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.

Learning and Bo

Learning is a great thing to re-discover. This week, as the last three plagues are upon us and God/Pharaoh are debating whether or not the Hebrews can leave Egypt, I am struck by how easy it is to become complacent when we don't know what will happen. Not only that, but after 9 plagues, the people are told to celebrate Passover - a terrifying thing if one doesn't understand the context: you, go take a lamb, kill it, and spread its blood on the doorposts of your house. Why, you ask? Because you want to keep your first-born sons and animals. Okay, you respond. That works.

But truthfully, all of this is a little hairy. I, for one, don't listen that well. However, and this is a big one, if things are presented correctly, or we can listen, everything can work out well. Honestly, things did work out well for the Israelites. They got out of slavery. Then, of course, things began to deteriorate again, but let's focus on one calamity at a time.

As I was sitting and learning a piece of Midrash for class on Monday, I was stuck by this. We were told to learn for 120 minutes tops and then quit, no matter where we were with the text. We didn't have this un-ending misery ahead of us, but rather a tenable, manageable amount of time (although it loomed like forever at the beginning). What I discovered is that when broken into pieces, anything can be manageable, and anything can make sense.

Therefore, maybe the reason the plagues are broken up, why there are multiple explanations of Passover, why the people are so willing to just go along with Moses's plans is that they are mostly given in small chunks (even though they hit one after another). The people are able to (barely) digest one thing and then given the next. Not a perfect plan, but A method of working.

Needless to say, I won't be working like that (no stops ahead) during my studies. Rather, I will work to separate my challenges into reasonable and manageable chunks. Hopefully in that, I will feel more prepared to face each chunk and piece of learning.

Shabbat Shalom

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!"

Show you care

Parshat Vayigash, Genesis 44:18-47:27

This week, my fingers feel as though they have been attached to the keyboard, what with finals and CPE (clinical pastoral education) applications. My left index finger even feels like it might have been strained somehow. Therefore, instead of some meaningful or powerful insights for this week, I want to suggest we all be thankful. Because that is what this parsha is all about: family and appreciating them.

Having lost my grandfather last Thursday, I got to experience ALMOST all of my dad's siblings, their spouses, their kids, and my grandmother in one place. We missed Zayde, but he would have loved that we were all together. Joseph is finally tells his brothers who he really is and is reacquainted with his father, Jacob. The feeling of homecoming I felt Saturday night might be akin to how Joseph felt. Bringing people together is important. Telling them that you love them is imperative.

This Shabbat, tell those important in your life that you care. Hug them a little tighter. Make an effort to be together.

Shabbat Shalom.

Zayde, Chanukkah, and Miketz

Tonight is the 4th night of Chanukkah. Having heard two nights ago that my grandfather, David Dalke, whom we all lovingly called Zayde, passed away, I was challenged by the idea of both celebrating Chanukkah and discussing these miracles, when I felt that his passing only brought sadness to my world. In some cases, that is true: he was a beautiful soul and I loved him dearly, but he was in pain, and now I know he has found respite. Yet I also recognize that he would want me to celebrate Chanukkah in the only way he knew how: loudly, proudly, and with a drink in hand (I think I’ll skip out on that last part).

This evening, as I stand (here) on the pulpit [in Billings, MT to lead Congregation Beth Aaron] in T’fillah (prayer) and song, accompanied by my mother (who was already planning to come in for the weekend), I will channel Zayde’s passion for Judaism. He loved it, even as he slept through Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur services, his long legs unfolded in the isle of B’nai Jehudah, being nudged awake by Bubbe when he started to snore. Music will hopefully resonate in the sanctuary and then voices in the social hall as this building fills up with joyous people and excitement for this festival of lights.

With all that, I am reminded of a verse from this week’s parsha, Parshat Miketz. A continuation of the Joseph story, beginning with Joseph interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams (and becoming Pharaoh’s second in command) and concluding with Joseph’s testing of his brothers. He wants to see that his brothers have changed and are not the same men who tricked him in last week’s installment. Joseph accuses them of being spies, keeps Simeon as collateral and sends the brothers back to bring Benjamin to Egypt. They finally bring him, only to have Benjamin accused of stealing Joseph’s goblet of power. And that’s where the parsha leaves off for the week.

However the verse that stands out is one of Jacob’s. Jacob, a curmudgeon who loves Joseph more than his brothers and then Benjamin as his replacement when Jacob is told of Joseph’s “death”, is reticent to send his new favorite son to Egypt lest he be killed as well and not return. Knowing that he has no choice, Jacob relents and begins by telling the brothers, “If it must be so, do this,” wherein he begins to lay out the plan for how the brothers are supposed to go and brings gifts to put them at the mercy of the Egyptians (Gen 43:11). Jacob concludes his explanation with some choice words: "k’asher shakhalti shakholti” if I am to be bereaved, I shall be bereaved (Gen 43:14). He concludes by acknowledging the lack of power he has in the situation and putting the situation - ultimately - in God’s hands. He acquiesces.

This trust in God is not necessarily something I got from Zayde. He was always moving forward with the belief that you had to do your own thing and believe in yourself. That only then would you gain reward in this world and find what you are looking for. I respect that. But I also see the power in understanding that sometimes we have to turn ourselves over to the fate of the world and understand that life happens and doesn’t always make sense. Zayde taught me to enjoy the wind blowing and the changing of the tides, to fly my kite whenever I found the time and to enjoy the good parts of life (otherwise, according to him, what was the point?). Jacob is trying to enjoy life and in the end, must succumb to unforeseeable and rather difficult circumstances. He does it by acquiescing to God’s power. Just like the Maccabees.

The Maccabees won the war with the Greek’s in 167 BCE, short on man power, but strong on belief in God and themselves. As Margaret Mead, an American cultural anthropologist wrote, “Never doubt that a small group of dedicated [individuals] can change the world. In fact, it is the only thing that ever has.” They banded together and conquered the large Greek army, not succumbing to defeat, but rather agreeing to feel God’s power. In so doing, they allowed themselves to be strong and powerful together with God, and bring us what is now our festival of light. Zayde was like one of those Maccabees. He was determined to change the world, in his own way. He told you when you were wrong. He argued until you left the room or agreed with his point. Although he didn’t leave fate to God’s hands, he was like the Maccabee’s in that he never gave up on his beliefs and was difficult if not impossible to steer from his steadfast opinions. He was my grandfather, and tonight I light the Chanukkah candles for him, for the light he brought into my life and the dedication he, like the Maccabees, demonstrated.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Chanukkah

Two Jews, three opinions

This is one of my favorite parshiot. Maybe because I learned it in depth, but more likely because I get to learn so much each time I engage with it. It is rife with ideas and commentary, and most importantly starts off in Genesis 37:2 a most strange way: אלה תולדות יעקב יוסף בן שבע עשר (Aleh Toldot Ya'akov; Yosef ben sh'va esar). These are the generations of of Isaac, Jospeh was 17 years old. We would expect to hear about the multitudes of generations of Isaac, yet instead we hear about Jacob.

What is this about? The other 11 brothers aren't mentioned here, especially when Joseph isn't even the first-born son! After listening to many different people's commentaries this week, I have discovered the common Jewish aphorism, "Two Jews, three opinions" to be an apt representation. Each person had a different thought:

• Joseph is the most important, we don't need to hear about any others.
• This is actually the story of Joseph and we need to name Jacob as the father and then move on.
• This is a prime example of multiple authors, and evidence that they didn't mesh the stories they wove together seamlessly enough.
• The brothers aren't mentioned to demonstrate that they will have many occasions where they will be forced to contend with Joseph
• This is a story, we don't need all the facts.

Although not perfect on their own, each of these ideas are fascinating and demonstrate something about the text and the Joseph story. Instead of delving into them however, I invite you to explore this parsha and see what meaning you have for this strange verse. I will leave you with this: maybe, we do not need to remember the names of the brothers, but rather their story. That is what is being sown for us here. Now, go and reep.

Torah Parsha Challenge

Parshat VaYeishev

Genesis 37:1-40:23

Summary: The beginning of Joseph! Jacob loves Joseph more, which makes Joseph’s brothers angry. Even more aggravating are Joseph’s dreams where he predicts ruling over those same brothers. They decide to sell Joseph into slavery in Egypt. Aside chapter of Tamar disguising herself as a prostitute and sleeping with her father-in-law-Judah. Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce Joseph, he refuses, she has him sent to prison after accusing him of trying to rape her. Pharaoh’s baker and butler have dreams in prison which Joseph interprets.

Beginning of Parsha

37:2 These are the generations of Jacob—Joseph, being seventeen years old, was feeding the flock with his brothers, still a boy with the sons of Bilhah, and with the sons of Zilpah, his father's wives; and Joseph brought evil report of them to their father.

The parsha starts out normally enough: These are the generations of Jacob. From there, we assume that we will get a generational expansion, so we know his children and who bore them. Yet instead, the reader is immediately faced with Joseph.

Questions:

1. Why does the literary author not include all the generations of Jacob? (Are they unimportant? Are we expected to know them already? Is Joseph the only son?)

2. Joseph is constantly upheld as the “favorite” son. He is given a striped coat (or coat of many colors), interprets dreams, and Jacob grieves when told his son has “died.” If you read the rest of Chapter 37 (http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt0137.htm), does this inform Gen 37:2? Possibly, this innovation isn’t about the names, but about the stories, where Joseph is the focal point for all stories about the brothers. If that is the case, does Joseph do an effective job carrying the story? Why do we or do we not want him as our protagonist from here until the end of Genesis?

Judah and Tamar, Chapter 38

This chapter doesn’t make sense in the greater scheme of the parsha. Instead of following the story that we start with, we see the story of Judah and Tamar. Brief synopsis: Tamar is married to Judah’s son, he dies, she marries the next one, he dies and Judah will not give Tamar his last son to marry. Tamar gets frustrated, dresses herself as a prostitute, and goes to Einaim. Judah engages her services and agrees to pay her with a goat. However, Judah had to bring the goat at a later time, so he left his staff and seal with her. When Judah sent for his stuff, no one could find the prostitute.

Three months later, Tamar is accused of prostitution and Judah orders her burned to death. She sends Judah the staff and seal, saying that the owner of these things is responsible for the pregnancy. Recognizing his things, Judah takes back the burn order and Tamar’s place in the family is set. Tamar has twin sons, Zerah and Peretz.

The entirety of this chapter is strange, as it is an aside. Not only that, Judah has demonstrated that he is not one of the good sons of Jacob.

Questions:

1. Therefore, what is the point of this story in the context of the Joseph narrative? What change(s) do(es) Judah undergo that makes him different later on? What can we learn from his behavior to help us in our lives?

2. Tamar has twin sons, and although Zerah’s hand emerges first (the midwife ties a red string around it so they know), Perez is born first. What other births does this remind us of (think the previous few parshiot)? Why is it important who is born first? 

Grateful Goals

I didn't post this past SHabbat. It actually feels fitting, with how school and finals and December have all kicked into full gear. However, I was reminded recently of the importance of remembering the good in our lives, in seeing that there are always positives we can find. Even more, by rediscovering the positive, we can actually begin to empower ourselves to see that positive and live it in our daily lives:

• My community: I get to learn with 10 other members of a cohort who are considerate, passionate, caring and knowledgeable. Each day I have the opportunity to delve into the multiplicity manners of learning and engaging information and therefore glean more than I would independently. They challenge me, probe me, question me, support me, and give me the space to learn and grow. Without them, I couldn't and wouldn't be as strong.
• My teachers: most of the teachers here are so knowledgeable and passionate that they instill within me and my fellow classmates that flame, in order to go learn more on our own.
• My health: I am healthy and strong, able to be active and move and engage with the world around me.
• Fear: fear is healthy. I am fearful of what I am learning, of what it means for me and my future. But that fear makes me work harder, makes me take more risks and delve deeper. Without it, I would be stale and stuck.
• Shelter, Food, Water: My fourth graders reminded me a few weeks ago that these are blessings. While I know they are lowest on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, they are also imperative to the rest of my life being successful. Therefore, I recognize how wonderful it is that I don't even need to worry about these aspects of life and therefore can focus on deeper and more complex things.
• My students: Each week I have the honor of engaging students in conversations about God and Judaism. They constantly ask questions that intrigue and challenge me, making me willing and able to dig deeper into my own beliefs. I would not be as excited for each week if not for their curiosity and openness.
• My friends: Moving to a new city, I constantly struggle with finding people with whom I connect and how to do so. The people whom I have met and become close to have become rocks, those to whom I turn when I need a break. Although many come from within the walls of HUC, all of them have brought meaning and beautiful thoughts to light. They encourage me and therefore allow me to feel like myself.

With all of these, I am able to grow and become stronger. Many other factors contribute, and I cannot wait to explore what those are as well.