is somewhat fitting that this week’s Torah portion is about leadership.
It is a great blessing for me to be here with all of you. I want to express to you my profound gratitude and thanks that you have allowed me to be here for the last five years to give and not to take. I have enjoyed many, many fruits of life at The Actors’ Temple, but they have all been secondary to the great privilege of being able to serve and to give in and to all of you and this wonderful synagogue. It is a place where we each can give, according to our talents and inclinations, to build up this spiritual community for each other; where we can learn and grow together: sometimes making mistakes, sometimes needing to apologize to one another and making peace, but with open, loving hearts, and the intention to strive to be more and more of a blessing: to support each other and this synagogue, and to be the kind of community we can be proud of. We are on each other’s spiritual paths, and as such we can take steps together to continue to innovate, to continue to grow, to continue to pray, laugh, learn, and help each other. As we enter the journey toward the next five years, please let me know your ideas for the future. Please suggest ways that you want to contribute to this synagogue and to those friends you have made here. Please let me know how I can give to you and support you. I am so grateful to all of you for being here tonight and for allowing me the privilege of serving you at The Actors’ Temple. Thank you with all my heart.

Peace Not Only in Heaven

2011-08-12T13:05:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Shelach Lecha, which means, send forth for yourself. It tells the famous story of the scouts or spies, sent to have a first glimpse of the Promised Land. God gave permission for 12 leaders, one from each tribe, to be sent by Moses to bring back a report on the land, the people in it, and its produce. The scouts return, bringing with them the fruit of the land and they give a public report in which they affirm that the land is good, “But,” and this is a fatal but; 10 out of 12 of them said, in effect, we will never be able to conquer it. We are far too weak. The land is fully settled, fortified, and the people are too strong. The scouts demoralized the Israelites, who became afraid and wanted to return to Egypt. Because of the people’s fear and lack of faith, in spite of God leading them around with a pillar of cloud and feeding them manna each day, God concluded that only their children who had not been enslaved, would inherit the land and that they must wander for 38 more years. The ten scouts died in a plague.
Many Torah sages have asked, what was the scouts’ great sin? They were sent to reconnoiter the territory and come back and give their opinion, which they did. They were telling the truth as they saw it. So why, if this was their honest opinion, did they suffer for what they said? We know that we all make mistakes: we make them frequently. Mistakes are part of being human and seem to be the way we learn. But there is a higher standard when a leader causes others to go astray than when that leader does something wrong that only affects him or her personally. Making a public declaration instead of reporting privately to Moses was the beginning of the scouts’ wrongdoing. And it has to do with self aggrandizement, or an excess of ego. Perhaps they wanted to feel important, and seem important to the others. Perhaps they enjoyed their moment in the spotlight and their momentary opportunity for leadership. But this was not their only transgression. Perhaps their major sin was that the spies sowed divisiveness. It doesn’t sound like such a terrible sin. But seen in the larger context of the nature of reality, it takes on much wider proportions.
The people had been wandering for two years and were all ready to conquer the land, until the spies’ report. The spies divided the people from Moses and Aaron, and also from Joshua and Caleb. Tragically, the spies also divided the people from God. The portion says, “The entire assembly raised up and issued its voice; the people wept that night.” Not only was there division: there was fear and grief: unhappiness and suffering. This is what division causes. Division: separating ourselves from each other and the Divine Oneness of the Universe, causes unhappiness and suffering. I also think separating causes illness, as it says, “ …the people who spread the evil report about the land died in a plague before God (14:37).”
The Chassidic sage, Abraham Joshua Heschl of Apt, quotes a midrash: “It is written, The one who makes peace in the heaven, should make peace among us. The sages ask, what sort of peace needs to be made in the heavens? It is because the angel Mi’chael is the prince of water and the angel Gavriel is the prince of fire. And although water extinguishes fire, still there is peace among them And even more so, there are angels who are half water and half fire and even in them there is peace.”
The nature of God and the Universe is harmony and oneness. And this includes us. Any time we separate, by separating ourselves, or by trying to separate others, by our speech or actions, we create a disharmony that goes against the harmony and oneness of God and life. It creates little bits of death, as Moses said in Deuteronomy (30:19), “I have placed before you life and death, blessing and curse; and you shall choose life, so that you will live, you and your offspring, to love God your God, to listen to God’s voice, and to cleave to God, for The Eternal is your life and the length of your days.” Moses was trying to tell us that cleaving to the Divine; that is, not creating the little separations that we all create, will promote life in our lives. It promotes happiness. It allows us to move through life in sync with the true structure of God and the Universe. God’s very nature is peace. When we sow discord, we go against God, and life, and our own happiness. Why did the Israelites have to wander for another 38 years? To reestablish their connection with God and each other. Call it team building. Or call it the development of a more fearless attachment to the Divine Presence. When we find the harmony of living with each other in peace, we will have found the true nature of life, God, and ourselves. May we realize that creating divisions is not only counter-productive but counter to ultimate reality. May we choose to let unity, harmony, and peace flow through us, that we may extend life for ourselves and those around us.

Guest Blogger: Steve Greenstein

2011-08-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

Many times I have gone to the Actors Temple and I say I live in
Newark...I am usually greeted with a face of why? Followed by
distorted views about the city, and many negative comments. If you
watch the powerful media, there is no wonder why, a killing gets lots
of press.
The fear factor sets in, and a whole city is labeled one big inner city
violent ghetto. You have to look past the headlines, and see we live
in many different America's. On July 5th I attended the New Jersey
Symphony concert right here in Branch Brook Park, followed by fire
works. All for free in a beautiful park designed by the Olmsteads of Central Park fame..
Later in the week I attended a free concert here in Essex county, the
Great Harlold Melvin and the Blue Notes. The awesome black soul group of the
70's which great hits like "The love I lost.." and the classic " If
you don't know me by now"..The park was filled with Blacks, whites, hispanics all
grooving to the geat tunes..Middle age folks breaking out in dance
steps on a hot summer night under a bright moon.

I have taught school in Newark for ten years as a parallel career to
being an actor. I have taught at Arts High and just about every
elementary school in the Ironbound section of Newark. I know the city, and that is why this latest killing on the news has gotten to me so deeply. On Friday a
young black woman, a graduate of Arts High and now a teacher was
gunned down outside a restaurant. Twenty seven years old, a life
infront of her. A gifted musician as well and a stellar person. Wrong
place, wrong time. A Black cop, off duty gunned down outside a pizza
joint a month ago.. random senseless...I could go on and on..but why
break our hearts. I have a beautiful vegetable garden here in Newark.
Every year awards are given out to residents from all over the city.
Its a great ceremony attended by so many people of different faiths and
races.

Newark is a diverse city. FIve colleges, Portugese, Brazillian, and
Hispanics communities are here form all over latin America. The
National Hockey league, the best Jewish deli..Hobbies serves awesome
cornbeef to hungry Devils fans on cold winter nights. A great museum,
minor league basball and five star restaurants.

Yet, and as politically incorrect as this may sound the victims
of most of the crimes are black, killed by other blacks. However, this
is rarely mentioned. The violence tends to be in a certain
neighborhood.The entire city is seen by outsiders as a living hell and
they have never stepped one foot here.

Where is Al Sharpton? Jesse Jackson, and yes the first Black President
Mr. Obama. Why does he not visit these areas and call attention to this
horrible situation. It goes on and on..and yet I have not seen any
civil rights leaders visit Newark, make a march or form a
demonstration.
On August 2nd it will be national night out on Crime. I hope the
problems in the Black community are brought to a forefront, and people
can really confront this issue. The president has been invisible on this.
With unemployment twice the average in black neighborhoods, what is the
future? I have taught so many kids in some of the most toughest
schools. That woman that was killed on Friday was a success story,
yet she lays in a morgue. It is all too senseless. We need to speak
out.

What is the Gift of Speech For?

2011-07-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

This week we read Behaalotecha, from the Book of Numbers. It means, when you lift up, referring to the lighting of the Menorah. This portion contains the famous passage about Miriam and Aaron, siblings of Moses, who were speaking to each other about Moses’ family matters – speech that amounted to gossip. God reprimands them; and Miriam, who apparently instigated the discussion, was given a skin disease. Aaron begged Moses to pray for her. Moses immediately prayed on her behalf and Miriam was healed. By using her speech to separate, she herself was separated from those she loved; and she had to stay outside the camp for seven days. Earlier in the portion, there are several instances where speech is also used negatively: the Israelites complaining and carrying on about many things, including the food, and a demand by servants of Moses for two prophets to be imprisoned. There are also a few instances in this portion, where speech is used positively: for blessing. Some people who had not been able to celebrate Pesach, because of a burial, approached Moses to ask how and if they could serve God and celebrate Passover. They were allowed to observe it in the following month. A commandment was given to make and use two silver trumpets to ask God to help them when they went to battle, among other occasions. And Aaron’s using speech to ask Moses to pray for Miriam as well as Moses’ prayer itself, were holy uses of speech. Finally, Moses’ asking God for help, was an appropriate use of speech, resulting in the creation of our high court, the Sanhedrin.
So this portion has examples of how to use our speech positively and negatively. The sages have said, “A human being is treated according to how he or she treats others;” and there is a teaching quoted in the Mussar literature, based on a work called Ways of the Righteous, by Orchos Tzaddikim, that tells this story: “A rabbi made a banquet and asked his servants to prepare meat, some of it cooked until soft, while the rest of it was left still tough. The rabbi placed the meat before his students, who selected the tender meat. He said to them: ‘Look what you are doing. Just as you selected the tender and left the hard, so, too, let your tongues be tender to each other.’” The Israelites of the Torah were attempting to create a holy community. In this synagogue, too, we attempt to be there for each other as a spiritual community. What purpose can we serve for each other? Certainly friendship and acceptance. A place to ask questions and sometimes to ask for help. A place to pray for ourselves and others. A place where we are all teaching each other and learning from each other. But not only that. My teacher, Rabbi Gelberman wrote that our speech is an outward expression of an inner feeling. This tells us that intention is vital. We can ask ourselves, what do we mean to accomplish with our speech? Is it drawing people together and not separating them? If our intention is to help, and love, and support each other, then we will accomplish the goal of inspiring each other. We will create a place where we can model holy behavior for each other and learn and grow together. We can be a family in the best sense of the word, where we build each other up and not tear each other down. This is what the great gift of speech is for and what a holy community can be for: to inspire and motivate ourselves and each other so that we can be lifted up, as in the title of this Torah portion, and together kindle our and each other’s great inner light.

Finding Out Who You Really Are

2011-06-17T12:32:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Bemidbar, the first portion in the book of Numbers. Bemidbar means, “in the wilderness,” but Numbers gets its name from the commandment to number, or take a census of, the Israelites. In this portion, a plan of encampments is also given, with the ark containing the tablets of the Ten Commandments in the center, the Levites camping around the tablets, and the other tribes camping around the Levites. The Levites are designated to replace the firstborn, and are assigned tasks for transporting the tabernacle, being given temple service as their occupation. One verse begins: (3:6) “Bring near the tribes of Levi and have them stand before Aaron the Kohen and they shall serve him; and they shall safeguard his charge, or his guarding, and the charge of the entire assembly before the Tent of Meeting, before the service of the Tabernacle.” Rashi comments on this verse, quoting from the Talmud, (Megilla 13b) “But my assignment and your assignment are not the same.” It seems like an obvious statement, and yet a deeper subject is being introduced here, involving our uniqueness and our destiny. Rabbi Gelberman used to say that the Eleventh Commandment is, “Thou shall have a purpose.” But what is our purpose? How do we find and identify it? One of the Chassidic masters, Rabbi Pinchas of Korzek (as quoted by the S’fat Emet) said, “Each of us becomes excited by a different quality or aspect of life and possibly of religious life; and this is reflected in the may ways of understanding God,” as we say in the Amidah, God of Abraham, God of Sarah, God of Isaac, God of Rebecca, etc. Because we are alive, each of us is fulfilling a very special and holy purpose, because if we didn’t have a purpose, there would be no reason for us to have been created; but we aren’t told what that purpose is. It is up to us to embark on a process of discovery, because only we can fulfill the unique task that we’ve been given. We all contribute differently. Some of you may know the teaching that when we humans make many of the same thing: coins, or cars, or can openers, we make them all alike, but when God makes many of the same, each one is different.
In this portion that begins with a commandment to take a census and count the Israelites, the word, count: pakod, as noted by Rabbi Elimelech, also means raise. We are asked to raise ourselves, leading ourselves to be in tune with our inner yearning for giving and wholeness. Rabbi Arthur Green puts it beautifully: “the soul is holy and Torah is a holy teaching, a mirror held up to allow the soul to uncover the great depth that lies within.” The triumph of living life as a human being is that we can safeguard those qualities which are unique within us, our special talents, our inner appetites for certain kinds of learning and achievement, and our potential for spiritual and moral growth. Rabbi Elimelech quotes a teaching based on the Prophet Zechariah (3:7) which says that angels are called omdim, standing, because they don’t grow or learn from their tasks; they can’t change; they can only do what they have been sent to carry out; whereas humans are called me’haleich, from the word, lech, going or walking. We are not permitted to stand still. It is our destiny to move forward, as in Norman Mailer’s famous quotation, "For there was that law of life, so cruel and so just, which demanded that one must change or pay more for staying the same."
Bemidbar beckons us to the great wilderness of our own minds and hearts. It whispers to us, “find out who you really are – not who you are at this moment, but who you are capable of becoming and what is your own special service in the world. Don’t stand in one place like an angel, go forward like a human being, full of promise and dignity; and you will be counted among the holy and blessed who have fulfilled their unique purpose, being of great value to others and to God. Our capacity for learning, developing, and rising to great heights is unlimited. Take a step into the unknown: the world of the soul; the terrain of unconditional service and love, and there you will discover yourself.

Joining the Human Race

2011-06-10T12:04:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Behar, which means, on the Mountain. Behar gives us the laws for the Sabbath of the land, which occurs every seven years, and for the Jubilee, every 50th year. At the Jubilee, the land was to return to its original, ancestral owners, slaves were freed, loans were forgiven, and liberty was proclaimed for all inhabitants, the sentence inscribed on our Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. In this portion we are told that the land belongs to God and that we belong to God. Then there are laws to prevent poverty, such as the necessity to buy back land that was sold out of dire economic need, and the responsibility to help a relative who becomes impoverished.
Tonight I’d like to draw your attention to one verse in Behar which reads, “If your brother becomes impoverished and his hand falters with you, you shall hold onto him, stranger and resident, so that he can live with you.” This quotation features the word, Brother, achicha, which appears in the portion six times and also the words, with you, imach, which appears in this portion more than 10 times. The point being made here is the same as in the Shema – that God is one and that we are all brothers and sisters for each other – that we are all a part of each other and of God. This quotation actually answers the question posed by Cain about his brother Abel, Am I my brother’s keeper? The answer of course is yes, we are all our brother’s keepers. Each person is responsible fro every other person.
When my younger son was about five years old, I once said something about the human race. He asked me, Mommy, are they still racing? I laughed and then explained what human race meant, but since then I have thought about his question and I think there is a kind of wisdom in what he asked. There are different levels of joining the human race. Some people are like out of town members who would like to be aloof and live apart from others, not having a full fledged membership. Others are donating but inactive members who prefer to contribute financially but not participate personally. And then there are those who are fully engaged – full members of the human race with their sisters and brothers. This exemplifies that teaching in Leviticus which is a distant goal and which we are asked to struggle for all our lives: Love your neighbor as yourself. But how can we even begin to move in that direction? It seems like such a hopeless task. Moses is our great teacher in this area. The Torah says, “Now the man Moses was exceedingly humble, more than any person on the face of the earth.” Moses loved his people He volunteered to sacrifice his life for them to win forgiveness on their behalf. Luckily God did not accept his offer, but forgave the people anyway. God gave Moses two opportunities to abandon the people and start a new nation, after they had sinned, but Moses never would walk away from them. He repeatedly threw his fate in with theirs. Moses was only able to do this because of his humility. One of the great Chassidic rabbis, Rabbi Elimelech, wrote about his quality of humility. He cites a story from the Talmud that all the mountains gathered together before God and asked that they be chosen to serve as the place for the giving of the Torah. God answered them, “you are all blemished compared with Mt. Sinai.” Rabbi Elimech, in the name of the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria) asked, “what is Mt. Sinai’s great quality? It’s the lowest and most humble of all the mountains, teaching us that Torah can only be given to one who is humble and (who chooses to) lower himself… that is why Moses was able to receive the Torah directly from God.” The Torah makes clear in an earlier verse in Behar, that from God’s point of view, we are all alike. “The land is Mine; for you are sojourners and residents with me.” And also, “for the children of Israel are servants to me, they are my servants.” In other words, To God we are all alike. It is only the walls of our own egos that keep us from loving and accepting each other. The Karliner Rebbe taught it this way: “When someone falls in to mud, we must jump into the mud to save him. So it is when your brother stretches out his hand in need, put yourself in him place and save him.” These teachings are also echoed by Jesus, who taught the very same Torah concepts: (Mat 5:5) “ Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. (Mat 5:3) “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Mat 19:24) “…it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God!” (Mat 5:39) But I tell you not to resist an evildoer. On the contrary, whoever slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other to him as well.” All these teachings tell us that we must actively strive to break down the walls of ego we have erected which keep us from connecting with each other. We can emulate our great teachers and sages and pursue humility. It is only by working to join the Human race so that we can stop racing to overtake and best each other that we can begin to walk toward loving each other. Then we will experience the true goodness and blessing of being fully human, a full member of the human race. Then will we be true brothers and sisters and the world will be so much better for it.

Israel: The Spiritual and the Temporal

2011-05-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

As we celebrate 63 years of Israel’s existence, it’s important to ask ourselves about the meaning of Israel: why we are there: What it means to us; and also to think about what it might mean to God. We know that Israel is precious to us – to our sense of dignity as Jews in the world, that we have our own country back at last, after 2,000 years of exile. It is also a safe haven to those who are persecuted: all Jews, but also, many people of other cultures and nations who are at political risk – risk of death and torture in their countries. The U.N. notes that Israel is a safe haven for refugees. The film, Strangers No More, that won the Oscar for documentary short at the 83rd Academy Awards this February, is about an Israeli School that educates Christian, Muslim, Jewish children from 48 countries.
But for what purpose have we been returned to this very tiny spot on the earth? Is it to demonstrate that a modern, democratic society can flourish in the Mideast? Is it to make peace with our Arab Neighbors and begin to bring about the messianic era? Possibly both of these. The Torah, (Deut 7:7) adds this reason: “Not because you were more numerous than all the peoples did God desire you and choose you; for you are the fewest of all peoples; Rather because of God’s love for you, and because God keeps the oath sworn to your ancestors, has God brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt. You must know that the Eternal your God, is God, the faithful God, who safeguards the covenant and kindness with those who love God and observe the commandments to a thousand generations;… You shall keep the commandments, the statutes, and the ordinances, which I command you this day, to do them.”
Perhaps one of the reasons we are there is linked the Aleinu prayer: that of giving us a unique mission – of bearing witness to the blessings that flow from the pursuit of holiness in the world. In this week’s Torah portion, Emor, we are given many commandments that, taken together, help us to develop an inner fineness of feeling for each other and for God. We must not be limited by the temporal politics of our time, although they are important. As Jews and as supporters of Israel, we must always keep our wits about us, and have one foot firmly planted on earth while we have the other foot in heaven. We will never be only a temporal society, for if we ever do, we will supersede the very important reason for our existence: to bear witness to the connection between the spiritual and the temporal, to bear witness to righteousness, to preserve Torah, and to be bearers of light, of caring, and of goodness in the world. As we worry about our Arab neighbors, may we pray for them and send them our love, that their peace and prosperity be our peace and prosperity: that their freedom will be turned to goodness and our freedom always be used for goodness and blessing.

Removing the Barriers

2011-05-19T04:36:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Acharei Mot, which means, after the deaths. Aaron’s two sons have died and he is told he can only enter the holiest place once a year, on Yom Kippur. This portion gives instructions for the Yom Kippur service, the ritual of the two goats, one an offering and one to carry the sins of the people away. There is a law here that all food animals should be presented as offerings before being cooked and eaten, and there is a concluding section about forbidden marriages.
I’d like to begin with a question; What separates us from God? The Torah’s answer in this portion is that our own impurity separates us. This is illustrated by a passage from the Zohar, “A river went forth from Eden (Gen. II:10).. in the book of Rab Hamnuna the Elder it is called Life, because life issues thence to the world. … the great and mighty Tree in which is food for all is called the Tree of Life, because its roots are in that Life…the river sends forth deep streams with the oil of plenitude to water the Garden and feed the trees and the shoots.…When The Shechinah and the time of righteousness are joined, all worlds have gladness and blessing, and there is peace among upper and lower beings. But when through the sins of this world there are no blessings from these streams, and the “time” sucks from the “other side”, then judgment impends over the world and there is no peace. (III 58a)This passage tells us that we would be fully joined to God but for our own thoughts, words, and deeds. The Zohar continues with Rabbi Simeon credited as saying: “I am amazed to see how little people pay heed to the will of their Master, and how they allow themselves to be wrapped in sleep until the day comes which will cover them with darkness, and when their Master will demand reckoning from them. The Torah calls aloud to them, but none inclines his ear. Mark now that in future generations the Torah will be forgotten… (III, 58a)” This passage indicates that our wrongs, transgressions, and sins are a kind of willful forgetting of what we should be doing. The Torah makes clear that the high priest, the holiest person in the nation, with the exception of Moses, must confess his sins and seek forgiveness numerous times: once for himself, once again for his entire household, and a third time for all the Israelites, in accordance with a selection from Talmud (Yoma 36b) which says that atonement can be with words and with actions, which for him was the sacrificial service.
If our imperfections separate us, us there a way to remove that barrier? The Torah does provide a way to begin to remove the separation. We can initially look at the priest and learn something from his situation. The priest presided over many people bringing sacrifices. He saw people confessing to their actions and errors of judgment. Perhaps this had a good effect on the priest, who may have learned from the people he was meant to teach and minister to. Perhaps he would feel that if those he helped were big enough and wise enough to confess, that he would be encouraged to confess. Also the priest might gradually become more aware of his own shortcomings, come to a fuller realization of his mistakes and want to confess.
We can be sure that if we are not aware of our many shortcomings, God will help us to recognize areas in which we should grow. Just as with the high priest, atonement and repentance provide a way to repair our behavior. They do this by reopening the channels of our love that we have closed off. By engaging in repentance, we signal that we are ready to be forgiven, that we are ready to receive love, because we are ready to give it again. Since our negative behavior prevents us from connecting with God and each other, admitting our less worthy actions is a ritual that begins the cleansing process. However, there is a further step we can take to remove the separation between us and God. One of my favorite teachings from Exodus is that any labor we perform that is not dedicated to a holy purpose goes to waste. We can work and work but it is wasted. This is taught by the offering of a food animal in substitution for a firstborn work animal, like a donkey, which cannot be eaten. Since all firstborn male animals belong to God, if we don’t offer a food animal in its place, the law is that it must be killed, that is, wasted. We never get to benefit from our labor. So dedication: dedicating our work and our efforts to helping: helping each other and helping God – helping the Universe – can bring us closer in our relationship with the Divine Presence. The Chassidic sages also offer some advice. Rabbi Schneur Zalman stresses service. The Baal Shem Tov and R. Dovid Talener say, come before God without arrogance, with humility. And another teaching was suggested as we were studying the prophet Haggai in our Wednesday night study session. We read that when the people returned to Jerusalem from their exile in Babylon, Haggai urged them to rebuild the Temple. He said: “Is this a time for you yourselves to sit in your paneled houses? Set your heart to consider your ways. You have sown much but bring in little.” In other words, think about why you are here. This is also a teaching for us. Why are we here? Is it only to eat and drink and enjoy life and then to pass away? Being human means that we have been given a precious gift: that we are here to dedicate ourselves to a higher purpose. As human beings we can refine ourselves and be of help and of service. We are meant to engage in the work of removing the barriers between us and God, seeking forgiveness, purifying ourselves, so that we can improve ourselves and the world and become more of a blessing. We can wake up and remember that we are part of the refining process that will ultimately lead to the Messianic era. May this season of Pesach usher in a new resolve: a rebirth of our capacity to rededicate ourselves to a holy purpose for which we were created and redeemed.

Inside and Outside

2011-04-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Metzora, which means one who has Tzaraat, a contagious skin disease. This portion describes the ritual of purification for one who has had such a skin disease. It also speaks about ways that people can become ritually contaminated through discharges of body fluid, and it gives instructions for what to do about mold in houses. The imagery of the purification ritual is somewhat strange. Two birds were brought by the person seeking atonement. That person also brought a piece of cedar wood, a length of red wool, folded into a few strands, and a branch of hyssop, a spongy-leafed shrub. One bird was killed over a basin of water. Then the live bird, the wood, and the red wool were dipped in the blood of the bird that was killed. The blood was also sprinkled on the person seeking purification. Then the live bird was set free. Seven days later the person was to shave and immerse clothing and body. On the next day, the eighth day, the person brought a second offering: animals if they could afford it, flour for a meal offering, and oil. These were sin and guilt offerings. The blood of the offerings and some of the oil was put on the person’s big right toe, right thumb, and right ear.
What can this imagery possibly say to us? The two birds are reminiscent of the scapegoat ritual of Yom Kippur, in which two identical goats where brought before the priest. The priest laid hands on the goats to confess the sins of the community over them. One goat became a Yom Kippur offering of atonement and the other symbolically carried the people’s sins away. In the bird purification ritual, one bird flies away, taking the person’s sins and contamination away. But what does the imagery of the blood mean? Perhaps one thing that is being suggested is that our sins and impurities are far more serious than we think – literally matters of life and death.
In addition there is a second and equally valid suggestion. The Torah says about humans, at the end of B’reisheet, “every product of the thoughts of their heart was but evil always.” And in the next portion, in Noah, it says, “…since the imagery of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” We know that blood is supposed to stay inside a person. Impurity: body fluids, bacteria, anything icky, are all supposed to be on the inside. These things that are meant to be inside of us perhaps correspond to our thoughts and feelings. When they come out and can be seen by other people, as deeds or hurtful words, they cause problems. In the Torah, skin diseases, like the one Miriam contracted through speech and gossip, are associated with arrogance, hurtful speech and unnecessary gossip. When skin diseases and other things that should be on the inside appear on the outside, then we are called to recognize that more is being expected of us and we need to confess, atone, and be forgiven. We know that the Torah’s negative statements about us are not, by any means, the whole picture. We are made in God’s image and we also yearn for love, goodness, wholeness, and a chance to serve and be of help. The purification ritual allows us to realize that we can bring ourselves closer to God and remove the barrier between us and the Divine Presence that we ourselves have put there. The means to do this has been given to us. Our desire to become cleansed cleanses us; and we can then bring forth into the open what we seldom let out from inside: what is finest in us: our desire and longing for holiness, reverence, goodness and Divinity. May we purify our thought, speech, and deeds, so that we can bring forth what is highest and finest.

The Messages of Illness and Healing

2011-04-14T18:07:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tazria, which means, conceives. It speaks about how human beings can be contaminated for ritual purposes, that is, when wanting to bring sacrifices, and how they can be purified. Childbirth, which begins this portion, and the flow of bodily fluids such as blood and sexual emissions, and certain illnesses, such as skin diseases, confer impurity. For childbirth there is a period of days before a person can be purified by washing and bringing offerings, but for illnesses, especially those which might be contagious, the one who is ill is instructed to go to the priest. This tradition was a part of so many human cultures whose shamans: priests and healers combined, knew how to bring people to the gates of the spiritual world. In the Torah, the priest was the authority when it came to illness: and was to look at sores and skin conditions, even mold on houses and garments, to determine whether the person or articles should be quarantined, whether the condition might be worsening or abating, and when it was time for that person to be allowed once again to be reintegrated into the community. We might ask, why does the Torah insist that the priest be the one to make these decisions? Why not a person trained or gifted in diagnosing illnesses: a doctor or back then an herbalist or midwife? We know that in the past, the mind body connection was stronger that it is for us today. When someone had an illness it was presumed that the illness was not occurring as an isolated event, but was connected to the whole person, mind, body, soul, and spirit; and further, that every illness has a spiritual component.
This understanding is reinforced by a quotation from the book of Exodus (15:26): God says to Moses, “if you listen diligently to the voice of God your God and do what is just in God’s sight, listen to the commandments and observe God’s decrees, then any of the diseases I placed in Egypt I will not bring upon you, for I am God, your healer.” This brings us back to the teaching that the moral and physical universes are one, and that we are being guided to greater spiritual and moral attainment. While studying the book of Jeremiah, we also learned that the wound is the cure: that illness, war, and disaster can occur to remedy something that may be out of balance in a person or in the society. The Kotzker Rebbe, quoted in the Soul of the Torah, said, “Where purity is removed, impurity replaces it.”
Religion’s goal is to include and not isolate, as noted in the Etz Chayim commentary. It can help a person to develop another perspective on their illness. Perhaps, then, it is wise that a person with an illness goes to the priest. The priest had to evaluate the illness several times, encouraging a real relationship with the patient; maybe to allow and facilitate the patient confiding in the priest, who could then serve as a conduit to spiritual wisdom and healing. Not that we should ever blame the patient, but that a patient may welcome the support of a sympathetic caring person who would be there for counseling if the person wished it. Also, people may impart different information to a priest than to a doctor. The midrash quotes David’s Psalm 139:5: Backward and forward you have hedged me in, You laid your hand upon me. Perhaps this means that illness serves as a message: a teaching, just as does healing. It can serve as a sign that God expects more of us, or that we have been on one spiritual plateau long enough and are being urged forward. We are meant to pay attention to the dis – ease we feel and to ruminate on our inner condition, allowing us to attain a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world. Perhaps a disease also serves, in our scientific time, as a pathway for circling back to our more primitive understanding and reconnecting ourselves to the spiritual mind-body connection our ancestors knew, but on a higher level, integrating our scientific knowledge with our spiritual knowledge. Our sages, like the Apter Rebbe, taught that humans were created last so that we could effect the repair of the entire universe. Tazria teaches that it will be more than enough to repair and improve ourselves, and perhaps, by so doing, bring ultimate repair about. By the pathway of self-improvement, we can reestablish the spiritual balance that results in harmony and good health. The priest, as a denizen of both the practical and spiritual worlds serves as an example to us. May we take the opportunity to look deeply within ourselves and allow the events we experience to speak to us, showing us a pathway of growth and blessing. May we know that we are being led to greater wholeness, kindness, and compassion, in illness as in healing, and may we strive to inhabit both the spiritual and the practical worlds every day of our lives.

Thinking For Ourselves

2011-04-01T10:44:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Shemini, which means, eighth. On the eighth day after Moses set up the Tabernacle, the sacrificial service was to begin. The priests – Aaron and his four sons - had been sanctifying themselves for seven days. It was the first time the people had gathered to see sacrifice performed on their behalf. Moses had told them that God’s Presence would appear to them and it was a joyous and solemn holiday, full of expectation and devotion. Every sacrifice was offered as commanded and God sent heavenly fire to consume the offerings, manifesting the Divine Presence. But just at that time of celebration, two of Aaron’s sons brought an incense offering that was not commanded and they died tragically, in the sight of everyone. Moses tells Aaron not to leave or to show signs of obvious mourning, lest another tragedy occur. Then there is a controversy about whether Aaron and his remaining sons should eat the sin offering. Moses becomes angry that the commandment to eat it was not followed, but Aaron said, “Now that such things befell me, were I to eat this day’s sin offering, would God approve?” The Torah continues, “Moses heard and he approved.” At the end of this section the dietary laws are given.
Shemini is perhaps the most contradictory portion in the Torah. It teaches a number of important things, so it is interesting to try to untangle its contradictions and draw some conclusions. The first message we get is that when we follow the commandments exactly, God is pleased. This idea is reinforced by the deaths of Aaron’s two sons. They brought “an alien fire that God had not commanded.” But just after that comes the two middle words of the Torah, “darosh darosh: Moses insistently inquired about the sin offering.” Our sages say that the Torah revolves around insistent in inquiry. This teaching is in turn reinforced by Aaron’s exchange with Moses. Aaron feels that he must have sinned, or his sons must have sinned, for his son’s lives to be taken, publicly, by God. He feels that he is not worthy to eat the people’s sin offering and he disobeys God’s direct commandment. When Moses hears Aaron’s reasoning, Moses agrees with him. This teaches the importance of motivation. It shows us that our intention is more important than obeying the letter of the Law. In effect, we are being told by this portion to think and not to think. In Buddhism, a koan is a statement that makes no logical sense, but is given to a student to meditate on, sometimes for years, until the inner meaning is revealed. This portion is a kind of Jewish koan: use your intelligence and emotions to make your own decisions while obeying the commandments exactly. What are we to do? A Catholic priest I know, Henry Fehrenbacher, who is a scholar and intellectual once said, “God gave us brains and God is insulted if we don’t use them.” In agreement with this, the Stone Chumash quotes Rabbi Tzaddok HaKohen who said, “This is the first place in the Torah of the exercise of Oral law, in which reasoning is used to define the parameters of the law.” I would go even further. Our sages taught that there were two categories of Torah: written and oral. But I have begun to teach a third category: Newly Created Torah that arises in our hearts and minds, moment by moment, through which God sends us suggestions, feelings, and convictions about what we should do. One Actors’ Temple congregant calls it “God Guts.” Now this can be dangerous, if we do whatever we want to do. The commandment to wear fringes tries to guard against that and reminds us to do what God asks us to do. We are very good at rationalizing our behavior to convince ourselves that we are doing the right thing when we are not. So perhaps we need some guidelines for the decision making process. Rabbi Gelberman used to ask: “Is it good today and will it be good tomorrow?” And I think we all would ask, “Would it hurt anyone?” I would also add: does it exclude anyone, which certainly comes up in the way we keep or don’t keep the dietary laws. Another guideline might be, “Is this in the spirit of what God asks of me? Shemini teaches that it is as detrimental to follow the commandments blindly and unthinkingly as it is not to follow them. Rabbi Eleazar said in the Talmud, A person should always be pliable as the reed and never unyielding or rigid as the cedar. For this reason the reed merited that of it should be made a pen for the writing of the Law (Taanit 20a). Judaism can only live, the Torah can only live when we make decisions using our intelligence and our ability to make fine distinctions and fuse these abilities with giving, loving, unselfish hearts. Maimonides said that all of the commandments only exist to lead us to holiness. They are a means to an end and not an end in themselves. I personally find life to be a moral quagmire, which is constantly presenting me with difficult and challenging decisions; and I am always trying to keep my mind and my heart open when I make them. Shemini clearly teaches that the written commandments do not cover all circumstances. It is up to us to decide how and when to apply them. It is also incumbent upon us to be totally honest and truthful with ourselves about our motivations, which may often be mixed.
May we use our intelligence, love of others, our compassion, and our sense of justice to decide the way we should go. May our desire to elevate ourselves, to join with and help others guide our decisions, and may we cleave to Goodness, using our intelligence, doing what is right, doing what is asked of us, with love and caring.

Setting Our Sights on Eternity

2011-03-25T13:30:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, which means, command. It continues the rules given to the priests concerning the five categories of sacrifices: elevation, grain or meal, feast-peace, sin, and guilt offering. The portion describes how the sacrifices should be offered and who may eat them; then the portion ends with a description of the priests seven day inauguration process.
This portion is really all about process, and it can be read on a metaphoric level as a kind of guide for self improvement and becoming closer to God. The Torah says, “This is the instruction of the elevation offering; It is the elevation offering, that stays on the flame upon the altar all night until the morning, and the fire of the altar should remain aflame on it. The priest ….shall separate the ashes which the fire consumed of the elevation offering on the altar, and he shall put them beside the altar, and carry the ashes outside the camp to a pure place. The fire on the altar shall remain burning on it; it shall not be extinguished; and the priest shall kindle wood on it every morning, and prepare the elevation offering on it; and he cause the fat of the peace offerings to go up in smoke on it. The fire shall be burning always upon the altar; it shall not go out.” The elevation offering is olah in Hebrew. It’s the word for up, the same word as aliyah, to be called up. Our yearning is to become elevated, and this is what makes us most human. In his great work called, the Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman writes about the animal soul and the human soul. This is what B’reisheet, the first Torah portion, speaks about. Once Adam and Eve eat of the fruit and attain human consciousness, the human soul, they are afraid that God will find out what they have done, and they hide. Of course God already knows what they did and where they are, but God makes a big show about their actions, when God pretends to find out. Eve is given the punishment that her pain in childbearing will be increased. This simply happens through fear coming into the world. Fear is not a punishment, then, because just by having left the animal state, they already feel fear. This is evidenced by the fact that they hid after eating the fruit and before receiving the so-called punishment. Fear is about imagining the future, about having calendars and blackberry’s; and it is precisely our ability to think about the future that leads us to want to improve ourselves; living happier and more fulfilled lives. The great gift of fear is that we can set our sights on eternity and visualize what it would be like to be joyous and whole. The Torah speaks about the offering that stays on the flame all night until morning. If night is a metaphor that describes our suffering, then our desire for re-union with the Divine persists through our nights of difficulty, until the joy of the fulfillment comes in the morning. We are instructed to keep our desires burning through the nights, even to add fresh wood to the fire that burns in our souls, which the Talmud calls the service of the heart. The ashes that remain may be that part of ourselves that we know we need to purify. Rabbi Elimelech quotes the Talmud which says, “Great is repentance, since it transforms willful sins into merits” How is this portrayed in the portion? The ashes were taken to a pure place, meaning perhaps that even our less worthy parts can be put in service to holiness. This is reassuring, because it tells us that we don’t need to get rid of the less noble parts of ourselves; we only have to put them to a higher purpose. This is such an important distinction. Many of us in our upbringing were given the message that only some parts of ourselves were loved and accepted or even acceptable. But we are not manufactured in parts; we are whole beings. Carl Jung writes about personality integration; and that is our task: to use more and more of ourselves to serve what is highest and best in us. The Torah speaks about this also as raising the ashes. How can we raise the ashes? In the process of seeking improvement, the person bringing a sacrifice nourished others. The priests, the relatives and friends, the poor, as well as the person bringing the sacrifice: all ate from it; and when we improve ourselves we benefit ourselves as well as others. This portion repeatedly stresses that our fire: our burning desire to love and be loved must not be extinguished. We must nourish our soul’s impulse to perfect ourselves and in so doing to find the joy in life and the fulfillment of spiritual elevation. This is the pinnacle of being human: a quest to leave the animal state even further behind and rise, becoming truly, as the S’fat Emet says, (P. 157) “half above and half below,” half spiritual soul-beings and half matter. May we seize this commandment to continually elevate ourselves; and turn our thoughts, actions, and desires toward Heaven. May we purify ourselves and in so doing, bring nourishment and goodness to all those whose lives we touch.

Union with God, a Parable of Marriage

2011-03-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

This week we begin the Book of Leviticus, the third book of the Torah. The first portion, Vayikra, by which the book is known in Hebrew, means: “and called.” God calls to Moses to instruct him about how the priests, the Kohanim, will offer sacrifice. Four categories of sacrifice are outlined: the elevation offering, or olah, the feast peace offering, or zevach shelamim, the sin offering, chatat, and the guilt offering, asham. All of these are voluntary offerings; and the sin and guilt offerings are for unintentional sins and guilt.
Since we don’t practice sacrifice any more, much of what we now discuss in the Book of Leviticus is of a metaphoric nature. But though our practice is so different from what our ancestors did, we, ourselves, are not so fundamentally different; and we can find meaning in the intent of these ancient rituals. Toward the beginning of the portion, the Torah says, “When a person among you will bring an offering to God, from the cattle and from the flocks, you shall bring your offering.” It is noteworthy that there is a word that appears four times in this short excerpt. The word, offering, and the word, bring, in the English, do not really supply the meaning of the Hebrew. The Hebrew words yakriv and karban are from the word karov, meaning: near, soon, close. The sentence could be translated, when you draw near to become close, or when you approach God to offer yourselves. And this puts us in touch with our own yearnings to re-experience the union with God that we lost in the Garden of Eden, when we left the animal state and became conscious.
The prophet, Hosea, makes this yearning for union explicit, describing God as the bridegroom and Israel as the bride, in these famous words that observant Jews recite when putting on tefillin: “I will betroth you unto me forever; I will betroth you unto me in righteousness and justice, in kindness and compassion; I will betroth you unto me in faithfulness; and you shall know God (2:21).” In a certain sense, sacrifice can be understood in light of this metaphor of the wedding between us and God. The Tabernacle is an enclosure like the chuppah, where we come to undergo a ceremony of uniting, and then partake in a wedding feast; and most of the sacrifices were indeed eaten, either by the person bringing herself or himself near, or by the priests, the poor, the relatives and friends of the one bringing the offering, or all of the above. In Hebrew, marriage is referred to as Kiddushin: holiness, and the sacrificial service was an awe inspiring and holy ritual uniting not only us and God but life and death. There are more similarities: just as God’s instructions to Moses in this portion spell out the details of sacrifice, the ketuba or marriage contract at a wedding specifies what each person shall contribute to the union. The Priest carried out the sacred rituals of sacrifice just as a modern rabbi provides a context of holiness for a wedding ceremony. And there is a Jewish custom which is observed by the Orthodox: that Bride and Groom confess and then fast before their wedding, which is analogous to the requirement that the person presenting a sacrifice lean his hands on the sacrifice and confess before the sacrifice is presented, and then cooked on the altar. We bring the best of ourselves to a marriage, as we are commanded to bring that which is unblemished, whole, complete, and the choicest parts as an offering. The act of consummation has its counterpart in sacrifice as well. Rabbi Dvorah Weisberg in The Women’s Torah Commentary, quotes Midrash Tanchuma, which says, “God chose to leave the high heavens and descend to the earth to the Tent of Meeting for the love of Israel.” She says, “God chose concealment over openness. This is a sign of Divine modesty, since what is private is seen by God as more precious.” It is the possibility of experiencing sacredness that unites our contemporary worship and ancient sacrifice. We speak to God in the intimacy of our hearts to attempt to feel the awe and bliss of being attached to our Creator. Our approach, offering, and drawing near is a rededication of ourselves to the best that is in us – the holiness that we can call forth in ourselves if we approach with open hearts, and willing minds. Our aim is to become worthy of what Abraham Joshua Heschl called being noticed by God. We can seek to unite what is separate through our own sincerity of worship, right action, and loving thoughts. We can recreate the awe of life and death that our ancestors experienced in sacrifice and that King Solomon described in The Song of Songs: (8:6, 7) “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death; jealousy is harsh as the grave; its flashes are flashes of fire, a Divine flame. Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it…” The need to draw close to God still exists within us: the need to confess, make right, be cleansed, rejoice, apologize, repent, and elevate ourselves. Though our mechanisms may be different: meditation, ritual, synagogue worship, deeds of loving kindness, charity, and love, our intention to seek out contentment, and our need to feel whole are the same. May we approach our worship and service with the attitudes of awe and the intimacy of lovers, as did our ancient ancestors, and may our drawing near make us whole and be a source of great blessing.

God is Arranging It

2011-02-25T11:55:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Ki Tissa, which means.” when you take.” It begins with the taking of a census, goes on to appoint two people to oversee the work of the Tabernacle and holy vestments, and reiterates that Shabbat observance supersedes work on the tabernacle for God. Later in the portion, while Moses is gone, the people make and worship a golden calf. Moses wins forgiveness for them and has an intimate encounter with God, in which he hears a description of God’s attributes: that God is compassionate and gracious; slow to anger, forgiving, and great in kindness and truth.
Tonight I’d like to address a recurring theme in the Torah. While the people are worshipping the golden calf, it says, “God said to Moses, I have seen this people and behold it is a stiff-necked people, and now desist from me. Let my anger flare up against them and I shall annihilate them and I shall make you a great nation.” This is very similar to a section in the book of Numbers, in which the people have heard the report of the scouts, whose opinion it is that the land cannot be conquered. The people become demoralized and decide to return to Egypt. At that time, the Torah says, “God said to Moses, how long will this people provoke me and how long will they not have faith in me, despite all the signs that I have performed in their midst. I will smite them with the plague and annihilate them and I shall make you a greater and more powerful nation than they.” What are we supposed to think about these two passages? Is God vengeful and punitive or is there something else going on below the surface of the text? My understanding stems from a comment about another incomprehensible passage, the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. In reference to Abraham the sages say that no one is given a test that they cannot pass. These two episodes about Moses are truly just that: they are about Moses and not about the people. In both instances, Moses is given a choice: to continue as the leader of the Jewish people, with all the problems, frustrations, and difficulties that may arise, or to have the problems taken off his hands. In both cases, Moses argues with God and convinces God to save the people. But there is another way to look at this interaction. We say that God is omniscient: all knowing. We also say in Judaism that the past, present, and future are all One, as God and existence are One. So God already knows the outcome of Moses’ choice. God knows what Moses will choose. But – and this is a very important point – God allows Moses free choice. Our free will is never taken away. And by allowing Moses to choose freely, God arranges it so that Moses has to take responsibility for his choice and for signing onto the next leg of the trip, when the going will definitely get tough. Had Moses chosen to kill the Israelites, he would have had to live with the knowledge that he caused all their deaths. So the decision was somewhat of a foregone conclusion. By choosing to intercede for them, it became a win-win situation: Moses passed the tests and he also got to take credit for saving his people. And this helped him to become an even greater leader than he was before, but also helped him spiritually: to grow as a person. What God also caused was that Moses, having agreed to the next leg of the journey, could not complain about how hard the task was, or walk away from it. Taking responsibility means you can’t whine or complain about your choice. This theme of taking responsibility in the Torah, is actually stated for the first time, in B’reisheet, with the story of Adam and Eve. God arranges it so that the fruit was prominently displayed and told the humans not to eat it. But God also planted the suggestion in Eve’s mind, via the serpent, that eating the fruit would be a positive thing, and that it would not cause her death. Eve freely chose to eat the fruit, which made her a conscious human being, knowing right from wrong; but she did not have this knowledge of right and wrong before she ate it, before she chose. God so arranged it that she would grow spiritually and that she would take responsibility for her choice. After the humans became conscious, having exchanged the animal state for the conscious state, they have to work for a living; and fear, the knowledge of the possible future, comes into the world. Having chosen consciousness, they cannot complain or whine about their choice. This is how the world works. We get to choose and then take responsibility for our choices by not complaining about them or blaming anyone for what we have chosen. But we should also be aware of what this portion teaches us: that God is, through suggestion and circumstance, arranging for our spiritual growth. God is not a punitive or angry God. God is compassionate and gracious; slow to anger, forgiving, and great in kindness and truth. God is the One who leads us to tests, in which we can test ourselves against our own sense of rightness and goodness, and morality, which come from our Godly souls and God-given natures. God’s guidance and wisdom arranges win-win situations for us: a path for us along which our blessings lie. Our growth and our blessings are dependent on our willingness to partner with God in the planned forward motion. May we realize that our circumstances are helping us to grow, and choose with faith the positive direction that is being arranged for us.

Being Our Own Priest

2011-02-18T10:34:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tetzaveh, which means, Command. It contains the instructions for the Eternal light, the New Tamid, to be continually kindled at night. God describes the design of the eight priestly garments and tells Moses to dress the priests, the Kohanim, in them and to inaugurate the priests during a seven day consecration ceremony. The specifications for an incense altar are given, as is the commandment not to offer any alien incense.
Early in the portion, the Torah says, “Now you, bring near to yourself Aaron your Brother and his sons with him from among the children of Israel…to minister to me. (28:1)” This is the creation of the Priesthood in Judaism. Moses, Aaron his brother, and his sons, were of the Tribe of Levi. A very few of the Levites, just Aaron and his four sons and their male children were to become priests. At this time, the priests were to carry out the service of sacrifice. This necessitated coming into daily contact with the holy objects within the Tabernacle: the altar of sacrifice and the big bowl, called the laver, which was filled with water for washing; and in the Tent of Meeting: the ark, the menorah, the table for show bread, and the incense altar. Because these objects were in close proximity to God’s presence, manifested as a cloud shaped like a pillar, over the Tabernacle, It was important for the priests to purify themselves and to be as holy as possible; because it could be physically dangerous to them to be in an impure state while offering sacrifice or being near the holy objects. The priests protected the people from dangerous contact with a level of purity they could not match. The Priesthood was abolished during Roman times, at the time of the destruction of the second Temple in 70 CE. But this is not quite the end of the story.
Before the giving of the Ten Commandments, in Exodus, God says to Moses, “You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation,” This was to be a new system for human kind, which could only be fully realized after the abolition of a formal priesthood. Clearly, the original desire was that each of us be our own priest; and that is the system we have right now. It is the direction in which we are moving and being led. What does being a kingdom of priests, a holy nation, mean today? When we say in our prayers, Baruch atah Adonai, we address God as atah, YOU, before we address God as Melech haOlam, Ruler of the Universe. This YOU, is the God who is as close to us as breathing, as close as our own hearts and feelings. The commandment, “Bring near to yourself,” reinforces this desire for intimacy. The Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that the Hebrew word, Command, is related to the root for the word “connect.” And the Koznitzer Rebbe says that it’s also related to the root meaning “befriend.” So the intent of the priesthood was the creation of a group of people who were not supposed to be higher than everyone else, necessarily, but to be more connected to God, in more of an intimate, familiar relationship with the aspect of God we address as YOU: the loving God who is always our friend, always there for us. How did the priests achieve this? The priests prepared themselves for their office in a seven day inauguration ceremony that required them to be separated from the community, dwelling in the Tabernacle boundaries and not leaving them for any reason. They maintained their purity by drawing near to God through the elaborate and precisely defined rituals of sacrificial service; in short, through dedicating their actions to a holy purpose and being scrupulous in following directions exactly, a form of subjugating their will to God’s will. Anyone who could not follow directions was bound to come to grief.
We, as modern priests, have a slightly different path to the same end. In the book, Living Mussar Every Day, by Rabbi Zvi Miller, he quotes a teaching by the Alter Rebbe of Kelm who said: “The Divine service we are charged with is preparation to receive spiritual treasures. All that is required of us is to prepare and purify ourselves through Torah and Mitzvot. If we strengthen ourselves in this, God, in great love, will bless and help us in the most wondrous of ways.” Our task is to find that inner fineness and purity that will allow us to experience our connection to God and to be able to recognize and accept Divine friendship. Like the ancient priests, we do this through service. The Zohar says, “Blessed are the Israelites, who entered and came out and comprehended the mystery of the ways of the Torah, to walk in the way of truth. .. because only from there is unity possible, for the children of Israel stand here below as emissaries of the Most High, to open the gates, to shed light upon the ways, to kindle the radiance of the heavenly fire, to draw all things that are below near to them that are above, in order that all may become a unity Zohar II:181b.” The purpose of our service is healing and harmonizing in the world: kindling inner radiance and bringing truer values to our lives; helping to create a society that is more connected to its spiritual source. By identifying and aligning ourselves with that which is most God-like in us, and by service: being of use and of help in the universe, we bring ourselves near to the source of goodness, the source of love, friendship and intimacy that nurtures and supports us and our well being. The Zohar says, ‘The Place which You have made for Your dwelling place, God, for the Sanctuary, God, which You prepared.’ “This implies the necessity of building a sanctuary below, corresponding to the Sanctuary above, wherein the Holy One is daily served and worshipped. Zohar Raya Mehemna: 59b.” This describes our task as modern priests: to heal, to help, and to teach ourselves, others, and ultimately give back to the world by our commitment to purification and closeness to our Divine connection: to make a dwelling place in this world for the part of God that can be rooted here. May we take upon ourselves this sacred mission, and experience the harmonizing power of holiness in our lives.

Taking and Giving

2011-02-11T09:29:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Terumah, which means a portion or an offering. God asks Moses to inform the people that they can bring freewill offerings of precious metals, precious stones, colored fabric, wood, and animal skins for the grand project: the construction of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, that will allow God’s Presence to dwell among them. The portion also gives precise instructions about how the Tabernacle should be constructed. The Israelites were to build a tent of meeting and an outer courtyard for the service of worship and sacrifice. They were also to make the holy furniture: a golden ark to house the tablets of the Ten Commandments, a golden menorah as tall as a person, a tall golden table that looked like a baker’s rack, to hold 12 special loaves of bread; and a copper altar for sacrifice.
The portion begins, “God spoke to Moses saying, Speak to the Children of Israel and let them take for me a portion from every individual whose heart is willing, shall you take my portion.” As in the Torah portion, Bo, also from Exodus, which begins, “Come to Pharaoh,” not Go to Pharaoh, we have a linguistic mystery. Why does the Torah say, Take, a form of the Hebrew word, Kach, and not, Give, Tein, as in Natan and Notein? You might say, well Moses is taking the offering; but that’s not what the Torah says. The words indicate that the Israelites will be dong the taking. What is the Torah trying to tell us? In Rabbi Elimelech’s Torah commentary, in a note at the end of this week’s portion, it says, ”My Father said at a gathering, God created the Universe and all physical objects – something from nothing. Jews must transform the something into Nothing. They must transform the material into the spiritual.” Rabbi Elimelech refers to Job, who said, “Wisdom comes from ayin, from Nothing.” This mystery of taking, not giving, is a window into one of the great secrets of the Torah. The Zohar expresses it like this: (II: 127a) “in this Foundation is the fabrication of the whole, of all the world, of souls and spirits; this is the hidden force behind the creation of the heaven and earth, and this is also the hidden force behind the building of the Tabernacle, which was erected in the likeness both of the world above and of the world below. This is the significance of the words: “that they take me an offering”: two grades become united as one in the Tabernacle which is the emblem of that union.” Something is being united. The Zohar speaks about the Tabernacle uniting earth and heaven, however, this also occurs for the individual who gives. In Kedoshim, from Leviticus, it says, “You shall not indulge in sorcery and you shall not believe in lucky times (19: )” This verse delineates the relationship between us and the Divine. By hearing the words of a fortune teller, we create a blockage or an impediment between us and God, who is sending us information and experiences, based on our free choices The choice to give initiates an intimate relationship between the material and the spiritual, allowing this circle between us and God, or this opening of a channel between us, to be a pathway for the flow of blessings, which then can reach us. Such a thing happens in the material plane in the same way as a loving or caring interaction with another person equips the first person to receive love back from the second. In the Midrash it says, (Ex Rabba 33:6) “Ordinarily, when one buys an article in the market-place, is he then able to acquire its owner, too? But the Holy One, blessed be God,, gave the Torah to Israel and said to them: ' You are taking Me, as it were! ' Hence, THAT THEY TAKE ME AS AN OFFERING.” What we are receiving is Divinity: more Divine blessings. Since everything is God, what we receive is a quality of God. The Leadership and Management consultant and author Ken Blanchard has spoken about receiving blessings as a result of his giving. He writes, “I absolutely believe in the power of tithing and giving back. My own experience about all the blessings I've had in my life is that the more I give away, the more that comes back. That is the way life works, and that is the way energy works.” I, in my own life, have witnessed that my giving initiates blessings being able to flow to me. I never worry about giving to charity anymore. I know, because I have seen it: that whatever I give will mysteriously be replaced. Giving is the way to unite earth and heaven – to initiate, maintain, and deepen our relationship to God. It is one way to become a little more holy. And giving does not have to be money. As the V’ahavta tells us, giving can be love in our hearts. Giving can be actions, giving with all our hearts, souls, and might. The Apter Rebbe speaks about the Tabernacle being a representation of God’s giving and sharing with the Jewish people, of sharing God’s Kingdom with us In Terumah we are being asked to give – if, and only if, the giving comes from our hearts with free will – in order to allow us to take: to take the blessings we are being sent, through our own giving. The secret of taking is giving. God commands us to give so that, in God’s love, God may give to us. May each of us be among those that nurture the world through our giving: and in this way, to unite earth and heaven.

When the Parts Work Together

2011-02-03T18:23:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Mishpatim, judgments or laws. These laws were given to Moses by God, after the 10 Commandments. The experience of the Revelation, being so close to God, was too frightening for the people; so they asked Moses to hear the laws from God and to tell them what God wished to say. There are over 50 laws in this portion, ranging from laws concerning murder, injury, theft, care for and destruction of property, negligence, and social justice. There are laws about the punishment fitting the crime, integrity of words and actions, and also about not oppressing a stranger, a widow, or an orphan, those weakest in society. Finally, there are laws about the 3 agricultural pilgrimage holidays and a vision of God, seen by the Moses, Aaron, his two sons, and the 70 elders. In the Zohar, the book of Splendor from the Middle Ages, in the commentary for Mishpatim it says, “when one (Section 2, Page 124a) observes the ordinances of the Torah and diligently studies it, it is as though that one diligently studied the Divine Name. For the whole Torah is an enfolding of the one Divine Name, the most exalted Name, the Name that comprehends all other names;” This poetic comment is at the opposite pole from the actual words in this portion. We can study the laws as they are here given; and either agree with them or disagree with them; and either do them or decide that they have been superseded by advances in society. In this portion we can find the best of the Torah: the striving for social justice; and also the worst of the Torah: those laws about slavery or the possibility of the death penalty for lesser offenses than premeditated murder. This portion begins with laws: with reasonable demands that we can all understand; but ends in a mystical vision: gazing at the appearance of God, God’s throne, and the purity of the sapphire brickwork under the feet of God. Between these two poles: the logical and the mystical, lies the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” which comes from the story of Cain and Abel in B’reisheet, the first Torah portion. Taking into account the reality stated in the quotation from the Zohar about the Divine Name; everything that is “named” in this portion, in the whole Torah, is God’s Name. Everything that is named, described, and taught, is God, because that’s all there is. The people in this portion: the widow, orphan, and stranger are God. The slave, the pregnant woman, the thief, and the virgin; the seducer and even the donkey crouching under its burden are all God. We are all a tiny part of God; “the name that comprehends all other names.” God is immanent in us, but transcendent over us. So what is the problem that is being set out for us? This portion is, in a sense, not only about action but also about peace. The S’fat Emet quotes the Psalm (29:11), “God will bless God’s people with peace,” and we say in the second Torah blessing, “God has implanted eternal life within us.” Then the S’fat Emet goes on to say, “this well is opened by the peace wrought by these statutes. For this reason the Midrash quotes here, you have established uprightness (Ps 99:4) because these statues lead people to love one another. The problem we must solve, then, is one of coordination: of getting all the parts to work together as a well oiled machine in which all the components are all operating harmoniously toward a productive end. If God is one, then everything is God and the challenge is to have it all working as if we are all one. That can only happen when we take care of each other, are fair to one another, and understand that the welfare of the whole is what we need to be aiming for, not just our own welfare; because our welfare is God’s welfare, is our neighbor’s welfare. When we cause pain, or create untruth, we cause a tear or a hole in the fabric of existence. We cause a breakdown in the oneness and harmony of the working parts, and we, ourselves will experience the pain we cause to another. We ourselves will fall into the hole we have dug or torn. It is all God, and that is why harmony is so important. Disharmony works against existence, against life, against us. Untruth severs the source of the electric current from the light bulb, so it can’t light up. The commandments are given to purify us and the Torah ties them all together so that we have a chance to understand it all. Torah is a reflection of the Oneness of all existence. It explains how all life should work, when it’s working properly. That understanding is so precious for us, because it gives us a chance to be part of a universe that is pulling together and not pulling apart. When we are focused on the welfare of the All, we are given glimpses of Divinity; intimations of the purity that is God and the harmonious, productive place that the world is meant to be. May each of us strive to realize these truths, so that the design of Oneness can become the reality; so that we can work happily, being at One with existence and expressing the harmony of all life.

Are we leading or being led?

2011-01-28T11:47:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Beshallach, which means, when he sent. When Pharaoh sends the Israelites out of Egypt, God leads them, with a pillar of cloud, away from the coast of the Mediterranean: not North but South. Hemmed in by the Sea of reeds ahead of them and the pursuing Egyptians behind them, the people despair that their lives are over. They cry out of God, who urges them to go forward. And you know the rest. God splits the water. They travel through the sea in safety, but the pursing Egyptian chariots and horsemen drown: the Divine retribution for throwing all male Israelite babies into the Nile. Then the people sing a song of gratitude to God. The beginning verse of this portion reads: “God did not lead them by way of the Philistines, though it was near, for God said, perhaps they will be led, when they see war, to return to Egypt.” And later it says, “God went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to have them led along the way.” And in the song of the Sea, the people sing, “With your kindness you have led this people that you redeemed. You led with your might to your Holy abode.” We can see that being led: God leading us, is prominently featured in this portion. It also says that God took the people around toward the Sea of Reeds. The word around, ya-save, connotes a circle, and in fact, we originated in Canaan and eventually returned to Canaan. The question is, how does all this leading fit in with our conception of Free Will? Are we really choosing or are we being led? We know that we do have free will. We can choose what to say and what to do. We change our reality every day by our choices. The Torah, even at the very beginning of Genesis, takes a stand for the beginning of history and linear progress over the passive acceptance of the ancient idea of the wheel of life: that nothing ever changes and we are merely repeating lives that have been and will ever be the same. There is a story in Midrash about “a king who had a son to whom he wished to bequeath an inheritance, but he argued: ' If I give it to him now that he is small, he will not know how to take care of it; I will therefore wait until my son learns how to write and can understand the value, then I will bequeath it unto him.’ This is what God said: … I had better give them the Torah first and then bring them into the Land.” Midrash Rabbah - Exodus XX:15 This passage speaks about learning and future choice. The Talmud (Er 53b) talks about this too. It says, “I was once on a journey when I noticed a child sitting at a cross-road. By what road, I asked the child, can we go to the town? This one, he replied, is a short way that is long and that one is a long way that is short. I proceeded along the short but long road. When I approached the town I discovered that it was hedged in by gardens and orchards. Turning back I said to him, ‘My child, did you not tell me that this road was short?’ — ‘And’, he replied: ‘did I not also tell you: that it was also long?’ The statement “there is a long way that is short and a short way that is long.” leads us to believe that the destination is the same, but that there are two ways to get there; and choice is at the heart of the difference. The seemingly easy way out of a situation may, at first look more promising than a scrupulously moral, ethical decision. And yet, though we may think it’s the easy way, we are really being led, like pharaoh, to our doom; or like the Israelites who could have gone North, to an insurmountable barrier. In a Biblical sense, we could ask, are we choosing life or choosing death? Perhaps what we are being taught is that certain of our choices are pro-life and lead to progress, while other choices will send us circling back on ourselves so that we end up stuck: unable to make that freeing forward movement that feels good and right. I’ve been speaking about choice seen through a personal lens, but it can also be seen through a collective lens. Martin Luther King said, “On some positions, Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but we must do it because Conscience tells us it is right.” Heschl spoke about choice in two essays quoted in the collection Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity. He says, “the tragedy of man is that he is so great and that he fails to recognize his greatness. Jean-Paul Sartre has said ‘Man is condemned to be free.’ God has given us choice, the greatest obligation of freedom. God is waiting for us to exercise that choice. (P 218) …This is the decision we have to make: whether our life is to be a pursuit of pleasure or an engagement for service. The world cannot remain a vacuum. Unless we make it an altar to God, it is invaded by demons. This is no time for neutrality (P. 75).”
What is true of the aggregate is also true of the individual. How are we to decide which choices will propel us forward and not back? When the Israelites were paralyzed with fear of the past, represented by Pharaoh’s pursuing army, and also of the future, represented by the Sea of Reeds, they cried out to God, the correct response in this situation. God’s answer was, “let them journey forth.” Choose the future, not the past: not old patterns or going backward. Choose with courage! The Rimanover Rebbe said, “Belief and trust are linked. One who firmly believes also trusts.” We are being led, but how soon we get there and in what way is up to us. Free will determines how our life feels. Does it feel free with the freedom of forward movement, or does it feel like the slavery of being stuck in old patterns and the hopelessness of the repeating wheel of life? The Torah tells us that we are being led toward movement and progress, out of our metaphoric Egypt. The details, the scenery, and the comfort of the journey are in our hands. We are on the way. How long will it take us to get there?

Coming Back

2011-01-14T11:53:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Bo, which means, Come. God commands Moses to go to Pharaoh to warn him of the last three plagues. Later in the portion, the Israelites are given instructions about the Pesach offering to God, in preparation for departure; and the protection of marking the doors with the blood from the pesach offering; and also staying inside, away from danger. We are given our own calendar and the commandments concerning Passover, to celebrate it with matzah and bitter herbs as an eternal decree; the consecration of first borns to God. Then Moses leads the Israelites out of Egypt.
The beginning of the portion reads, “God said to Moses, Come to Pharaoh, for I have made his heart and the heart of his servants stubborn, so that I shall place these signs of mine in his midst; and so that you may relate in the ears of your child and your child’s child how I made a mockery of Egypt and of my signs that I placed among them; that you may know that I am God.”
This portion is notable for many reasons; among them is something it does not say. Moses has repeatedly come before Pharaoh with the plea that Pharaoh let the people go on a three day journey to bring sacrifices to God. Perhaps the request is a ploy to allow Pharaoh to save face, but in any case, Moses’ request is unsuccessful. What is never said is: enslaving and subjugating people is wrong. God never says to Moses, Tell pharaoh that cruelty to other human beings, that making people suffer, is wrong. The question is, why is this never said? The first few phrases of this portion may allude to why. One reason is that we already know that cruelty is wrong. But how do we know? A clue in the text speaks about the heart. The S’fat Emet points out that the heart is always mentioned, never the mind. Also, the text says, “that I may place these, my signs in his midst.” But “In his midst” b’kirbo in Hebrew, also means within him. We are being directed to think about our inner selves. What is being addressed here is often called Natural Knowing: the emotions, the intuition, the gut, and not the conscious, intellectual functions of thought and reason.
It has been suggested that all wisdom is like a hologram rather than a photograph. In a photograph you can snip off a small price and that piece contains just the part of the picture that you cut off. But even the very tiniest piece of a hologram contains the entire picture. So it is with spiritual wisdom: we each contain the whole of spiritual wisdom in some way, whether we are conscious of it or not. Rabbi Arthur Green says, in a commentary to the writings of the S’fat Emet, “Truth is already implanted within us.” The Chassidic teaching is that the Torah is within us – those ethical commandments and deeds of loving kindness that help us to feel good about ourselves and know we are doing the right thing in the world. It’s a perfect system. What is good; what is right, feels good. Love feels good. Food feels good. Unselfishness feels good. The text gives us more clues about how to continue in this line of thinking. If we consider the name of the portion, Come; Come to pharaoh, in light of natural knowing; the word, Come, rather than go, begins to make some sense. Bo begins to mean, Come to a union, even with pharaoh. Disunity must cease. I am leading you to a new place; a place of coming together. The commentary also suggests, “I, God, am with you.” We are going on our mission together. Perhaps the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love may be winning; domination; subjugation. We are being led back to unity – to peace – to harmony, the fundamental nature of God. This is the completion of the cycle of creation. First there was One. Then creation occurs. Out of a multiplicity of forms, objects, forces, people; out of the many comes a re-union, on a different basis. Not undifferentiated Oneness, as before creation, but differentiated Oneness: the ultimate multiculturalism on the grandest scale possible, with no one and nothing left out. Forced to leave the Garden of Eden, because we have become fully conscious and responsible for our choices, we are given the mission of striving to create a new garden, based on the natural knowing that love and unity are correct and subjugation incorrect. May God help us to stay on the path that leads back to singularity. May our ability to choose love over winning, respect over disdain, and unity over separation, help us to be of those who embody the vision of eventual Oneness. May we be agents of positive change as we create harmony in our relationships, understanding and appreciating that we are playing a part in the redemption which, we hope, will occur long after we are gone. In Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Tarphon said: It is not up to you to complete the work, but neither are you free to refrain from it either. Bringing goodness and unity into the world depends upon us. Come, and we will do it together, and you will know, and your will feel that it is good.

Planting Suggestions

2011-01-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Va’eira, which means, and He appeared. God speaks to Moses about the Divine Name and promises to redeem the Israelites, which reassures him. But when Moses tells the people of a coming salvation, they don’t listen, because of their servitude and hard work. Moses again has doubts about the success of his mission and brings his frustration to God. God is patient, repeatedly speaking to Moses and Aaron, to give them insight and also a positive outlook. God says, “I shall harden Pharaoh’s heart and I shall multiply my signs and wonders.” Then later God says, “Pharaoh will not heed you,” and later, “Pharaoh’s heart is heavy.” Here, God is giving Moses a window into the process of redemption, a psychological view of what needs to happen before Israel is freed.
Commentators have struggled to reconcile how God could harden Pharaoh’s heart with the principle that God never takes away our free will. I have explained this to myself with the thought that increasingly cruel decisions produce increasingly more drastic results; power meeting power; and that rule still applies, but additionally there is another way to look at this contradiction.
Did you ever get ready to leave for work in the morning when an idea popped up in your mind like: should I take an umbrella, or did I put my phone, my keys, or my papers in my briefcase or pocketbook? Do I have my gloves? I have a feeling it will rain.. Of course, we all have. And some of these little thoughts we ignore and some we pay attention to. Some are warnings, and one of the principles of Torah is that there is usually a warning before something unfortunate happens. But also, some of these little thoughts are suggestions, and I believe these suggestions are planted there to help us and also to be tests. We always have free will as to whether to pay attention to them or not. Our free will is never taken away. We have the ability to choose freely – to decide and to act, or not to act, on these suggestions. These suggestions are opportunities in disguise: the opportunity to pass tests which is really grasping onto rungs of a ladder put there for us; to lead us to increased understanding of the reality of our relationship to God and to the world; to open our eyes to a deeper reality than the one with which everyone is familiar. We all have many voices inside – not only the two common ones, the optimist and the pessimist, but also the soul’s yearning voice, the generous, and the selfish voices, and many more. The suggestions that occur to us test us and allow us to choose which voice to pay attention to: the voices of conventional and logical reasonableness or the voices of joy and aliveness, faith, hope, and understanding.
It is interesting that God instructs Moses in this psychological way of thinking. God says, Pharaoh’s heart is heavy. In other worlds, Pharaoh is an unhappy person. He is suffering. I have sent him suggestions about what to do. He won’t choose to listen to the voice of kindness or compassion because of his own misery. It’s obvious, God seems to be saying. Even you, Moses can see it’s true. Even you can predict what Pharaoh will do. It will take a tremendous show of power to get him to pay attention to you. He will be very, very hard to educate.
It is a well known Jewish teaching that no one is given a test unless they can pass it. Not that we always do pass tests, but that we can; that we are capable right now, just as we are, of passing them. So in this New Year, let us all be aware of the possibility that the little thoughts that pop up in our minds are suggestions planted there for us, for our benefit – as tests – that we can evaluate; and that can lead us to increased understanding and to a more active relationship with God. The choice is up to us. May all of our choices lead us to great blessing in this New Year.

The Path to Becoming a Tzaddik

2010-12-02T09:50:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayeishev, which means, and he settled. Jacob settled in Canaan with his wives and 13 children. The teenage Joseph, second to the youngest, used to tattle on his older brothers. Joseph was the favorite son, the one given the coat of many colors or coat of fine wool, denoting family leadership; the dreamer who dreamed of future leadership, and let everyone know it. In this Torah portion, the brothers are pasturing their father’s flock and Jacob sends his young son, Joseph, to bring back a report. In essence, he is sent to tattle. When they see him coming, his brothers conspire to kill him. Reuben, the eldest, steers them away from murder, suggesting they throw him into a pit, with the intention of rescuing him later. Judah, the fourth son, advocates selling him to a passing caravan, agreeing with Reuben, saying, “Let our hand not be upon him, for he is our brother, our own flesh (Gen. 37:27).” The brothers decide to follow Judah’s lead and they do put Joseph into the pit. While they are eating a picnic lunch, traders sell Joseph before they can make a profit themselves, and he is eventually taken to Egypt and resold, ending up as a slave to Potifar, a high official.
This story pivots on hatred and jealousy – two emotions that are in every human heart. At this season of social and family gatherings, it may come up for us, making an unwelcome appearance in our lives. Why are we given these attributes? How do they serve us and, from a spiritual perspective, why are they wrong? The verse, “He is our brother, our own flesh,” is very enlightening. In a sense, all hatred is self hatred. This can be seen in the well known situation of the self hating Jew. But also, since the truth of reality, which the Torah teaches, is that we are all one: we are all part of each other. We are all brothers, sisters: family; and we are all part of the Divine Oneness. So we recognize in others that quality that is part of us: hatred or jealousy, and return it outward. Or we find a lack in ourselves and blame another person for it.
Hatred and jealousy come from a faulty understanding of the world. Rashi comments: snakes and scorpions were in the pit. The brothers placed Joseph physically in the place where they were emotionally: a place of snakes and scorpions. They separated themselves from Joseph, trying to get rid of their own negative feelings toward him. In a sense, all sins are sins of separation: separating us from one another and from God. If the truth of existence is that we are One, then any separation goes against the way the Universe is made. It is a step backward, toward the corruption of society in the time of Noah, rather than forward, into the messianic vision of the future.
One of the underlying principles of the Torah is that one who separates will herself or himself be separated. This was true of Rebecca, who was separated from her beloved son Jacob. It was true of Rachel, who was separated from Jacob, her husband, Joseph and her newborn son Benjamin, and from life itself, by her early death. And it was true of Judah in this Torah portion, whose wife and two sons died untimely deaths. Hatred and jealousy are challenges within us that we can strive against. They are prime attributes that we can decide to overcome, providing rungs on the ladder leading toward spiritual progress. They can spur us to goodness when re recognize them and honestly admit to their source within us. They can show us a path of action to redress wrongs or injustice in our relationships and in the greater society; and they can help us to achieve and attain for ourselves what we have always wanted to be, IF and only if, we put these attributes in the service of unifying and not separating. The world looks separate to us and is not. People look separate from us and are not. Hatred and jealousy hurt us, not others. The path to becoming a tzaddik, a righteous person, is long, but Joseph the tattletale achieved it. The brothers: Reuben, Judah and the others achieved it. And so can we. May jealous and hatred not find a place to lodge in our hearts, and may we grow in goodness and righteousness, acting out of and choosing the truth of our unity.

Spiritual Completion & How We Grow

2010-11-16T14:13:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Toldot, which means offspring. It tells of Isaac and Rebecca’s family and the birth of Rebecca’s twins. The first baby to be born was covered in red hair, so they named him Esau. Rashi says everyone called him Esau because he was fully made, completed. Esau comes from the verb ASA, to do or to make, and Esau was also a doer: a man of action. Jacob was born second, grasping Esau’s heel, and he was named Yaakov, heel or that which follows. The JPS commentary also links Yaakov to the Semitic word for protection, a plea for Divine shelter and blessing. The Torah gives a brief description of the two boys. About Esau it says, Esau became one who knows trapping, a man of the field. The description for Jacob reads, and Jacob was a quiet man, abiding in tents. Not all translations say quiet. Rashi says wholesome. The Women’s Torah commentary says homespun. Another translation is mild. But the Hebrew says, Tam. Tam literally means finished, perfect, complete whole, innocent, or simple. It is the same word used for the Simple Son in the section of the Passover Hagaddah that tells of the four children, or the four sons. The simple son is the one who is Tam: whole or complete. We can see that Jacob and Esau were very different, but that each was complete in his own way. Esau is physically complete and ready for action. Jacob’s completeness is more about inner resources, the ability to be quietly alone, to be a thinker, the ability to meditate, the ability to be in relationship with people and not only with things; but also he is a planner and a schemer. Neither boy had it all, but each was described as being complete. Their completeness brings us back to a verse in B’reisheet: “The heavens and the earth were finished and all their array. By the seventh day God completed the work which God had done, and abstained on the seventh day from all the work which God had done. God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it because on it God abstained from all the work which God created to make.” The verb, to make, Laasot, is puzzling. The end of the quotation should say, that God Made. To make, points us into the future. From this our sages derive the principle of Shutfei Elohim, being in partnership with God. My teacher, Rabbi Gelberman expressed it this way: God said, nothing I do anymore will be done alone. From now on we will finish the work of creation together. And this is precisely the case for Jacob and Esau, and also for us. We are born perfect and complete, just as creation was perfect and complete after the sixth day of creation. But we are also incomplete. The S’fat Emet expresses this in another way: “All things are brought into being by God. But the point is hidden and we have to expand it. This depends upon the point within us, for the more we expand our own souls, the more God is revealed to us in every place.” We are meant to be a work in progress that we, ourselves are bringing to completeness with our Divine partner. Or rather, that God is bringing to completeness with us as a willing or unwilling partner. Jacob and Esau are again instructive. As young men, their lack of a trusting, loving relationship is obvious. Esau’s anger and hostility toward Jacob for stealing the blessing and Jacob’s scheming, manipulative nature, his willingness to trick his way through life and run away from his problems repulse us. But their actions should give us great hope. Who of us doesn’t cringe at things we have done when we were younger, or even last year? If Jacob and Esau can become holy, so can we. As middle aged men, in next week’s Torah portion, Jacob and Esau have left their infantile selves, having done the inner work that allows them to express their love for each other and to see Divinity in each other’s faces, reestablishing their deep bond of understanding and caring for each other. We, too, are being led on a path of spiritual growth and development. Just as we have an innate program of physical development that unfold in our bodies, so we have an innate program of spiritual development that unfold in our souls. The events of our lives, our choices, and our feelings about our choices and those events are the engine which propels our growth. Each experience is an opportunity or test for us to choose with love, caring, and generosity. Each choice comes with the feedback of our feelings about how we have used the gift of free will. This is the creation of new Torah within us every day. This is how God communicates with us. Each new day is an opportunity to triumph over our yesterday’s selves. We may lose the contest numerous times before we are ready to advance. But we will surely advance, for we are being led by the Eternal One toward perfection, wholeness and the spiritual simplicity of pure love. Flawed as we are, Jacob and Esau teach us that each of us can attain great spiritual heights. Our sages said, “The offspring of the righteous are good deeds.” May we participate eagerly and fully in our growth toward righteousness, and may all our choices be deeds and words and thoughts of holiness and love.

Chaye Sara: The Life of Rebecca

2010-11-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion, Caye Sara, the life of Sara, is named after our first matriarch; but really centers on the life of Rebecca, Rivka, the second matriarch. Sara dies and Abraham buys the Cave of Machpeleh in order to bury Sara. Then Abraham sends his head servant back to his family in Mesopotamia to select a wife for Isaac. The servant, Eliezer, prays to God that, when he asks a maiden for a drink, the girl who says to him, Drink and I will even draw water for your camels, will be the one who has been Divinely chosen to the be the right bride for Isaac. He is not even finished praying this prayer to God when Rebecca appears and says those exact words. The servant is amazed, caught in a coincidence that he knows is supernatural.
Last week I spoke about Abraham’s kindness and willingness to give, and how the giving and receiving of love is the model for all receiving and giving in the Universe. Abraham’s kindness was demonstrated again and again by his actions. Here we see in Rebecca the same qualities. There is very little in the Rabbinic commentary about Rebecca. I always felt a little embarrassed about Rebecca. One of the few complimentary things I found about her is from the Zohar (I:50a), which says,“For when a man is at home, the foundation of his house is the wife, for it is on account of her that the Shekinah departs not from the house. So our teachers have understood the verse, “and he brought her to the tent of his mother Sarah” (Gen. 24: 67), to indicate that with Rebecca the Shekinah came to Isaac's house.” Perhaps my talk tonight might be titled, A Tribute to Rebecca. Her actions show that she was young and energetic; kind and generous. The text says three times that, like Abraham, she hurried to help. She ran to the spring and kept running to draw water until all the camels had enough to drink. The servant gives her gifts and inquires whether he and his entourage may spend the night. She answers that there is room and plentiful feed for the camels at home. Like Abraham, she is one who offers hospitality. Eliezer has arrived to find almost a second Abraham. The similarities do not stop there. Eliezer asks her family for Rebecca’s hand in marriage for Isaac. They agree. The next morning Eliezer asks to leave with Rebecca and her family asks him to remain ten months to a year. But Eliezer wants to leave immediately. Thank God for the history of women that Rebecca’s family asks her permission before they send her off. They ask, “Will you go with this man?” She says, without any hesitation, “I will go.” This parallel’s Abraham’s leaving his homeland when he received God’s call, without any indecision or questioning. Their ability to seize opportunity, resulted for both of them, in their receiving undreamed of spiritual and material gifts. Rebecca’s plucky optimism, trust, adventurous nature, and her willingness to say “Yes” to life, betting on a happy future; shows that she is Abraham’s spiritual heir, as well as his biological heir. She is, in fact, his Grand-niece.
It is Rebecca who, in next week’s portion, inquires of God about the twins jostling inside her and receives a response, making her a prophetess. It is also Rebecca who is the cause of Jacob’s stealing the blessing, taking the responsibility upon herself, but thereby insuring the spiritual legacy and continuation of Judaism. Perhaps she used the only weapons a woman had in that society, not direct confrontation, but indirect, yet decisive, action. And speaking of action, like Abraham, who went to rescue Lot, Rebecca rescues Jacob twice. She takes the blame upon herself, instructing him to lie to his Father. Then, by subsequently sending Jacob off to find a wife with her family in Mesopotamia, she further insures his survival and the continuation of their line. Sending him to her family resulted in Jacob’s 12 sons becoming the 12 tribes of Israel. Not that lying and deceiving are to be condoned. Quite the contrary: but we should remember that Abraham did it too. We are told he lied twice. Perhaps it’s a case of us giving God lemons and God making lemonade, for these actions all resulted in mostly positive outcomes.
Rebecca is our first convert: like Abraham, a person of courage and generosity, kindness, action, optimism and faith. She was wise in her choices and visionary in her actions. Perhaps we should speak about Abraham, Rebecca, and Jacob when we mention our Patriarchs, for she deserves our admiration and gratitude, not only for our continuation but also for the quality of our spiritual legacy. Rabbi Nachman of Breslau famously said, “A person walks in life on a very narrow bridge. The most important thing is not to be afraid.” And Rabbi Gelberman’s book Spiritual Truths says this too: “When we expect good we are sensitive to all its signposts. We do not miss the boat!” Rebecca’s fearlessness as she looked into the face of the unknown, her willingness to help, her taking a stand for what she knew was right, no matter the consequences, her strength, and her faith in God, make her someone we can look up to. May an appreciation of her life help us to let go of the fears that keep us from finding and experiencing our own blessings. May we confront life as she did, having faith in the goodness of life, with optimism for the future; and giving of ourselves, that we may be a blessing to others and receive all the good that is surely coming to us.

Receiving by Giving

2010-10-29T11:30:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, which means, and He appeared, continues the saga of Abraham and Sarah. Abraham greets three travelers who come to tell Sarah that she will have a child. Abraham hears of the coming destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and pleads for the rescue of the righteous. Lot, Abraham’s nephew who lives in Sodom, receives the angelic visitors; and he and his family are saved. Sarah gives birth to Isaac in great joy, Hagar and her son Ishmael are sent away, but are protected by God, and Abraham is tested when God asks him to sacrifice Isaac. Since the end of this portion is read on Rosh Hashanah, I’d like to look at something which comes into focus at the beginning of Vayera. Abraham has been circumcised. By tradition he is sitting healing just inside the entrance to his tent when he sees three dusty travelers. The Torah says, He saw and he ran to greet them and bowed toward the ground.” The he requested that they accept his offer of a meal and water for washing, to which they agree. The Torah says, Abraham rushed to the tent and said, Hurry! To Sarah, asking her to make fine cakes for them. Then it says Abraham ran to the herd. He selected a choice calf and saw that it was prepared with cream and milk. Then he served his guests and watched as they ate. The Talmud says about this: Rab Judah said in Rab's name: “Hospitality to travelers is greater than welcoming the Divine Presence. Shabbat 127a. And the Midrash says: Since the day when the Holy One, blessed be He, created you, you were destined to come to me. This indicates that it’s possible our purpose here on earth is to give. The story about Abraham can be seen in the larger context of his personality. Six more episodes from his life illustrate the kind of person he was. In last week’s portion, Lech Lecha, he leaves his home in Mesopotamia at God’s request, showing a lack of attachment to his property and life there. Second, He and Lot initially travel together, but later they acquire more livestock and can’t graze them in the same vicinity. Abraham, as head of the family, could choose the best land, but gives Lot his choice and takes what is left. Third, When Lot is captured in battle, Abraham goes to rescue him. He and his allies are victorious. Abraham gives away a tenth of the spoils of war to a local priest of God and then refuses any of his own share, giving all the captured possessions to his allies. About this Midrash says, R. Judah said in R. Nehorai's name: In virtue of that blessing the three great pillars of the world, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, enjoyed prosperity. In the case of Abraham it is written, And God blessed Abraham in all things (Genesis Raba XXIV, 1).Further, the Zohar says that Abraham forged a link to the upper world, allowing blessings to flow from below to above. Fourth, When there is a controversy about the ownership of well, Abraham gives Abimelech, the local chieftain, a gift of animals to placate him, even through Abraham is the injured party. Fifth, When asked by Sarah to give up his son Ishmael, Abraham is upset, but does so when God asks him to. Sixth, He even brings Isaac up to a mountain as a sacrifice, in my opinion, knowing that God with whom he has a close and trusting relationship, and who promised him descendants through Isaac, will somehow protect them both. Why does the Torah think it is important for us to know how generous Abraham was? We know that being a giving person is a good thing because it makes us feel good, and we are connected on a feeling level with each other and God; and it’s nice that the Patriarch of our religion was a generous person; but I believe that a deeper lesson is being taught here, perhaps one of the underlying principles by which the universe is structured. If God is one, then as I’ve come to understand, the moral and physical universes are one; they’re inseparable as we, too, as people are one, and inseparable with The Divine. So what we choose to do morally and ethically influences the outcomes of our lives. We know that no one will love us if we are mean, disagreeable, or continually difficult and stand offish. We have to give and be loving to receive love. But what is true in the realm of love is also true in every other area and aspect of the universe. And I think this is what all the accounts of Abraham’s generosity illustrate. Whatever we want to receive comes only to us through giving. Whether love or material things, we can only receive by first giving. This concept seems simple, but has wide implications. Unless our hearts are open, few blessings can come to us. The Zohar says, as the wicked upset the world and cause blessing to be withheld, so the righteous bring blessing to the world and for their sakes all its inhabitants are blessed…. The same principle applies to ones who seek to be attached to the sacred spirit on high. For it is by their acts, by their words, and by their fervency and devotion that they can draw to themselves that spirit from on high. Whether love or material things, we can only receive by first giving. Whether we wish to have spiritual attainment, intellectual growth, or material well being, what we work for or contribute decides what we will be able to receive. From this we can see that giving is its own special spiritual path.//This portion also speaks of improper giving. Lot, in an attempt to placate the townspeople of Sodom, and to observe the law of hospitality, offers his two virgin daughters to them, in place of his two guests. But Lot has offered that which is not his to give. His daughters are prevented from being given to the mob by the angel guests, but later the daughters’ incest with Lot testifies that, unlike Judah and Moses, who offer themselves in place of others, that Lot’s giving was unethical and clearly wrong. Abraham gave of his own possessions. The Chassidic Rabbi Yaakov Josef of Polnoye said, “that it is the sign of a truly righteous person that they are always ‘at the entrance’ as “Abraham was, aware that they have much to accomplish.” Abraham ran to have the opportunity to give: to give of himself, his time, his attention, his possessions and of his love. Each time we have the chance to give, it is a great opportunity to create goodness and kindness for others and ourselves. It is through giving that blessings can flow in this world. May Abraham be our example, teaching us that a generous open trusting heart affects the entire world. May we struggle against our lesser impulses and like Abraham be givers who receive many blessings.

Noah - Abandoning the Logical for the Real

2010-10-18T10:31:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a person whose name was Tranquility. And this person had three children; Renown, Warmth, and Beauty. If someone began to tell you a story and it started like this, what would you think?
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That is how the story of Noah begins, there was a man and his name was tranquility or rest. Other connotations are self composure, or as the Lubavitcher Rebbe said, pleasure, satisfaction, and yes, tranquility. His sons: Shem which means name and could refer to God’s name or to self esteem, or pride in a good sense, like pride in one’s work; and Ham, warmth, which connotes feeling, emotion, perhaps, or relationship; and Japhet, beauty or perfection.
Now this person, Noah, was said to be whole, perfect, and we’re told he walked with God. But then God gives him a ridiculous task: totally outlandish. Build an ark to the specifications I tell you. And then an even more improbable task: gather two of every animal and put them in the ark. How is anyone supposed to do that? They are commandments that are not reasonable. Any logical person would be thrown into a quandary as to what to do. But the Torah says twice, in two slightly different statements, Noah did everything which was commanded to him by God, so he did. And later, and Noah did everything that God commanded. What are we to think? That we should never question? That we should obey blindly? What is obviously metaphoric parable trying to teach us? I think one aspect of its teaching is about looking beneath the surface of this story at broad, general principles. First we can say that Noah accepted divine guidance. He was willing to take upon himself this unusual task, on faith and with trust. In a sense, he abandoned the logical for the real, for what turned out to be more real than logic. Let it be noted too, that he was happy working on this task for God. Later in this portion, after building the ark, after the flood was over, after his responsibilities were mostly completed: it is then that he gets drunk and becomes debased. It was only after he stopped doing God’s work and did something solely for himself; that he gets into trouble. So by being willing to follow God and doing these strange tasks he entered a deeper reality than the everyday life of human beings; a deeper reality than the appearance of our reality. The S’fat Emet speaks about Noah’s acceptance of the Divine tasks. He says, “The process takes place through human self negation, where everything returns to its source. It (concerns)…the one who understands that he has no life of his own.” This is a strange statement. We have free will. Of course we have lives of our own, don’t we? I would say, yes, and no. The Torah teaches that we are always being led to a higher, purer way of living. It’s like the morning blessing in which we thank God for guiding us on our path. By accepting Divine guidance, we partially negate our will so that we can participate in the deeper reality: that the Divine life is being lived through us. The means for improvement and healing in the world, and in ourselves, must come through us, though it does not necessarily come only from us. We are meant to be expressions of the inner life of the Divine, manifested on earth. It is our acceptance of our Divine tasks and our labor that makes this possible. We will be given tasks that may make no sense to our logical minds. As a matter of fact, evolutionary biologists have been trying to explain altruism for more than a century, without any real success. And the reason they can’t explain it is that it’s illogical, but nevertheless, very real: an observable phenomenon which permeates all of nature. We can’t always explain why following God’s commandments and guidance works. We don’t always know how it produces good results, but by being willing to negate our apparent self interest and work for the common good, we attain tranquility, pride, warmth and beauty: attributes that are not bestowed upon us, but earned by us. A person who is complete is tranquil and experiences rest, a good name, the warmth of love, and the beauty of living. It is this kind of person who can negate their own desires and attach themselves to their source, the root of all existence and all being. We were meant to live in two worlds simultaneously: the practical and the spiritual. May we be pliant enough to accept Divine guidance and take upon ourselves the tasks that we are lovingly given. May our labor be for others as well as for ourselves, that we may be an expression of the life of the Divine: tranquil, proud of our actions, connected by human warmth, and experiencing life’s beauty.

To Bring Forth Beauty

2010-06-24T19:09:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Korach, which concerns the famous conflict sparked by Moses’ cousin Korach, 2 of his neighbors, and 250 other leaders. After the bad news about having to wander for 38 more years, in last week’s Torah portion, Korach, a Levite, challenges Moses and Aaron, claiming that they have taken upon themselves too much authority. Moses tells Korach that God will choose who is holy, and subsequently, Korach and the rebels perish in an earthquake and fire respectively. Then a plague breaks out and Moses instructs Aaron to stop the plague with an offering of incense. Aaron stands between the living and the dead and stays the plague, but the people continue to complain about Moses and Aaron. In an effort to stop the murmuring, God tells Moses to have the head of each of the 12 tribes put a staff with his name on it in front of the Tent of Meeting, overnight, and to write Aaron’s name on the staff of Levi. The Torah says, “And it came to pass, that on the next day Moses went into the Tent of Testimony; and, behold, the staff of Aaron for the house of Levi had budded, and brought forth buds, and bloomed blossoms, and yielded almonds.” Aaron has a wonderful reputation in the Torah. He is the High Priest, the older brother, but he is consistently a second fiddle to Moses. He is a peace maker, resolving quarrels and keeping the peace in Moses’ absence. In Midrash Rabba it says, 18:23 It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife; but every fool will be snarling (Prov. XX, 3). Aaron is also the appeaser who made the golden calf; the parent whose two eldest sons died before his eyes and the entire assembly, while he kept silent. He is the one who refused to keep one of God’s commandments to eat a sacrifice, because he felt unworthy; and Moses thought his reasoning was correct. He is the servant of God who sacrificed animals, one who heard confessions of the sins of the people each day and saw how sins, that cause death and waste, can be forgiven and cleansed. He was a people person, a regular guy when not in his royal robes and a good listener. When his staff, or mateh in Hebrew, bore fruit, God showed that beauty, creativity, and goodness came from him. Staff, mateh, also means below, which the rabbis connect with humility. The Torah underscores the qualities that bear fruit in a life. What qualities can bring forth beauty?: patience, service, humility, repentance, and sincerity of heart. A quiet that comes from below: that deep place where we are alone with ourselves and our divine essence; the refusal to separate ourselves, as Korach did, but to bind ourselves to our brothers and sisters by being at one with the group. Beauty comes from connection, nobility from service, and fruitfulness from the balance that humility brings to our participation. Creation is about love. Our sages say, it is only by love that God created the world. Love always Re-enacts creation. Bearing fruit is about union; the unification of the upper and lower realms. Aaron was a conduit connecting earth and heaven, He is a model not for the leader, but for the rest of us, those who try to help in the role we have been given to play in this life. May our love re-enact creation, unifying the upper and lower realms, bearing beautiful fruit in our lives allowing us to connect earth to heaven; and May our deeds bring forth beauty and union with our Divine essence.

Understanding Our Mission

2010-06-11T09:39:00.001-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Shelach Lecha, which means, send forth for yourself. It tells the famous story of the scouts, sent to have a first glimpse of the Promised Land. God gave permission for 12 leaders, one from each tribe, to be sent by Moses to bring back a report on the land, the people in it, and its produce. Upon the scouts return, they gave a public report in which they affirmed that the land was good, “But,” 10 out of 12 of them said, in effect, we will never be able to conquer it. We are far too weak. The land it fortified and the people are too strong. The scouts demoralized the Israelites, who became afraid and wanted to return to Egypt. Because of the people’s fear and lack of faith, in spite of God leading them around with a pillar of cloud and feeding them each day, God concluded that only their children who had not been enslaved, would inherit the land and that they must wander for 38 more years.
It is interesting to compare the scouts in this week’s portion and the scouts that Jacob sent when he prepared to meet his brother Esau, after not having seen Esau for 20 years, knowing that the last time they met, Jacob tricked Esau out of his blessing. Jacob’s scouts are called malachim, angels or messengers in the Torah; whereas here, in Shelach Lecha, those sent out are called anashim latour: men, to spy or explore. Their tasks seem similar: travel to Canaan, find out who is there, whether there is a threat, pick up any useful information, and report back. Jacob’s messengers reported that Easu was advancing toward him with 400 men; and Jacob became frightened. In Shelach Lecha, however, the scouts went one step further than Jacob’s messengers. They reported back not just what they had seen but also presented to the whole congregation their own conclusions and decision based on what they saw. In effect, they had misunderstood their mission. No one had asked them to decide IF the people should enter the land. God had not said to them, go see the land and see if this is what you want to do. In the Torah, and by extension in our own lives intention is very important. In Pirkei Avot, Chapters of the Fathers, which is part of the Talmud, it is written, (V:20) ”Any controversy with a noble purpose will result in abiding value, but any controversy that has no noble purpose shall not have abiding value.” When Jacob heard the messengers’ bad news he wrestled with himself all night, confronting his own integrity so that he could face his obligation of meeting Esau the next morning, not knowing where his blessing might lie. When we perform any action, the sages say, an angel is created, and that energy we send out into the world contains the goodness of our intentions or conversely, the negativity or selfishness with which we sometimes act. The S’fat Emet quotes Midrash Rabbah (16:1) “Nothing is beloved before God like an emissary sent to do a mitzvah who risks his life for the mission to succeed.” The S’fat Emet’s grandfather and teacher said, “We are all emissaries to do mitsvot; we were sent into this world by God in order to fulfill God’s commandments.” And these commandments were given to us in love, for our benefit. Like the spies, it is so easy for us to misunderstand our mission. We were sent here to go forth fearlessly, not always knowing where our blessing will lie, to be angels of goodness for each other: to help and be a blessing to one another, and to bring God’s goodness into the world. We don’t get to decide what our mission will be; it has already been decided for us, because of the way we are made, as an integral part of the universe and God.
The universe is already structured so that if we do what is right and open our hearts, we feel good about ourselves. In Leviticus it says, you shall be holy for the Eternal our God is holy; and this is part prophecy and part encouragement. We aren’t allowed to decide if we want to be a blessing, for that is the way God is leading us. If our intentions are for the sake of Heaven, then our struggles will have meaning and value, and we will be guided on a true path to wholeheartedness with God and love for each other. May each of us be guided on a path of love, compassion, and good intentions, that we may create angels of goodness and beauty, now and always.

Bearers of the Light

2010-06-04T10:26:00.001-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Naso, which means do, as in, do a census. The Levites were to be counted and tasks associated with transporting the Tabernacle were assigned. Also in the portion, people with certain conditions were to dwell outside the camp until they were purified again. A mechanism for confession to the Priest, and restitution of an extra 20 per cent, was laid down. This portion also describes laws that have been abandoned, such as the trial by ordeal when a husband is suspicious of a wife; and the rules for temporary nuns and monks, the Nazarites. This portion famously includes the Priestly Benediction; and concludes with the description of identical offerings of the tribes for the dedication of the sanctuary.
Naso describes the labor of the Levites, which is here called service. Much of the Levitical service was carrying. Among the four Levite families, the Gershonite clan carried the curtains and fabric panels which enclosed the Tabernacle, or the Mishkan, and formed the cover of the Tent of Meeting. The Kohath clan carried the most sacred objects: the ark, the table of bread, the Menorah, the golden incense altar, and all the associated utensils. Two of the Levite families were assigned wagons, for carrying the heaviest parts of the Tabernacle. The text Says, (7:9) and to the sons of Kohath, Moses did not give wagons since the sacred service was upon them and they carried on their shoulder.
A few things to notice: all the Levites had extra work to do. Their blessing was that, not only did they have to transport their own tents and belongings, like everyone else, but they were responsible for more than the average person. Also, the census first counted the non-Levites and only afterward counted the Levite families. So, in a sense, everyone “counted.” Every person was important to the success of the endeavor. Rabbi Gelberman said in his book, Spiritual Truths, “There are no sidelines in a spiritual world. We must enter it and live.” So, the Torah says, we all count and are all engaged in service, a sacred service. Those designated to be leaders are asked to do more of the work, not less. There are two hints in the text about what true service should be. The word for curtains Y’ri-ot, is interesting. It is related to seeing, and to the world neighbor, as in you shall love your neighbor as yourself. But it is also related to protection and to friendship. The curtains were lace panels and the covering for the tent of meeting was made of goat hair. Both of these types of panels let in the light, especially the goat hair cover, because the Tent of meeting was enclosed and had no illumination during the day; only at night was the menorah lit. There was a waterproof covering for the tent as well; and perhaps it was put on in inclement weather. So the Hebrew words lead us to an inner meaning: that of finding the inner mishkan the indwelling of holiness, or finding the inner Tzaddik, the inner righteousness within us that yearns to serve and let in Divine light. The true service that brings us closer to our inner holiness is carrying light: seeing each other person as our neighbor and carrying our light to our fellow; extending our light, our understanding, and even our protection, a function of us all being responsible for each other.
The Talmud contains a commentary on carrying from Naso. It is well known that the Levites were musicians. They sang and played instruments: drums, flutes, harps, and tambourines for the Temple service. The Talmud comments: (Arachin 11a:6) Our Rabbis taught: The omission of the song invalidates the sacrifice, R. Eleazar said: Because Scripture said, And I have given the Levites — they are given to Aaron and to his sons from among the children of Israel . . . and to make atonement for the children of Israel, i.e., just as atonement is indispensable, so is the song indispensable. ….. Now which service is it that is in joyfulness and with gladness of heart? You must say: It is song. And it is also written, …. But unto the sons of Kohath he gave none, because the service of the holy things belonged unto them: they bore them upon their shoulders. … But they bore them here means in song, for thus also it is said: Take up [se'u] the melody and sound the timbrel, and it is said also: They lift up [yisse'u] their voices, they sing for joy.
This tells us how we should perform Divine service. We must open our hearts and let in the light, carrying our light to others with the music in our souls; with joy and gratitude; with happiness and our life force. We were given these gifts not to keep them to ourselves, but to bring our light out of where it sometimes hides and light up the eyes of others with our caring and our smiles. This is true service: carrying our share, doing our part joyously, and adding to and extending the blessings we were given in this world. May the songs of the Levites be our example and may the holy tasks we carry out be a reflection of the radiance of our own souls.

Does God Punish?

2010-05-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

This week we read two Torah portions: Behar, on the mountain, and Bechukotai, my decrees. Tonight I would like to focus on the second, Bechukoti. This portion begins with a conditional sentence: If you will follow my decrees and observe my commandments and perform them, then I will create blessings for you. The many blessings include rain at its proper time, fruitfulness of the land, peace, and prosperity; success in battle and a special relationship with God. The next conditional sentence starts what is known as the Tochacha, the admonition, and begins, But: if you will not listen to me and will not perform these commandments. Or you consider my decrees loathsome and if your being rejects my ordinances…then I will do the same to you.” What follows is a litany of terrible suffering that increases in its severity: privation, illness, war, exile, calamity, and famine. The English translation of the portion goes on to say that if after a first series of misfortunes we do not listen, “then I shall punish you further.” The question I would like to address tonight is: does God punish? The Hebrew word, Ya’s’ra more literally means to admonish, discipline, or correct: that God is actually communicating with us through the things that happen to us, in an attempt to being us back to a more productive state and relationship. In the Zohar, “R. Jose commented on the verse: My child, despise not the chastening of the God, neither be weary of God’s reproof (Prov. III, 11). Israel, he said, are beloved to God, and therefore God desires to reprove them and to lead them in the right path as a loving parent leads their children, and because of this love God always has the rod in his hand to keep them in the right path and to prevent them from straying to the right or the left.” But we can go deeper into this question.. The sages say that the Torah speaks in the language of human beings. When it says, “with a strong hand” God took us out of Egypt, or we read, “you have found favor in my eyes,” we know that God does not have hands or eyes, and it is just a metaphoric way of speaking. But this is also true about punishing or disciplining or correcting. It is not that God punishes us, but that we experience the results of our acts as punishments. The metaphor I like best is the glass of water. If all of creation is a glass of water and we put dark dye into the water by our actions, then the water will become darker and things will look bleak. If each of us is a source of dark dye, then it will look very dark around us. But say that if, by our good, ethical, and worthy actions we could remove some of the darkness around us? Then the water would lighten and all the water would improve. It’s a good metaphor because it shows how interconnected we all are, that one action really does affect the whole, both positively and negatively. Rabbi Sarah Sager makes a similar point in The Torah, a Women’s Commentary. She writes: “The catalogue of threats and promises is a biblical way to explain how intimate the connection of the natural realm of the universe is to the moral realm. The two realms do not function independently of each other. There is a moral order to the universe as surely as there is a more easily observable natural order….And it is in the moral realm where God cannot function alone. God...kept looking for partners. What did we expect of a God who created the natural universe? That the moral dimension was as afterthought?...God did not neglect the moral realm. On the contrary, humankind did. God kept expecting humankind to behave morally and was constantly disappointed.” In Bechukotai, we are being frightened into compliance, but more importantly, we are being given vital information: that the Universe is all of a piece, a Oneness, that is inescapable. It is not that we are being punished, or disciplined, or corrected; but that we if we choose not to obey the commandments, we are acting against the way the universe is constructed: like jumping up and expecting gravity not to pull us back down. Rabbi Gelberman also teaches that God does not punish. He feels that we do things to ourselves. And this view is borne out in a quotation from Noah. “God saw that the badness of man was great upon the earth…and God had heartfelt sadness.” Not anger, not the impulse to punish, but heartfelt sadness. God would much prefer to bless us and send us blessings. When we get along with each other and help each other, we unlock the Shefa, the flow of blessings for us all. Bechukotai is not about a punishing God. It is about a God who is trying to give us a fighting chance to understand how to be whole and to create wholeness. The Zohar comments about this section of the Torah, “The two, statute and judgment, are connected both on the higher and the lower planes. All the commandments, decrees, and sanctifications of the Torah are attached to these…. Both are intertwined and form one entity, and this is the sum of the Holy Name, so that the one who transgresses against the commandments of the law in effect impairs the Holy Name…the one that gives charity (zedakah) to the poor makes the Holy Name complete as it should be above since zedakah is the tree of life, and when it gives to Zedek (righteousness) the Holy Name becomes complete. Hence he who sets this activity in motion from below, as it were, fully makes the Holy Name.”(112a) There is another metaphor that I have found to be useful in understanding how the Torah is attempting to teach us. If you buy a new piece of electronic equipment: a TV, VCR, DVD player, watch, or camera, and you don’t read the manual, you won’t know how to program it or use it so that it will do what you want it to do. If we fiddle with the thing ourselves, it is unlikely that we will be pleased with our purchase, until we read how to operate it. The Torah is the manual for living. It tells us how to operate the universe, how to operate ourselves in a sense, to experience good outcomes. God has given us free will, because there is no spiritual attainment without free will. God has given us the manual, as Moses says, for our benefit, not to threaten or punish us, but to impress upon us what works and what will not ever have the possibility of working. Our moral life is one of God’s central concerns, and we have been dignified by God allowing us the choice of choosing a loving, giving, ethical life. In Bechukotai, the choices are laid out for us starkly and clearly. Choose blessing, choose plenty, choose knowingly and choose lovingly, so that God’s universe will respond, and as it says, do the same to you.

Inner Fine-ness

2010-05-07T08:55:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Emor, which means, speak. God asks Moses to speak to the priests about contamination and ritual purity. Priests are not to come into contact with the dead except for the necessity to bury very close relatives. People with certain blemishes or disabilities are not to serve as priests; contaminated people may not eat the sacrifices and blemished animals may not be sacrificed. The cycle of yearly holidays is described and the law that the punishment must fit the crime, almost always applied as monetary damages, is restated, similar to its first appearance in Exodus.
This is a difficult portion for us moderns to read. We don’t agree with excluding people with blemishes or disabilities. So the task is: how to find meaning in a section of the Torah that speaks about a society long gone, a priestly class and sacrificial system abolished 2,000 years ago, and values we no longer affirm? The sage, S’fat Emet quotes Psalm 12:7, “the words of God are pure words, like purified silver, clear to the world, refined.” This verse speaks of purity, refinement; of having standards and of using our powers of discrimination to make certain distinctions. It is, for me, understandable that God would not want us to offer blemished animals for sacrifice. Giving up animals that no one wanted because there were sick, lame, or defective is not a sacrifice at all. It would be giving our worst and not our best. So God wishes us to give our best. The Eternal is asking us to give only that which has value to us, only that which represents the highest in us; and this holds true on a deeper level as well as on the simple, physical level. We are asked to develop standards for ourselves but not necessarily for others; to develop a certain inner fine-ness and to maintain standards of behavior and practice, judging ourselves but not falling into the trap of judging others. There are at least two reasons to develop standards. The Torah says, (Levit 22:9) “They shall guard my safekeeping and they shall not bear a sin over it. And die because of it, for they will have defiled it. I am God who sanctifies them.”
The first reason seems to be protection – our protection. The priests had a dangerous job to do. They worked among the Holy objects in the Tabernacle, upon which the Divine Presence rested. It was important for them to know how to protect themselves. Aaron’s two sons had died perhaps because they had not known how to keep themselves safe from contact with God’s holiness. So when we are indignant about the rules in Emor, one thing to remember is that they may be there for human protection; so that the priests did not make fatal mistakes that would have caused them to come into contact with more power or purity than their humanity could handle.
The second, deeper reason for developing standards is an inner one. A standard can be exclusionary, excluding certain people or groups, or it can be inclusion-ary, a personal goal to strive toward. Now that there is no Priesthood, we are all meant to be priests, as it says in Exodus, “You shall be a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” Our standards can bring us to find our inner fineness, our inner perfection. When we use our ability to make distinctions to sanctify ourselves by setting inner goals, we do as the S’fat Emet wrote: we bring the precious out of the ordinary. This process of self-refining is holy work. It is the way to make contact with the Godliness in ourselves and the universe. Awe: inner fineness is that quality that Rashi calls accepting upon oneself God’s Divinity. In the Zohar it says, “Wholeness comes to those who have awe of God.” When we strive to express what is highest and finest in ourselves, we cause completion; a wholeness to flow from our actions. Then we feel connected to God and to each other, the deep connection that is really there. There is so much work for us to do in the world: tears to dry, smiles to bestow, love and help to give. To be open to that work heals us and helps us. God asks us to give of our best, for our own benefit. Should we really give anything less?

Eulogy: Jeff Swiskay, by guest blogger Elliot Cohen

2010-04-25T19:38:00.000-07:00

I first met Jeffrey Swiskay when he was working a record store across from City Hall. As someone whose passion is music, I always enjoy talking with a music store clerk around my age who shares my interest and knowledge of it. Jeff was a knowledgeable about music and film as anyone I've ever met.

I instinctively felt that Jeff was someone I could become friends with, so I gave him my phone number. Just prior to one Passover, Jeff told me he was trying to get off from work for the first day of the holiday. I was very surprised to learn that he was also Jewish. For one thing, I'm extremely naive when it comes to spotting a fellow lansman. Unless, someone has a name like Goldberg or Moskowitz, or they're wearing a yarmukle and tzitzis, I'm can't be sure.

African-Americans, Latinos, or Asians, I'm usually right on the money, but not as accurate with Jews. Besides, Swiskay is not an overtly Jewish name, and frankly...and Jeff used to say this himself, he actually looked more like a Native American than a Jew, especially when he would take the beret out of his long grey hair, which he was proud of, and let it just hang down to his shoulders.

Jeff, who told me that his grandfather was an orthodox rabbi, felt that one of his ancestors who lived in the Wild West portion of this country, may have intermarried with someone of Native American ancestry, hence the physical features.

Anyway, after discovering that Jeff was also Jewish, I knew we would become close friends, which we were. I'm an only child with no extended family at all, and Jeff and I were as close as if he were the brother I never had.

Besides loving music..and comedy...he had aspirations of becoming a full-time actor, and was very proud of the extra work he had done on some major films.

Jeff had a heart as huge as his physical body. I was with him many times when he would stop to speak and show compassion to a homeless person who literally smelled so bad, most other people wouldn't come within ten feet of. Before leaving, many times he would leave the person with a dollar, which was a lot for someone without a job.

I also knew that Jeff was willing to give up one of his kidneys to try to save the life of his late father, whom he admired greatly. Unfortunately, his father passed away before the operation could be completed, but this act shows how unselfish and caring he was.

I still can't believe that Jeffrey is gone. He used to tell me that bringing him to the Actor's Temple was the best thing I ever did for him, and said it was "the coolest place in New York." Being an actor, he was awestruck at the temple's impressive show business background. He was especially impressed that two of the Three Stooges used to come to services here, as he loved their offbeat sense of humor. Also, the Marx Brothers.

I'm truly sorry that his life ended so tragically, especially when he had dreams of coming to California to pursue a career in acting and comedy. He should have been around another 30 to 40 years to enjoy life and make others happy.

Rebirth in the Flame

2010-04-03T18:36:00.001-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, which means, command. The priests, Aaron and his sons, are given instructions about how to carry out the service of the five different types of sacrifice. They are also asked to keep a fire burning on the altar all night, and all day. They are told that the priests may eat the designated portions of the sacrifices only while in a pure state, that fat and blood may not be eaten. The end of the portion contains a description of the seven day consecration ceremony of the Priests, in which they were asked to wash, dress in the sacred vestments, confess their sins, become anointed, cook and eat the sacrificial meat, and dwell in a holy state within the confines of the Tabernacle for seven days.
The verses of this portion which have been most interesting to the sages are about the flame on the altar. Rabbi Arthur Green notes that these verses are part of the Sephardic and the Chassidic morning service. They include three verses about the flame: In Chapter 6, Verse 2: “Command Aaron and his sons saying, this is the law of the elevation offering, It is the elevation offering that stays on the flame on the altar all night until morning and the fire of the altar should remain aflame on it.” Verse 5: “The fire on the altar shall remain burning on it. It shall not be extinguished.” And Verse 6: “A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the altar. It shall not be extinguished.” The sacrifices described in this portion are in addition to the first sacrifices that are specified in the Torah, the Tamid offerings. They are the continual or daily offerings, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. We might ask, why should the instructions for the priests even be retained in the Torah? Can they have any meaning for us today? The sages, most of whom lived after the sacrificial service had been discontinued by the destruction of the Second Temple, took these lines symbolically, that our devotion should be kept alive and that our hearts should be aflame continually to serve God and do God’s work. But we know, and Rabbi Green reminds us, that a flame can give heat and light, but that a flame can also burn and consume. A flame can be magical, beneficial, and life giving; but it can also hurt and destroy.
In his book, Wrapped in a Holy flame, Rabbi Zalman Shacter interprets the teachings of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, calling him the first Jewish sage to understand what it is to be a modern person. Rabbi Nachman writes about finding God in the darkness and in the Void. In a verse from Exodus, during the Revelation, the Torah says that the people heard the Ten Commandments and were terrified. The experience was too frightening for them and they asked Moses if he would speak to God and then tell them what God said. Then the text says, “The people saw and trembled and stood from afar….and Moses approached the thick cloud where God was.” Sometimes we encounter God as a god of blessings and happiness, a god of contentment, spiritual fulfillment, and peace. But sometimes either we are afraid; or what we experience is the loneliness of the search for wholeness and union, the questions with few answers, suffering, alienation, meaninglessness. Rabbi Nachman has been there. He says, “Never despair. How far can you fall? Can you ever fall out of God? And how far can you rise? Can you ever rise above God? Below are always the everlasting arms, no matter how low you fall.” In other words, as Rabbi Shacter says, “there is no place of despair,” because whether we are in a place of light or a place of thick cloud, darkness, and void, we are still with God. In fact, Moses had to go into the darkness of the cloud in order to reconnect with God. The Holy Eternal One cannot be found only in peak and happy experiences. The emptiness of the Void and its suffering are a necessary part of the journey. The S’fat Emet speaks about this in another way. He says, “As we burn up the waste in our lives, we are uplifted each day and are given a new light.” This is the synthesis that we need to find meaning in this portion. As modern people we are deep in the process of fulfilling God’s prophecy from Exodus, “You shall be a kingdom of Priests, a holy nation.” Each of us is our own priest, able to talk to God without intermediaries, doing the work of purifying our individual souls and becoming holy on the inside. We are commanded in Exodus to bring a Tamid sacrifice every day, and that sacrifice, for us, can be seen as prayer, as deeds, as study, but in the final analysis, as ourselves. When we are present to the Holy Divine Presence each day, the fire of God consumes our less than worthy selves, remaking us in the Divine Image bit by bit. Our lesser selves are sacrificed, burned; and day by day we grow into the new selves that God decrees must replace the self of yesterday. The famous quote by Norman Mailer comes to mind: “There is that law of life, so cruel and so just, that one must grow or else pay more for staying the same.” Change and progress are two of God’s imperatives. The darkness and the void are part of this continual process of renewal. There is death and then rebirth of a part of ourselves every day. The fire does not go out. The fire cannot go out, and we are cradled in the everlasting arms even as we are in the process of becoming more worthy and magnificent each day. God is the flame and our lesser selves are the sacrifice, and the fire of God’s renewal also lives in our hearts. The flame burns in the void and gives light, consuming our present selves to make possible a new and undreamed of future.
When we give ourselves to this process, trusting that there is a Divine heart and mind that is helping us and urging us to become more of who we really are, we step into the Everlasting arms, cradled there, secure and protected.

The Gift

2010-03-26T12:32:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayikra, which means, and He called. God calls to Moses in this first portion in the book of Leviticus, a book mostly dedicated to instructions for the priests. God tells Moses how sacrifices should be offered and introduces five different categories of sacrifice: Elevation or burnt offerings which were voluntary offerings to allow a person to draw closer to God; Mincha or meal offerings composed of unleavened cakes or fine flour; the offerings of well being, for good fortune and blessings received, also known as feast peace offerings, and the sin and guilt offerings, for unintentional transgressions of a person or the nation. For people who were used to bringing sacrifices, this system provided a way to maintain and extend one’s relationship with God. It also provided a means of atonement; of cleansing oneself of sin and guilt. The possibility of atonement is a central principle of Judaism. As presented here, in the first two portions of Vayikra, it seems quaint, outdated, barbaric, and unnecessary; and it is easy to distance ourselves from the need to perform these rituals. But we all know and accept that we are far from perfect. We know w make mistakes. The question is: do we really need to atone for the mistakes we make? At the end of this weeks reading it says that if a person sins unintentionally, that person shall make restitution and add a fifth to it. This statement is rather amazing, in that it does not speak of an intentional sin, but of a mistake: something the person was not aware of at the time. Now for something like this we would think that we would need to put matters right: to make some kind of settlement or restitution and then things would be fine. After all, it was something we didn’t mean to do. Having made up for it, it should be over and done with. We would try to forgive ourselves and move on. But in this passage, God is trying to tell us that this is not so. In fact, the Torah is trying to make us aware that we do far more damage than we know, even when our sins or mistakes are unintentional. When they are intentional, it is even worse. Atonement is something that we should be seeking every day, and in the weekday Amidah, it is there, in two of the Eighteen Benedictions, the Shemonah Esrei, which few of us do each day, as our orthodox ancestors used to do. These two prayers, one for Repentance, and one for Forgiveness, are not said on Shabbat. They ask God to help us to return, to draw us near and to help us to repent. The second prayer asks God to forgive us as we acknowledge our sins and mistakes. In Midrash Rabba, “R. Akiba taught in the name of R. Simeon b. Azzai: Go two or three seats lower and take your seat, until they say to you, Come up, rather than that you should go up and they should say to you, ' Go down. Better that people say to you ‘come up, come up, ' and not say to you, ' go down, go down; and so used Hillel to say: ' My self-abasement is my exaltation, my self-exaltation is my abasement.”
If we didn’t need atonement, we would already be close to God. The sages teach that it is our sin, or human imperfections, that keep us distanced from the Divine Presence. We actively prevent ourselves from having a closer relationship with God by creating divisions between ourselves and others. That is the sad truth of human imperfection: that we have tremendous power to divide and we use it to keep ourselves away from the joy of living that we could be experiencing. That is the bad news. The good news is that we have the power to choose differently; that we have more power to influence our lives much more than we know. At the time when sacrifice was practiced, the blessings that we did not receive were symbolized by the animals we raised, fed, and cared for, but that we did not get to eat. The blessings were wasted and literally went up in smoke. All that we worked for we could not enjoy. And life still works that way. The mechanism of atonement, also read as at-one-ment, has been given to us as a gift; a gift that we should be using more than we do. Making mistakes is inevitable. It’s how we humans learn best: we fall down and pick ourselves up and try to do better Eventually after falling numerous times, hopefully, we learn how not to make that same error. If we can make fewer errors our lives can be better. But what of the commandment of the added fifth? This is what I call active repair: doing extra. Going above and beyond what is asked of us, so that we don’t allow the damage we cause to remain in the world. What might active repair look like? It might be working for social justice, to relieve the pain of others. And it could also be an attempt to be like God for people: having the God-like perspective of acceptance, forgiveness, giving, and being there by putting the needs of others first and our own needs second. This way of being can unite earth and heaven. The Zohar writes about this as well: “When a person rectifies their actions by means of the offering, all is firmly established and knit together in complete unity, as it is written, when a person brings near, that is, unites what should be.” (Section 3:5b) We can be cleansed only as we cleanse. We can be loved only as we love. We become clear before God by the sincerity of our intention to do no harm and to promote harmony. King Solomon said in the book of Proverbs (4:18) “The path of the righteous is like shining sunlight, continuously growing brighter like the midday sun.” Let us be like the righteous, rather than creating darkness, let us strive to be of those who give light. It is a destination that is ultimately part of our destiny, and atonement can take us there.

Witnessing of the Indwelling

2010-03-19T10:40:00.001-07:00

This week’s Torah portions are Vayakhel, which means and assembled, and refers to Moses assembling the people, and Pekudei, which means reckonings. These portions repeat the instructions for building the Tabernacle, only this time, the actual work takes place. Moses calls for the freewill contributions to be brought, a chief architect, Bezalel, and his assistant, Oholiab, are appointed, and the labor commences. More than enough contributions come in; and Moses gives the word to the people to stop donating. In Pekudei, Moses gives an accounting of the value of what was brought. The vestments of the Priests are sewn and all the work is completed. Moses inspects it, approves it, and blesses all the people. God gives the instructions for Moses to set up, sanctify, and anoint the Tabernacle on the day of the New Moon, and then Moses erects it. The priests are dressed in their vestments and also sanctified and anointed.
When all was complete, the Holy Presence, represented by the Cloud of Glory, covered the Tent of Meeting, and filed the Tabernacle. The people had done everything right. They had followed directions and God showed them approval by a tangible manifestation of the Divine Presence, the Shechinah. At the beginning of Pekudei, the structure that was being erected is called Mishkan Ha-Edut, the Tabernacle of the Testimony, or the Tabernacle of the Pact. Pact comes from the word, EYD, witness. Therefore, these two words can also be translated as the Tabernacle of Witnessing. The word, Tabernacle, as we have said in previous weeks, comes from a word that means to dwell, so it can also mean indwelling. This structure, the Indwelling of Witnessing or Witnessing of Indwelling, serves to make tangible our witnessing of the Revelation, our witnessing of receiving the Torah, our witnessing of the reality of our relationship with God. God had said to Moses, “Make me a sanctuary, a Holy structure, that I may dwell among them.” The Israelites made it, and were witnesses to a daily manifestation of God’s concern and care. Eventually, after 40 years, when Moses had passed away and the Israelites were in their land, the people stopped using the Tabernacle. They built the great Temple, which, according to our tradition, stood for about 375 years. We are told that God’s Presence manifested there too, a tradition of witnessing that lasted for over 500 years. The great Temple too, was eventually swept away. A Second Temple was built; although we are told that the Holy Ark containing the Tablets was never placed in the Second Temple, and that the Shechinah, the Holy Presence, was never manifest on that structure. The Second Temple was destroyed in the year 70 CE by the Romans. The structures are gone. The symbols have been taken away, but what of the relationship? The Indwelling of Witnessing or Tabernacle of Testimony was a real structure that symbolized a truth: an aspect of reality that, until God spoke to Abraham, had been hidden: that there is an intelligence that is active in existence, or as Judaism understands it, a mind that directs and a heart that cares and loves. Just because there is no Tabernacle does not mean there is no God. A baby is enchanted by the game of Peek-a-Boo at about the age of 6 months, extending to one year and even beyond. This is because the child feels safe when the parent is there, and is filled with fear when the parent disappears. The game is a way of reassuring the child that, even though the parent can’t be seen, the parent still exists. Our problem with the Mishkan is very similar. The Chassidic Masters teach that all life, and especially we humans, are attached to God at what they call the root – that though our attachment can’t be seen, it is there, or we would not have any existence at all: we would not be alive. The question then becomes, if the Tabernacle is taken away, if we can’t se it, is it logical that God ceases to exist?
The S’fat Emet writes, “The point is that the love and attachment to God that Israel received at Mt. Sinai remain alive in them forever, even when sin prevents them from bringing this hidden love out into the open.” The Mishkan, the Tabernacle, or the Witnessing of the Indwelling, were merely symbols, even when they had what we would describe as an objective reality. The structure was wood and cloth. The Divine Presence merely a cloud. The Apter Rebbe has said, “God’s love needs vessels” but “ although the Torah describes the Shechinah as dwelling in the Mishkan, still the main resting place for the Shechinah is in the human being; and therefore, although the Torah speaks of the Mishkan, we must understand it as if it is speaking about we humans ourselves.” At the time of the Tabernacle, it was our labor and donations, our love and devotion that brought us to be able to witness God’s Presence. And that is still the case today. The symbols are gone, but we remain rooted to God, witnesses to that deeper reality than one that can be seen: a mind and a heart that responds to our love and devotion, to our deeds of kindness, our charity, our labor, and our willingness to open our hearts. A Divine Presence that gives us life and waits to dwell among us.

Royalty on the Inside

2010-03-04T19:12:00.001-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tetzaveh, which means, “You shall command. God tells Moses to obtain pure olive oil for the Ner Tamid, the continual light, that burned in the seven branched Menorah, from evening until morning, in the Tabernacle. Most of the rest of this portion is about the design of the special vestments made for Aaron, the Kohen Gadol, in his role as High Priest. There were eight vestments: a tunic, a robe, an apron, short pants, a sash, a breastplate, a turban, and a head plate. The richness of their materials and construction created a grand impression. The tunic was a long shirt made of fine linen, in a box-like knit. The robe was made from turquoise wool, open on the sides like a long poncho; on its hem were tiny golden bells that made a noise, alternating with embroidered red pomegranates. Over the robe was worn the Ephod: an apron like affair with shoulder straps, made of costly yarns twisted together: fine linen, turquoise, purple, scarlet, and real gold thread. On each shoulder strap was an onyx stone with the names of six of the tribes engraved on it, so that Aaron bore the weight of the tribes at all times. There was also an embroidered sash. The turban, a sign of royalty, was made of fine linen. A gold plate went across the front of it that said, “Holy to God.” The High Priest also wore an embroidered breastplate bearing 12 precious stones, each stone engraved with the name of one tribe, and set in gold. The breastplate was folded, up in back, creating a pouch, for the mysterious urim and tumim the divining tools for asking questions of God that mean light and completeness. They are a mystery to this day.
It was a grand costume, as the Torah says, “for glory and for splendor.” It is interesting that the Priests had vestments but Moses didn’t. There is no costume or symbol of kingship for Moses at all. Perhaps there is a key to understanding this in the commandment for wearing tzitzit, a tallit, which tells us that the fringes and the thread of blue are to remind us not to sin. Perhaps the priest’s costumes were to remind them not to sin. Moses, it seems, needed no reminders. It is also interesting that the Priests vestments were made of mixed fibers: wool and linen, that are specifically prohibited to us in the portion of the Book of Leviticus we call Kedoshim, the Holiness code. The commandment is colloquially known as Shatnes, mixtures. Why is Aaron commanded to wear mixed fibers while we are prohibited from doing so? This question leads into interesting territory. Aaron was commanded to look grand and we, as individuals are asked not to try to look like a priest, to look royal. Moses was humble, we are told, the most humble person on earth. His royalty was inner, not outer. We are asked to emulate Moses, not the priests in this matter. We are urged to cultivate humility as a value in Judaism, and not to appear to be too wealthy, royal, or grand. When I hear about someone who has a huge multi-million dollar weekend home in the Hamptons, or a very fancy car, wears only designer clothes, or makes a show of their watch or jewelry; when I hear about athletes or actors, or rock musicians who buy a lavish lifestyle for themselves, I often feel sorry for them. That’s royalty on the outside. Anyone who needs royalty on the outside needs it to compensate for a lack of royalty on the inside. True outer royalty is always collective, not personal. Royalty comes from conferring authority upon someone to represent the nation or the tribe. When not serving the people, the priests were to take off their vestments. Aaron was a regular guy when he was not at work. No one can be outwardly royal alone. Royalty is always about the group. But inwardly royal, oh yes. We can and should be royal on the inside, individually. Inner value is true and lasting value. Outer royalty is fleeting at best, and usually elusive. It is comparative and subjective and has no objective reality. It is a costume we put on and take off, because none of us is really royal on the outside. Remember the adage, no one is a hero to his valet? The trappings of wealth and power are even seen, by the rabbis of the Talmud, as a hindrance to spiritual progress. Rather than admiring the outer, the Torah teaches us to focus on the inner: that which provides lasting satisfaction, happiness, harmony, and love. We are all royal on the inside, if only we could see that our divine truth comes from the Divine truth of God. The full beauty of a human soul is too dazzling for us ever to comprehend. We are already royalty, descendants from the Eternal Holy Presence. We truly need no outer emblems of self worth. Our task is to convince ourselves of the greatness within, by cultivating that nobility in Godly attributes: of taking care of others and honing our best qualities; letting the less good attributes in our personalities fall away. The less we need to prove our worth and status to the world, the happier we can become, letting our inner royalty shine forth. Inner royalty, inner radiance is magnetic. We respond to true inner nobility in another person because we admire and feel a kinship with God’s attributes of mercy, graciousness, kindness, integrity, and generosity. Inner goodness shines forth of its own accord. It needs no trappings. May we find the royalty we seek inside, needing less and less of the outer symbols our society seems to value. May inner holiness be the royalty we seek, and may we find it, with God’s great blessing.

Follow Me: A Sermon/Meditation

2010-02-25T18:26:00.000-08:00

This week we read the Torah portion, Terumah, which means a portion set apart, or something lifted up. It is perhaps one of the more mysterious portions there is. It describes the design for the Tabernacle, the portable place of sacrifice used during the Israelite travels in the wilderness. Details are recounted that seem matter of fact. Give a freewill offering, Moses is to say to the people: a voluntary contribution of building materials. The specifications are very exact. Follow me, the Eternal seems to whisper. Gold for the Aron HaKodesh, the ark topped with angels having the faces of children, into which the holy tablets were to be put; a curtain with more angels woven into it, for the tent of meeting, to limit access to this most holy place, the holy of holies. Also in the tent: hidden from view, the golden Menorah, shining in the dark; and the table, more like a baker’s rack than a table, with twelve loaves of bread, the symbol of the Divine-Human partnership: God’s sustenance and our labor; and the incense altar, smoky and fragrant, its gold reflecting the flames of the menorah’s light, its cloud partially concealing what we believe is reality, softening its edges.
Outside the Holy tent, the large copper laver, the bowl almost as big as a man, for washing: the ritual of water purification that is as old as humanity itself; and the copper altar, topped with smoldering coals, for offering sacrifices, that ancient mechanism of life and death, whereby the people drew near to God. And everything enclosed in a rectangle by posts and white lace hangings, very like the size and proportions of this synagogue. It must have been very nearly sensory overload: the colors of red, turquoise, purple, white, silver & gold; primal sounds, light, darkness, aroma, sight, touch, and feeling.
Make me a sanctuary, a Mishkan, God says, that I may dwell, shakanti, among them. That word, Shakan, dwell, became Shechinah, the indwelling, holy presence, close as breathing: above us, within us, and all around us. Take these materials, God says: cast off metal gifts from Egypt: linen and colored wool, clothing, blankets, and carpets. They and you will lose their mundane shape and purpose. They and you will become holy. Follow me, God says in this text, “As all I will show you.” Can you follow directions? Are you willing to follow me? Can you follow me, God seems to say? If you can; if you will, great holiness and blessing await. If you do, I will speak to you, as the Apter Rebbe said, “in the quiet places of the heart.” Can you give up some of your desires, some of your will, to make a space for me, a place for me, in your heart? Take yourselves to me. Take this offering to me. I will take whatever you give: gifts and money; animals, symbolizing your wealth, your labor, and your very life; and what you give with an open heart I will take and I will give back the joy of my proximity, the elation of re-union; the certainty of my protection and care. If your inner light has been prepared; if you have kept it burning for me in the recesses of your soul, you can approach the golden ark of my holiness with the purity of children, with the wholeness of the angels who do my work and mediate between heaven and earth. You will do that work. You will serve in gladness, and I will give you my sustenance, but you will live on my love. Build me a sanctuary in your heart, that I may dwell among you, in your heart, in your soul, but also in your interactions with others, in your community, in your society, in your world. It will not be done alone. We will do it all together. Build a world for me. Build a world with me. Follow me, please follow me. Set yourselves apart, and be lifted up. Let us now begin.

Judaism: The Spiritual Path

2010-02-12T12:42:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Yitro – named after Jethro, Moses’ Father in Law. Jethro meets Moses and the Israelites at Mt. Sinai, bringing Moses’ wife and two sons with him. He advises Moses to establish a system of judges and courts. Moses takes his advice and Jethro departs. The people prepare themselves for the great day on which God will speak to them, what we call The Revelation – the only time in human history that God’s words were heard simultaneously by a whole group of people. In preparation for the encounter, God speaks to Moses and says, “And now, if you really listen to me and keep my covenant, you shall be to me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for mine is the entire world. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” This was a new system. Those who worshipped idols at that time would speak to the Priest, who spoke to the god through the idol. The god would speak to the priest and the priest would convey the information to the people. But now, the Israelites were each to be their own Priest, with no intermediaries. And this is the system we have today. Or is it? As we read the text, a further dimension suggests itself. Not only are we to have no intermediaries, but each of us is to become a holy person; our own leader, our own conduit to Divinity, living a holy life dedicated to doing the work of the Divine. This is the Jewish spiritual path. It sounds strange: the Jewish spiritual Path, but that is what the Revelation was meant to be the inception of. We were given a mission, a purpose, not only to be the guardians of the Torah, as we have faithfully been; but to be exemplars of its truths, exemplars of holiness: a nation in which holiness was the norm, a nation that would clearly demonstrate to all, that one can walk an authentic path of goodness and blessing. As it says in Deuteronomy (4), we were to be so holy and blessed that the nations would say, “Surely a wise and discerning people is this great nation. For which is a great nation that has a God Who is close to it, as is God our God, whenever we call? And which is a great nation that has righteous decrees and ordinances, such as this entire Torah…? Rabbi Elimelech, one of the Chassidic Masters, wrote about the Jewish spiritual path, guiding and urging his followers to take up this path. Using the imagery of Rabbi Isaac Luria, the famous 16th Century kabbalist of S’fat in Israel, he writes, “This is our main service, to release the sparks from the outside forces and elevate these sparks back to their source in holiness…. The Shechinah (the Divine Presence) is with us in bitter exile, for the Shechinah is constantly watching, yearning for this uplifting.” Rabbi Elimelech says that God is yearning for us to create blessing. But also, we are yearning. We are yearning and searching for the Way; for the knowledge of how to reclaim the Jewish spiritual Path that will lead us to wholeness and holiness. Of all the world’s spiritual paths, of which there are many, Judaism is fascinating, not only because it was the first of the world’s great religions, but because it is God-approved. The path laid out for us is one of deeds, which lead to self improvement; and also of knowing and being informed of the holy words so that they can sink into our consciousness and take root there, like seeds which germinate, sprout, and flower, bringing forth the fruit of righteousness. The deeds are sometimes but not always, an end in themselves. Some are acts of charity and loving kindness, which help to repair the pain and suffering of the world. Other actions are there to teach us humility and compassion, implanting within us the desire to become holy. That desire is the key to the path. Once we embark on the journey, we are accompanied and shown the next steps, by a Presence we occasionally sense but may not directly experience. We are led toward holiness. Not that we will ever become holy, but that we are led away from impurity enough to continue our approach.
We will read, in a few weeks of the terrible fall from grace of the Israelites, when they lost faith that Moses would return from the mountain, which led them to worship the Golden Calf. At that time, Moses, in a crisis of confidence, asks God for more information. Moses says to God, “Show me your glory.” God tells him, no human can see me and live. I understand this to mean that if we came into contact with the Divine Presence, it would be too much for us to stand. If we experienced the full power of just one large ocean wave, we would be destroyed. That power is only a tiny fraction of the Power of God. If we fall in love, we are overcome with feelings of bliss and love. It is only an infinitesimal taste of the bliss and love of God’s totality. And we, impure and unholy beings that we are, if we were to encounter the absolute purity, truth, goodness, and holiness of God, it would be like matter and anti-matter colliding: it would be too much for us to bear and we would be blown apart. The Jewish spiritual path is a human path that enables us to shed the unneeded impurities we are willing to part with, to make us just holy enough to keep moving forward so that we can walk closer to the Divine Presence. It is a God-approved path, tailor made for us human beings: an authentic path that leads to blessing and holiness. There is so much hunger for real spiritual growth, and the Jewish Spiritual path is there, waiting to be rediscovered. Rabbi Arthur Green says, “…the voice of Sinai still cries out to us today…sometimes we forget the special value of our own unique witness, and the need the world still has, to hear the call of Israel.” We ourselves need to reenter the holy stream of Judaism. Our souls are crying out for it. It is, and the Shechinah is, just waiting for us to embrace it.

Meeting Challenges Together

2010-02-04T18:22:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah Portion is Bo, which means, “Come.” It contains the last three plagues: locusts, darkness, and the death of the firstborn; the commandments to remember these events by the observance of Passover, a new calendar, the consecration of every firstborn to God, and the departure from Egypt.
This story is so familiar, as it comes not only now, at this time of the Torah reading, but also at Passover. At this time of the year, each January, we have just come through the December holidays, including the New Year, during which we, like the Israelites, develop heightened expectations. January looms ahead: a New Year, a blank slate, an opportunity to forge something better or happier. And then as we live this first month, a sameness can set in. There may be difficulties, the same challenges or new challenges. In the opening part of this portion, Pharaoh is beset by the continuing challenges of the plagues and has to confront the new difficulties of the last three plagues. Moses has to keep going back to Pharaoh with threats, pleas, and fiats. He tells Pharaoh that he will never see his face again, and then has to turn around and tell him about one more plague. The Torah tells us that Moses leaves Pharaoh’s presence in a burning anger. This in itself is a teaching. Life is going to be a challenge. It’s not supposed to be easy. We think that life is supposed to be placid and enjoyable, but God says, “Bo.” Come. The Kotzker Rebbe says that Come means, come with me – I am with you. For me, it is like those nursery school children that can be seen around town going on a trip, walking together with their teacher, who hold onto a loop in a rope. The teacher has the end of the rope and walks in the lead and the children hold onto their place along the rope, walking in a line behind the teacher. God is the teacher and we are the children. Sometimes we walk quietly and placidly, but sometimes God runs ahead with the rope and we are pulled along much faster than we want to go. We are jolted out of the place we are in, to a new place. God is running ahead, unwilling for us to stand still or walk too slowly; and we are frantically trying to hold on and not lose our balance. This portion teaches that there will be challenges. The question then becomes, how do we face them? What is our attitude and how do we interpret those challenges? Rabbi Gelberman is fond of saying, “every problem comes with a solution.” Just knowing that can be comforting; having the attitude that the challenge will be worked out somehow. The Apter Rebbe, an ancestor of Abraham Joshua Heschl, wrote that if God caused a situation, it is for the good. Somehow, there is something in every challenge that is a lesson, an opportunity, a place of growth or a time of deepening compassion. In this portion, one very obvious teaching is that God is an active force in everything that happens. And that is another principle for us: God is active so we should be active. Passivity is stagnation, spiritually speaking. If God is providing problems, tests for us, and hidden solutions, we must find those solutions. We must actively anticipate the growth and resolution on the far side of the challenge. When Moses left Pharaoh’s presence in a burning anger, could he have seen the parting of the sea and the revelation of the Ten Commandments, would he have had more patience? Might he have been able to put aside his own ego concerns and mobilize his inner forces with dynamic anticipation rather than self centered anger? The events may have been the same but his attitude would have been very different, and he may have been able to negotiate the difficulties with more grace and less frustration.
In a later verse in this portion, describing the first Pesach, the Torah says, “This was the night for God, a protection for all the children of Israel for their generations.” Not just for them, for those Israelites, but also for us. No matter what challenges we experience, we ARE under God’s perpetual protection. All the Divine assistance we need is at our disposal. We are being sent solutions. It is up to us to accept the Divine Love that comes to us, actively seeking out the help we are being sent and coming closer to the Source of Life. As the Kotzker Rebbe said, God is saying, Bo, Come: come with me. I am taking you on a fabulous journey. I am with you and we will face these challenges together.

Freedom, Oneness and God's Name

2010-01-22T12:41:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Va’eira, which means, and I appeared. In this portion God speaks to Moses about the Holy Name, and how God appeared to the patriarchs as El Shaddai, which may mean, God Almighty, God who is sufficient, or God the Provider; and not as Yud hei vav hei, the name of God which means Being or existence, in the past present, and future.
The rest of this portion tells about the Divine promise to free the Israelites and take them out of Egypt, leading them to the Land. Moses and Aaron go to Pharaoh and demand that the people be freed, but Pharaoh refuses repeatedly, bringing upon himself and his people the plagues of blood, frogs, lice, swarms of beasts, and fiery hail. Each plague brings Pharaoh to consider freeing the people, only to renege and reconsider, once the plagues have been removed.
It is interesting that the portion begins with a discussion of God’s Name, Yud hei vav hei, a conjugation of the verb, To Be. The Torah says, “I am Yud Hei vav hei. I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as El Shaddai, but with my name, Yud Hei vav Hei I didi not make myself known to them.” Why does God care what name we use? What is so important about the Name? We could call God anything really, but Moses is being given a vital piece of information here. God is saying – I am being - I am existence, which is One. You are on the brink of a completely new understanding – a shift. What Rabbi Zalman Schacter Shalomi of the Jewish Renewal Movement, has called a paradigm shift, to quote the title of one of his books. And this is an understanding that we are still working on coming to terms with, even now.
Pharaoh enslaved the Israelites, the Other. For him, he and the Egyptians were US and we, the Israelites were THEM. By not having the understanding of Yud Hei vav Hei, that spiritually speaking, there is no us and no them, only US, Pharaoh brought suffering to himself, misfortune to his people, and brought his country to the brink of ruin. Pharaoh was under the mistaken impression that there can be persecution without negative consequences. The cycle of repression, pain, persecution leading to bankruptcy, ruin, and destruction has been enacted again and again in history, for us, for African Americans in this country, and for so many other peoples.
This leads us to the question – If God is One, then how does God experience our suffering? Perhaps it is like having a splinter in our finger or breaking our toe. Our finger, our toe, is a part of us; and we feel the pain acutely. When a part of us is injured, it hurts. When we cause another human being to suffer, we cause the Eternal pain. When we alleviate someone’s suffering, perhaps we even cause God to smile.
If God told Moses, I am Yud Hei Vav Hei, being, existence, Oneness, over 3,000 years ago, why do we still not understand the implications of that piece of information ? Why do we not immediately follow the logic of that statement to its conclusion: that if God is One and God brought forth all existence from that Oneness, that there could not ever be an Us and a Them. The realization of that reality has been slow in coming. Many of our sages were prepared to understand that Israel, all the Jewish People were one, but it has not been until recently, perhaps only until the second half of the 19th Century that we as individuals and also as a society were prepared to understand God’s statement profoundly, in its essence. While I was writing this sermon, I recalled the quotation, "Until we are all free, we are none of us free." And I tried to find its author. Perhaps Martin Luther King, Jr. had written it, I thought, which would be great for timing, given that this is the Shabbat before the national Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. Maybe Gandhi, I thought? Do you know who wrote it? Emma Lazarus: a Jewish woman, born in 1849 and died in 1887. Since she said those words, the understanding of Universal Oneness has been gaining ground. Abraham Joshua Heschl wrote, in his book, Man is not Alone, “Divine is a message that discloses unity where we see diversity, that discloses peace when we are involved in discord. God is the One who holds our fitful lives together, who reveals to us that what is empirically diverse in color, in interest, in creeds: – races, classes, nations – are one in God’s eyes and one in essence.” Later, Martin Luther King said, “All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.” And also “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” And he also made an inexact paraphrase of Emma Lazarus, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” But perhaps we can go to the S’fat Emet, who lived at approximately the same time as Emma Lazarus, and who wrote that “we must be empty of everything before we can hear.” We can extend this to sight as well. We must empty ourselves of what we see and think we know, to understand our oneness and then to feel it and act upon it. How would we speak to God, how would we treat God if we had the opportunity to talk to the Holy One? That’s how we could treat each other. To believe that we are all a part of each other, to regard the problems we encounter in ourselves, in others, in our society not as evil, reacting with fear or hatred, but as the unredeemed parts of God that we can play a part in redeeming, would be a major shift in our thinking. If we let ourselves, we can feel our connection to each other. These are ideas whose time is coming, or perhaps whose time has finally come. But the profound understanding of Yud Hei Vav Hei, is more than an idea – it is a universal truth; and the ability to live out of that truth is a great challenge that brings great blessings. May we realize the tremendous potential we have to bring the realization of our Oneness finally, after 3,000 years, into our lives and into the consciousness of the world. In so doing we will bless each other and ourselves, and perhaps even, to cause God to smile.

Hiding and Revealing

2010-01-10T18:07:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion, the first portion in the Book of Exodus, is Shemot, which means, Names. It is about the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt, Pharaoh’s decree to drown every male Israelite baby, the birth of Moses, his exile in Midian, and his call by God and eventual return to carry out God’s plan for him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. This portion has a number of references to something hidden. The first reference says, “A man went from the house of Levi and married a daughter of Levi. The woman conceived and gave birth to a son. She saw that he was good and she hid him for three months. She could not hide him any longer.” We know what happened next: She placed Moses in a waterproof basket, put it into the River, and sent Moses’ sister Miriam, to watch it as Pharaoh’s daughter discovered it. Pharaoh’s daughter had pity on the child and decided to raise Moses as her own. As Moses’ mother became his caretaker, he never lost touch with his family and his people.
The text says, “She saw that he was good.” What did Jocheved, Moses’ mother, see? The Torah says, Ki Tov, for he was good. This phrase, Ki Tov reminded the sages of the primordial, spiritual light of the Divine Presence, about which, on the first day of creation, God said, Ki Tov, for it, the light, was good. In Midrash Rabbah, it is written, the Sages say: When Moses was born the whole house became flooded with light; for here it says: AND SHE SAW HIM THAT HE WAS A GOODLY CHILD, and in (Gen. I, 4) it says: And God saw the light, that it was good. Another commentary is from the Zohar, where it is written, “That light is the sacred and hidden temple wherein is concentrated that divine essence from which all the worlds draw sustenance, and all divine hosts are nourished and so subsist.( I:6b). From this comparison, it is tempting to create a very small bit of Kabbbalah for our times. What did Jocheved see? The sages say she saw Moses’ inner radiance. She saw his life force, the life that God gives to each of us. So she hid it, allowing it to grow, to develop. She nurtured his radiance, protected it, covering it when danger threatened. Just as we cover, hide, and protect our inner soul light. But after three months, when she could hide him no longer, she put him in a basket. With trust in the Eternal, and with the prayers she must have prayed, she placed him carefully in the water, the birth waters of the Eternal – attached to the womb-wall of the bank of the Nile, protected by the reeds, yet partially exposed. All it took was the kindness of another human being, to open the basket and expose the radiance within, and the baby was crying – the cry of our soul light when there is none to share it.
Just as God has hidden the Divine Radiance from us, so do we hide away our own spiritual spark. It is deep within us, protected by layers of ourselves: layers of reason, scientific knowledge, fear, insecurity, hurt, and pain. God saw the sparkle in Jocheved, the brilliant beams in Moses. God sees our light as well. But how aware of it are we? After hiding it away for so long, do we often bring it forth? Have we protected it for too long? Do we dare to shine, as God intended us to? In Walt Whitman’s the Song of Myself, he writes, I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good- belongs to you. Whitman’s words unleash the passion of sharing the light with another person. To uncover our light is to share it, to connect and join the flow of the River of life, in which all light is connected, and all passion becomes compassion. The Psychologist Erich Fromm has written, "Man's main task in life is to give birth to himself." And the philosopher Derrida has written, I give birth to myself and I write myself.
Jocheved gave birth, then hid away her light until it was developed, and finally, shared it with the world, making possible a glorious redemption of her people and also all humanity, through the revelation of Torah. The nurturing of our Divine spark is precious work, but letting it out and sharing it is not only holy but redemptive. The Eternal Holy One knows that each of us is part of the Divine Plan. As God is Ki Tov, Goodness, we are goodness. Our light is desperately needed in the world. It is our task not only to protect it so that it can grow, doing the inner work that supports its nurturing, but to let it out, that we may illumine the world for others. It is our light that can repair the world, if we are willing to share it. And when we birth it and share it, Ki Tov, it feels good, is good; and we mint even more goodness and more light, fulfilling the Divine purpose for which we were created.

Resolutions for the New Year

2010-01-03T18:31:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayigash, which means, “and he approached.” Judah comes before Joseph, the Vizier of Egypt, to plead for his youngest brother, Benjamin, and to offer to take Benjamin’s place in jail. Benjamin has been framed by Joseph, in order to see whether the brothers have changed and grown; whether they hate Benjamin as they hated him; and whether they will abandon Benjamin or try to free him. In this speech, which has the reputation of being one of the most beautiful sections of the Torah, Judah speaks movingly of his father’s love for Benjamin. He says, “Now, therefore, when I come to your servant my father, and the lad is not with us; seeing that his soul is bound up in his soul; It shall come to pass, when he sees that the lad is not with us, that he will die; and your servants shall bring down the gray hairs of your servant our father in sorrow to the grave. For your servant took responsibility for the lad, saying, If I do not bring him to you, then I will have sinned to my father for ever. Now therefore, I beg you, let your servant remain instead of the lad as a slave to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brothers. For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad not be with me? ” (Gen. 44:30) After this speech, Joseph is overcome with emotion and reveals himself as their brother. What makes this speech so effective? The Torah commentator Nechama Lebowitz points out that Judah uses the word “father” 14 times in 17 verses. Judah shifts the emphasis of the speech away from himself and Benjamin to his concern for his father. But this is only part of the power of Judah’s oration. Judah took a chance and courageously bared his soul to Joseph, who he thought was a stranger. He could have protested Benjamin’s innocence, which was the truth, but instead he spoke a deeper truth from his heart. The Chassidic Rabbi Asher Horowitz noted that Judah’s mouth and heart were united. When we encounter another person’s truth: their vulnerability, their humanity, we realize our humanity and we are drawn to that person, heart to heart. It is what Martin Buber calls the “I and Thou:” honoring another person’s holiness. When a person bares his soul, it is irresistible, because our need to love and be loved is greater than our need to hate or take revenge. Our need for harmony is greater than our urge to maintain divisions. Joseph felt the genuine-ness, the sincerity of Judah’s feeling for his father and identified with the love Judah expressed.
The question for us then, is how to live in that place of truth, sincerity, love, and even vulnerability? There is a custom at the changing of the secular New Year to make resolutions so that the New Year will be better than the old one. So here are some of the resolutions that could improve not only the year but our very lives. We could give up hatred, the hatred in every human heart. It is easier than you think. It absolutely can be done, if we wish to do it. We could give up anger. We could give up revenge and grudges. This is what Rabbi Gelberman has written on this subject: “Thoughts can dominate us or liberate us. Tame the tyrannical thoughts of fear and hate with thought of faith and love, and we have overcome a meek adversary. If we allow rampant domination of negative thinking we are defeated by a foe with no more power except that which we thoughtfully grant to it. With love and wisdom we are capable of control over what enters and leaves our mind.” This is what Joseph, the only person in the Torah to be called a Tzaddik, a righteous person, did. He gave up anger. He gave up hatred. He gave up revenge and grudges. He forgave his brothers for what they did, thereby creating blessings for millions of people, and of course, for himself. We can strop creating misfortune for ourselves in this New Year, by being willing to give up the habit of creating negativity. Joseph is our role model: the person who was willing to be moved by another person’s love. As we anticipate this New Year, let us be willing to give up that which we no longer need; that which we have grown out of. What can we give up before the new year begins? What are we willing to give up so that, like Joseph, we can be greater than we are?

Leah, Our Mother

2009-12-03T18:28:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion,Vayetze,means and he left. Jacob leaves his parents and brother Esau, to evade Esau’s rage after Jacob stole the blessing from him. He also leaves to find a wife from his mother’s family in Haran. On his journey, he dreams of a ladder with angels going up and down on it. God speaks to him in his dream and promises to be with him, to guard him, and to return him to Canaan where he will have many offspring and inherit the land. He arrives in Mesopotamia, falls in love with Rachel, the younger daughter of Laban, and works for Laban 7 years, for Rachel, since he had arrived in Haran without a dowry. When the 7 years are completed, he tells Laban, “deliver my wife for I have fulfilled my term.” Laban makes a wedding feast and gives him Leah instead of Rachel. In the morning Jacob is outraged and confronts Laban, who promises Rachel to him after one week of marriage to Leah, on condition that he work another 7 years. In this story we are so caught up with Jacob, Laban, and Rachel that Leah becomes lost. In Torah commentary, we hardly hear anything about Leah. Who was she and what does she have to teach us? The Torah says, in the Rashi translation, “Leah‘s eyes were tender, while Rachel was beautiful of form and beautiful of appearance.” Here we have the ugly older sister, the beautiful younger sister, and the scheming father. What would Laban have had to do to make his deception work? He would have threatened Leah and Rachel. In a patriarchal society women have no power. But in this society, it was even worse: they had no access to food, shelter, or even livelihood outside the family unit. Their undervalued feminine selves were necessary for procreation and childcare, and not much more. Self Esteem? How could there be very much? What was there for a woman but marriage and children? Leah knew her prospects were slim to nonexistent. So she went along with her father’s command, which may even have been: Don’t tell or I’ll kill you. So Leah and Rachel chose life. Another translation of Leah’s eyes is: Leah’s eyes were not tender but weak. One midrash says, weak from crying. In either case, there was a compassion there, the willingness to go along with where events took her, hoping for an outcome that would eventually be better than what she had. Unlike Rachel’s her beauty was internal. How did she feel as she impersonated Rachel, under the chuppah and later in the bridal chamber, on what was supposed to be a happy day in her life? How filled with self hated, fear, and also desperation must she have been. How sad, on her wedding night, knowing how angry her new husband would be at her, in the morning. No love from a parent, no love from her husband, no love from her sister. But God saw her compassionate nature and God knew her suffering. She was blessed with sons, while Rachel had none. She named her children meaningfully. Reuben means, look, a son, meaning, God has seen. Simeon, God has heard, Levi, now my husband will be attached to me, and Judah, praise God. Leah seems to have become a monotheist, unlike Rachel, who even 20 years after having met Jacob, steals her father’s idols to take them with her on her journey to Canaan. Perhaps Leah took on Jacob’s religion in order to be closer to him, and actually found an authentic relationship with the One God.
Desperately wanting Jacob’s love, Leah uses her children to try to gain it. It is only at the birth of her 4th child that she allows her relationship with God to fill some of the void in her heart. She is still not the preferred wife. The Torah calls her unloved in some translations, but really the Hebrew text says hated. Jacob hated her, we are told, but she was healed by God and the love of her children. Much later, Reuben finds mandrake roots in the field. Rachel, who is still childless, desires them for fertility. Leah says, “was your taking my husband insignificant, and now to take even my son’s mandrakes?” She and Rachel strike a bargain. Jacob will be with Leah that night in exchange for the mandrakes. The roots Rachel wanted produced results: Rachel conceived, perhaps even because of making peace with Leah, but also, Leah has 3 more children: Issachar, Zebulun, and Dinah. Her seven children plus the two from her servant Zilpah gave her the full life she craved. She was never beloved by Jacob that we know of, but she was beloved by God through the great blessings sent to her. Her willingness to persevere through hardship, offering herself without complaining, creating blessing for those around her and herself, make her the ideal Matriarch from which most of us are descended. Her 4th son, Judah is the name we call ourselves. We are Jews from Judah: from the same root as Todah, and Modim, giving thanks. As we give thanks to the Holy One on this Thanksgiving weekend, may we also be grateful for Leah, who gave thanks to the Eternal for the blessings she received. She was deeply grateful to be one who creates more life, and was ultimately satisfied with the blessings she received. May each of us be truly grateful for all our blessings, and also for Leah, our compassionate, loving, life giving Mother.

When Acceptace is Complete

2009-11-27T10:00:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Toldot, generations. It tells the story of the original dysfunctional Jewish family. Rebecca gives birth to the twins, Esau and Jacob. Jacob pressures Esau, who agrees to sell Jacob his birthright. Later, Isaac, the twins’ father, wishes to bless his firstborn, but Rebecca overhears Isaac’s plan and substitutes Jacob, who impersonates Esau, and receives his father’s blessing. The Torah tells us that the boys were very different: it says, “The lads grew up and Esau became one who knows trapping, a man of the field, but Jacob was ‘tam,’ whole or complete, abiding in tents. Isaac loved Esau, for game was in his mouth, but Rebecca loved Jacob.” Love is elusive – difficult to define or explain. It is hard to know just why we love someone, but we can ask the broader question, why do we love at all? This question takes us back to B’reisheet, the first Torah portion. This portion dignifies the emptiness in each human that is described metaphorically as the expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Given that each human being has the feeling of not being complete, I would suggest that we love to become whole; to compensate for our own lacks and deficits. In the case of Isaac, he seemed to love Esau because Esau was a man of action, whereas Isaac was a more passive personality, evidenced by his compliance at the time of his father’s almost sacrificing him. Jacob, a quieter personality than Esau, was loved by Rebecca, the courageous and spunky young woman who left her family, friends, and native land to follow a strange servant to a new land where she would marry another complete stranger. In this family, opposites seemed to attract. But the fact that the parents Rebecca and Isaac could not love the boys equally points to a lack of acceptance of themselves. If they could have truly accepted themselves, with their faults and strengths, then they could have accepted their sons and loved each of them, perhaps not equally, but individually and fully. In child rearing, I am fond of saying that it is necessary to say YES to the whole person. When many of us were growing up, we had the experience that our parents accepted parts of us and not other parts, creating inadequacy, loss of self esteem, inner conflict, and self hatred. If we could truly love and accept all of ourselves, we could love and accept others. It is a failure of self love, a failure of self acceptance that leads to our projecting our self hatred onto others and dividing people into those we like and those we do not like. To heal ourselves, we have to be God to ourselves, the loving accepting parent we may have never had, in order to become a compassionate brother or sister to our neighbors. I am not however recommending the abandonment of common sense. Our quality of judgment about people is one of our necessary and useful gifts. One of the Chassidic masters, Rabbi Naftali, said that “innocence by itself is not necessarily a good quality.” But the quality of judgment can lead us astray, giving us an excuse for the refusal to accept others in their totality, the way God accepts us. My most recent tool for myself, which I use to talk to myself about people who are harder for me to love is that: the person is a wonderful, loving person, but that the person has a hard time showing that side of themselves to me. In order to fulfill the commandment in the Torah, Love your neighbor as yourself, we have to love and accept ourselves, choosing love over judgment, albeit with clear eyes. It is a skill that can be acquired; a habit of loving that will come back to us as the richest of rewards. Through the ability to accept and love our whole selves, we can become whole; experiencing the Divine love between people that we are meant to give and receive. Each of us was born to be loved and to love greatly. As we approach this holiday season, may we allow ourselves to love each person for who they are, knowing how alike we all are, knowing and accepting who we are: fallible creatures who make mistakes, but also magnificent, loving, and Divine.

Beyond Hospitality

2009-11-19T18:09:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayera, which means, and God appeared. It is packed with events: Abraham’s welcoming of three travelers, who announce the birth of Isaac; Abraham’s questioning God about whether any righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah will be saved; Lot receiving the Angels who save him and his family, when Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed; the birth of Isaac; the sending away of Hagar and Ishmael, and finally, the test of Abraham in which he is asked to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. This portion begins: And God appeared to him in the plains of Mamre; while he sat at the entrance of the tent in the heat of the day; And he lifted his eyes and saw, and three men stood by him; he perceived so, he ran toward them from the tent entrance, and bowed toward the ground; And said, My Lord, if I have found favor in your sight, pass not away, I pray, from your servant; Let a little water, be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree; And I will fetch a morsel of bread, that you may sustain your hearts; after that you shall pass on; seeing that you are come to your servant. And they said, do so, as you have said.
Several things are notable in this first section. Abraham ran eagerly to the men, then bowed deeply to them, calling one, My Lord. Torah commentary for this section always speaks about hospitality, how welcoming Abraham was. At this time, and even through the middle ages, there were no restaurants and few inns; and it was a matter of human survival and a universal law that one had to take a traveler in; feed that person, and keep even one’s enemy overnight and up to three nights, because their survival depended on it, and your survival might depend upon it tomorrow. Abraham not only welcomed the travelers, but attended to them as a servant would, seeing to their comfort and giving them his best foods. He honored the Godliness in them, treating them as he himself would have wanted to be treated. This portion then, begins with the theme of how we treat others. We sense our own inner royalty and are disappointed or even offended when others do not treat us with honor and respect. To act at every moment in such a way that we honor the royalty in others is the mark of a very high spiritual level. Based on the Mussar literature, Rabbi Zvi Miller writes, “Abraham’s ability to treat people like royalty reflected his profound understanding of the world.” But it is so easy for us to forget and even easier to deny the spark of God in others. Our sages say that certain people cannot enter the kingdom of heaven; and among those are scoffers: those who discount other human beings and treat them badly.
Lot, too, is seen as offering hospitality in this portion. Lot urges the men who come to him, to stay the night with him in his home and eat a meal there, knowing that the townspeople of Sodom will brutalize them if he does not shield them. But Lot shows a moral failing, offering his virgin daughters to the mob, in place of the travelers. The society Lot lived in was corrupt; out of balance, devoid of moral kindness, and Lot had absorbed some of its disregard for human decency; because it does not matter who we treat badly. As long as someone is mistreated, whether or not, like Lot, we have an excuse for our behavior, we ourselves are pulled out of balance. We transgress a law of the universe that we are all equal and part of each other. And this theme is continued in the portion, with the treatment of Hagar and Ishmael. Their banishment and the divisions it caused still are being played out today.
If we could act as though we believed that there is Godliness in each of us, we would never be able to treat each other the way we do. Rashi discusses Abraham’s use of the term My Lord. He asks whether Abraham was addressing the men politely or whether Abraham was addressing God. But in reality, every time we address another human being, we are addressing God. Abraham’s willingness to attend to the comfort of the travelers showed where his passions were directed: not to satisfying his own desires, but to serving. He found the greatest satisfaction in being of service to others, never putting himself above them, but imagining himself in their place with empathy. The very first words of the portion, God appeared to him, points to the intent of the story of Abraham and the travelers. Whenever we behold the true face of another, the intrinsic holiness of that person, God appears to us. Or rather, we bring forth the appearance of God when we honor another human being. It reminds me of the story about Rebbe Moshe Lieb of Sassov, retold by Elie Wiesel. “I saw two drunkards sitting in an inn drinking and drinking, silently. But from time to time they would stop for a brief exchange. Are you my friend Alexei, asked the younger one. Do you love me? Yes, Ivan, I do. I am your friend. They emptied another glass and dreamed their separate dreams in silence. Again the younger peasant said, Alexei, Alexei, are you really my friend? Do you truly love me, Yes, I am your friend, he said. After Ivan’s asking and asking, finally Alexei got angry. How many times must I tell you, Ivan that I am your friend? Don’t you believe me? Must I go on repeating it all night? At that point Ivan looked at Alexi and shook his head sadly. Alexei, Alexei, he said. If you are my friend, if you do love me, then why don’t you know what I need? Why don’t you know what is hurting me?” A society is known for the way it treats all its members, not just the wealthy, the powerful, or the famous; and we, like Abraham, are known for how we interact with others. Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of how the people treated each other. May we spur ourselves to greater consciousness in our interactions with others, being willing to intuit their needs and find holiness in honoring them. May we not forget their Godliness when we speak to them. May we remember that we are each created with the spark of the Divine, and act to honor our own inner royalty by the honor we give to the spark of the Divine in each and every person we meet.

The Journey Beyond

2009-11-06T09:31:00.001-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Lech Lecha, the first historical portion in the Torah, it being about a real person. The portion relates God’s call to Abram, his going forth out of Mesopotamia to Canaan, God’s promise that the land will be given to Abraham’s descendants, the birth of Ishmael and the prophecy of the birth of Isaac, the covenant between God and Abram in which Abram and Sarai receive their new names, Abraham and Sarah, culminating in their promise to worship only God, and the rite of circumcision.
This portion famously begins, God said to Abram, Lech Lecha, go for yourself, from your land, from your relatives and from your ancestor’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation I will bless you and make your name great and you shall be a blessing.” The first few words, Lech Lecha, go for yourself, have intrigued scholars for centuries. Lech, go, would have been sufficient. The addition of lecha, for yourself, makes the sentence mysterious. Lech lecha can also mean: take yourself, go into yourself, and also, go beyond yourself. It is interesting that Abram needed to leave behind his family and the influences of his society in order to grow spiritually. In our lives, we are guided by our upbringing first, and then by the messages society continually tells us, In our upbringing, a tremendous amount of information was imparted to us, some of it vital, true, loving, and valuable; some of it false, misleading, and perhaps even detrimental to our further development. The society was different in our parents’ times. The assumptions were different and often they had beliefs that came from the society their parents lived in. Part of being an adult is testing, evaluating, retaining, and disregarding information from our past. Through Abraham, we are taught that, even as an adult, even an adult well past middle age, as Abraham was, it is possible to go beyond ourselves to be a greater blessing than we have thought is possible. The first step is to have the courage to leave the confines of the teaching of our society. I am always impressed that Sarah, without hearing God’s voice, as Abraham did, left the good shopping to live in the hinterland, the sticks, leaving civilization for a rude and crude existence. But their existence was much richer on the inside than on the outside. Society will always stress the outside at the expense of the inside. Abraham and Sarah chose the path of elevating and testing their inner abilities, rather than being concerned with the values their society fed them. They chose the path of inner growth and an attachment to the Divine. Many sages write about the potential of aligning ourselves with the Divine force in the world. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson writes: Real spiritual progress requires that one leaves one’s current state behind. Yet as long as an individual’s growth depends entirely on his own power, his progress will be limited; nobody can exceed the bounds of his own understanding. The quotation, “Go out of your land, your native land and your Father’s house” is an instruction to abandon one’s ordinary way of thinking, to go to levels beyond and to transcend one’s own limits. With progress that is guided by God, there are no limits to the potential of growth.” By separating from the commonplace we can transcend our upbringing and cleave to the Divine force for goodness and purity in the world. It is a matter of identification. With what do I identify myself? How do I define myself? What is my mission and purpose? The S’fat Emet commented that the opening verse mentions the words, which I show you. He says this refers to that which a person cannot see on his or her own. The story of Abraham leaving home teaches that Divine guidance is there once we take the first steps to separate ourselves from the habitual. This includes habitual thinking as well as habitual action. We can cause blessings to flow when we align ourselves with the greater purpose of the world, transcending our upbringing as Abraham did, going beyond the self we think we are in the present, attaching ourselves to the root of goodness, service, and harmony, by becoming one with our inner spiritual potential. God chose Abraham, because of his inner goodness and potential, to be the instrument through which God’s presence and teachings became known in the world. We, too, can bring the Divine presence into the world and make the teachings of the Holy Scriptures manifest. May we take the journey, for ourselves, going into and beyond what we think we are, to the land God will show us, where the landscape is not quite familiar, but is filled with great promise and great blessings.

The Allegory of Noah

2009-10-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Noach: the story of Noah, the flood and the ark. It is a story that is so well known but whose meaning is difficult to comprehend. For me, it answers the question, why do bad things happen in this world, which I wrote about last year. But perhaps there is another approach to understanding the story. Noah, is described as a wholly good person. The Torah introduces him by saying, These are the generations of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, perfect in his generations. Noah walked with God. Already we are suspicious. In a corrupt world, full of robbery, as we are told, Noah was completely good. This story, then, is a tale of archetypes, not of real people. We can look upon it not as history but as allegory. Noah’s name is allegorical and means satisfaction, tranquility, rest, even nachas, pleasure and comfort, as Midrash rabba suggests. How did he get that way? How can we travel to that place? Noah is portrayed not in speech, but in actions. Noah hardly speaks more than one sentence in the whole portion named after him. God speaks to Noah and Noah simply acts, building the ark, the shelter, which also means, word, according to Rabbi Noam Elimelech. Noah constructs his words in silence, speaking only as much as is absolutely necessary. His quietude is the shelter from which his contentment comes. He is not the kind of person to argue with God as Moses did. He is there to serve. In Midrash rabba it points out, Noah fed and sustained [the people and animals in the Ark] twelve months, as it says, And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten (Gen.VI,21). When tranquility meets service, shelter, nourishment, and safety are born. But Noah also has generations, actions, that are human births. He has three sons, whose names are also allegorical: Shem, the Name of God, Ham, warmth or heat, and Japhet, pleasantness or beauty. Rashi has said that the offspring of the righteous are good deeds. In this story, Noah’s actions bring forth Shem, the Holy name of God, whose name is existence or being. Tranquility brings forth life and holiness. It also brings forth warmth, spirit, élan, the heat of love and the warmth of human and Divine companionship, which form a three legged support when beauty and pleasantness are added. Noah is saved because of his righteousness, which teaches that Goodness is precious to God. Where there is goodness, there will be protection. Though Noah lived at a time when most people were not at his level of goodness, he saw himself when he looked at his neighbors. He projected his own goodness on them. He only saw the good in others and lived in peace with them, literally holding his peace, not being critical of others or arguing with them. The Maggid of Mezritch interpreted the statement, know what is above you as know that everything above all that transpires in the spiritual realms is from you, dependent on your conduct. Rabbi Menachen Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavicher Rebbe noted that Each of us has the potential to influence even the most elevated spiritual realms. He said, Noah and his offspring implanted their qualities among their fellow men and drew down the spiritual gifts from above. Every person affects his environment. Therefore our thoughts, words, and deeds can inspire tranquility, both above and here, below. Our deep spiritual center provides the Noah in us, showing us the way to satisfaction, tranquility, rest, even nachas, pleasure and comfort. Our actions can magnify these qualities and reflect them out into the world, creating Japhet: beauty, pleasantness, Ham, warmth, and even Shem, manifesting the presence of the Divine.

Sukkot Reflections

2009-10-08T06:47:00.000-07:00

At the daily morning service during the Feast of Tabernacles a libation of water, in addition to the usual libation of wine, was poured out on the altar. This was drawn from a pool on the first night, and carried in procession to the Temple amid great rejoicing; (cf. Suk. 53a):In the Talmud it is written: the person who has not seen the rejoicing of the Water-Drawing has never seen rejoicing in his life. Sukkot is called Z’man Simchateinu, the time of our rejoicing. It is the time of plenty: of a bounteous harvest, of ease after spiritual effort and physical labor to bring in that harvest. The water drawing ceremony, one of pouring out water, was, in a sense a physical manifestation of overflow: letting a renewable resource go to waste, in the service of The Eternal. The juxtaposition of harvest, gathering, and spilling, going to waste, retention and abandon, protection and being unprotected permeates this holiday. We are on the edge of winter, still looking back to the hot weather we so recently left behind, balanced between two poles. We have the illusion of plenty in the hut that does not shelter us. This is the holiday that makes its point through paradox: from where do our blessings come? What offers protection? What is real and what is illusion? The custom of reading Ecclesiastes, attributed to Kohelet, or King Solomon, also urges us to take a look at the deeper meaning of our lives.

In the mussar literature, Living Mussar every day by Rabbi Zvi Miller quotes from the sage, Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, who said that the sukkah is related to the clouds of glory that accompanied the Israelites in the wilderness, after a verse in the Zohar. The clouds led them by day and by night. Insubstantial as they were, yet they comforted the people because they knew that the clouds represented Divine protection, sustenance, and plenty. The clouds imparted spiritual elevation, bathing them in spiritual benefits, with supernal light from the Eternal, The sukkah too, insubstantial as it is, creates an aura around us of the spiritual benefits that are more real than material; more important than that which can be seen. Kohelet sums up a whole life of material treasure and power with the simple words: The end of the matter, after all has been considered. Revere God, and keep God’s commandments; for this is humankind’s whole duty. For God will judge every deed, even everything hidden, whether good or evil. Kohelet urges us to value the insubstantial, to reverence what cannot be seen: to sit in the sukkah and, while we are enjoying the fruits of the harvest, to take a deeper look into reality. As the Hindus say Life is an illusion, On sukkot we have the opportunity to peel away the mask from our eyes and see the power that is concealed by the mundane. As we sit in the sukkah, we are transported into the miraculous existence of our ancestors, basking in the light of the Shechina, seeing clearly, that what seems is not what is; that there is Divine light and the potential for enlightenment, which is the true power in the Universe. May our eyes be opened as we sit in the sukkah and ponder our existence. As Rabbi Miller writes, May the light of God’s glory illuminate our souls, nurturing them with exquisite light and holy emanations on this holiday of Sukkot.

Letting our Light Shine

2009-06-19T11:16:00.000-07:00

This week‘s Torah Portion is B’haalotecha, which means when you light or when you raise up. The portion begins with the verse, “And God spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to Aaron, and say to him, When you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps give light.” This commandment, to kindle light, is one that we continue to fulfill every Friday, on Shabbat. The flames on the candles are an enduring mystery that speak to the human soul: of understanding, enlightenment, and spiritual attainment. The sages of the commentary Midrash Rabba, which was written to fill in the gaps in scripture, asked why this commandment was given. Who needs this light: is it God, or is it we who need it? They wrote: “Israel said to the Holy One, blessed be the Eternal: ' Sovereign of the Universe! Do You ask us that we should give light before You? You, surely, are the Light of the universe, and brightness abides with You’; as it is written, ’The light dwells with You’ (Dan. II, 22) The Holy One, blessed be the Eternal, said to them: It is not because I require your service, but in order that you may give Me light even as I have given you light. .. as it says, WHEN YOU RAISE THE LAMPS; implying: in order that you may be elevated.” (Numbers Rabbah V:5)
Light is given to us: daylight, fire, understanding, learning, sustenance, beauty: life itself. We are given such great gifts as an act of love, surely not to keep them for ourselves only, but to give them freely, as it says in King Solomon’s book of Proverbs, The spirit of man is the lamp of God (Prov. XX, 27). The book of Kings tells us that Solomon built the Temple with windows that were narrow on the inside and wide on the outside, not to let the light in, but to let it out: to let the light shine forth from the sanctuary. (I Kings VI, 4). Many of you know that my teacher, Rabbi Gelberman, teaches that we may kindle the inner menorah and bring light into the world. By allowing the beauty of our souls to shine forth, we can bring more love, more light, and more Divinity into the world. We are given hearts to love, minds to understand, hands to help, and eyes to let others know we care. It is through us that God’s Presence can manifest in the world. It is through us that tears are dried, arms embrace, and love is given. The Torah urges us to perform acts of lovingkindness. By giving our light to each other, we, ourselves are raised up, purified, and blessed. Our light is the light that makes the world shine. It is ours to give, and may we let it shine forth, lighting up our lives, and the lives of everyone we touch.

So Much To Give

2009-06-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Naso, in the Book of Numbers, which means take. It continues the taking of a census from the previous Torah portion. All of the males of the Israelites, from 20 years of age and older, had been counted. Now the Levites were to be counted, from 30 years of age to 50 years, to do the work of the sanctuary: dismantling the Tabernacle, the portable place of prayer and sacrifice in the wilderness; covering it, and carrying; setting it up again; but also serving the priests, serving God, serving the people and later, when there was a permanent Temple, singing and playing the music of worship.
The Israelites were counted for the legion, in case there should be war and they had to defend the nation. They could serve from 20 years of age and onward. The Levite men could not serve until they were mature enough to take their tasks seriously. But why should they have to retire at 50? We are told in the prayerbook about the expected life span of the time: “three score and ten our years may number, four score if granted the vigor.” Most people were expected to live to between 70 and 80 years – not too dissimilar to our own time – slightly less, but not radically different. There is a hint in next week’s portion about this question. It says (Num. 8:25) “from 50 years of age he shall withdraw from the legion of work and no longer work. He shall minister with his brethren in the Tent of Meeting to safeguard the charge but work shall he not perform.” He shall minister: in other words, the Levite was asked to be there for people: a shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic ear, an understanding smile, help when it was needed: to be parent, friend, and even like God for people who seemed to be floundering or who sought a friend; to be a loving presence and to serve in any way his life, and the Eternal One, called him to serve.
And in a sense, this is the service we have been called to as well. Judaism teaches that there are no coincidences. That you, as members and friends, have been called here to be a part of a community where there are opportunities for service and for growth is not accidental. As we are here together, we will be walking along parallel spiritual paths. We are now companions on life’s journey: teaching each other and learning from each other; modeling God’s attributes as given in Exodus, during Moses’ intimate encounter with the Eternal Presence: compassion, kindness, patience, forgiveness, and truth. Each of us, like the Levites during their last 30 years of life, has so much to give. It is a spiritual opportunity for us, as we grow. And we are always in the process of learning how to give; how to get out of the way of our own impulse to love. Service is perhaps, the highest form of love. May our coming together tonight, be a grand new chapter in the history of this synagogue and also of our lives; the creation of a vibrant and sacred community; diverse, promoting and supporting our spiritual growth; accepting, loving, and committed to serving each other, our fellow human beings, and the Eternal God.

Bubbameises of Creation

2009-05-31T14:54:00.000-07:00

In reading about Torah, one comes across legends: bubbameises, or fairy tales, from the sages, which, for years, I never understood. For example, from Midrash Rabba, (I:1) "In human practice, when a mortal king builds a palace, he builds it not with his own skill but with the skill of an architect. The architect moreover does not build it out of his head, but employs plans and diagrams to know how to arrange the chambers and the …doors. Thus God consulted the Torah and created the world, while the Torah declares, IN THE BEGINNING GOD CREATED (I,1), BEGINNING referring to the Torah, as in the verse, God made me as the beginning of His way prior to His works of old (Prov. VIII, 22), or also, I:4 “Six things preceded the creation of the world; some of them were actually created, while the creation of the others was already contemplated. The Torah and the Throne of Glory were created;” or in the Talmud (Shabbat 88b), “When Moses ascended on high, the ministering angels spoke before the Holy One, blessed be God, ‘Sovereign of the Universe! What business has one born of woman amongst us?’ ‘He has come to receive the Torah,’ answered God to them. Said they to the Holy One, ‘That secret treasure, which has been hidden by Thee for nine hundred and seventy-four generations before the world was created;” Or from the Zohar (I 5a) “See now, it was by means of the Torah that the Holy One created the world…. God looked at the Torah once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time. uttering the words composing her and then operated through her. … Seeing, declaring, establishing and searching out correspond to these four operations which the Holy One, blessed be God, went through before entering on the work of creation. Hence the account of the creation commences with the four words Bereshit Bara Elohim et (“In-the-beginning created God”), before mentioning “the heavens”, thus signifying the four times which the Holy One, blessed be God, looked into the Torah before performing God’s work.”
These statements tell us that the sages actually thought that Torah preceded creation, as a plan or specification precedes the construction of a building. We also encounter this idea every Friday evening in the first verse of the L’cha Dodi prayer by the 17th Century mystic Alkabetz: “Sof maaseh b’machsheva t’hila: the end of deed is first in thought.” It is only recently that for me, these bubbameises began to make sense. Not that the statements are literally true, but that they offer a window into the way the world is constituted. What the stories are trying to tell us is that the structure of creation is embedded in Torah. Torah gives us the information about the way the world is put together by giving us guidelines or underlying principles by which to understand that which happens. In this sense, what was revealed in the revelation: the receiving of the Ten Commandments at Mt Sinai, was what we as human beings felt all along. We, as part of creation, can feel Torah in our own bodies. We feel when we do what is right, and we feel when we do something wrong, simply because it is part of us and we are part of it. The Torah is the manual that describes the way the world works. It tells us that by doing certain kind or virtuous things that we are going with the mechanisms of creation; and by doing certain other things, like murder, lying, stealing, or engaging in acts of selfishness, that we are opposing creation and causing dis-harmony. This suggests that the principles of Torah are not so much commandments as a blueprint, in story form, revealing the underlying structure of creation. It is our manual for living but it is also a manual for the unseen mechanisms of cause and effect. Rabbi Arthur Green, a contemporary mystic expresses it this way: “The Torah is the key that unlocks the hidden meaning of all existence.” To have such a precious document at all is remarkable. To be able to understand it is God’s gift to us. That we are privileged to celebrate the giving of its wisdom once each year on Shavuot is a great and deep joy. May the Torah continue to speak to us, revealing its secrets, as we change and grow, allowing us to be changed; gaining insight into the functioning of the world and ourselves, expanding our hearts, and leading us to holiness.

Opening the Locks

2009-05-19T03:13:00.000-07:00

This week we read two Torah portions, Behar, or “on the mountain,” and Bechukotai, or “my decrees.” Behar gives us the laws for the Sabbath of the land, each seven years, and for the Jubilee, every 50th year. At the Jubilee, the land was to return to its original, ancestral owner, slaves were freed, and liberty was proclaimed for all inhabitants. In this portion we are told that the land belongs to God and that we belong to God. Then there are laws to prevent poverty, such as the necessity to buy back land that was sold out of dire economic need, and the responsibility to help a relative who becomes impoverished.
This portion has a number of teachings about social justice. One statement, “You shall not aggrieve each other,” or in another translation, “you shall not wrong each other,” refers specifically to the sale of land proportional to the number of crop years; but of course, you shall not wrong one another, has much wider implications. Another statement is, “If your brother becomes impoverished and his means falter in your proximity, you shall strengthen him, proselyte or resident, so that he can live with you.” And then two more regulations are promulgated, asking us to redeem land or a contract of indentured servitude for relatives in need.
The portrait being painted here is a model society in which all members are responsible for each other. And this idea is reinforced by the use of the words, “with you, imach”, mentioned thirteen times in this portion, which affirm the idea that the poor are part of us. In the very first Torah portion, B’reisheet, Cain has just killed Abel. God asks Cain where Abel is and Cain retorts, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” It is a rhetorical question for Cain, but it demonstrates an enduring truth. The correct answer, of course is, yes, we are our brother’s and sister’s keepers. We are all responsible for each other. This is not just an idea or even an imperative. It is a fact. The Chassidic master Rabbi Noam Elimelech of Lizensk wrote, “When the Blessed God created the world, in God’s goodness The Eternal created pipelines that carry shefa, an abundance of blessings, to fulfill human needs. The blessings of shefa are ceaseless, but when we fall from our spiritual level and lack trust in our Creator, who is the true Provider, who supports and sustains everything in never-ending abundance, such a person causes a blemish in the higher worlds and with impure thoughts, that is, lack of faith and trust in God. This weakens the power of the heavenly hosts above, it disrupts the shefa. God then has to re-command or reconnect the shefa of blessings anew so that it can flow again as it did previously since the time of creation.” This quotation tells us that it is by the flow of energy from God to us that we live. We know that God is existence, which means we all live within God. So blessings should just naturally come to us. But we don’t usually perceive that they do. What we experience is that we live, breathe, eat, and work: that there are baseline blessings, the miracles we call Nature, but that there are further blessings that are denied to us. The Torah gives us certain guidelines for the way we are to treat each other, that we understand as commandments. But really they are Keys, allowing us to unlock the flow of blessings.
When we touch another person, when we help that person; when we are honest and share God’s money with them, that we regard as our money, or God’s food, that we regard as our food, we create an arc between us and them. It may simply be an arc of love or it may be an arc of love plus something tangible, but when we make that connection, then God completes the circle by being present between us: whenever our love is present; whenever our generosity is present, whenever or caring is present. The Mussar literature, Living Mussar Every Day, by Rabbi Zvi Miller, quotes the sage Chafetz Chayim in saying that, “the truth is we are never alone, we have the most loving Parent, the Master of Power and Wealth who is always there to help us.” In the Torah, God is constantly modeling behavior for us. By giving to us, the Eternal shows us that our giving to others is the mechanism by which all giving is regulated. When we create a blockage, through anger, fear, or selfishness, the interdependence of energy flow is stopped. The energy becomes diverted. Love can be expressed as hate or anger. Plenty cannot reach us and blessings go to waste. The techniques to unlock blessings are fundamental to our interdependence as part of God. If we act as though we are in isolation, which is untrue, we will become isolated. If we act as though you and I are connected, which is true, we will be linked back to God through the channels of love energy we create. The world is designed to promote the flow of blessings by our opening the channels of relationship. The Torah holds the keys that unlock the flow of abundance; and we can, if we choose, open the locks.

The Divine Energy of Healing

2009-05-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portions are Tazria and Metzora. They speak about skin diseases, discharges, and ritual purification. Metzora means one who has a skin disease, and this portion begins by describing the process by which someone who has had such an infection is purified for re-entry into the community. The person who is healed was to be examined by the priest. Then the person was to bring two birds, red wool, a bunch of hyssop, which is from a small bush, and cedar wood. He was to shave his body, wash body and clothes and then re-enter the camp. After seven days of dwelling outside his tent he was to shave and wash again and then he was declared to be pure. On the next day there were more offerings: a sin, guilt, and elevation offering to be placed before God by the Priest. The sin and guilt sacrifices were for atonement and the elevation offering was to elevate the person so that he could draw closer to God’s Presence. The blood of the guilt offering was put on the right ear, thumb, and toe of the person atoning; and oil, which was part of the offering, was sprinkled before God seven times, and was also put on the ear, thumb, and toe of the penitent and then on his head as well.
In reading this ceremony, the similarity between the purification of the Metzora and the ceremony for the consecration of the priests is inescapable. The priests underwent a seven day term of isolation in which they dwelt outside their tents, in front of the tabernacle. It was followed by a ceremony of atonement offerings, a ritual of blood applied to the ear, thumb, and toe, and the oil of anointment being put on their heads. This similarity between the consecration of the priests and the purification of a penitent seems strange. Why should they be so similar and what might this be telling us? The similarity of the two rituals points to the conclusion that the priest and the penitent were learning from each other. Skin diseases are the biblical result of slander: Lashon Hara, or evil speech. The Zohar also says that: “just as a person is punished for uttering an evil word, so is there punishment for not uttering a good word when there was the opportunity, because that speaking spirit is harmed which was prepared to speak both above and below in holiness.” In terms of Divine Justice, this can be expressed as: those who separate, through speech, will themselves be separated, through absence. Speaking ill of someone, Rashi taught, is the result of haughtiness. The person who had a skin disease was quarantined outside the camp to heal, but also to think about what he might have done to deserve such a disease. The Kohen, too, by being responsible for the purification ritual, must have been constantly reminded not to engage in slander and gossip and not to allow his position to lead him to haughtiness. We know that haughtiness is really its opposite: a lack of the feeling of self worth rather than an excess of confidence. It is only those who are insecure who need to talk about others in an effort to raise themselves by seeming to lower other people. The Kohen needed to be reminded to seek true self worth in service to God and others and not in the glory of his seemingly high position. The penitent, after the affliction was gone, was raised up in a ceremony that elevated and anointed him after his disgrace. In giving him back his dignity and having the priest serve him, transferring some of his royalty to him, he was given the impression that he could ascend to the heights of holiness through his atonement and participation in the anointment ritual. The elaborate ceremony in which the priest put the holy blood and holy oil upon his ear, hand, toe and head was a way to give him the confidence to be able to obey the commandments, do what is right, walk in God’s ways and think before speaking. The penitent could then seek true worth within himself after being purified and anointed, finding the sense of self love transmitted by God’s love, and self worth that had been missing formerly.
The Lubavicher Rebbe said that every mitzvah performed brings with it Divine Energy into our material world that will blossom and bear fruit. In a sense the mitzvot exist to give us an entry into Divine energy; a prescribed ritual by which to enter into the awe of co-creation with God. The Zohar calls the Torah a great and mighty tree of life. “It is called Torah (lit. showing) because it shows and reveals that which was hidden and unknown; and all life from above is comprised in it and issues from it. One that “takes hold” of the Torah takes hold of all, above and below.” The definition of mitzvah as commandment gives us back the awe that modern life robs us of. When we participate in awe we are all priests: serving in the knowledge that our actions contribute to the well being of all existence. The common ritual reinforces the equality of priest and penitent. The priest remembers that the penitent’s purity is as great or now greater and surpasses his own after his process of cleansing is complete. As the Talmud says, “In the place where the penitent stands, not even the completely righteous can stand.” The penitent now understands that his inner royalty has been brought forth by his being anointed to God’s service, which could only have happened because he sinned and learned from his mistakes, falling down being the pre-condition for learning. The priest knows that it is a very thin line that prevents him from sinning in the same way. The Commentary, Midradsh Rabba, refers to a quotation from Deuteronomy: “I have wounded, and I heal, Rabbi. B’re-kiah said in the name of Rabbi Levi: [A physician of] flesh and blood wounds with a knife, and heals with a bandage, but the Holy One, blessed be The Eternal, heals with the very thing with which God wounds, as it is said in Jeremiah, For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee out of thy wounds.” This ritual involves the Kohen and the penitent in the exquisite dance of Paradox: that we humans are all alike: at the same time lowly and magnificent, humble and royal, constantly called by God to greater understanding and higher deeds by being given exactly what we need to learn and grow toward Goodness and Holiness.

A Holocaust Poem: We Do Not Understand

2009-04-20T17:41:00.000-07:00

We Do Not Understand - Rabbi Jill Hausman April 2006

We do not understand
We cannot grasp six million dead
And if their names were said
Three months we would be standing here.
We are diminished by the hugeness
The intensity of hatred: of fires fanned
And we do not understand.

All, all was swept away
The lives, the way of life,
The scholars, pious ones
No sins could be that great, no faults so grave.
They could have; should have left, or could they?
Or was it planned?
And we do not understand.

The innocents who died: free of guilt and free of sin
The children, maidens, hardly had they lived;
Their cries, the trust betrayed
Reflected in their eyes.
Could You have made it one, or two perhaps,
But six? Why six? We cannot help demand,
And we do not understand

And did they die for something?
For our return to Zion?
Were they martyrs for rebirth?
Were they martyrs for the land?
Was their death ordained
By hand of God or hand of man?
And we do not understand.

And did You hide Your countenance?
You must have heard their prayers.
Were you busy with affairs
That we can’t even fathom?
And why were they expendable
So many grains of sand
And we do not understand.

But could it have been so much worse
And could we all have died;
Tiny miracles of persons saved
Of people still alive.
Did it finally stem from our free will
Man’s inhumanity to man?
And we do not understand.

Please remember to our merit
Or put it down to desperation
That we have not forsaken.
We are still here
We are still Jews, Am Yisrael chai.
Please, oh Please
O One Most High
Take us by the hand;
Be near us, comfort, teach us
For we do not understand.

The Economy and Religion: CBS Interview

2009-04-13T07:56:00.000-07:00

Rabbi Jill appeared on CBS’s The Early Show on April 11th. These are CBS’s questions and her answers.

CBS: Unemployment numbers are out of control, people are losing their houses, their savings... Is religion more relevant in troubled times like these?

Rabbi Jill: Religion is vital in difficult times. Just as there are corrections in the market, so there are spiritual corrections. In Deuteronomy, Moses told the people that in good times they will forget about God and claim that they were the sole cause of their wealth. It is in tough times that people return to their relationship with the Divine Presence to renew it, which brings the flow of blessings back into their lives.

CBS: What are you telling people that have lost their jobs or homes to try and inspire them?

RJ: I tell them to do as many deeds of lovingkindness as they possibly can. I tell them that my teacher, Rabbi Gelberman, who is 97, teaches that rain and clouds are a sister to the sun. The clouds will disperse. The sun will shine again. The flow of Divine blessings is in their hands; if they spread light, light will come back into their lives. If they take this spiritual opportunity to deepen their connection to God, their lives will be enriched.

CBS: Do you find that people sometime lose faith in organized religion in times of despair?

RJ: Of course they do. But it is in times like these that they may also seek out a priest, minister, or rabbi to talk to and find that religion has answers that are unavailable elsewhere.

CBS: What's it like out there for all of you -- has attendance for your services risen or dwindled since the start of the recession?

RJ: It’s hard to tell, but I think attendance is about the same. What I notice is that more people are calling me to talk to them one on one.

CBS: What are some of the biggest concerns you're hearing from people at your Temple?

RJ: There are some who have lost jobs and are worried about being unable to pay their rent. They send out resumes but the jobs don’t seem to be out there right now. It’s a very difficult environment.

CBS: Newsweek magazine ran a poll about religion -- One of the results was that 68% of Americans say religion is losing it's influence in our society -- What do you think is the underlying cause of this statistic?

RJ: I think there is a very interesting phenomenon occurring. Religion was historically authoritative: people had to believe and do what the denomination of their religion prescribed. But now there is a movement to individualize religion, which actually results in a universalizing of religion. People are seeing that there is great truth and beauty in all religions and want the freedom to pick and choose from each religion that which speaks to them. So there is more respect for each of the religions and more people saying that they are spiritual but not religious. I can see in the far future that perhaps, eventually, the prophet Zechariah’s vision will come to pass: that God will be one and God’s name will be one.

CBS: The magazine also reported a rise in Americans who claim no religious at all affiliation up from 8% in 1990 to 15% today -- Are you all alarmed by these numbers?

RJ: What I say is that God calls in the exiles. The Divine Presence sends us experiences that contact our souls. God has it covered. It may be that one person will leave religion entirely, but their children will return. It’s in God’s hands.

CBS: Are you worried that these numbers will only get worse as time goes on?

RJ: Religion is the last taboo in our society. You can talk about sex. You can talk about violence. But if you talk about religion, people may think that you are a religious fanatic. Our scientific, acquisitive society does not support dialogue about religion as readily as it does other topics, but people will find a way to speak about what is important to them, hence the statement, “I’m spiritual but not religious.”

CBS: What do you see as the biggest threat to religion in today's world?

RJ: The worship of what the Torah or Bible calls false gods: money, sex, and power. That’s the way it has always been.

The Small Flame

2009-04-10T13:24:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, the second portion in the Book of Leviticus. Tzav means command. In this portion the major categories of sacrifice are continued from last week’s portion. We hear about the unleavened meal offering, the sin, and guilt offerings, and the offering of thanksgiving for good fortune and unexpected blessings. The beginning of the portion reads, “God spoke to Moses saying, command Aaron and his sons. This is the law of the elevation offering, to be on the flame on the altar all night until morning; and the fire on the altar should be kept aflame on it.” The word flame, mok-da is printed with a small letter, a smaller than usual mem, to begin the word. When there is a smaller or larger letter in the Torah text, which is rare, it is an invitation to have a closer look at the meaning of the verse, to see what it might be trying to say on a deeper level. The elevation offering was also called the burnt offering. Its purpose was to allow us to draw near to God by making a voluntary offering for in atonement for our human sins. The Baal Shem Tov said that the altar is the heart. The flame on this altar that should not go out is the inner spiritual fire about which the S’fat Emet says, “In the soul of every person there lies a hidden point that is aflame with love of God, a fire that cannot be put out.” This ecstatic impulse for God is not what we usually experience. Instead we often experience the small mem of the flame, the embers that are barely burning, which is our dissatisfaction. There is a lack that we feel, a hole in our hearts that nothing can permanently fill. Possessions don’t do it. Infatuation: falling in love; is a taste of spiritual ecstasy that quenches our longing temporarily, but infatuation is not permanent: it never lasts. The story of the Garden of Eden describes the feelings we have in the form of a parable: by exchanging ignorance for consciousness, we exiled ourselves from the state of nature where we were at one with all existence. Now, fully conscious; we are outside the Garden and have the feeling that we used to be smarter, we used to be happier, we used to have union with God. There is a vague feeling that something is missing. Dissatisfaction is a permanent part of the human condition, but far from being a punishment, it is a marvelous blessing, put there to lead us to re-union with the Divine Presence at a new level of synthesis. The small mem urges us forward toward God. King Solomon wrote about this. He had it all: hundreds of wives, untold possessions, fabulous wealth, kingly power. “Vanity of vanities,: he wrote. “All is vanity.” We can believe him because he experienced it all and he was the one person who really did know. “Have awe of God and keep the commandments,” he writes at the end of Ecclesiastes. King Solomon knew. The dissatisfaction is there in us to lead us to the ecstasy of spiritual fulfillment, the flame that burns continually on the altar of our hearts. It is the soul’s pure love of God. This spiritual fire, the sages said, burns the impurities of our souls, atones for sin, and finally turns our transgressions to merits (Yoma 86b). The desire for union, the spiritual fire, never goes out. It is part of our being. The low burning embers can be fanned into the warmth of God’s love and the light of true understanding, culminating in the joy of union and service. May our dissatisfactions melt before God’s healing power and be transmuted into unconditional love. May the love of our souls for God raise us up until we again feel reunited with the Oneness of all Being.

Angelology

2009-03-06T13:52:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Terumah, which means portion or contribution. Terumah contains the request for the Israelites to give a freewill offering of materials needed for the construction of the Tabernacle, the portable site of worship and sacrifice that the Israelites carried with them in the wilderness, and also the instructions for building it. The Tabernacle, which many of us saw a reproduction of last year on our trip to Lancaster, PA, was a large rectangle comprised of posts and lace hangings. In the rectangle was an altar for sacrifice and a large bowl for washing. At the center rear of the Tabernacle was the Tent of Meeting. In the front of the tent was the incense altar, menorah, and a baker’s rack, called the table, holding 12 loaves of bread. A curtain partitioned the tent into two sections. Behind the curtain was the ark of the Covenant, in which were placed the stone tablets of the Ten commandments. The ark was a box covered inside and outside with gold, and had a crown around it. The ark cover was also made of gold. The Torah says of the ark cover, “You shall make two cherubim of gold, beaten, from both the ends of the lid…at its two ends. The cherubim shall be with wings spread upward, sheltering the lid with their wings with their faces toward one another, toward the lid shall be the faces of the cherubim.” And a sentence later, “I shall speak with you from atop the lid from between the two cherubim.” It seems strange that there should be a commandment to make representations of angels on the ark, especially because in the 10 Commandments, we are specifically prohibited from fashioning a likeness of anything, to worship it. In exploring the symbolism of angels and investigating what the cherubim might be trying to tell us, we might first ask, what are angels and are they real? We have spoken previously about angels – called malachim or messengers: those who visited Abraham and Sarah to tell them they would have a child; the angels who spoke to Abraham and saved Isaac from being sacrificed; and the angel who wrestled with Jacob before his reunion with Esau. The word for angels in this week’s portion is not malachim, messengers, but Cherubim. Nachmanides, cites the Talmud in saying that the word cherubim may come from the word that means lads, in which case k’rabim means “like lads.” So the cherubim were to look like children and Rashi comments, “they each had the image of a child’s face.” Angels then, must be something real, but surely they are not children. However they may be like children in certain ways. Children come from their parents, as energies come from God. We are like God in that children and energies come from us. Children, we know are pure, but are also bordering on the amoral: they have little natural sense of right and wrong, but can be educated and led to goodness. Martin Buber sheds light on the nature of angels when he writes in the Legend of the Baal Shem Tov, “From every deed an angel is born, a good angel or a bad one. But from half hearted or confused deeds which are without meaning and without power angels are born with twisted limbs or without a head or hands or feet. These teachings lead to the conclusion that angels are a personification of energies from us and from God, that accomplish things. When we work to accomplish things for the sake of Heaven, as is said in the Talmud’s Pirkei Avot, we work with God’s cosmic energies. And the converse, when we act selfishly or with confused intentions, our deeds sprout energies that can be ineffectual or even destructive.
There is a Kabbalistic tradition that we are protected by four angels below, while the Shechinah, God’s Eternal Presence, hovers above; Michael on our right, from the words, Who is like God; Gabriel on our left, from the words, God’s Power, Uriel ahead of us, from God‘s Light, and Raphael behind us, from God’s Healer. Michael according to Rabbi’s Gelberman’s book Physician of the Soul, is the angel of protection and balance; Gabriel the angel of Hope, Illumination, and Love, Uriel the angel of vision, leading us to God, and Raphael, the healer. The childlike faces of the angels and their wings remind us of God’s protection. There is that vulnerable place in us that always remains childlike and pure, and that place is precious to God. It is a part of us that trusts; that knows that a Divine Parent will always care for us, nurture us, and help us by making sure that we are fed, clothed, housed, and loved. The Faces of the cherubim remind us that it is through that vulnerability that we may approach God. When we identify our inner purity with our childlike nature that adores and is excited about life, that loves everyone without distinctions, and lives every day in joy, we attach ourselves to the Ultimate Purity and Simplicity of the Eternal Presence. Then we can touch our inner holiness, our inner reverence, and feel our connection with the Divine. When we approach God with our childlike nature, we allow God to speak to our highest selves, directly to our hearts, as it was written, I shall speak to you from between the two cherubim. May our deeds sprout beautiful angels//: like Michael, angels of trust that we are safe in the Universe, like Gabriel, angels of merciful justice and understanding, like Uriel, angels of light, and like Raphael, angels to heal the divisions between us and our brothers and sisters, and between us and the Divine Presence. May the angels we create spread goodness and shelter us; and may our faces always be turned to each other in love.

How High?

2009-03-03T09:38:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Mishpatim, which means ordinances or statutes. It contains a code of civil law that directly follows the giving of the 10 Commandments, and includes rules governing such areas as slavery, theft, accidental and intentional murder, negligence, and many other subjects. The 10 Commandments, heard in last week’s portion, are the minimum laws that God asks us and expects us to keep. But we know there are 613 commandments in the Torah, and in Mishpatim alone we find more than 50 commandments. How are we to regard this long list of obligations, some of which are as meaningful today as they were 3,000 years ago, such as you shall not taunt or oppress a stranger, and some that are antiquated, such as the laws pertaining to slavery and sacrifice?
There is a statement in this Torah portion, “People of holiness shall you be to me.” It indicates that the 10 Commandments are a start for becoming an ethical and holy people, but that they are only a beginning. The S’fat Emet speaks of straightening our paths; and King Solomon, in Ecclestiastes, wrote, God made man upright or straight; (but they have sought out many schemes7:29) but we know that we are not upright. In looking back over our lives each of us can recall things we did that we shouldn’t have done, things we did in the past that we would not longer do; how we failed to live up to our own standards or intentions. The rules of the 10 Commandments help us to live lives that are straight, to walk in God’s ways, as in the Psalmist’s claim, “All the paths of God are straight.” But we need more straightening. Life presents us with constant tests and opportunities to choose the even straighter over the not so straight; and in this the additional laws of the Torah are exceedingly helpful. Our sages taught that all the rungs of perfection already exist in us. If we go about setting right our actions they allow us to ascend the ladder higher and to straighten our lives even more. And there is no limit to how high we can ascend. However the is a correct way to ascend and an incorrect way. The Chassidic sage, the Kotzker Rebbe said, in effect, be holy because God wants Holiness on earth. The laws in Mishpatim all deal with real life on earth, with interactions between people. Even in the 10 commandments, of which there are only really 9, the first being a statement, I am God, and not a command: of the 9 Commandments only 3 deal with the relationship between people. In other words, they are laws for society. Our sages taught that it is of greater merit to repair our relationship with our fellow human beings than with God, and the Torah certainly reinforces that interpretation. Possibly it is more meritorious because making peace between people is harder than making peace with the Creator. But the irony of repairing our human relationships is that it must be for the sake of heaven and not only for ourselves. Everything we do to another person we do to ourselves and we do to God. Every YOU is really me. Every THEY is really us. It is all really God. It is circular and it is all One. We cannot help becoming better people by being better to each other, which helps us to draw closer to God. As we draw closer to God we also become kinder to each other. The pathway we choose, deeds or study, community or communion with the Divine, lead to the same result, if done correctly, that is, with good intentions. The Torah’s statutes are there to create a harmonious society and help us to climb a little higher, should we wish to do so. The S’fat Emet said that the quotation, “A people of holiness shall you be to me,” is not only a command but a promise. God promised us that we should and could reach the level of holiness that was given to us as our birthright and also as a sacred trust. The Divine Presence revealed the rules in Mishpatim to ensure that our innate holiness would one day be realized. It is there, waiting for us to discover it, to embrace it, and to choose it in our daily lives. May we climb the rungs of holiness that we find within us, and may the ascent expand our ability to dwell in the dimension of the holy.

Guest Blogger, Tad Campbell on Shabbat Shirah

2009-02-11T07:44:00.001-08:00

Ours is a faith built on miracles; each in constant remembrance of the loving G-d who stirs our hearts to sing the song of life, even when we are unsure of the notes.

Pillars of fire, parting seas, dancing today, resting tomorrow, all wrap us in a beautifully woven fabric. Each strand is unique, in hues of hope and desire, drawing us closer to the melodic heartbeat of heaven’s harmonious call.

Deep within, Hashem has planted a divine spark. Light to an often darkened world. Each of us longs to glow with its brilliance, seeking the guiding hand of our saving Creator.

Some years ago there was a song on the radio called “Emotional.” In the chorus is the line: Ain’t t it shocking what love can do! True words. An honest idea.

We who come before the Book of Life, the Torah, know its laws are planted deep within. Here we join other voices lifted in praise, in acknowledgement of all the Eternal lays before us. We reach out, joining our paths with rich and stirring chords. Tolling the bell of spiritual freedom.

In the flames of a burning bush or manna fallen from above, we the Jewish people stand in appreciation and immeasurable awe of the G-d who walks not before us, but with us. We are embraced in a truly stirring ballad, its words written on our minds, its melody parading in our hearts. Shocking isn’t it, what love can do!

All About Truth

2009-01-30T11:20:00.001-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is the second in the Book of Exodus, Va’eira, which means, “and I appeared.” It contains an account of the first seven plagues. God speaks to Moses about the covenant previously established with the Patriarchs, and then goes on to make five more promises: “I will take you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, I will rescue you from their service; I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments; I will take you to me for a people, and I will be a God to you;… I will bring you in to the land, which I swore to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and I will give it to you for a heritage.” These promises establish an underlying principle of the Torah: that life and the Divine Presence work on the basis of a covenantal relationship: a relationship of integrity, honor, and truth, of promised made and kept. The promises of God are juxtaposed against the actions of Pharaoh. Pharaoh shows no compassion for his people when, during the first plague, their drinking water is turned to blood. After the fourth plague Pharaoh promised to allow the Israelites to leave Egypt to worship God, but he went back on his promise and did not permit the Israelites to go. Moses even warns Pharaoh, advising him not to mock by not sending out the people. Pharaoh continues to fail to protect the lives and property of his people, which is his sacred trust as their ruler, during the fifth through the tenth plagues. After the hail, plague seven, Pharaoh again breaks his word and goes back on his promise to allow the Israelites to leave.
Rashi comments that God’s name implies that God is faithful to give reward. The two names we use for God, Adonai, the God of Compassion and Elohim, the God of Justice, remind us: of love and mercy for Adonai, and integrity for Elohim. They tell us that the actions of the world occur through love and justice and integrity. These attributes not only describe God but describe God’s world as well, being embedded in the very fabric of cause and effect. When Moses admonishes Pharaoh not to mock, Moses is telling him that his lack of integrity goes against the natural laws of life, which will bring dire consequences. Mocking Moses and Aaron, or the Israelites commits a falsehood, being based on the idea that people are not a part of God and have no innate value or importance. Indeed, the Torah teaches just the opposite: that each widow, each orphan, each stranger: not the highest person, but the least noticeable, has worth, value, importance, and is known to God. Each time we demonstrate a lack of integrity we break faith with the Universe, alienating ourselves from the Divine Presence.
There is a parable in the modern Mussar literature by Rabbi Zvi Miller, taken from ancient sources. A lion once lay in wait to spring on a fox. At the last moment the fox said, I am nothing but skin and bones. Spare me and I will lead you to a fat man who will be a succulent and satisfying feast for you. The fox led the lion to a man sitting behind a pit that was covered with branches and leaves. The lion saw that the man was praying and he said to the fox, I am afraid to attack this man. The merit of his prayer may awaken judgment against me. Don’t worry, said the fox, Neither you nor your son will be held accountable for this offense. Rather, it is you grandson who will be punished. You are hungry now, so satisfy your desires! The lion was convinced by the fox’s clever words. It approached the man from behind, and as it started its leap, it fell helplessly into the deep pit. In the story the lion was lured by its own desire to believe that he would not be held accountable for his actions. But we know that this is not how our lives work. The voices that speak to us in our minds with the words, “oh, it will probably be okay,” are the fox-like voices: of prompt gratification over lasting integrity.
The S’fat Emet writes that there is much falsehood for every point of truth…every bit of truth is surrounded by falsehood on all sides. Nevertheless, by means of struggle that point of truth can be found in every place. Our struggle to live lives of integrity is a struggle to be in consonance with God and the universe. When we honor our commitments and fulfill our words, being honest with ourselves and conscious of our true intentions, life honors us and we feel at one with the harmony of existence. In the Torah, if God is careful to be faithful and scrupulous to fulfill each promise, so much more should we strive to emulate this behavior, because it is being modeled for us to teach us be able to keep our commitments to each other. The Torah is telling us how very important this is. An aphorism about truth was repeated at the EST training: When you always speak the truth your word becomes law in the Universe. The struggle for truth in an imperfect world leads us to holiness. It is a struggle worth caring about. Each promise kept, each fulfillment of a covenant, between us and others, and between us and God, is a tool toward self improvement. It’s a step upward on the ladder that leads to goodness, peace, honor, and dignity. The harmony we then feel is simply God’s approval and God’s blessing.

Approaching Ourselves

2009-01-16T12:20:00.000-08:00

This week’s torah portion is Vayigash, which means, and he approached. Judah, the fourth son of Jacob, approaches Joseph, Viceroy of Egypt, to plead for his youngest brother, Benjamin; and to ask to be enslaved in place of Benjamin. Benjamin has been wrongly accused of stealing Joseph’s silver cup. When Joseph learns that his brothers love and support Benjamin, Joseph reveals his identity to them and forgives them. He then arranges to bring his father and his brothers’ families to Egypt so that they will be sustained during the continuing famine. The Torah states, “Then Judah approached him and said, Bi Adoni, if you please my Lord.” Judah then makes a heartfelt speech to Joseph in which, as the scholar Nechama Leibowitz points out, the word father is used 14 times in 17 verses. Judah’s speech arouses Joseph’s compassion, culminating in, what for the brothers, was a miraculous redemption and a complete reversal of their perilous situation. What are the dynamics that allowed this transformation to occur? The S’fat Emet comments that Bi Adoni, please my Lord, also means God is within me. He goes on to explain that when Judah approached, he was approaching Joseph, himself, and also God. This teaching is an opening for us into a new possibility. We know that we have been told that our souls are from God, the Divinity within each one of us; and yet it’s so hard to live out of that reality. We have defenses that we learned how to use to protect ourselves when we were growing: defenses for the family, for school, for friends, for work. And these defenses can become our persona, the face others see and the face we see ourselves as representing. But there is a deeper personality with which Judah approached Joseph; a personality that was revealed when all of Judah’s defenses were useless, when anger, indignation, and confrontation, the walls that separate us as people, fell away. It was in that moment of vulnerability that Joseph’s compassion was stirred. Joseph identified with the humanity of his brother. Buy negating himself and his defenses, Judah allowed his soul to shine forth and affect everyone around him. By opening himself he opened the gates to the flow of Divine blessings.
When there is a difficult situation in life, there are many ways to relate to it. When there is a difficult relationship it is easy to react automatically with customary defenses. The secret of Oneness, Bi Adoni, God is within me, shows another way, which is seeking wholeness and finding the lost treasure of our souls. By negating our defenses and our ego, which is the false persona, we allow our true and whole selves to emerge. Having the courage in adulthood to unlearn and let go of customary defenses allows inner wisdom and Divine guidance to become available because they were there all along. In interacting with another person we can create the space of Divinity for each other by opening our hearts in self negation; becoming less, in order to expand into the More of who we really are. This is Martin Buber’s I-Thou relationship of two Divine entities coming together, recognizing each other, and creating understanding. In this New Year, may we truly touch each other, having the courage to be more than we think we are; showing our true selves, our radiance, our love, and our inner Divinity.

There is Enough

2009-01-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayeshev, which means, “and he settled.” It relates the beginning of the story of Joseph, Jacob’s favored son and offspring of Rachel, his favored wife. The teenage Joseph tattles on his older brothers and they hate him. He dreams of ruling over them and they hate him more. While they are far from home, the brothers plot to kill Joseph. They throw him into a pit on Ruben‘s advice, Reuben being the oldest brother, who means to save him later. Then on Judah’s advice they decide to sell him. He is sold to traders who take him to Egypt and resell him to a courtier of the Pharaoh.
There is then an important incident which interrupts the main story, concerning Judah and his family. Judah’s son marries Tamar, but his son dies. As was the custom at that time, Tamar is given to Judah’s second son, who also dies. Tamar, who is childless, impersonates a prostitute when she realizes that she will not be given to Judah’s youngest son. She arranges to have sexual relations with Judah without revealing her identity and becomes pregnant. When her pregnancy becomes known, Judah sentences her to die. But then he learns that it is he who committed the sin and relents. One of their twin boys becomes the ancestor of King David. Then the Joseph story resumes. Joseph is thrown into jail, when he the courtier’s wife wrongly accuses him of sexual misconduct.
This portion is filed with human passions. It begins with jealousy. The brothers are jealous of Joseph because they realize that their father loves him more than he loves them. In this family there seems to be a shortage: a shortage of love. Joseph’s dreams and the brothers’ reaction to them also suggest a shortage of money or perhaps power. Their feeling and actions are all about that which they lack. But we know that love is not a finite quality. It’s not limited. Power is also not finite, and really, money is not finite either when viewed over time. Money flows just as love and power do. The brothers do not seem to understand that there is Enough: there is enough love for each of them, enough personal power, even enough money for their ultimate prosperity. One of my teacher Rabbi Gelberman’s sayings, from his Chassidic forebears, is “Kol B’Seder”: all is in Divine order. We are provided for by the Divine Presence: with enough food, enough space, enough money, enough power. Sometimes I get very rushed and act as if there is not enough time, but in truth, there is even enough time. Kol B’Seder, there is enough of everything.
However, we can cause temporary shortages in money, in love in power, and in time by our actions. Divine justice is the outworking of the problems we cause. This is illustrated in the Judah story. It was Judah who proposed to sell Joseph, separating Joseph from his father. Judah then experiences Divine Justice. Later, Judah himself is separated from his two sons when they die young and before their time. In the Joseph story, the brothers kill a goatling, dip Joseph’s coat of many colors in the blood, and bring it to their father, saying, Identify if you please, is this Joseph’s coat? When Tamar is being taken to die, she sends several articles to Judah, which belong to him, saying, Identify if you please, thus reminding him of his earlier transgression against Joseph and Jacob, their father. Further along in the story, Joseph when he is sold to the courtier in Egypt and is thrown into jail becomes separated from his father, and family, and freedom, because he spoke against his brothers. By separating himself, he himself became separated.
Truly there is no lack of the things we need, but we can cause a temporary lack when we choose to act or speak against the flow of Divine love and plentitude. We stop us the flow of blessings, until such time as our mistakes and shortcomings are worked out, and the blessings begin to flow once more. There is an infinite supply of love. The more we love, the more love there is. The challenge is to be able to live it: to act as if we believed it. Truly, all the blessings we need and all the love we desire are available to us. The Torah teaches again and again that the Eternal God wants to bless us. When we are a blessing we are greatly blessed with Enough and with everything we need. May each of us be a blessing and through our love, be greatly blessed.

We are the Light

2008-12-19T11:20:00.000-08:00

There is darkness all around the flame of a candle,
But the darkness cannot put out the light. — Poet Harry Ellison

At this time of year when we are often with friends and family, occasionally people will not live up to our expectations. Our task is to be the light, even when there is darkness around us, and to spread light wherever we are and to whomever we are with, not allowing the darkness to put out our Divine light within.

The Place

2008-12-11T19:07:00.001-08:00

This week’s Torah portion is Vayetze, which means, and he departed. It tells of Jacob’s leaving home and of his vision of a ladder set on the earth with its top reaching to the heavens. Angels were ascending and descending on it. Jacob then sees God in his dream, who tells him that the land will be his, that he will be protected, will have many descendants, and that he will eventually return. When he awakens, Jacob is shaken to have had such an experience. He devises a ritual to commemorate his vision and declares a vow: if God will be with me and guard me on this way; give me bread to eat and clothes to wear and I will return in peace and God will be a God to me, then the stone I have set up as a pillar shall become a house of God and whatever you give me I shall tithe to you.
Jacob is an everyman: the person, like us, in the midst of real life. He got himself into a bad situation and had to leave his home. He leaves without money, unsure of himself. He is alone and on his own. And then he has an encounter: a dream that is more than a dream, that changes his life and leads him to an awareness that this place is holy and God is present.
In the Rabbinic literature and in the writings of Kabbalah, God is known as The Place. The Torah Commentator Rashi speaks about a person’s place, and the Chassidic mystic known as the S’fat Emet writes that each person must find the place belonging to him. This “finding” is initiated by God through an experience. So too, we are contacted by God through our experiences. How we respond to those experiences, those contacts with God, those opportunities for closeness, leads us-- B’Makom-- to The Place, to finding our own place. Each of us must find that place that is more than just identity. Like identity, our place is potential. Jacob, in this portion, was all potential; and Jacob’s relationship to God was potential. Jacob says, if you, God, will provide for me, then I will repay the kindness. At this point, Jacob did not yet trust his own vision. His own experience was not enough for him to believe it. The Chassidic teacher Rebbe Baruch Mezbitzer taught, when one is confident that he is fully secure on earth, eventually he will gear his thoughts heavenward. Jacob is in The Place, but he cannot yet believe it. The Place is within and without, as God is within and without. As identity is always developing and becoming, our place is always developing, continually being realized within and without. Jacob was like us, a flawed human being and also like us, he had great potential to find his Place. Like us he had great potential for becoming the Place of wisdom. That wisdom, that knowledge is available to each of us. It is our Place.

Acting and Allowing

2008-12-04T19:38:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah Portion is Toldot, which means generations or offspring. It tells a famous story: Rebecca’s asking God why she feels such action in her womb and God’s prophecy: two nations are inside you and the elder will serve the younger; then Esau selling his birthright to Jacob; later an interlude about relocation and digging of wells during a famine, and last, Rebecca’s subterfuge to trick her husband Isaac into giving the blessing of the first born to Jacob instead of Esau. Each of the people in this family shows interesting personality traits. Rebecca is independent minded: a person of action. When the twins are struggling within her she doesn’t suffer in silence but inquires of God to find out why. Rebecca takes matters into her own hands and forces the final outcome. Esau is, like his Mother, a person of action but is also impulsive like his Mother. Perhaps that is why they do not admire each other so much: we subconsciously see our weaknesses in each other and reject what we identify with, our less than totally worthy attributes. Jacob is more of an introvert, like his Father Isaac. Isaac is a person who allowed the drama of the akeda, the binding and his almost sacrifice, to unfold because of his attribute of compliancy. And it is this attribute that I would like to highlight tonight: Compliancy versus action, the difference between acting and allowing. When Rebecca’s twins were jostling inside her and she asked God why, she received a prophecy that guided her actions all the rest of her life. In light of the prophecy and her closeness to Jacob one wonders if Jacob knew of it and sought to buy Esau’s birthright because of it. The prophecy may have caused her to prefer Jacob, but it definitely was a factor in her decision to persuade Jacob to trick his father. Torah commentators have pointed out that Rebecca’s action is a stratagem of the weak: a plan by someone without power who sought to influence events in the only way she thought she could. But was it really the only way? The Torah does not tell us directly but suggests from the progression of subsequent events that Rebecca’s forcing of the events was a great sin. She is separated from the son she loves and never sees Jacob again. Jacob too is exiled for 20 years, is tricked by his uncle Laban into marrying the wrong wife and is unable to return for many years, having earned his brother Esau’s hatred. There is Divine justice in the consequences of these actions. Those who lie will be separated from those they love. Those who deceive will themselves be deceived. Forcing the events shows a lack of faith. Had Rebecca trusted in God, the prophecy would undoubtedly have unfolded, but in a different way. Isaac takes an alternate path, allowing events to guide him, He learned from his almost-sacrifice the lesson his father, Abraham taught him: God will see to the sacrifice, my son. In other words, we don’t have to force events. We are asked to participate and to choose, but not to create a bottleneck; not to resist the events, but to flow with them and trust that God will see that our lives work out. Abraham is the perfect model: he is a man of action when his nephew Lot is in danger. He a person of faith and trust when asked to be a player in events he does not understand: Leaving his native land, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the ritual of circumcision, and the call to sacrifice his son. After Isaac had blessed Jacob, and Rebecca wanted to send Jacob away for his protection, Isaac complies, sending Jacob away with another blessing and not with angry or blaming words. It reminds me of one of the aphorisms from Werner Erhard’s EST training: It is easier to ride a horse in the direction it is going. We must act in our lives, with courage and conviction, but also knowing that Divine Wisdom is there to guide us. It always amazes me that the problems in my life work out, or really, are worked out for me. Schedules fall into place. Difficulties eventually evaporate. Thoughtful waiting for Divine guidance yields spiritual fruit, allowing us to feel that we are not alone, that we are never abandoned. If one way is blocked, another way will surely appear. Understanding comes after the fact. The sages of the Talmud expressed this paradox as well: Everything is forseen, yet freedom of choice is given. We must act in accordance with our highest values, knowing that we are in divine partnership with God, who cares for us and cares about us. Rabbi Diane Sharon, writing in the newly published Women’s Torah Commentary puts it this way: “The outcome of Rebecca’s story may teach us to allow the Divine process to unfold for a while before we decide to take action on God’s behalf. Perhaps the gift from our biblical mother is her prompting us to….let Divine intention blossom in its own time. May each of us have the wisdom to act when action is needed, and the faith to trust that God is always working on our behalf.

Honor and Holiness

2008-11-28T10:57:00.000-08:00

This week’s torah portion is Chaye Sara, the life of Sarah. It begins with Sarah’s death. Abraham mourns her and then he purchases a piece of land as a burial plot for her. He then arranges for their son Isaac to have a suitable wife, marries a concubine and has more children. Finally he sends them away with gifts. Abraham dies, old and content, and is buried by his two sons, Ishmael and Isaac. It is fitting that this portion, which has so much to do with death, is called the life of Sarah. Abraham honors Sarah in death, as he did in life. He begins by instituting the Jewish custom of the eulogy: a formal speech presenting the life and attributes of a person. He then honors her by mourning for her and by purchasing his first piece of land in Canaan, the cave of Machpeleh in Hebron, where he and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah will be buried, and which is a holy site to this day. He honors her further by making sure that Sarah’s line will continue: sending his steward Eliezer to his and Sarah’s family in Mesopotamia, to select a wife of whom Sarah would approve. He honors her again by sending his concubine and her children away, in accordance with Sarah’s wishes that Isaac be Abraham’s sole heir. His example is taken up by Isaac and Ishmael, who honor Abraham by coming together to bury their father, and again by Isaac who honors Sarah by bringing his wife Rebecca into Sarah’s tent, remembering his mother, and keeping her memory and influence alive and present in his heart and his actions. There is a wonderful midrash in the Zohar that says that if the parent of a bride or groom has passed away, God personally brings the soul of that person under the chuppah, the wedding canopy. This is what Isaac symbolically did by marrying Rebecca in his mother’s tent. What and who we honor shows our ability to create the holy. Holiness, Kadosh in Hebrew, means to set apart, to separate. What we separate are actions but also feelings. We separate acts, the sacred from the profane: objects, the holy from the mundane. But we also separate feelings to do honor to someone else. The S’fat Emet wrote that by showing honor, we attach ourselves to the Root, by which he means God’s holiness or Presence. And this is the way we feel and maintain a connection with the Divine. It is the way we refine ourselves and promote fineness of feeling: allowing that which is greater than ourselves to come to the fore and allowing our ego to bear witness to its proper place, using it to promote our will to create holiness. We honor values by living them. We honor people and God by loving them. By showing honor to others, we demonstrate our best qualities, the innate holiness we have been given by the Eternal. It is this ability to attach ourselves to God’s infinite Oneness that we experience as love.

The World and How It Works

2008-11-06T18:22:00.000-08:00

This week’s Torah Portion is Noach, or Noah, and the Flood. Because of the corruption of humankind, God brings a flood to destroy all life except Noah, the righteous man, his family, and the animals in the ark. This quasi history, mostly parable teaches us about the principles of life and how our world works. It gives us answers to some of our most heart wrenching questions: why is the world so imperfect? Why are there disasters, disease, tragedy. Why do we have good days and bad days? We may not like the answers, but this portion does at least seek to give us some insight into these questions.
Originally there was no disease and few natural disasters. The parable says that we lived to unimaginably advanced ages. Methuseleh we are told, lived 969 years. Noah lived 950 years. There were no checks on human corruption. The world became worse and worse. Like a financial system with inadequate regulation, the system, which is all of a unity, could not sustain that amount of greed, selfishness, untruth, rapaciousness, impurity, and crime. So God put in place a new system: a system of automatic regulation. God would sweep away the old system. In this new system the maximum life span was 120 years. Under the new system human imperfection that led to selfish or sinful acts, would be worked out and expiated little by little, constantly, in small and large ways. No one person would be allowed to accumulate too much of a burden of negativity. Less worthy acts would be taken care of in the course of a life. God would constantly communicate with us through the circumstances in our lives, letting us know how we are doing. We would not have to ask, as former Mayor Ed Koch did, “How am I doing?” We would be able to take an honest look at our lives and know how we are doing because of, what is called by Rabbi Noson Weisz, the feedback loop: we do something good and are blessed; we miss the mark and do something less worthy and are sent a correction. But it’s not always so clear when and why the negative things occur, or why terrible things happen to people who seem to be virtuous. We may ask: why in the story of the flood did so many have to perish? Why the animals, why the plants? The story teaches us that what we do affects everything else. We are all connected to all existence, all being, and to God. When we choose only for ourselves, God is hurt, and the world cannot continue in that pattern. Rashi comments on the first verse of the portion: These are the generations of Noah; Noah was a righteous man; perfect in his generations; Noah walked with God. Rashi says the offspring of the righteous are good deeds. Our sages agreed that the more righteous deeds a person does, the clearer is the correspondence between what happens to that person and their deeds. The sages knew this because they each experienced it in their lives.
But this story teaches us not only how our world is constituted but also about our power to promote goodness. When we do our part we need not be overwhelmed by destructive forces. We participate in our own salvation by choosing that which helps the world to be a better place. As our sages taught, the evil impulse and the good impulse, the yetzer hara and the yetzer hatov, are both within us. It is up to us to broaden the good impulse for our own good and the good of the world. A prophet of God reported God’s words: “The world at times is like an open wound that needs to be mended with the thread of Love. The needle is intention and the thread is kept alive with prayer.” It is up to us to pour the balm of love upon that which is wounded and to be of those who repair what is rent; to be menders and not destroyers. It is also up to us to communicate with God when we are in need. The Eternal God hears us and knows our intention, sending us blessings and allowing us to live even when we fall down, judging us in mercy and helping us to improve. May we be worthy of the power for good given to us and the faith and respect for us that has been accorded to us by, in the words of God through the prophet, “God of the Pure Light.” Our world is beautiful, and we can have an enormous effect on our lives and also on the world. The system works in our favor. God wants to bless us. May each of us broaden the goodness within us, the Godliness within us, and experience how much blessing we may create.

Eve, Adam, Serpent: Intuition for Consciousness

2008-10-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

As we begin the Torah again: at B’reisheet – at the beginning, we have the treat of delving into the riches of this first Torah portion. Because it is written as a story, that is, in symbolic language, it is open to every possible interpretation, and all are valid. Someone once quoted to me from an unknown source, the wonderful line, if you love anything enough, it will give up its secrets. In reading this first portion over and over again with each Bat and Bar mitzvah student, I have had the great opportunity to encounter B’reisheet many times in a year and think about what it may mean. Tonight I would like to consider the expulsion from the Garden of Eden that we know so well. What is it really about? Is it about crime and punishment? Perhaps. Is it about the dawn of civilization? I personally think so (and those who attend the Wednesday night Torah study will hear more about this). Is it about receiving consciousness? Certainly. At one time we were like the animals, living in a metaphoric Garden of Eden. All our food was provided by God; and then we ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad. We became conscious. We had choices. We had to work for a living. A punitive interpretation calls this Original Sin. It says that eating from the Tree of Good and Bad was the wrong thing to do. But wait! God made us and God, in the story, made the metaphoric tree and put us in the very same place. In B’reisheet it says, God placed the tree “in the midst of the garden,” in the center, where we were meant to find it. We found it before we knew right from wrong, before we were conscious, perhaps in some fog of semi- consciousness, before we received the blessing, or the burden, of moral choice. In the story, the man had been told about the tree but it was the serpent who really knew about it. The serpent represents an additional source of knowledge outside our five senses. It is notable that the serpent spoke to the woman. This validates our own experience of reality; it is what we call a woman’s intuition. We know that men and women think differently, and that women’s special talent is an access to a feeling side that helps us and that is a potential source of knowledge and wisdom. Listening to the serpent is a tricky business, we are told in this story. We receive messages from our intuitive feelings. They may be only the urgings of our physical cravings, or they may be legitimate sources of information from the soul. The Torah says, in Rashi’s translation, “and the woman saw that the tree was good for eating and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable for comprehension.” This tells us that reason must be added to feelings to produce a correct result, which we know to be true. It also tells us that women are often the agents who bring intuitive wisdom to their husbands, which is also often validated by experience. But not always. We each, male and female, have our masculine and feminine sides that supply us with wisdom and enrich our total personalities.
And then Adam and Eve ate and became conscious. First the snake was punished. It was to go on its belly, eat dust, and be despised. And indeed, our intuition is often discounted. If we can’t see it, touch it, hear it, taste it, or smell it, in our empirically minded society, it doesn’t exist. But the snake is real. It is a legitimate source of wisdom when coupled with reason. The woman’s punishment was the possibility of fear and oppression: the fear of pain in childbirth, of knowing what may lie ahead in the future, and the potential to be unequal: in class, in wealth, in employment. Animals are all equal. Choice creates divisions. The man was sentenced to work for a living, to farm the soil instead of merely gathering food from the trees. The possibility of farming was a consequence of consciousness and was necessary for the efflorescence of civilization, of many people living together in cities. The story tells us that the receiving of consciousness was a great gift from God. In order to receive the gifts of consciousness: free will, self determination, great cognitive development, creativity, humor, spiritual attainment, we had to give up dependency, ignorance as bliss, the world of instant gratification; and the Torah tells us that that world was good. But this world is also good, better I think, or perhaps just different. Rabbi Gelberman says in his book, Spiritual Truths, change is the coin with which to purchase one experience for another. Was God angry with us for eating of the tree? I say no, God was not angry. God was just very smart. God got us to take responsibility for our choice to become conscious: to sign on for all its consequences: to be full partners in the dance of choice that we engage in with God. If God had been angry with us, would the Eternal One have called us over to clothe us? In effect, God said, “My children, you may be cold. Here I made you these beautiful warm clothes, and by the way, have a cookie before you go.”
This Torah portion tells us that life is not set up to be easy: it isn’t supposed to be; that consciousness brings change and challenge that may bring, as Rabbi Gelberman also says, blessings in disguise; that God’s wisdom set up a satisfying, interesting, life of growth for us in which we must go forward out of the Garden in order to have the feeling of being back in, close to the Eternal Presence. Meeting change with optimism, courage, and eagerness we may find our way back to God by freely choosing to leave. That is the legacy of Adam and Eve: they gave to us our ability to choose interesting, satisfying lives for ourselves, with God’s blessing. And the rest of the Torah tells us how to be conscious moral beings who can find our way back to union with God. May this year of Torah plant seeds of holiness in each of us, allowing us to see the beauty of our own spiritual paths and guiding us to choose with love and compassion.

Without Barriers

2008-10-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight we are celebrating Shabbat Sukkot: a sukkah of peace and a sukkah of plenty. As Sukkot is the third of three pilgrimage holidays specified in the Torah, we have an opportunity to encounter the Eternal presence in gratitude a third time. At Pesach we thank God for our existence as a people, for our freedom, and for our liberation. On Shavuot we thank God for giving us the Torah and teaching us how we should live; and on Sukkot we thank God for sustaining us with the plentiful food the earth provides. But on Sukkot there is an important difference. We come to Sukkot after soul searching and repentance. We return to God in a more purified state: cleaner, lighter, and for a brief time, unburdened by our sins. The S’fat Emet distinguishes between two types of teshuvah or return: the first type is the forgiveness of our sins. The second type is a return with the intention to draw closer to God: to remove the barriers between us and God.
Rabbi Arthur Green points out that the Baal Shem Tov taught this too: that the problem with sin is that it is a hindrance. It comes between us and God, preventing us from doing the good that brings us close to holiness. It is a barrier of our own making: perhaps a barrier of guilt, a barrier of anger, a barrier of depression, or a barrier of disappointment that prevents us from serving God in joy. But at Sukkot, all barriers have been removed. The Torah reading on Shabbat Sukkot is the one that describes the attributes of God’s personality. The Eternal God, compassionate and gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. These are the attributes in our own human personalities that help us to break down our barriers; that help us to keep ourselves from putting up walls in our souls. Dwelling in the sukkah after our repentance, we can come closer to feeling the quiet contentment of our spiritual center. The S’fat Emet tells us that in doing the work of self purification during the days of Awe, we have made ourselves fit vessels to receive the Divine blessings. When we dwell in the sukkah during Sukkot, in the open air, we can just be, as we are meant to just be on Shabbat; and have the opportunity to feel at one with ourselves and with all creation. Our sins have fallen away and with them, the pretenses that keep us away from aligning ourselves with goodness and peace. Sukkot is a precious time: a time to dwell closer to God simply out of our intention to do so; to dwell closer to our source, closer to what is real and valuable in human life. On this Sukkot may we experience the sukkah of peace and the sukkah of plenty: the peace that comes from joyous service to our own divinity and the divinity of others, and the plenty which is the flow of God’s blessing to each one of us.

What were we supposed to remember?

2008-09-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Tetze, which means, when you go out, contains 72 laws, more than in any other Torah portion; There are laws about negligence, divorce, inheritance, returning lost objects, and fair business dealings, among many others. Then, at the end of the portion is a puzzling commandment, which reiterates a statement from Exodus: (Deut. 25:17-19) Remember what Amalek did to you by the way, when you came forth out of Egypt; How he met you by the way, and struck at your rear, all who were feeble behind you, when you were faint and weary; and he did not fear God. Therefore it shall be, when the Eternal your God has given you rest from all your enemies around, in the land which God gives you for an inheritance to possess, that you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; you shall not forget. If God wanted the Amalekites to be forgotten, why mention their name? God certainly can cause a nation to die out, without asking us to take part in their demise. But something is being asked of us. It seems like a paradox: what is it that God wants us to remember and what is it that we are commanded to forget? A detail is added here in Deuteronomy that was not in the account in Exodus: that Amalek struck the rear where our weakest members walked, when we were faint from thirst and exhausted from the journey. Amalek therefore attacked out of sheer hatred, not because we were a threat. The Chassidic Rebbe Kedushas Levi wrote that we are being asked to eradicate is the evil aspect, the Amalek that is within us. Perhaps it is our habit of being critical and judgmental of others: attacking others for their weaknesses, rather than acknowledging our common humanity and recognizing that we carry the same faults within us. When we criticize others, we act as if God were not present and listening; as if we are not a part of the Oneness of creation, as if we were not, in reality, attacking ourselves. Two other Chassidic masters, the Yid HaKodesh and also Rabbi Hannoch, speak about arrogance: that Amalek is the arrogance within us and that forgetfulness comes from arrogance. In effect, we use others to make ourselves feel better: to allow us to forget about our own faults and to escape thinking about them. This forgetting leads to regarding another as an It, in the language of Martin Buber, and not as a Thou: a holy encounter of one soul to another. In remembering Amalek, we must remember that how we treat others is a sign of how comfortable we are with ourselves. Can we accept all that is within us, or are there parts of ourselves that we still reject? Have we integrated enough parts of ourselves that we can be truly loving and giving, helping others when we encounter them rather than attacking what is weakest in both of us? What would have happened if the Amalekites had greeted us in love: with water and food? Then competition would have dissolved into cooperation, fear into friendship, and destruction into blessing. When Amalek becomes a mirror, we can see how similar we are to every other human being and acknowledge our common human needs for sustenance, connection to each other, and union with the Divine. As we approach the Holiest season of the year, may we blot out our need to judge and hate, may we forget any slights or insults that come our way and see only the good in others, forgiving them for their and our common weakness; and may we always remember how much blessing flows to us from choosing love.

Walking toward bliss

2008-07-03T18:01:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is B’haalotecha, which means, when you raise or light. It speaks about kindling the menorah, and the consecration of the Levites. It describes the journeying of the camp; and there are two regrettable incidents: one about the people who complained about their diet of manna, and another in which Miriam and Aaron were gossiping about Moses.
The Torah describes the incident of the manna this way, as translated by Rashi: the people were like those who seek pretexts of evil in the ears of God, and God heard and God’s wrath flared. And also later, The rabble that was among them cultivated a craving and the Children of Israel also turned and wept, and said, Who will feed us meat? We remember the fish we ate in Egypt free of charge, the cucumbers and melons, the leeks, onions, and garlic. But now our life is parched, we have nothing before our eyes but the manna. The people had just begun to journey, having only recently left Sinai and set forth for their first three day trip away from the site of the revelation. Nachmanides writes that the Israelites were feeling sorry for themselves. Perhaps the trip was arduous; perhaps, as Rashi claims, they were seeking an excuse to evade the commandments, or the trip itself, as if, Nachmanides writes, they were acting under duress or compulsion. The truth was that they had freely chosen to leave Egypt, and freely chosen to accept the commandments of the Torah, and yet, here they were, complaining and making excuses in order to rebel against God, either out of boredom or fear. They even go so far as to wish they were back in Egypt. God is portrayed here as a God who cares passionately about their moral life: God sends a fire to consume the edge of the camp, and later sends meat: so much quail that they will eat it for a month, but God also sends a plague to those who developed the craving and led others to wish for more than the manna. This section prompts the question, does God punish? The Torah clearly sets forth the principle of reward and correction, or perhaps, expiation. My teacher, Rabbi Gelberman, feels that God does not punish. He says that God wants to bless us, but that we choose the wrong things. We do it to ourselves. I feel that God sends corrections to teach us and also to expiate our transgressions. But in another sense, I have come to feel that everything that happens, occurs to draw us nearer to the Divine Presence. There are no bounds to the respect our Creator has for us. God truly respects us: our ability to learn and to serve at a higher level than what we are comfortable with. When we, metaphorically, desire to return to Egypt: to practices we have left behind, or to practices we should have left behind, the Eternal will show us that we must return to a higher path; to walk the path that leads to God.
There is a story in the commentary Sifre: A king put a tutor in charge of his child and gave the tutor orders and said: I do not want the child to eat harmful food or drink harmful drink.” The child fumed against his father and said, “It is not because he loves me; he only wants to deny these things to me.” Of course, the child cannot have the wisdom to see how much the father loves the child. The child only sees the negative. We also, sometimes see the glass half empty rather than half full. It is our perspective that is lacking. We easily mislead ourselves that what we interpret as negative in our lives is really negative. Often the intended learning or correction, sent by the Eternal One who is full of goodness, is missed.
Rashi ascribes a wonderful statement to God, when the Israelites are in the midst of their complaints about the journey and the food. Rashi imagines that God says to the Children of Israel, I had intended it for your benefit, so that you would enter the land of Israel immediately. This statement reinforces my strong feeling that everything that happens, tends toward the good, because God is goodness and goodness flows from God. The Divine Presence sends us experiences that lead us to harmony with that Presence: through correction or, we hope, blessings. If we only had the vision, we would see the radiance ahead. We would see that we are being guided toward holiness and away from wrong paths. The world cannot move toward harmony without transgression being cleared. That was the meaning of Noah and the flood. Because God is perfection, there must be justice, as well as mercy. Mercy alone will not allow the perfection of our world. Sin must be cleared in some fashion. All that happens allows us and consequently, the world to move, even if slightly, toward God’s nature, which is goodness. We, being so far from God, cannot see the bliss toward which we are walking. May each of us come to realize that the Eternal is guiding us toward goodness, and may we be attentive, curious, and grateful for such a marvelous journey.

Within God

2008-06-27T10:51:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Nasso. It is a continuation of the census of the Levites which began in the previous chapter. Nasso is an amalgam of several different topics. It contains a section about committing sins and the Trial by Ordeal, in which a jealous husband could bring the wife he suspected of adultery, before the Priest. It also contains the laws of the Nazirite, a temporary monk or nun who took vows to dedicate a period of time to God, and it contains the Priestly Benediction, with which rabbis still bless their congregations, Finally the giving of gifts to God by each of the 12 Tribes is catalogued.
In the section about committing sins, it reads: When a man or woman shall commit any sin that men commit, to do a trespass against God, and if that person is guilty; Then they shall confess their sin which they have done; and he shall make restitution for his trespass in full, and add to it its fifth part, and give it to him against whom he has trespassed. In another translation it says, When a man or woman shall commit any sin that men commit, by committing treachery toward God. But in actuality, what the Hebrew really says, is, When a man or woman shall commit any sin that men commit, to do a trespass in God, B’Adonai. This phrase, in God, is a very profound teaching. It tells us that when we do anything, right or wrong, that we really dwell within God’s being. The fact that we are alive, and that we live within all existence is another way of saying that we live within God, the same concept given to us in the Shema. It also leads to the idea that in our strivings, spiritual and mundane, we are really fighting against ourselves, fighting against that which we are: our true nature.
And we know this: the struggles we have in life are really against ourselves. The teaching in Judaism is that we struggle with the two sides of ourselves: the right side, which is characterized by the good impulse or the Yetzer hatov; and the left side, which is characterized by the contrary or bad impulse, the yetzer hara. In the Talmud it says, A person should always incite the good impulse to fight against the evil impulse. For it is written: Tremble and sin not. If a person subdues it, well and good. If not, let that person study the Torah. For it is written: ‘Commune with your own heart’. If he subdues it, well and good. If not, let him recite the Shema’. Berachot 5a and also, a part of the Mishna: You SHALL LOVE THE Eternal Your GOD WITH ALL Your HEART… WITH ALL Your HEART, MEANS WITH Your TWO IMPULSES, THE EVIL IMPULSE AS WELL AS THE GOOD IMPULSE. Berachot 54a When we think of ourselves as having a good and a bad impulse, it’s very clear that these are both within us: that goodness, compassion, generosity, and love comes from us; and that selfishness, hatred, meanness, and anger also come from us. That recognition is part of the maturing self. A person who acknowledges that my own hatreds are projections onto others of my own inner passions is in a position to willingly modify existing habits and behaviors.
But also, this knowledge can lead to the recognition that, as our warring impulses, what Rabbi Schneur Zalman calls the divine soul and the animal soul, are both us; that we are also at war with God, which is also part of us. Perhaps it is more polite to say that we are part of God, but the concept is the same: we struggle against God, which is also part of who we are. Our separation from God is as illusory as the separation between the two sides of ourselves.
The laws of the Nazarite also teach this lesson. The word, Nazir, according to Rashi, comes from the Hebrew root, to separate. The Nazarite separates her or himself from others. She is not allowed a haircut or the coming in contact with the dead. A Nazirite must not eat grapes or grape products or drink any wine. After the period of separation is completed, the nazarite must bring a sin offering. Our sages have puzzled over this: why would a person who has dedicated this time to holiness have the obligation to bring a sin offering? Surely, as a nazarite, the person would be committing less sin rather than more sin. The answer given is that the nazarite has deprived himself of the pleasures created by God for humankind to enjoy, and by not enjoying them, has committed a sin. But I think the sin is also about separation. In Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Hillel says, do not separate yourself from the community. The separation the nazarite indulges in is not approved of in Judaism. Monks in Judaism have been abolished. We don’t go to a hermitage up on a mountaintop to meditate, to become better Jews: we strive to improve ourselves in the midst of life in the community. I would suggest that it is easier to be a good person all by oneself; or even in a community of monks who strive for self improvement. What is harder is to become holy in the midst of every kind of person, every kind of experience, every kind of situation. But that is existence: that is true oneness; that is God. When we separate our good from our less worthy impulses, we know that we speak in a metaphor. It is harder for us to live as if we knew that we are living within God. Our struggle is finally, within existence and within God. After mentioning sin the Torah continues: But if the man has no redeemer to to whom to return the debt, the returned debt is for God, for the priest.This teaches that we can redeem each other, with the recognition that we are part of one another and part of God. Each person I meet is someone who may save my life. Each person has something to teach me. Each person allows me the privilege of performing a deed of Lovingkindness. When I separate myself from another person, redemption is farther away, because both of us dwell within God. The Divine Presence is can never be fragmented when I acknowledge my kinship with each person. When I send love to you, I send love to God. When I overcome my baser instincts, I repair my relationship with God. We can feel the great oneness in our natures with every act of love. R. Eleazar said in the Talmud: May it be Thy will, O Eternal God, to cause us to dwell in love and brotherhood and peace and friendship; confirm us with a good companions and a good impulse in Your world, Berachot 16bMay each of us feel this truth in our hearts and live that truth in our lives.

Hearing in the Nothingness

2008-06-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

This week’s Torah portion is Bemidbar, which means, in the Wilderness. It is the first portion in the book of Numbers, so named because in the beginning of the portion, God asks Moses to take a census of the male Israelites who are eligible for the fighting force which will, in time, be called upon to conquer the land.
This portion takes place in what the Torah called the Wilderness of Sinai. The place of giving the Torah was barren, arid, desolate, rugged, and empty, a fitting place for the Torah to be received, for many reasons. As there were no distractions and no other groups of people there, Israel could be alone with God for that moment of Divine communion in which the 10 commandments were revealed and the laws of Torah were expounded.
The late 19th Century sage known as S’fat Emet quotes a Midrash: “there was a prince who entered one city after another, only to see the populace flee before him, until he came to a ruined city, where he was greeted with praise. Said the prince, this is the best of all the cities. Here I will set my throne.” Perhaps this story accurately depicts both the desperation of the prince and the lack of choice of the inhabitants, and mirrors the position of God and the Israelites. The S’fat Emet derives the word, “midbar”, from the root which means to lead or rule. We were a people without power, ripe for teaching and leadership. In this sense, perhaps the wilderness was itself a school, as was also suggested by the Israeli historian Nachman Ran. The setting, itself, was to teach us something. We were captive, and out of desperation, receptive; and in fact, Israel was ready to accept a body of laws that was unknown to them and say to God, we will do and we will hear.
But what really happened, as we read in the Torah, was not that simple. After hearing the 10 Declarations, the Israelites pleaded with Moses that hearing God’s voice was too frightening to bear. They wanted Moses to hear God’s voice and they would listen to Moses, receiving the information second hand. It was terrifying to be alone with God; yet only in that aloneness could be found the connection to God that we have been trying to recover every since. The Talmud teaches that in order to truly receive the gift of the Torah, we must make ourselves open like the desert (Nedarim 55a) But being open is difficult: it is fraught with danger, vulnerability, and more than that; it means giving up that which we think we know. The sage Or Chayim claims that the real effort in learning Torah is in negating our own mind in order to understand the mind of God. In metaphoric terms, we have to leave Egypt: the life we know and understand, the life that makes logical sense to us; and enter the wilderness of the soul, which is called nothing. In kabbalistic thought in the Zohar, “the Ancient Holy One is called ayin (nothing)… the hidden, unapproachable, the transcendent”. In order to understand God, we have to enter the state of Nothing. As Helen Keller once said, through my handicaps, I found my work and my God.
The aloneness of nothing is what is sought in meditation. Meditating on the breath or the name of God allows one to leave the realm of the “I” and enter the space of the oneness of all being. The Torah teaches us to reach this state, not by meditating, but in the midst of life, by negating our ego desires for the will of God. That is what is meant by the passage we read after the V’ahavta, which speaks about wearing the fringes of the tallit: not to go about after our own heart and own minds, but to be guided by God’s will, as revealed to us in the Torah. In detaching our power of action from our own desires, we truly recreate the nothingness of the wilderness and allow God’s voice to be heard within us. The commentary Mechilta reminds us of this. It says, the Torah, like the desert belongs to no one. It is accessible, open, and free to all. But in order to hear, understand, and accept the ancient wisdom, we must first ourselves, become like the desert, and empty ourselves of the inner voices that are not God but ego, in order to hear the true ones that are spirit and soul. Abraham Joshua Heschl says it this way: “ We have so much to say about the bible, that we are not prepared to hear what the bible has to say about us.” What the Torah says about us is that God is accessible through self negation and deeds of love. The wilderness is really a fertile place where we are taken care of with great compassion. We are never abandoned in this wilderness, but are taken by the hand and led to holiness.. I end with a quotation from the Zohar which comments on the Song of Songs (191a): When Israel “is very lovesick for her Beloved, she shrinks to nothing until only a dot is left of her, and she is hidden from all her hosts and camps. … He knows that his Beloved is lovesick like himself, so that none of her beauty can be seen, and so through the voices of those warriors of hers her Beloved comes forth from his palace with many gifts and presents, with spices and incense, and comes to her and finds her black and shrunken, without form or beauty. He then draws near to her and embraces and kisses her until she gradually revives from the scents and spices, and her joy in having her Beloved with her, and she is built up and recovers her full form and beauty” As Heschl points out, God has never given up on humankind: always hoping to find righteousness among us, and showing us how to travel there. May each of us find a true home in the quiet of the wilderness, guided by the loving Presence who gave us the great gift of Torah.