Conversion in Commandments?

Friends,

Its been a while since I've last posted. Each Shabbat, we get a new Torah portion and new life experiences to lead us along, and they can sometimes get in the way of scheduled things. However, this week, parshat Mishpatim, finds me back with Congregation Beth Aaron in Billings, MT.

Throughout my week, almost all of my classes have discussed the Torah portion to some extent. Whether it was a midrash that touched on it, a prophet who is included in this week's Haftarah reading, or a d'var Torah that someone wrote specifically to relate the class to the parsha, each class has touched on Mishpatim; these laws and rules that are so essential to the foundation of the Jewish people.

Each one inspired me, but one has stuck with me. It is a metaphor for the larger picture of the Exodus, from the Exodus out of Egypt to the reception of these laws, to the fine tuning of these laws..

The first: This idea stems from a verse that occurs in multiple utterances throughout our Torah, found twice in this set of verses in Exodus 22:20 and 23:9. Reading, כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים, "for you were strangers in the land of Egypt" this verse seems innocuous at best. So what? We were strangers, foreigners when we were slaves in Egypt and understand the trials and tribulations of what it means to be in a place that is not your own. Except my teacher had another explanation. What if, instead of telling us that we were strangers in Egypt, the Torah is trying to tell us something else? The word גר, ger, in English means stranger, but it can also mean convert. Maybe the Torah is demonstrating that we were converts in Egypt (and went through a reverse conversion through the process of leaving Egypt, which I will get to in a moment) and therefore understand what it is like to be a convert, to be someone who has taken on a foreign religion and attempted to wear it as a mantel while still connecting to the old religion in some way.

I'd like to argue that our conversion in Egypt, while living/working as slaves was a fake conversion. We, the Israelites, did so in order to convince Pharaoh that we weren't going to do anything to him, and therefore that we were relatively harmless. Even more, we were likely forced into it (later Jewish history, in the Middle Ages, understands that a forced conversion does not hold up after the oppressors leave), making it null after the fact.

However, because God decided to remember and re-establish (or establish for the first time-it depends) the covenant with the Israelites, they all needed to convert to the religion that God wanted them to follow: a monotheistic, rule-filled religion with God at the forefront. Having experienced slavery and the Pharaoh's religion (a practice with multiple god-like deities, each of which supposedly brought different blessings into a person's life) for 400+ years, the Israelites memory of their previous encounters with religion and the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob may have ben non-existent. God needed to remind the people of what that entailed.

Therefore, instead of the book of Ruth being the first conversion story in our Bible, the story of the Exodus is a giant conversion story, where we go through the conversion process. There are three acts one must perform/undergo during the conversion process, to mark one's place among the Jewish people, being circumcision, mikveh (ritual bath), and standing before the Rabbi (and the community they choose to join). These three acts are all represented in the Exodus story.

The first, circumcision, can be seen in the Passover sacrifice of Exodus 12:6-7. It is a not a physical defilement of one's body, but the pascal lamb is an extension of the Israelite people, as this was one of a few meager possessions during slavery. They were asked to keep the lamb for 14 days, slaughter it, and then use the blood on the doorposts of their houses, so the angel of death passed over their houses. These acts, of both killing the lamb and rubbing the blood, demonstrated a physical action to show God the people are part of the covenant. Circumcision is exactly that.

Mikveh is a ritual occurance where one dunks him or herself fully into "living water" (water that is natural, flowing, and naturally fed) a number of times in order to be made ritually pure and ready to take on an obligation or commitment. For a person undergoing a conversion, it is a huge step in the transition into the Jewish community. It, along with the other two processes describes, is another way of demonstrating that one has decided to cast their lot with the people.

In our story, it is the crossing of the Red Sea that demonstrates Mikvah. Through the crossing, we immersed at some point and therefore came out on the other side, clean, free of the Egyptians and their army, and ready to take on God as our supreme being. Although not exactly how Mikveh works, this is more or less a good correlation.

The last step is coming before the Rabbi and answering a few key questions. After months of study, a person will often come before the Rabbi, before the ark, and answer a few questions about their commitment to Judaism and their commitment to this people. They finally proclaim, before their community, God, and all Israel, that this is the people to which they belong and that this is where they feel most compelled to commune. Right before the Israelites get the Ten Commandments, offered to us in Exodus 20:1-17, God asks if we will do them and we answer, נעשה ונשמע, we will do and we will hear. We are committing ourselves to following the commandments and doing as God asks. We are fulfilling the third part of these three actions.

The reason this is so pertinent here is that line that occurs twice here, talking about גרים, strangers or converts. As we experienced this process, we understand how meaningful, but how difficult it can be. Due to this, we cannot live in a bubble as a Jewish community. We as a people have undergone so much stress and disappointment over time. Our job, as a people, is to continue to maintain that communal identity while simultaneously reaching out to others around us. Whether converts or not, people who are strangers among us must be welcomed to learn. We were unsuspecting converts, coming upon Judaism because it was placed upon us. Our job, in today's world, is to help other people and groups understand us so that they might know what it means to be Jewish.

As a religion, we do not proselytize, which I appreciate. But we must accept and treat those among us, those who are converts, as equal members of our community, ready to do their share. Once someone chooses to cast his or her lost with us, they are part of the Jewish people for life. Our role is to welcome them with open arms.

Ken Yehi Ratzon.

Actively Stand Up

This week's sermon in Billings, MT on Martin Luther King, Moses, and anti-Semitism.

Martin Luther King Junior. Espoused as one of the greatest speakers of his time, a charismatic leader who led the fight for racial equality in America. Here in Billings, as in much of America, he symbolizes the need for recognition of different kinds of people, different ideology, religion and ways of life. He symbolizes hope, continuity, connection. Yet here, he also helps demonstrate the Not in Our Town attitude, the unwillingness to continue to let hatred of any sort, especially in the form of anti-Semitism, rule.

MLK Jr. spoke eloquently. Yet many leaders do not. In fact, our great Jewish leader, Moses himself, complains of being “heavy mouthed and heavy tongued.” (Exodus 4:10) He does not feel prepared to rise to the task of speaking to Pharaoh and helping bring the Jewish people out of slavery in Egypt. In fact, when God asks Moses to go to Pharaoh, here is what he says:

Hebrew (Exodus 6:12). But Moses appealed before God, saying, ‘The Israelites would not listen to me, how then should Pharaoh heed me, a man of impeded/uncircumcised lips’.

Moses is so unsure of his ability to convince anyone to listen to him, not the entirety of this burdened people nor the great Pharaoh, that he tears himself down in front of God. Not heeding the call of God, he takes the easy way out, telling God he is not capable. Moses stands at an impasse: he can either go ahead and attempt to act, or he can remain frozen by fear and insecurity.

The events that transpired in Paris this past week come to mind. If you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like to suggest that we, as Jews in Billings, California, or even Israel, are at a turning point, like Moses.

A week and a half ago, a French satirical magazine, Charlie Hedbo published a cartoon depicting the Prophet Muhammed. The next day, 12 people from the magazine (including one policeman) were dead at the hands of Islamic-extremists who felt that they were avenging the wrongful use and depiction of their prophet. What transpired were a series of police chases and disturbing circumstances, ending with a total of 17 people dead, including 4 of the 19 Jews held hostage by related extremists in a Paris Kosher supermarket.

These events were the result of Islamic extremists. They were acts of baseless hatred. Yet, they sparked fear into the hearts of the French public as well as people around the world. That was the intent of the terrorists: evoke fear and separate people. Make them distrust their neighbor. Yet, Jews everywhere started when they heard of these Paris hostages, of all the deaths. The news became personal, hitting too close to home. A Jew is a Jew, we care for our own. Yes, we care for people as a whole, but when our own people are attacked, it becomes much more personal.

Regardless of who dies, destroying the sanctity of life and taking any of God’s children is wrong. It is a desecration of God’s holy name. In fact, our tradition teaches that if one takes a life, it is as if one destroys an entire world. This sentiment speaks to us clearly at this time, after the events of the past week and a half, as well as during this particular MLK weekend. We must stand up and add more worlds to our own, not diminish the ones already in existence.

Exodus 2:23 reads Hebrew …and the children of Israel sighed because of their hard work and they cried out, and their cry for help came up to Adonai from/because of their work/bondage. God could not heed the call of the people until they cried out to God in pain (the pain of bondage). Not until the people actively expressed the misery they experienced as slaves could God act and try to deliver them from slavery.

God must hear our voice. We must make our voices heard. Not just in a single cry that then dies out and disappears, but a constant call, a constant disdain for pain and death so that God will continue to hear again and again. Then our voices will be heard. Then God will, like with the Israelites in Egypt, bring about change and help the people out of their current sorrow. We can help.

And in Egypt, God does. God hears our cry and decides to use Moses, the one who claims not to be able to speak, to help bring the people out. God pits Moses against Pharaoh, the great ruler of Egypt, who feels his actions are correct, that he must continue to enslave the Israelites, even when Moses pleads, even when he threatens the onset of plagues. Pharaoh’s heart is constantly hardened. Moses, of uncircumcised lips, attempts to bargain, plead, demand, beg for the freedom of the Israelites. The weakling against the giant.

However, Moses undergoes a change: from meek and unsure to a strong and determined leader. He does not have all the answers, nor does he know exactly where he should go. But he continues on. He fights. He demonstrates the necessity of acting and doing at a time when no one else is willing. He overcomes his own hesitancies and personal challenges, in order to act for the greater good. Moses is a beacon, like Martin Luther King Junior.

As all the fear and death that has plagued our world over the past week and a half settles in, we recognize the importance of acting, of not being afraid, of making our voices heard. We must demonstrate our disdain for the current circumstances the world is experiencing and take a stand. Then, God will hear our voice. We are a people of faith, but also one of action. We must let God hear our voice. But only if we too are willing to act and bring about the change. Only if we are willing to help our fellow man and stand by their side. We must take a stand, we must say “Not in Our Town.” We must say, “Not in our world!"

What good is life to me?

The following is the D'var Torah I will share tonight at Congregation Beth Aaron, in Billings, MT

I’m going to share with you two stories about events that occurred this week which shook me to my core, making me question my faith and my purpose here on earth.

I don’t usually air my opinions in public, my friend wrote. But what happened this morning was atrocious. On the bus to the old city for work at a Christian-Arab school, we came to a stand-still. After twenty minutes of this, the bus driver came over the speaker and told us that something had happened at a synagogue around the corner, and 4 people were dead (the final count is that 5 people were killed, as well as the two assailants and a police officer).

I changed buses, knowing that I needed to go in the opposite direction and my bus was not going to arrive in time. Arriving in the old city, I waited for a friend so we could walk together into the Armenian quarter. There had been a stabbing a week or so earlier and our defenses were on edge.

I’m going to teach my students, she concluded. My Arab-Christian students. They are still children who need to learn. And when I finish, I will head to my Arabic class.

This statement embodied my experience in Israel. Feeling my heart skip a beat when I awoke to a story of a terror attack, or had a class interrupted by the news alert that Jews had been killed somewhere in Israel was not unfamiliar. But my heart still skipped a beat each time I heard something. My heart skipped also on Monday night, when I heard of these 4 religious men dying in the midst of their prayers on Tuesday morning. Yet my heart  returned to a more normal cadence when I heard that my friend still went to work that day. That she was even more committed to learning Arabic. My friend was giving and grounding herself in the future. She was continuing on with life.

~ ~ ~

“How do you speak to God?” asked one of my fourth graders at the beginning of religious school on Monday. He continued, “how do we know that God is listening? How do we know that God exists?”

Listening to those questions I was floored. My 4th grader was able to articulate one of the questions that confounds the mind of many Jews, many people. As we continued with an impromptu theology discussion, my students asked phenomenal questions. They wanted to know if God exists; why God exists, and how to know. But they also had answers.

These fourth graders, who often blurt out answers without thinking, were thoughtful and each had different specific answers for how to know God was listening: they saw signs, they felt something inside, something good happened. Their answers were as diverse and characteristic of many adults with which I have interacted.

How could my fourth graders, who often cannot spell the word Shabbat or excited, ask such profound questions and excite so much passion in me with a single set of questions? They asked the questions I have had over the years, curiosities about God’s very existence and God’s presence in my own life. 

My passion was ignited, but I didn’t know how to effectively help these students explore God, because I don’t necessarily have the answers myself. How did I ensure that I didn’t squash their curiosity but allow the fire to grow and develop, allowing them to blossom into knowledgable Jews? I saw a future of creativity, of insight, and of Jewish passion, even if I was unsure how to provide it.

Both of these stories impacted me on a visceral level. As with many of us, I am continually in search of meaning. I knew that both of these moments were important to my discovery process. People were dead. God was actively being sought out. I was engaged in the conversation.

Ultimately, and as life often does, both of these events connect us directly back to the tales our Torah weaves. The idea that we are seized by life’s moments so profoundly that they shake us to our core is not lost on the storytellers that crafted our Torah. They masterfully understood that life’s moments affect us and wrote vignettes that exemplify this. Their stories are meaningful because they are deeply human. In this week’s Parasha, a mother is deeply impacted by the birth of her children and then by the decisions she must make about their destiny. 

Contained in the text are two moments when the mother, Rebecca contends with God. In the first, Rebecca is not able to become pregnant and Isaac pleads with God to bring them children. God answers his prayers and Rebecca, for the first time, is pregnant with twins. Yet she is frustrated by the violent struggle the twins are enacting within her womb. Confused and in pain, she approaches God, wondering why this is her lot in life. She doesn’t know that these two boys will one day become fathers of great nations, or that there is a reason for their struggles inside of her. Instead, Rebecca inquires, “If [this struggle] is so, why do I exist.” (25:22)

The second moment where Rebecca is questioning God is when she asks God, “What good will life be to me.” (27:46) This inquiry comes from a place of despair, with Rebecca contemplating the fate of her son Jacob. Rebecca knows that Jacob must be saved from Esau, that Jacob stole the birthright from Esau and Esau is angry, but also that Jacob must get married to fulfill the blessing his father bestowed upon him. Jacob must marry a good woman who will be his partner in carrying out the covenantal blessing.

Both of these moments are also visceral responses to emotional experiences. In fact, they have the same core meaning, asking the questions: what purpose is there in this pain? And if [I] have the pain, why do I exist? In the midst of pain, Rebecca struggles to maintain her composure and blurts out her frustration to God, to Isaac. She desires a solution and gets responses from both God and her husband.

First, God answers her, providing a pithy oracle that Rebecca is carrying two sons, two nations within her womb. Rebecca gains salve for her pain. She knows that something will come from this anguish, that she will have a future. More importantly, Rebecca knows that her legacy will be in her sons, that they will each do something important with their lives. This is the future her womb will bear, which allows Rebecca to continue on with her pregnancy and handle the pain the struggle entails.

The second scenario, where Rebecca implores God: “I cannot bear this, what good is my life if [my son marries a Hitite woman]?” is also followed by a response. The solution is provided by Isaac, who ultimately agrees that Jacob should go to Rebecca’s brother, Laban and find a wife there. Here too, Rebecca feels that her worries have been heard and that there will be a future for her son.

“Why do I exist? What good is life to me?” As Rebecca asks these existential human questions, she receives responses. These solutions allow Rebecca to continue on and feel that she has been answered, that there is a future.

In fact, these solutions provide resolve for the bigger existential questions. The questions being “Why do I exist? and What good is life to me?” These solutions each have a unique trait in common. Besides being one and the same, these solutions offer a future for Rebecca. They offer her an opportunity to see that her life’s purpose is the future, her future, in her sons.

Fast forward to Monday, with the two experiences I shared. We are left reeling after the news of what occurred in Jerusalem, asking these same questions: “Why do I exist? What good is life to me?” I am left struggling with my student’s questions.

Why do I exist? What’s next? These were the questions that penetrated my soul after hearing the news of the attack. I sat dumbstruck, unsure what to do or how to move forward. People were dead and I didn’t know what to do.

What good is my life [if I cannot answer these students]? My fourth graders asked me questions to which I did not have solid answers. I felt unequipped to handle their curiosity, but knew they would not be content with a response of “I don’t know, let me find out.”

In my struggle, I didn’t act like Rebecca and turn to God or a fellow human, but I recognized that the answer had already been provided to me. Each of the unique stories I experienced/witnessed on Monday had ready-made solutions offered, if I was just able to see.

My friend, after seeing the hatred in Jerusalem, continued on. She went to work and her students, determined to teach them. She was demonstrating her commitment to the future, to instilling within young children the importance of what happens next. The solution was in providing for the future, in giving them an education that will allow them to help make the world a little less angry, a little less painful.

My fourth grade class also provided me with an answer. Having asked what good my life was if I wasn’t able to answer their inquiries, I was downtrodden and unsure. Yet from their own wisdom, they demonstrated that no matter what, my purpose is to enable them to continually ask questions. By providing them with the space to inquire and push back, I was allowing them the opportunity to develop a deeper understanding of their Jewish tradition and therefore a deeper desire to maintain connected. I was helping them commit themselves to the future.

My friend and I each found responses to these existential questions in the promise of the future. Rebecca too, found her response in what the future will hold. Each of these circumstances provided unique opportunities to take a step back from the hustle of everyday life and ask the existential questions. From that place of insight, we were and in fact, are able to explore what good our lives can serve, especially when surrounded by pain, suffering, and death.

The good that life holds is manifest in the future generation, in the next group of people who will grow up and live in this world. Rebecca found contentment in knowing that her sons would make something of themselves, and in knowing that Jacob’s destiny would be fulfilled in a positive manner. My friend was able to continue on only by looking at her students and seeing them as a positive light, as something good that will move forward. I recognized that my students were the promise of the future, my legacy that I am leaving each day I teach them.

“Why do I exist? What good is life to me?”

Our lives are full of these existential questions. Our job is to ask the questions, like Rebecca, and also like Rebecca, to look forward to the future. We must see that the future is where our lives are headed, that the next generation is the embodiment of that future.  Even more, we must facilitate the conversations that allows the next generation to grow and discover for themselves the deep meaning that life has. By discovering the power and beauty that this coming generation bears, we will be able to answer these existential questions and find meaning in our lives.

What is your commitment to the future? What will you do to ensure that your life has a purpose, that you are providing for the future?

Chayei Sarah: Liminality

(Torah challenge as sent to Congregation Beth Aaron in Billings, MT)

Parshat Chayei Sarah

Genesis 23:1-25:18

A brief summary: Sarah dies at the ripe age of 127 years old. Abraham decides to bury her in the cave of Machpela (after searching for a good place). Abraham decides to find a wife for his son Isaac and sends his servant to do so. The servant meets Rebecca at a well, where she gives him and his camels water. Lastly, Abraham marries Keurah and has six more sons, dying at the age of 175 years.

The Cave of Machpela

In Ch 23 Sarah dies and Abraham wants to bury her. He is in Hebron and asks for a piece of land. The people in Hebron want to give it to him for free, but Abraham insists on paying for it.

Why does Abraham, a man who is given multiple covenants with God and told that he will eventually inherit the land, claim to be a stranger in the land? How does that connect to his desire to buy the land where he wants to bury Sarah?

Why is it important for Abraham to buy the land, not be given it (as he receives so many other things, especially from God)?

Old Age as a Liminal Stage

Ch 24:1-9 shows Abraham rushing to ensure his son, Isaac, will have a wife. In his last few days, he makes his servant promise to find Isaac a wife. Abraham tells the servant to put his hand on Abraham’s thigh and promise to go back to Abraham’s homeland and find a wife from among his people.

Why does Abraham wait until he’s old and Sarah has passed away before finding Isaac a wife?

Why does Abraham have the servant grab his thigh to make this promise?

What is the importance of the servant going back to Abraham’s homeland? Why must Isaac’s wife not be from among the Cana’anites?

Some other thoughts on the Parsha:

There is mention of spontaneous prayer in this week’s parsha. Abraham’s servant is at the well and offers up a prayer to God. Follow this link to learn more about one Rabbi’s interpretation: http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/Bible/Weekly_Torah_Portion/chayeisarah_artson5759.shtml

To explore a less traditional commentary on the parsha, discussing familial relations, in particular Isaac’s reactions to his impending marriage, follow this link (there are two thoughts, the first follows what I suggested): http://limmud.org/publications/limmudononeleg/5772/chayei-sarah/

Sodom, (G)Amorah, and Veteran's Day

Here is my sermon for tonight, at Congregation Beth Aaron in Billings, MT

Parshat Va’Yeira

Destruction.

Bravery

Questioning.

Daring.

Suspense.

Victory.

Any number of things could be characterized by these 5 adjectives. In particular, a story human destruction. Or a story of about war.

Destruction. Parshat Va’yeira is a patch-work quilters dream. It includes many patches, each flimsily sown together through description and people, with Abraham as the common thread throughout. One of these patches is the story of Sodom and (G)Amorah. God decides that the people of Sodom and (G)Amorah are evil beyond redemption, and so plans to kill all of them. God shares God’s plan with Abraham, who asks God to save the people, if Abraham can find 10 righteous people within the cities. Abraham cannot, so God follows through on God’s plan, killings all inhabitants of these two cities (save for Lot and his family). The cities are left smoking, which Abraham glimpses from a distance. Destruction like the biblical world had never seen before.

Bravery. I imagine this conversation between an officer and his troops. “Men, we head out at 0500 hours. Prepare yourselves to fight for your lives, to face scenes of despair, death and destruction such that you have never encountered before. Prepare to know that you might die. Prepare to fight Germany.” So might end the training exercises on 5 June 1944, the night before D-Day, in Normandy, France.

I imagine that night, men writing letters to their wives, their girlfriends, their parents. “I love you,” they wrote. “More than anything else I can say, I love you. Do not forget me. I might die tomorrow. I’m scared. But I love you.” How many letters that resemble this were found or sent to families after the fact, physical souvenirs of a deadly day.

D-Day was not an incredibly deadly landing operation, relatively speaking. But it was an invasion of power, of unity. It demonstrated the bravery of American soldiers, fighting overseas, many in their first war ever. Most importantly, it demonstrated strength and power. Especially the power of the survivors. The Veterans.

My question for us this evening is: how are these two stories connected?

Questioning. God begins by thinking to God’s self, not knowing if God needs to share God’s plans with Abraham (Gen 18:17). If God acts independently, destroying the people of Sodom and (G)Amorah without first engaging Abraham, are there any consequences (God recognizes that Abraham is becoming God’s partner and so God has to bring Abraham into the dialogue.)

Each and every officer has the same inner-dialogue, questioning whether or not the soldiers need to know what they are about to do, what they are about to encounter. Few soldiers knew the details of their mission on D-Day. Not until they were on the boats, about to land in Normandy, France, did they begin to understand. Even then, the officers only told the soldiers what they needed to know. The soldiers, in this case, are Abraham, while the officers are God. The officers don’t want  to elicit push-back, they don’t want to intimidate or frighten the soldiers. The war needed to occur. There wasn’t time for discussion.

Daring. Once God tells Abraham the plan, as they look over into Sodom and (G)Amorah, Abraham begins to question. He says to God, “Hey God. I’ve got a problem with all this destruction. You say you want to destroy these two cities, but what’s the point? How can you do this? And besides, the people can’t be that bad, can they?”

God replies to him: “Abraham, my son, you haven’t seen as much as I have. These people have committed heavy sins and they must be punished.”

“But, God,” Abraham challenges. “How can you destroy the righteous, just people with these evil-doers? The good people didn’t do anything wrong! How can you, God, the Judge of the earth, not judge each person justly? You should save the righteous people.” (Gen 18:23, 25)

From there, God and Abraham negotiate, finally agreeing that if Abraham can find 10 righteous people in Sodom and (G)Amorah, God will not destroy the cities. Alas, these ten people cannot be found and so God destroys the cities, burning them to the ground. From here, we look forward to our soldiers, sitting in their boats on the shores of Normandy, knowing they are about to head into battle. Were our soldiers to be like Abraham, they would counter their officers’ instructions. The cacophony of “But wait, I can’t kill innocent people who get in my way?” “How long are we going to be fighting for?” and the small, voices whispering, “I’m scared” would rise up to a high crescendo. Instead, the boat turned silent after the officers’ commands. These soldiers are instilled with an understanding that when given a direct order, they must follow through on it, no questions asked.

Victory. Abraham fights back. Our soldiers were quietly accepting, even though their inner-dialogue might have been similar to Abraham’s. Each reaction is acceptable, especially given their circumstances. Both Abraham and the soldiers need to remember a quote from our tradition that reads, במקום שאין אנשים השתדל להיות איש (m. Avot 2:5). This means, in a place where there are no [righteous] people, rise up and attempt to be a [righteous] person. Abraham cannot give up on the values that God has attempted to instill in him up to this point. God wants Abraham to be a partner, which cannot occur unless God allows Abraham to actively voice opposition. Abraham has to be the righteous person that cannot be found in Sodom or (G)Amorah. He must stand up for what he believes in.

Our American war heroes, the people we will celebrate on November 11th, for Veteran’s Day, also demonstrate this Jewish aphorism. Our soldiers sit in the boats, about to land on the shores of Normandy; young men, unsure what they will meet once they step onto the sand. They are good people, determined to fight for their country. These soldiers, our soldiers, were willing to be the good people, the righteous ones. Even more so, they were drafted, yet they still fought valiantly and courageously. They are the ones who chose to fight for their country. Not just on D-Day, but throughout most of American history, the military has been a key method of displaying patriotism. That means our American war heroes are these righteous people, patriotic individuals actively supporting their home beliefs, even when others were unwilling to do so. They are the ones who choose to fight for their rights, who choose to uphold American values from their core.

Our soldiers are determined to be good people, attempting to bring peace to America and the American people, regardless of the stakes. Even more so, they fight with strength and pride, no matter their personal beliefs in the matter. In fact, our soldiers in their boats must have put aside their beliefs and come together as a collective, American troop. They strive to be those righteous people, to protect their country, to represent their country. They demonstrate another way to be righteous, by not pushing back, but by listening. By upholding a collective belief.

Abraham actively talked back to God. He contended with God and told God that he wanted to save the people. Our soldiers actively fought for their country, for America, while holding their tongues. My purpose is not to say who is correct in their actions: Abraham or the soldiers. Rather, I would like to suggest that both acted appropriately for their given circumstances. But I praise the soldiers today, for fighting for their country. They put their lives on the line and were willing to engage in battle, either on the front lines or as supporting individuals. There was a sacrifice here. They demonstrated a courage and bravery of a different sort from Abraham. There were high stakes and these individuals still went ahead and did their civic duty. These are our American heroes to whom we look up to today. These are the people we honor everyday, but especially on November 11, on Veteran’s Day.

Lech Lecha: What's in a Name?

This past week was the 12th anniversary (or 13th-I cannot remember) of my becoming a Bat Mitzvah. Although there are no monumental words I have for this occasion, I am going to suggest something. Having now spent a year exploring the parshiot, week by week, engaging the text and connecting it to my own life, not necessarily delving into commentary, this year is a little more busy. We have already read the whole of Genesis and Exodus in the past two months alone. Therefore, writing a full-blown D'var Torah may not be the most feasible thing for me each week. However, to the best of my ability, I will post my "Torah challenge," which I send weekly to my student pulpit in Billings, MT. My hope is that you find the questions I pose intriguing and meaningful.

A (belated) Shabbat Shalom!

Genesis 12:1-17:27

In this Torah portion, God makes a covenant with Abram promising to make his ancestors a great nation. God changes his name to Abraham. Abraham has a child with Hagar, and names him Ishmael. God then promises Abraham's barren wife, Sarah, that she will have a child. (1)

What’s in a Name (Part I) (Gen 16:1-16)

Children are important in the Torah. Although those crying out for children usually comes from barren women, Abram is the one who gasps to God: "What can You give me, seeing that I shall die childless?" (15:2). Abram is the first one to cry out for a child. Yet not until a chapter later is Abram’s call answered (although through Sarai’s decision).

Sarai, desperate for a son, gives her handmaid, Hagar, to Abram in order to procreate. However, Sarai gets jealous of Hagar’s pregnancy and sends her away into the wilderness. While away, she is visited by an angel who tells her in Chapter 16:11

 וַיֹּאמֶר לָהּ מַלְאַךְ יְהוָה, הִנָּךְ הָרָה וְיֹלַדְתְּ בֵּן, וְקָרָאת שְׁמוֹ יִשְׁמָעֵאל, כִּי-שָׁמַע יְהוָה אֶל-עָנְיֵךְ

And the angel of the God said to her: 'Behold, you are pregnant, and shall have a son; you shall call his name Ishmael, because God has heard your affliction.

Hagar, a woman with little significant who is despised by Sarai, is spoken to by an angel of God while she is despairing in the wilderness. The angel tells Hagar to name her son Yishmael, literally meaning God will hear.

What does it mean that God will hear? Is it referring to the past, to Hagar, or to the future, to Yishmael? If either of them are the case, how can we understand this name in context of Sarai’s hate of Hagar (does it mean God does not hear Sarai?)?

Or, can we understand this as meaning that Abram’s call was answered?

What’s in a Name (Part II)? (Gen. 17:1-16)

Sarai and Abram begin our parsha being called by these names. God sends them on a journey, intending to establish God’s covenant with them. In the end, when the covenant is established and Abram and Sarai have listened to God’s instructions, God rewards them.

Gen 17:5 וְלֹא-יִקָּרֵא עוֹד אֶת-שִׁמְךָ, אַבְרָם; וְהָיָה שִׁמְךָ אַבְרָהָם, כִּי אַב-הֲמוֹן גּוֹיִם נְתַתִּיךָ

Neither shall thy name any more be called Abram, but thy name shall be Abraham; for the father of a multitude of nations have I made thee.

Gen 17:15 וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים, אֶל-אַבְרָהָם, שָׂרַי אִשְׁתְּךָ, לֹא-תִקְרָא אֶת-שְׁמָהּ שָׂרָי:  כִּי שָׂרָה, שְׁמָהּ

And God said unto Abraham: 'As for Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be.

Both Sarah and Abraham receive a ה (hey) in their name. The letter hey is the letter that shows up twice in God’s name, the tetragrammaton, yud-hey-vav-hey.

What does it mean that Sarah and Abraham are given this ה, which is part of God’s name? Who have they become, through this?

The Lubavicher Rebbe has an interesting thought on the hey added to Abraham’s name. “Up until this point, the thrust of Abraham's life was his spiritual relationship with God; from this point on it was to be his role as a leader of the masses, a teacher of the Divine truth to the “multitudes.”” Abraham’s hey is representative of the Godliness he now possesses. Now, he can pass on God’s teachings through his own life. (2)

As Reform Jews, we too can learn something from this. Do we need God to come to us and bestow us with God’s good will, or should we attempt to act, as we already know, b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God and demonstrate Godliness from the beginning? If that is so, how do we add the Godliness into our lives and pass it on to those around us?

Another interesting thing to consider is that this section describes how we must circumcise our children and make them a part of the covenant. Only once Abraham is given his ה is he told these laws and made to do so.

How does circumcision make one part of the covenant of the Jewish people? Why is Abraham only told to do this, to circumcise himself and essentially “become” a Jew, at the end of the Parsha? What does he have to do in order to deserve the covenant?

www.myjewishlearning.com

www.chabad.org

Breathing Praise: Noach

Parshat Noah, 6:9-11:32

This week’s parsha, Parshat Noach, is another one of those jam-packed parshiot in which we can spend days or weeks thinking and discussing it, still not completing the discussion or immersing ourselves fully into the text. However, just like any other parsha, we spend a week studying it, with the culmination being on Shabbat.

Speaking of Shabbat, Alyssa Gray, a Talmudic scholar writing about Shabbat liturgy in Lawrence Hoffman’s My People’s Prayerbook, Volume 10: Shabbat Morning, comments that the words נשמת כל חי (click for English translation) (found at the end of פסוקי דזמרא, as the introduction to the concluding blessing) literally mean the breath of every living being. However, That breath is not just referring to humans. Rather, it refers to all creatures that breath the air of the earth. The proof text for that comes from our parsha this week. In Genesis 7:22, it is written that the Flood destroys everything with a “breath of life.” The very same breath of life with which every living being praises God in נשמת כל חי(Nishmat Kol Chai) (Follow link for Hebrew and musical versions of this prayer).

So then, what do these contrasts mean, especially relative to this part of the prayer service, which is all about enumerating praise for God. It would seem, that Genesis 7:22 is pointing out that God needed to destroy every living thing, even the animals, because they too were capable of doing evil and wrong. Maybe God made a mistake. In Genesis 6:6-7, we read: "And God repented that God had made man on the earth, and it grieved God in God’s heart. And Adonai said, "I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth, both man and beast, and the creeping thing and the fowls of the air, for I repent that I have made them.” It would seem that God made a mistake and now is attempting to rectify it through the Flood and destruction of the earth. The classic commentator, Rashi (France, 1040-1105) has a suggestion about this: "Although it was known to God that [humans] will sin and be destroyed, God nevertheless created them for the sake of the righteous who will descend from them.” (Berashit Rabah 27:4) In that sense, it would mean that God didn’t make a mistake and instead needed to “redo” creation in order to give people a better chance to become righteous. In that sense, every living being needed to be reformed, so that their breaths could indeed praise God.

The contrast is in the praising. Everyone on earth, save for Noah, his family and then all the animals, is destroyed. The rest of the peoples had become so wicked that they could not feasibly praise God with their living breath. Therefore, God needed to render everyone incapable, by wiping them out, in order to afford them the opportunity to learn and grow again. From that, people begin to praise and acknowledge God, recognizing that God does have a place in the world and in their lives. Through the praise of God, both in this introductory segment of our morning service, and throughout our daily lives, we keep the world good and eliminate the need for another Flood or negative action of retribution by God.

Shabbat Shalom.

Bookending the Torah

Although the actual parsha for this Shabbat is Parshat Berashit (Genesis), I wanted to write about Parshat V'zot HaBrachot (This is the blessing) in conjunction with Parshat Berashit. Mostly, this is because my congregation, here in Billings, MT, is doing things a little differently than the traditional service. We are doing Simchat Torah and Shabbat, all wrapped into one. They've found at least one way to get people there!

This parsha (V'zot HaBracha) gets the short end of the stick. It’s found at the very end of the Torah, so you would think it is the most read and discussed, that we get excited when it shows up around Simchat Torah. But in fact, this year, like many years (if not all years), we don’t read it except on Simchat Torah to bookend our  yearly Torah reading. It is read as the conclusion of the Torah, with the beginning of the Torah being Genesis, the beginning. Moses has lead us through the desert and guided us as a people for almost ¾ of the Jewish year (cycle). The least we can do is acknowledge that guidance, no?

Even stranger, is the fact that this parsha is lumped in with Genesis. Or maybe, that is its beauty. It isn’t read on its own, as its own Parshat HaShavuah, weekly Torah portion, because we shouldn’t see Moses’ death as the end. Rather, we should recognize that Moses was the leader who enabled us, as the Jewish people, to begin seeing ourselves as a people. We are indeed starting over after Moses’ death; we are heading into the promised land with a new leader, not our old, beloved one. We must learn to trust ourselves. We must begin to set our own path and believe in the rightness of that path. We must start at the beginning.

Therefore, it does actually seem fitting, to go from the end and immediately back to the beginning. That’s what happened to our people. That is what happens to us: we get to experience the whole Torah again, from a new perspective, a new age, or a slightly different angle. We are given the opportunity to re-immerse ourselves in the text and learn. We are given the chance to start a new with a clean slate. How will you begin again? How will you commit to learning and growing anew? How will you commit to allowing you perspective to be changed?

Time to begin

The past three weeks have been weeks of upheaval and unrest in my life. With Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and then Sukkot, there have been no new Torah portions read. Rather, we read the Parshiot associated with those particular days. In my own way, I have found meaning in each of these readings, and am incredibly grateful for this time to explore the text. Each reading has been beneficial.

Yet now, we are almost ready to begin again. We have looked inwards towards ourselves and found our own hearts, where we sit and how we wanted to come into the new year. And then we had Sukkot, זמן שמחתנו, the time of our happiness, the end of our harvest season. Wonderfully, that time is followed by Simchat Torah, when we celebrate the conclusion of reading the Torah and the beginning again. We are ready to begin again.

I, for one, am ready to begin again. I have done the personal reflection and have come to a place where I am at least okay with where I stand. The new year stands open and waiting. Time to take it by storm and explore what it has to offer. As the parsha says, בראשית ברא אלוהים, in the beginning, God created. God created many things, at the beginning. We've experienced the beginning of the year, the creation of new friendships and relationships. Now, I am ready to go out and explore, to find my Gan Eden, my garden of Eden and discover it.

This Simchat Torah, I look forward to doing just that. To taking a step back and seeing all the new things, the beginnings I've experienced. I look forward to exploring and discovering.

Ha'azinu: Who Shall Listen?

This week’s parsha, parshat Ha’azinu, falls on Shabbat T’shuvah, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Reading the parsha earlier in the week, I was so excited to think that I had finished the Torah, that everything had happened and I had completed a year of reading each parsha, and writing a drash on it. However, when I went to look at the Torah to look something up for Torah study, I was surprised! There is a whole extra parsha after this one. Needless to say, I was slightly disappointed. But alas, in all the shuffle of the High Holidays, something had to get confused and forgotten. This is a small thing and I’ll take it.

In thinking that this is the last parsha of the Torah, I was intrigued to find that it ends with Moses going up on the mountain and dying. God tells him to do like Aaron, go up the mountain and be gathered to his kin. Moses knows, and is reminded, that Moses broke faith with God and is therefore able to see the land from a distance, but not from up close. In my world, that was how the Torah ended. A rather apex-like ending, but an incomplete one (stay tuned for next week, where the parsha is actually the last parsha in the Torah and I get to experience my excitement all over again!).

Instead, we have the continuation of an epic story. God told us last week to write down God’s words in a poem, as a reminder to the people. The words should serve as a witness to what will happen to the people if they go astray. In that song, we get four parts. The first past is God establishing God’s loving relationship with the people. The second sees the people rejecting God in favor of other deities, with other peoples. Next, God decides to decimate the people. Lastly, God relents, recognizing that if God did destroy the people Israel, other people’s might feel they were the cause of that destruction. God is humanized. In this poem, meant to guide us away from joining to the deities of other people, God in fact becomes more benevolent. Yes, God’s anger is apparent and fear is instilled in one’s heart from reading this epic poem. But God is showed as being caring, as considerate, as aware of the place of the people in the greater scheme of things. In short, God still cares about us, about the Jewish people.

As we find ourselves in the Days of Awe, the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we are made aware of our place in history. We are made aware that God can choose to not care, to destroy us anyway (if God destroyed us, we wouldn’t be around to worry about who destroyed us!). We know that God’s hand is powerful and that God is our rock. Yet we see that God, like a benevolent parent, sees that we will slip up, that we will go astray, that we will miss the mark, whether in large or small ways. But God will not leave us completely. God will not abandon us to walk on our own, nor will God completely forget about us as God’s people.

A midrash on the parsha reflects God’s attitude.

The Holy Blessed One at times appears, and at times does not appear;
at times hears, and at times does not want to hear;
at times responds, and at times does not respond;
at times may be addressed, and at times may not be addressed;
at times may be found, and at times may not be found;
at times is near, and at times is not near.(Midrash Tanhuma, Ha’azinu 4)

I would like to argue that God is, at this time, at God’s most apparent, most able to listen and respond, most patient and ready to be addressed, most present and most near. At this time, may we discover a way to demonstrate to God that we appreciate God’s presence in our lives, and find ways to come closer to God, to not warrant the harsh punishment or decree that God does discuss in this parsha. “God avenges the blood of God’s servants,” our Torah writes in Deuteronomy 32:43. Let us warrant that God avenge us, let us warrant that God listens to us.

Shabbat shalom!

Generations with God

אתם נצבים היום כלכם לפני ה׳ אלוהיכם, “You stand here today, all of you, before God, your God.” So starts this week’s double portion, Nitzavim-Va’yeilech. God gathers all the people, in order to tell them that they will be entered into the covenant with God. This is yet another reminded that all of them, as the people Israel, even those with the littlest of tasks of abilities, have come before God to receive the covenantal agreement for the future generations. However, the rabbis ask why we have both the words אתם, plural, you all, and כלכם, all of you, in the same sentence. It seems redundant. Rashi posits that the redundancy is actually a very important aspect of this parsha. There are both the future generations and the past generations, converging in this one spot, hearing the covenant spoken one last time before Moses’ death and the people’s entrance to the land of Israel.

Interesting that this should come up right before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Rosh Hashanah, sometimes called Yom HaZikaron, the Day of Remembrance. On this, the week before Rosh Hashanah (almost), we are made aware of the strength of the covenant. We remember those who came before us and consider those who are our future; our children or those still yet to come. We are conscious more than ever of what it means to be a part of a living people, with generational ties backwards and forwards. We again stand before Moses right before his death, while simultaneously standing at Sinai, receiving the Ten Commandments and standing firmly rooted in 5774.

We are that future people, the people who also stood and heard the words uttered by Moses to the people. We take heed of the call to remember God’s commandments and do good, to move forward with the intention to walk in the ways of the covenant, so that blessing may come upon us. We take heed of the fear of retribution, should we not recall God’s commands, knowing the harsh judgment and punishment that will come our way in its steed. We are aware of our place in history.

The timing is fitting it seems, to be reminded one last time of who we are and where we stand with God. In less than a week, we will come before God, ready to atone for the sins we have done against God, having already (hopefully) rectified the ills we have with those around us. Humbled before God, we pray for forgiveness and a clean slate, the opportunity to start the year anew. The Israelites also seemed to have that desire. They were fearful entering the land, wanting God to walk with them, holding their hand and guiding them on their journey. May we therefore be like the Israelites, learning to trust in God. Yet may we also maintain our partnership with God, creating healthy pathways to be the future while recalling the past.

Shabbat Shalom.

Blessings and Bounty

Last weekend, I participated at a spiritual retreat at Camp Alonim in the Simi Valley, about an hour from my apartment. Due to the fact that I was participating and therefore not on my laptop, I did not write a d'var Torah. Everything in its time. However, here are my thoughts on this week's parsa!

This past week marked another new occasion. I began teaching religious school. As I waited for my students to arrive at Congregation Or Ami, I looked around the bare walls of the classroom and tried to imagine what this room would look like by the end of the year. What projects would be up on the walls? Who would be that creative kid who writes an awesome poem about God, or who would describe a connection to God in such a profound way that it had to be displayed? (To explain, I am teaching an entire curriculum on God to 4th graders - a challenging, sometimes daunting task with any age, but especially with 4th graders. But hey, I always like a good challenge).

At the end of my first two classes (both Monday and Wednesday providea different group of kids), my madricha (high school age teaching aide) and I hung up 4 posters, two of each kind. On two of them it was written: What do you think of when you think of God? and on the other two was written the words Kehilah Kedosha, holy community. We discussed both concepts/themes and the kids wrote what they thought. They had so many incredible ideas for how to create that kehilah kedosha within our classroom and the greater Or Ami community that I was blown away. One boy wrote that the best way to create this community was by giving back and doing good things for others. I was floored! A 4th grader came up with that of his own accord! When I asked them about God, they surprised me again. Their images of God were the typical man with a beard in the cloud, but their ideas of what God does and God’s power were astounding. My students shared words like creator, imaginer, dreamer, clouds, judgment, prayer. It was incredible.

Consulting this week’s Torah portion, I wasn’t surprised that our conversation fit into the parsha. God, along with the priests, tells all the people, הסכת ושמע ישראל היום הזה נהיית לעם ה׳ אלוהיך, Keep quiet and listen, Israel; on this day you became a people before/to Adonai, your God (Deut. 27:9). This command, but also this blessing, is very much how I felt about my students this week. They heard the words of the Shema and latched onto them, wanting to learn more. They became a part of a people, our people, the Jewish people, but they also became a part of something else. Together, we became a part of a class, a group of people who will learn and grow together in the coming year, changing and exploring as we do so. I am grateful to be a part of that, to help support and create the community. And I cannot wait to see what will come of it.

Of course, the parsha continues to discuss blessings and curses; that if you follow God’s commandments you will be blessed and that if you don’t you will be cursed. Although unrelated to my classroom necessarily, I find that this parallels my life as a Rabbinical student. Do your reading, your assignments, and you will be blessed with bountiful learning and experiences. However, should you choose not to do as you’re told and read all the readings or do the assignments, your lot will not be as pleasant and you will not get as much out of it. Granted, this circumstance is not black and white, nor does it cast a horrible life outcome on those who choose it, but it is my own personal version of those blessings and curses for this week. My choice is the blessings, to the best of my ability. I only hope that my choices lead me well and help me find more meaning in the messiness of everyday life.

Shabbat Shalom.

Challenging God

I’m exhausted. After spending the past week going through orientation at HUC, as well as taking in the anxiety and frustration of my fellow classmates, I am spent. About 20 minutes ago, when I went outside to shed the stress through a brief run, my whole body protested, too tired to exert that much energy in order to move. One block into the run, I turned around. Then, not wanting to return to my apartment and leave the sun, I turned the corner and started down a different street. Again, I stopped after a few blocks.

The combination of being in school again after taking time away for a year, of anxiety/stress at an incredibly high level, and not feeling settled, as well as finding my way around a new city, is a lot. It takes getting used to, and defenses that haven’t been accessed in a while were down and have quickly been re-instated. But more than anything, my body is taking a beating. Breaking in a new bed, driving and sitting a lot in class or traffic, different food or eating times. It’s ready for a break. My body is ready for Shabbat.

Shabbat is that time of the week when we can take a step back from the wear and tear we have put on our body for the past week and just breathe. It grants us the opportunity to set aside the high-stress of the highway and stand-still traffic and just be in our normal flow. As Abraham Isaac Kook wrote in his book, Orot Teshuvah (The Lights of Repentance), we all want to maintain the flow of who we are, and keep it running. But when we do wrong (or to paraphrase, when we don’t keep ourselves balanced), the flow gets interrupted and we feel pain. Shabbat, in a way, is an opportunity to re-establish that flow and reconnect with ourselves and with God.

This week’s parsha, Parshat Ekev, has many messages, but one in particular struck me. Chapter 8, Verse 16 says למען ענותך ולמען נסותך, להיטבך באחריתך, that God may oppress you and God may test you, but it will all be for good in your end. As I look back on this week, I find that God is attempting to test me, to challenge me. God is attempting to help me discover where my strength lies. Not in such a way that I cannot handle what happens, but as a way to explore my inner-strength.

For example, I feel on the sidewalk yesterday, walking down the street. I didn’t just stumble, I flat out slid on the pavement. The pad of my elbow has a scrape about 2 inches in diameter, to prove it! But again, God was testing me. I needed to know that I could take a decently painful spill and handle the consequences. Truthfully, it was the easiest of what I’ve dealt with in the past few days! But I recognized that this pain was a direct indication that God has many ways to test us, and we must be open to whatever those methods are, acknowledging God’s presence and accepting God’s love when it comes.

May this Shabbat bring us the ability to decompress from the past week and strength to face the week to come. May we take this Shabbat as an opportunity to reconnect with our inner-flow. May this Shabbat find our connection and understanding of God strengthened. Shabbat Shalom.

God's love

This week, I traveled from Sanibel, FL to Los Angeles, CA. Traversing the country by bike, plane, and car, and I discovered there are many ways to go on a journey. I didn’t necessarily appreciate the mind-numbing monotony of endless desert or field. Nor did I enjoy sitting in a car seat for upwards of 13 hours a day. Nor did I desire to sit still for hours on end. However, there were aspects of this trip that I found breathtakingly phenomenal. I came to understand that part of that adventure is the process itself, not the final destination. The wide open sky, with no buildings disturbing the expanse. The fresh-smell of a pine forest, not encroached upon by human spoil. The simple beauty of a field populated by yellow flowers, not marred by anything else.

Now, sitting in my new apartment, smelling the challah baking in the oven, sweaty from unpacking all of my clothes into my closet, I feel a sense of accomplishment only matched by other move-in adventures. This shabbat, I recognize that God chose us, the Jewish people; gave us the Torah; the journey through the desert for a reason. Not being omniscient, the particular reason is beyond me. However, I have a few thoughts.

This week’s parsha, V’etchanan, ends with an explanation of why God chose the Jewish people. in D'varim (Deuteronomy 7:7-11), God tells Moses, to tell the people, that God didn’t chose them because they are large (we were the smallest at the time), but because God loved us and promised to continue to love us. The logic doesn’t exactly follow, but the conclusion is that God loved, and still loves us, despite all the hardships we had to overcome to get to the Acacia trees in Moab, right outside of the land of Israel. The journey is a necessity, in order to enjoy the fruits of the labor. God’s love is what will get us there.

Not only that, but God tells us what to do with God’s commands. This parsha includes the Ten Commandments, reiterated, so we know exactly how to follow God’s commands, to respect God’s love for us. Right before those Commandments, we get the Shema and V’ahavtah, the watchword of our faith that tells us what it means to be Jewish (have one God) and then how to remind yourself of that daily, how to love God.

In short, the parsha is about God’s love for us and how we should love God in return. The journey through the desert, and the initial reaction to the land of Israel demonstrate that the people didn’t always feel God’s love, nor did they appreciate God attempting to lead them. But eventually, eventually, they accepted and began to understand the benefits of God’s love.

So too, was my journey across the country trying at times. So too is Los Angeles not what I was expecting or am necessarily accustomed. I have much to learn. I have much to get used to. But, I will remind myself of God’s love and how I can maintain my covenant with God, and hopefully discover that the journey gets a little easier along the way.

Moses' Send-off Speech

This week, we begin reading the book of Deuteronomy, and I am rather overwhelmed by that fact. The rest of the books have all contained relatively new information, meaning excitement was the main emotion resonating within as I read each parsha. However, this week starts Deuteronomy. 36 chapters of Moses speaking, reminding the people off these last minute tid-bits, not wanting to see them in trouble because they forgot an important rule or law. Moses seems like an over-protective parent, sending his children off to summer camp to even college for the first time. “Don’t forget to write/email!” “Stay out of the woods, there might be raspberry plants and you’re allergic (or stay away from alcohol and parties).” “Change your underwear at least every other day.” “Make sure you send your clothes to the laundry.” And of course, “be nice to the other kids in your cabin/your roommates."

Essentially, Moses is about to give his big parting speech, to remind the people that he won’t be there to guide them anymore. Of course they will have Joshua to take over for Moses, but Moses doesn’t seem to trust the guy too much, especially if he needs to give the people so many reminders of how to act. Moses still needs to be in control for a little while longer, before he pulls out of the front-gate and can fall apart, cry with wonder at how his children have grown up, how they don’t need him anymore.

So, how does Moses start this parting speech? With a reminder of keeping law and order. in Deuteronomy 1:1-8, Moses recounts how he tried to rule for himself, but wasn’t able to. Therefore, God had him appoint judges to give out punishment and hear problems, taking only the really difficult ones to Moses himself. The importance of this for the people at the moment is that they will soon need to be their own deciders of right and wrong. Without Moses as the final verdict-decider, they will need to figure out their own problems and bring resolution when necessary. Moses will no longer be able to act as their highest court.

Another way Moses subtly reminds the people that they will be okay is through an indication that God was always there for the Jewish people. God reminds the people that God went ahead of the Israelites by day, to find a place to pitch a tent. At night, God was there, showing the way with fire. During the day, God remained with the people in the cloud above them to protect them. This is relayed in Chapter 1, Verse 33. God is reminding the people not to give up on God. Rather, they must continue to believe, even as times get hard and other people’s come in and try to destroy them. The people of Israel must recall that God is with them, helping them find strength and courage to continue on!

This Shabbat, may we also find the strength and courage to continue on. May we remember that God is always with us, guiding us and helping us guide ourselves. May we learn how to let go of those we love, as they journey on to new things. May we always remember to share advice.

Shabbat Shalom.

Balaam's Ass

Rabbis called these chapters the "section of Balaam," determining that this was written at a different time from the rest of Numbers, or at least penned by another author. These chapters are in fact independent of the greater story of Numbers and therefore likely later inserted into the story. Why here? Why this story; that I am not sure of. The one connecting detail is that in both the preceding and continuing chapters, the Israelites are also camping at the border of Moab.

Summary: Balak, king of Moab, hires gentile soothsayer, Balaam to curse Israel. Balaam cannot do anything without God's permission, and tells Balak's messengers this news. However, after two rounds of messengers request Balaam's presence, God relents and permits Balaam to go. According the Ramban, God allows Balaam to go because God wants to show the gentile nations that even their own prophet has to bless God's chosen people. However, on the way, Balaam encounters a talking donkey. We'll return to that. Once this personification incident passes, Balaam and Balak go to curse the Israelites. This requires building seven altars and then sacrificing 7 each of bullock and rams, one on each altar. Once that occurs, Balaam opens his mouth and out come what is known in Torah as the four oracles. These 4 oracles each tell of the splendor of the people of Israel, how large they will be as a people and that those who curse the Jews will be cursed in return. The last oracle actually tells of the demise of the very same people who are trying to curse the Jews, the Moabites, at the hands of the Israelites. The curse backfires! Balaam is a prophet, speaking directly to God and telling the future of the Jewish people. The only occasion, I believe, where a non-Jew prophesies for Jews.

Now, back to the talking donkey. Interestingly enough, it makes one think of Shrek and the annoying talking Donkey. In fact, if I were in Balaam's shoes, I might also be deeply incensed by my donkey's lack of appropriate listening and action! However, what is interesting about this part of the parsha is that the donkey doesn't a) just start talking and b) start talking for no reason. First, he encounters an angel of God blocking his way on the road towards Moab, standing there with a sword drawn. He's terrified, so he balks. Balaam cannot see the angel, beats his donkey and tells him to get a move on. However, the angel is not so easily deterred. Now that Balaam and his donkey have turned from the regular path, the angel is positioned so there is no way forward, making the donkey squeeze up against one of the fences to the side. The donkey attempts to get by, squishing Balaam's foot in the process and therefore receives another beating. The third time, there is no way to get by, so the donkey promptly lies down where he is and endures a third beating. Only then does the donkey talk. Three beatings, and the donkey is silent (why couldn't God have showed a little more humanity for the poor creature!). Balaam, to his credit, doesn't seem surprised by his donkey's newfound ability to talk, and berates the donkey thoroughly for the mockery he has made of Balaam. The donkey, again, stays cool under pressure and reminds Balaam that he is the same donkey Balaam has risen all along, where he has never been in the habit of behaving such.

Finally, Balaam has his eyes "uncovered" and sees the angel of God, who chastises and reprimands him for his reprehensible actions. Numbers Rabbah teaches that Balaam is able to converse with God whenever and wherever pleases him, "...with eyes unveiled" (24:4), clearly able to look at God, which is in contrast to the need for Balaam to have his eyes uncovered. That Balaam is able to look at God and converse with God, yet here, Balaam is unable to see the Holy God, strikes one as odd. This momentary blindness seems to come from Balaam's decision to do wrong, despite knowing that is against God's wishes. The way we see this anger is in the juxtaposition of the sword of the angel with Balaam's desire for a sword (which he would have been able to take from the angel if he were not blinded); as well as God being angry at Balaam in contrast to Balaam's anger with his ass. We can see these parallels as representative of how we too can connect to the world, that sometimes we are so deeply entrenched in our own world and ideas, that we cannot see that were we just to step outside of a situation, we might find peace and/or resolution.

The angel, considered an angel of God, is indeed angry with Balaam, sent to him to make him consider his next moves. The angel tells him, "כי עתה גם-אתכה הרגתי ואותה החייתי,"for you are the one I should have killed [for you were the one acting so atrociously], sparing the donkey (Numbers 22:33). The angel is appalled by Balaam's actions towards his donkey, even though the angel initially appeared out of anger that Balaam intended to go to Moab to curse the Israelites. We recognize this because Balaam didn't tell the messengers of Moab the second time around that he needed to speak God's word; he gave them the impression that he would indeed curse the Israelites (Ramban). Balaam, recognizing the magnitude of the situation and that he has acted displeasingly to God, apologizes and tells the angel that he will turn back if his continued action is still not acceptable. However, the angel tells him to continue on, but only say what God commands him.

Why does this angel not initially speak directly to Balaam? Even more strange, why is God angry with Balaam for continuing a journey that God permitted? And lastly, who is this angel, what is the connection between the angel and God? Balaam has already spoken with God multiple times, developing a relationship with him. There doesn't seem to be a need for the talking donkey as well, except maybe for comic relief. Why then? One reason the rabbis give is that Balaam had actually changed his mind and was intending to go against God and curse the Jewish people. Therefore, after God had already given Balaam permission to proceed with the mission, God sends an emissary to pass on his dismay. This emissary cannot speak directly to Balaam right away, must first test him and see just how much he has strayed since the previous night when he received God's blessing. Clearly, Balaam is not as clear-headed and ready for this mission as he was the night before. Something has shifted within him. Indeed, Balaam, who desires to use his words to curse the people, cannot control his own donkey, demonstrating to the angel that there is something amiss here (despite the angel being the adversary in Balaam's way).

The angel is an interesting figure in this story. We get an angel, called שטן, translated as adversary or one who opposes, which adequately describes the situation here. Yet, it doesn't hold up. This adversary seems contrary to God's own words previously. This angel seems to be a free agent, testing Balaam despite God not asking for such action. Yet, the Rabbis had their own thoughts on this issue, marrying this satan figure with the rest of the parsha, as well as a Jewish belief in God. During the time of the Persians, there was this way of approaching God that saw God as sitting on a throne, surrounded by minions, his angels, who went out and did his bidding. This creature, actually השטן, the satan, is the instigator, the adversary, making sure that people are on the right path. When we consider our adversary in that light, the angel makes much more sense and we are able to instead see him as a potential foil for Balaam (until Balaam proves his worth with apology). This idea may also make more sense in the greater scheme of the Torah. If we follow the assumption that this particular parsha was written later, the Persian idea of God could easily have been slipped into this pentatuch.

From this idea of the angel as adversary, whether or not sent by God, we learn to recognize that we always have adversaries in our lives, either people or events that challenge us, stop us from continuing down a certain path. Although we may know the path and be heading down it for the right reasons, we do not always think fully to the end step of our actions. This encounter Balaam faces with the angel is that extra step in the thought process, the extra aspect of reasoning that forces us to move beyond "I'm doing this," to contemplate, "what might the consequences of my particular actions be if I go forward with this." We are simply invited and given the opportunity to take a step out of our crowded head space and let in another voice, of reason, caution, concern.

We must always acknowledge that voice and allow it to find volume. That adversary may not actually show up in our lives, but we are able to be our own adversaries, simply holding ourselves back until we are fully aware of our activities going forward. This Shabbat, may we take the time to pause before we act, holding ourselves accountable for our actions and not be blinded like Balaam. And may we strive to serve others, but kindly, and consider them as we move about our days. Shabbat Shalom.

BDS and Chukat

BDS. It sounds like the name of a multi-national corporation or a sexually transmitted disease. In fact, it's been a buzzword in Israel for quite some time, but has recently taken over the American Jewish media as well. But what does BDS stand for? What is the excitement all about? Even stranger, how are the Presbyterians involved in the issue? Or more basically, why have I never heard of BDS?

BDS stands for Boycott, Divestments and Sanctions, specifically against Israel. This was a campaign begun in 2005 when over 150 Palestinian non-governmental organizations called for actions against Israel until Israel agreed to abide by international law and respect Palestinian rights. The BDS movement website, BDSmovement.net claims that they are against Israeli apartheid and want to fix this human rights violation before it emerges into a greater issue. The movement asserts they are placing these pressures on Israel in order to prompt Israel to enact the following actions in support of Palestinians/Arabs. 1. To end the Israeli occupation and colonization of Palestinian or Arab lands, 2. To ensure equality for Arabs/Palestinians in Israel, and 3. To allow Arab/Palestinian refugees to return to their homes taken in or after June of 1967. While this mostly refers to the Gaza Strip and the West Bank, it also applies to land and people currently living within the borders of Israel.

BDS. Boycott. Divestment. Sanctions. The Boycotts are against any products and/or companies that profit from alleged Israeli abuse of Palestinian rights. This includes but is not limited to companies, sporting events, and academic institutions within Israel. Motorola is an example of a company from which someone can do all three. By boycotting Motorola, you simply do not buy their products (the cell phones they produce). The particular grievance of Motorola is their production of bomb fuses and missile guidance systems. Divestment is mostly an economic and financial tool that involves reduction of an asset in order to achieve some kind of gain. In this case, the BDS movement encourages people and organizations to divest from companies benefiting from work they do in the West Bank that actively violate Palestinian rights (that profit from Israeli settlement). With regard to Motorola, this would simply involve removing oneself from the company as stockholders. Sanctions are actions taken to force a country to obey international law. In this case, the sanctions are against those same companies that profit from production that violates Palestinian rights. For Motorola, this entails not allowing Motorola to produce anything in Israel or not allowing them to export products.

Although this movement has been active for the past nine years with no major changes being implemented, the BDS movement claims that by not instituting the changes suggested, a peaceful solution between Israelis and Arabs will not be reached. The official statement of the URJ is directly opposite: only by supporting both Israelis and Palestinians can we bring about a viable peace option.

Many countries have denounced the movement as anti-Semitic, although the United States has not made a firm statement in either direction. However, the concept of BDS has re-emerged into American awareness as of late (after the American Studies Association urged Universities to Boycott Israel and cancel their Israeli exchange programs), with the recent Presbyterian Church vote, narrowly in favor of divestment from three companies said to abuse Palestinian rights. In order to support the BDS movement, the Presbyterian Church decided to divest from Motorola, Hewlett-Packard, and Caterpillar, after rejecting a similar proposition two years previously.

The Reform Movement, as an active presence at the Church conference, made a statement against this decision to divest, before the vote was taken. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the Union for Reform Judaism, wrote a letter to the conference participants urging them not to support the resolution, and also spoke to the plenary. However, he did so in a way championing the similar ideology our two movements share. He wrote, "[the] Reform Movement has a long-standing policy of opposition to the Israeli settlements. We stand firmly on this—and for two states–and want to partner with you, but your support for BDS will make this much harder. We firmly believe that our Zionism…should not come at the expense of the Palestinian people who deserve freedom and dignity, in an independent state." He further went on to write that instead of strengthening support of peace, "support for divestment from Israel has only…harden[ed] the position of those who least desire justice for Israel."

In preparation for this Church's General Assembly, many materials were produced for general consumption. One such document, Zionism Unsettled, was a blatant attack on Judaism as well as against the legitimacy of Israel. It named Israel as an apartheid state, comparing her to South Africa. Although many Palestinians cannot vote in Israeli elections or enter Israel whenever they please, this is not apartheid. It is an issue that needs to be addressed, but cannot be labeled apartheid. Even more troubling though, Zionism was labeled as akin to racism and compared the Palestinian experience during the events of 1948 to the Holocaust. This work cheapens the experience of Israel as a country and Judaism as a religion, seemingly negating the importance of the State of Israel and the Jewish people as a whole.

Reading these documents, I am overcome with dismay, but more than that, sadness. I am deeply saddened by the results of this vote, and by the work that is being promoted throughout the Presbyterian Church. For many years, the Presbyterian Church has been hailed as one of the Reform Movement's most ardent supporters, making a Jewish-Christian dialogue both possible and fruitful. With this vote, these relations were set back. However, due to the close nature of the vote, the Reform Movement will continue to maintain ties with the Presbyterian Church, and will work with those supporters who do advocate a two-state solution within Israel. I agree with Rabbi Jacobs that we must continue to maintain close relationships with our local Presbyterian friends and neighbors. Not everyone within the Church agrees with the decision at the General Assembly and we must remember that. We must actively engage in dialogue with those supporters and applaud their support, while at the same time understanding why some of our friends voted in favor of divesting from Israel.

When initially learning about the BDS movement, I was taken aback. I knew that I supported the state of Israel, but did not support occupying another people or land. How could I be against the BDS movement, but also against settlements. Through much discussion I came to realize that I can be anti-settlement in addition to anti-BDS. BDS, as a movement, is boycotting Israel as a country, to which I am vehemently opposed. As we are taught in Deuteronomy 10, we must love the foreigner and our neighbor, because we too were strangers in Egypt. Taking this teaching to heart, I oppose the settlement movement because I cannot sit back and watch my Palestinian neighbors and friends lose their land. The settlements are so popular because of how relatively inexpensive it is to build and produce in the West Bank. Yet, we are not loving the foreigner, in this case our neighbor, by taking the small amount of land they possess and using it for our benefit.

Therefore, we must vocalize our concern over the vote in favor of divestment by the Presbyterian Church while at the same time supporting Israeli withdrawal from the settlements. Interestingly, this evokes images of the red heifer in this week’s parsha. The heifer is a rare, religiously pure, completely red cow that is to be used for the purification from sin. We are told to take the ashes from burning the cow and rub them on ourselves in order to become pure, while at the same time, anyone touching the ashes becomes impure in the process. The logic does not follow. This is the situation we have with the BDS movement. The logic of the movement is not rational and does not evoke a desire to see it to fruition. Like the ashes taking on two different functions, we can boycott Israel as a whole, which is pro-BDS, or boycott products produced in Israeli settlements and be anti-settlement while simulanteously anti-BDS.

We must continue to support Israel as a country and homeland of the Jewish people, simultaneously understanding that there is another people living in Israel who deserve equal opportunity to live freely. However, I also recognize that each person should learn about Israel and develop his or her own unique relationship with her, discovering that Israel is not perfect, that we must learn to live in partnership with her, loving her while also pointing out flaws and issues.

In short, a nuanced relationship with Israel makes this discussion much more complicated. Yet at the same time, we cannot claim to be supporters of Israel and support the BDS movement, especially with writings such as Zionism Unsettled being disseminated and championed here in America. We must actively stand up against Boycotting, Divesting, and Sanctioning Israel. We must actively strive to see the continuation of the State of Israel. We must actively work toward a two-state solution where both Israelis and Palestinians/Arabs can live in peace, in their own lands. We must work with our brothers and sisters here in America and in Israel to engage in dialogue and understand the perspectives, while at the same time maintaining these essential Jewish values. The values that we are all made b’tzelem Eloheim, in the image of God. That we must respect our neighbor as ourself. That of Shalom, of peace.

May this Shabbat find peace within our borders and within all borders, but most especially within the borders of Israel and the Middle East. May these two people find a way to live side by side, to work together in prosperity. Shabbat Shalom.