Dos and donts

As Jews, we are constantly told what we cannot do. If you are a Nazarite, you cannot drink wine or strong liquor. You cannot visit a graveyard or shave your head for a loved one who dies (BaMidbar 6:1-21). You have to follow God's commandments, because if you don't, bad terrible things will happen (parshat BeHar). You can't stay in the camp if you are a leper, if you've sinned, if you're impure/unclean.

Basically, the Torah is full of hearing what we cannot do, but less full of the positives, the things we can do. Obviously, we can bring guilt offerings, sin offerings, peace offerings, burnt offering, dedication offerings. But what about the rest?

In BaMidbar 6:23-27 we as the Jewish people are given the ultimate, what we CAN do. The most prophetic part of this is that we have nothing we are required to do in exchange for receiving this. These verses are the priestly blessing, installed on Jews in times of love, dedication, prayer and blessing. God does not ask us for anything in return. And the power of these verses is immense.

The question is whether this priestly blessing out weighs the curses and don'ts that are littered throughout the Torah? Even more, what does this mean for us today? Simply put, the answer is yes. This is as if God is establishing a second Brit, a second covenant with us, bringing us to God as God's people, just as Ruth chooses to be a part of the Jewish people, God actively chooses us to be God's people. Yes, this puts the yoke of the covenant on our shoulders, but it tells us, the Jewish people, that we are still worthy of receiving this blessing. God gives all the don'ts but then hands down the ultimate do. This is acceptance, without judgement.

We have been given a promise from God, that God will be with us inspire of what we do. This doesn't mean we can simply act in whatever way we see fit and ignore common sense and the laws as before, but it does mean that God has chosen us, that we now need to fulfil our end of the bargain.

מברכך ה׳ וישמרך. יאר ה׳ פניו אילך ויחונך. ישא ה׳ פניו אליך וישם לך שלום. God will bless you and keep you. ה׳ will shine upon you and be gracious to you. God lifts up God's face to you and brings you peace. End quote. The chapter finishes with God saying: ושמו את-שמי על בני-ישראל ואני אברכם. And they will put my name on the people of Israel and I will bless them.

Today, we must live as righteous Jews, as righteous individuals, and demonstrate that we are worthy of receiving God's uttermost blessing. We need to make Judaism relavent to people, bring them closer to a better understanding of what it means to live jewishly. We need to re-establish what it means to be a people.

This is not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. We must slowly and painstakingly lay the foundational work and re-assess it. But once that is done, we can put up the walls and bring in more and more people and knowledge. In the process, we will demonstrate our continued worthiness to receive God's blessings.

כן יהי שלום, may it be God's will. Amen.

Numbering the Tribe

Biking into Har Nof this morning, I vacillated between feeling like an Orthodox girl and a Reform one. I felt that parts of me deeply connected with the world of halacha and keeping the mitzvoth, while at the same time I had a part of me actively fighting against that stringent framework. Almost reaching my destination, I was pulled out of my thoughts to notice that everyone around me wore the customary outfit of the Yeshiva world - black pants, white dress shirt, and a black hat. I immediately felt out of place, yet knew I had a meeting with someone even further into the neighborhood, so I continued on. Reaching my destination, I was greeted at the door by my host, dressed in a bright green shirt and a green sheitel (cloth head covering). A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

Each day I walk or bike through the streets of Jerusalem, the clothing that people chose to wear stands out to me. Maybe because I am studying at a midrasha where I am asked to wear a skirt and at least short-sleeved shirt daily, or maybe because it is more apparent in Jerusalem, I constantly find myself looking at clothing. Just as there are different styles in the secular world, so too are there many ways of dressing in the Orthodox world. Coming from outside of that world, many people judge, saying that people are being silly, that they are making themselves hotter for no reason, that they are trying to stand out from others. However, being in that world, even for a little while, has demonstrated that within that greater umbrella term of Orthodox, there are many styles and ways of dressing, depending on where in the world/Israel you are from, which Rabbi you listen to, and your personal preference.

This week's Torah portion, parshat baMidbar, starts off the book of BaMidbar, literally translated as In the desert, but referred to in English as Numbers, because of the accounting of all the tribes at the start of this book. In Chapter 1:2-4, God gives the instructions for how to count each tribe: by the families, their father's houses, by the number of names, by the males over the age of 20 (the age at which men could apparently go to war). Then the Torah goes through each of the 12 tribes (the sons of Jacob, plus the sons of Joseph as his representatives) and counts how many men, then appoints a tribal leader.

As I biked through Jerusalem to my meeting in Har Nof, I realized that I was characterizing people I was seeing, just as they were likely judging me. In a skirt, I look like a Modern Orthodox girl, without the skirt and still on the bike, I might as well be secular. The truth is that no one has any way of knowing. Yet in this week's parsha, we must attach ourselves to our tribes and actively maintain our connection to it. In today's day and age, although we are mostly from the same few tribes, we cannot seem to come together to a solid conclusion. Were we to separate people out by belief systems, it wouldn't work. The Millennial generation does not want to be defined by labels and so offers friction every time a label is given. Even more, there are people like me who can feel comfortable in multiple worlds and simply hasn't finished exploring.

Therefore, the tribal classification would not be an effective way of separating people. Would we say: Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Modern Orthodox, Sephardic, Lubavitch, Chabad…the list can go on. Inside each list is a subcategory of people who would not even fit that initial list. I suggest that we not try to go back to the way the Torah has of classifying people. Rather, we recognize that our world can be filled with people from a variety of backgrounds, all of which are acceptable. Even more, the cross-tribal/categorical changes we encounter throughout our lives are there for growth and knowledge, not to isolate. Rather than isolating, we must learn to appreciate the other ways of living we come into contact with, and appreciate the myriad of colors that we pass on the street.

Shabbat Shalom!

Cycling the Covenant

This morning, I participated in the Sovev Yerushalyim Second Annual Bike Race. More than 1500 people showed up from around the country to participate in either the 40km or 20km ride, a beautiful trip around the hills and parks of Jerusalem. We rode on streets and roads, paved bike paths and rocky 4x4 trails. Except for about 100m, I was always riding with other people, other Israelis, who were either busy discussing plans or the difficulty, or intensely concentrating on the path in front of them. About halfway through the ride, we came to a sharp turn, where a logistics man was standing with a sign, directing us where to go. Instead of him cheering us on, we were the ones cheering for his efforts and thanking him for his contribution. I commented to the woman riding next to me that that isn't likely to happen in America. She said it's because in Israel, we're all family and cannot stay out of other people's business.

Two kilometers down the road, I saw this almost prophecy come to fruition. A man had been riding in front of me and I started following him closely, because his technical skills for certain parts were strong. After a bit of that, we began talking and he started to ask me about myself. Before I knew it, we had finished the hardest uphill part for the ride. I was shocked. This man, a complete stranger, made my ride easier, helped pass the time, and gave me some food to tide me over for the rest of the ride. More importantly, he shared my conviction that Israel is a land where you can really connect to nature, where people care about nature, where you can interact with nature not fifteen minutes from your front door, almost everywhere in this country! He demonstrated the principle כל ישראל ערבים זה לזהץ, all of Israel is responsible for one another.

His kindness and awareness of Israel reminded me of this week's Torah portion. Behukotai (tilchu), walk in my ordinances, is the last parsha in Vayikra, verses 26:3-27:34. God commands Moses to tell the people about what shall happen if they do keep God's commandments, immediately followed by what happens if they disregard the commandments. The positives are a successive inflation of good things, from the basic needs of food, to safety, to peace, to fruitfulness (having many descendants), to the high point, a spiritual connection with God, as God will dwell among the people (26:4-13). These blessings seem simple enough, especially as they follow Maslow's hierarchy of needs (God may have preempted Maslow by a few years).

Next comes the curses, what will happen to the Jewish people if they choose not to follow God's ordinances. The successive verses (more than double the space it takes to spell out the blessings) vividly dictate the problems that will befall the Jewish people if they err and fall away from God's ways. This description gets increasingly more graphic, the apex in Vayikra 26:29 with parallel imagery to Eicha, with humans consuming their own flesh and blood. Yet the punishment does not stop there. The punishment ends with the Jewish people being scattered among the people's of the earth (26:33), constantly having other people's fighting them. And the land will lay fallow (26:34-35). However, the very end of the parek, the chapter, has God decidedly saying that God will not forget the Jewish people, or the covenant God made with us.

Indeed, today I bore witness to that covenant in action. There I was, an American who is part of this scattered people, in the land. I spent my morning accompanied by a mass of individuals dedicated to this land, to this people. They come from all different ideologies and personal ways of living, yet all of them came out this morning to revel in nature (as well as work on their physical fitness). The man who rode alongside me spoke about the slope we must travel in order to become physically fit. We cannot simply go out and run a marathon. Rather, we must train and work towards that final goal, beginning with short distances and eventually working our way up to the full 40km run.

Such is the message God wanted to give us: we will never receive all of God's bounty in one go. Rather, we must demonstrate that we deserve it. We must work our way up to the final stage, the spiritual connection with God. If along the way we slip, there is a potential for negative consequences (but as any two-year-old learns, these too pass). Even in those hard times, even when we have failed to keep God's ordinances, God will remember us. This morning, I saw how God has remembered us, after so many years of exile from this country. We Jews have finally returned home. I have come home. And I will do my best to guard this land and help fulfill God's covenant, in whatever way I can.

Shabbat Shalom!

Shmita: In the Land

Israel always experiences holidays a little differently. All of the prayers for rain in the prayerbook are specifically with regard to Israel, not even applicable outside of the land. The holidays follow the cycle of the harvests and the weather, as they occur in the land of Israel. So too should it be that the processes with which we use our lands and appreciate them should only be applicable to Israel.

This week's parsha, parshat beHar, discusses the laws of shmita, only experienced here in Israel:
ובשנה השביעת שבת שבתון יהיה לארץ שבת לה' שדך לא תזרע וכרמך לא תזמור
In the seventh year there shall be a Shabbat Shabbaton, an ultimate Shabbat, a Shabbat for God; your fields you will not plant and your vineyards do not prune. Vayikra 25:5
Shmita, the seventh year of a seven year cycle, where one may not plant his fields or actively make the land work. Seems logical: just as we get a weekly Shabbat, the seventh day of the week to rest and rejuvenate, so too does the land need time to recuperate and air out. Yet what is this idea exactly and how should we relate to it?

How does shmita apply to Jews outside of Israel? Simply speaking, it doesn't. Only the people living in the land of Israel must be concerned with the laws of shmita and how they follow them. The parsha says: כי תבואו אל-הארץ, when you come into the land (Vayikra 25:2), meaning the law about to be laid out for us is only applicable to the land in which the people are about to enter. That land is Israel. This is the land we as Jews are meant to have and meant to be in. It therefore follows that only within the land specified above should those specific mitzvoth be followed. Heter Mechira (Leniency of Sale) allows that one can sell his land to a non-Jew and continue working it. That solves the problem of the land, but not the problem or whether the shmita year even needs to be observed. The Rabbis debate whether it is biblically binding or rabbinically binding (as it should only be applicable if we celebrate a Jubilee year). Rav Ovadia Yosef, z"l the former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel dealt extensively with the debate over how to do shmita, and decided that when a majority of Jews live in what is considered biblical Israel, we perform Shmita.

One thought is that there is another way to do shmita, especially as we are not an agricultural society or we do not believe in the binding nature of the Torah. We can be sure to give tzedakah to those who deal with food, making sure that we help provide for those who do not have it (it is the idea of hefger, openness, that we must leave our fields for those who need, which comes from the Mishna). Many of us live our lives without thinking of food, where it comes from or how much we have. Yet there are so many without it, who cannot do so. That same idea applies during Shmita, where we must constantly be aware. Our awareness should be awakened, whether we pay more attention to what we buy or we give more to that specific cause. Or, we decide to take up a cause of agricultural protection.

The number seven: Seven comes up many times: in the days of creation, in the days of the week. In the counting of the omer (seven seven's) and in Nidah. Of course there are the seven days an impure man must remain outside of the camp before he is pure again. Not to mention pharaoh's dreams about the seven years of great crop and seven years of famine. And many more. So, here we also see the number seven. What is the significance? There is an idea of seven being a number of fullness, of completion. We get wholeness and fulfillment.

Multifield system: One way to still perform shmita is by using a multifield rotation system, which means that farmers let a portion of their field lay fallow every year, meaning that each year a part of the land gets a rest yet a farmer does not lose money or work.

How to get around shmita in Israel: Many people feel that the shmita year is a difficult concept to handle logically or rationally speaking. They understand that it is commanded in the Torah, yet they also feel that all the Jewish farmers will go out of business were they not to sell their produce in that particular year. Many Jews find a way around it: plant your produced on a raised bed, so it is not actually being grown in the land, nullifying the problem. Also, the idea is that only biblical Israel is considered in this regulation, meaning food produced in the Negev is acceptable for use.

Whatever one choses to do, the shmita year can be meaningful, and is not something to be written off, whether in Israel or in the states. Rather, it is a way to become more aware and help yourself connect more to either God, your food, the land, or a combination therein.

Shabbat Shalom!

Emor: consequences...

Having spent the past week learning at Midrasht Nishmat in Jerusalem, there are numerous stories and tales I could share. Yet, many of the most interesting do not relate to the parsha or have already fled from my awareness with the next joke or deep thought. Not to mention the fact that almost all of them have no relationship to the parsha this week, emor.

In analyzing the parsha, we come across a timeline of the holidays and how we should observe them as sacred time. The conclusion of the parsha is not on sacred time, rather on sacred action and how we should act towards those around us/towards God. There is a man who is the son of an Israeli mother and an Egyptian father who gets in a skirmish with a on Israelite man. Vayikra 24:11 has the man with the Israelite mother blaspheming the name of God. Here we get the question of sacred action and consequences for not acting appropriately.

The man is brought to Moses for punishment, who is consequently told by God that the necessary action to take is to take the man out of the camp, have all who heard the man blaspheme put their hands on his heads, and then the congregation stone him. A rather harsh action, but this is one of the most awful things one can do (according to some), and so needs appropriate repercussions. Next, we get the saying our parents often use as basis  for punishment: an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, etc.

So what is this all about? First, we must realize what we are saying. A awareness of our mouths and how we interact with others is imperative for continual well being in the world. It also allows us to feel more holy, as we are more conscientious and therefore more in tune with what we say and are thinking.

Second, acknowledgment of the consequences of our actions is paramount to continual success in the world. Without consequences, every action we do holds little or no weight. However, when we are aware of what we are doing and how it might affect others, we become more holy, or at least more whole as a person.

Lastly, this parsha demonstrates the importance of community. None of these consequences or even the actions themselves can occur in a bubble, with no one else around. Of course, alone we cannot curse another or have a punishment that deserves its action (especially if we sin against another). Yet, many times the community is the body which passes judgement on us and therefore necessary for maintaining equilibrium.

Shabbat shalom