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!"

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?

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.

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.

Rockets, refuge and retribution

The following is the text of the sermon I will give tonight at B'nai Jehudah, in my position as Rabbinic Intern.

Each day I wake up and check my phone for the news from Israel. Is this the day I need to prepare myself for a friend’s passing? How many people died overnight? Was it someone I knew? I walk through my day in a daze, unable to give work 100% of my attention, instead filled with dread and knots in my stomach, knowing my home is under fire. I find myself looking for airline tickets. I am sick with worry.

The country which I love with my entire being is under attack. My people, my neighbors, my friends are being terrorized and simultaneously engaged in this military action. The escalation has increased significantly from the kidnapping and murder of three Israeli teenagers, Gilad Shaar, Naftali Frankel, and Eyal Yifrach, to a revenge killing of Muhammed Hussein Abu-Khadir, an Arab teen, to an all out invasion into Gaza. 30 Israeli soldiers have been killed in this battle. Hundreds of innocent Arabs have been killed. The anguish I feel is all-consuming. I am plagued by questions of what to do with the bloodshed, the pain, and death.

The questions are ever-present. Our tradition says that we shall not kill, that we should protect ourselves against murder. So then, what does it mean to defend? How long can Israel sit and be bombarded with bombs before she acts, knowing there will be collateral damage in the wake? What do we do when people take a situation into their own hands, not consulting a higher power or the laws of human engagement?

In searching for these answers, I realized that this week’s Torah portion deals with just these complex ideas. It defines what רצח, murder is, tells us how to handle the bloodshed that occurs. The parsha even goes so far as to delineate what encompasses a city of refuge, who can go there and why.

Anyone who takes a life sustains some sort of punishment. The parsha specifies, for instance, that only one who murders another intentionally should be punished by a blood-avenger, or a close family member who becomes a state-appointed agent. Only certain objects or means of killing count as 1st degree murder. In Numbers 35:21, the explanation is that “if [a man] pushed [someone] in hate or hurled something at him on purpose and death resulted,” the instigator can be put to death. That insinuates that those people throwing rockets at Gaza, and those doing so from Gaza into Israel deserve punishment.

I think to myself “that cannot be right.” The idea of killing members of the Israeli army for sending rockets into Gaza doesn’t seem like a good solution to me, but nor does allowing Hamas operatives who bombard Israel with rocket fire to continue to do so. Following orders cannot be punishable by death, can it? The parsha doesn’t suggest what to do when people are dying on both sides of the conflict. It doesn’t clarify how to support Israel, while your moral compass is telling you that innocent death is wrong. Nor does it give an option for what to do when the people firing the rockets are simply following orders, not the ones making the ultimate decisions.

We, as Jews, come from a place that maintains the importance of life above all else. That claim is being threatened by the idea of a real-life situation where lives will be lost on a daily basis, on both sides of the conflict. My heart says that Israel must support herself, despite the death count, but then I hear another voice saying that any death is still death. The question then becomes, not how do we define murder, but how do we maintain our morality in this sea of death?

The Torah, as any good teacher does, offers some kind of hope and solution to this moral dilemma. This hope comes in the form of cities of refuge, ערי המקלט. The purpose of a city of refuge is to offer asylum to one who has accidentally killed another individual and is worried for his own life. He can turn to one of these six cities of refuge and be given peace of mind that he is safe and protected as long as he is within the city limits. At the time when the tribe where the murder took place is ready to prosecute, the suspected killer is taken to court and brought to justice. This is our first of two positives offered by the cities: a person gains protection until a court steps in to judge. The second positive we glean is that time is offered to let minds and hearts not directly emotionally involved in the circumstances preside over the trial.

Yet, how does this relate to modern-day Israel. The word מקלט in Hebrew means shelter, specifically air raid shelter. This is where Israelis go every time they hear the air raid siren, marking another rocket being launched at them. Therefore, Israel has a few more than six ערי-מקלט, we have thousands. These shelters literally save lives. They serve their purpose, of housing people from the barrage around them and give them sanctuary for a few minutes. Although these shelters are not necessarily used to shelter suspected killers, we see that the refuge is still imperative.

Were we to consider these cities of refuge as actual cities again, we might still be able to imagine it in today’s escalating skirmish. I know intrinsically that there is not one individual that is firing these rockets into Gaza or into Israel. Rather, many people are responsible for each rocket being sent over the wall. Many of these people are likely the unintentional killers we hear about in our parsha. The intention of their commanders may be to kill, but they personally do not wish to kill anyone. That moral dilemma and conscience weighs strong. This is where the cities of refuge come in. Those who know they have taken innocent lives may search in vain for a way to rationalize what they have done or are currently doing. They are the ones who need the cities of refuge. They need a place to put distance between themselves and their actions, to be judged by an outside party with no revenge to be had.

The Torah delineates six rules of how exactly we go about the process of negotiating a legal decision when it comes to murder. This is supposed to be about what happens when one person commits murder, detailing how the murder should be avenged, or not avenged, and how to bring resolution to the initial conflict. However, we are not told what to do when multiple deaths occur and it is not one person doing the killing, but one people against another. Nor are we given the guidelines for what to do when there are chains of command, with a Commander telling his soldiers what to do, therefore potentially changing the onus from the person doing the action to the Commanding Officer.

Perhaps, when this war is over, a conclusive solution can be reached. The International Criminal Court of the United Nations, a supposedly unbiased body, might be able to try those in the upper echelons of both Hamas leadership and the Israeli military. I don’t want to see my brothers and sisters as killers, but nor do I want to see my neighbors as killers either. I lived and worked with Arabs. I ate lunch with them everyday. I shared gossip with them. They aren’t killers either. Many of them are my friends as well. I want to see retribution, so Israel maintains her right to exist, and so I don’t feel this moral dilemma of who is responsible for these deaths.

Yet right now, there is no solution. At least not one that will leave everyone happy and all parties feeling they have gotten what they ask for/deserve. Each party is currently grieving and feels they are in the right with regard to killings in this Operation. Each party wants to gain justice. But if both sides continue to pursue justice on their own, they will continue to bring death, hatred and pain to the world. 

Unfortunately, these six rules for what to do when homicide occur do not have a timeline attached to them. They do not say exactly when we should enact the process and how to carry it out. Especially during times of war when emotions are high and anger flies faster than the rockets in the sky.

For now, we must recognize that there is no easy solution. Yet, there can be a tempering of hate and anger, a conscious effort to fill the world with more love and peace. Although naive, the more love we bring into the world, the more we counter the hate around us. We must recognize that these laws of what to do with homicide were put down for us, as the Jewish people, to bring expiation. If we acknowledge that, we can cease to take life and death matters into our own hands.

How do we bring about this tempering of hate and anger? We must reach out to our Muslim neighbors, engaging them in conversation and friendship. We can give money to Israeli organizations like OneFamily and the Reform Movement in Israel (the IMPJ) who help make life in these places of refuge a little easier. We can write our Congressmen/woman, urging them to suggest respite for both Palestinian and Israeli children caught up in this struggle. We can and must make our voices heard.

This Shabbat, may we gain peace and and understanding with our brothers and sisters. May we merit to live in a place where rockets do not rain down and hatred is not the modus operandi. May this Shabbat bring us compassion and time to consider how we can bring betterment to our broken world.

Contracts, Contacts and Commandedness

This week’s parsha, called מטות, meaning tribes, is a difficult one. Found in Numbers 30:2-32:42, it comes at a time when the Torah isn’t necessarily engrossing, meaning we could easily pass it over and feel we hadn’t missed much. However, the beauty of Torah is that we don’t skip parshiot (Torah portions), just because we don’t find them the most enthralling. Rather, we find something in that portion that speaks to us and go from there. In fact, this idea, that there is always a takeaway, no matter how large or small, is helpful for us in life. When we are faced with a situation, even if we feel it will not end well or there is no purpose, we must attempt to find the good in that scenario.

Our parsha does still have meaningful takeaways. Before we discuss, however, let us get an overview, so at least we know what is being addressed. The parsha starts off talking about vows and obligations. First, we are told that when a man makes a vow or takes an obligation upon himself, he must uphold it. [The word vow, in Hebrew, נדר, neder, is the same word in the name for the service that begins the evening of Yom Kippur, כל נדרי, Kol Nidre. This specific reading is discussing our nullification of vows for the coming year, our forgiveness of lost vows in the past year. We do this, because as Jews, we recognize how important our vows are, and therefore treat them as holy entities. The foundation for these vows comes from this week’s parsha.] The other vows discussed are the ones a woman makes, either in her father’s or husband’s home. As women were either property of their husband or father, this covers almost all circumstances. Once a woman makes a vow, whether in her father’s or husband’s house, she must uphold it. However, her husband or father has the final say. If the man doesn’t say anything about the vow, the woman keeps it; if the man disallows the vow, than the vow is nullified and she is free from sin before God.

Then, the people are commanded by God (via Moses) to fight the Midianites. Moses tells them to take 1000 soldiers from each tribe, and go attack. We don’t hear of the battle, just that every male from among the Midianites is killed. The fighters bring back spoils, the women, and children. Those women who have “known” a Midianite man are to be put to death, as are all of the male children. Everyone and everything else goes to the people, split up so that those who fought get a greater percentage of the spoils.

The last part of the parsha discusses how 2.5 of the 12 tribes don’t want to enter the land of Egypt. They ask Moses if they can stay in Transjordan, and he is appalled. These people have wandered with the Israelites for 40 years and now don’t want part of the land of Israel? Even more so, they aren’t willing to fight for the land that God has promised them. When Moses addresses them with this issue, they clarify and suggest that they just want to take advantage of the good land that they have already seen. These people, of the tribes of Gad and Reuben, and half of Manasseh, have no intention of dismissing the rest of their people. Rather, they want to set up a community and let their cattle stay in Transjordan, at which point they will send soldiers into Israel and help the rest of the Israelites fight off the opposing peoples there in the land. That settled, Moses concedes.

First of all, Moses’s immediate distrust of these 2.5 tribes is jarring. Yes, Moses has spent the past 40 years leading these people through the desert and working tirelessly to get them where they need to go (Israel), but he should also have grown to trust them as well. Yet, as much as these tribes may want to make decisions for themselves, they must have an awareness of the people around them. If that is the case, they would and should be conscientious of those around them and their expectations moving forward.

Due to this, we must look at Moses’ actions more closely. But first, we must understand that Moses is under a lot of pressure. He has been charged with leading the Israelites into the land of Israel, while simultaneously knowing he himself will not gain entrance. Not only that, he must continue to teach his predecessor, Joshua, and guide him for assumption of the role of leader. Why does he mistrust these tribes and their desire to stay in Transjordan? Why is it such a big deal that they might not enter to fight in Israel? Is there something about the twelve tribes presenting a united front?

Moses’ first comment to the Gadites and the Reubenites, in Numbers 32:7 is to ask “why will you turn the minds of the Israelites from crossing into the land that the Eternal has given you?” He doesn’t trust the two groups of people to just stay in Transjordan themselves. Rather, Moses believes that they will take other people or whole tribes with them, meaning he must be very cautious. Because of this, Moses reminds them that this is exactly the same behavior that their fathers exhibited when sent to survey the land in Numbers 13 and 14. They turned their backs on the land and then subsequently turned the minds of the rest of the Israelites.

In addition, Moses sees the motives of the Reubenites and the Gadites as what they truly are: purely economic in nature, says Isaac Arama, writing in the 15th century. He continues on that Moses therefore does not apologize for what might be seen as over-reacting because he didn’t. Fearful for the future of the Jewish people, Moses must consider everyone in his decisions, not just these particular tribes. He is aware that these tribes have a share in the land and must not forsake it. The love of the land and the material possessions associated with it took hold of the Reubenites and the Gadites, making them forget their obligation to the people.

However, they do not forget this obligation. Once reminded that they will “bring calamity upon all the people” if they turn away from God again (Num 32:15), they stepped forward and took responsibility for their actions, making an oath to help the rest of the people going to settle the land of Israel. Of course, the Torah would not be Torah without a few more curveballs. When the people, in the next verse, recognize what Moses is saying, they say they will build pens for their sheep and towns for their children. Midrash (Numbers Rabbah 22:9) suggests that by putting their cattle before their children, they will not find blessing from their wealth. Therefore, we see that these tribes will still suffer from settling in Transjordan, because they put such emphasis on their material goods!

In the end, this oath swearing and Moses’ repetition of the oath (Moses repeats the oath back to the two tribes, changing it slightly to invoke the name of God and adding a conditional statement (see Numbers 32:22-23)), demonstrate to the reader the idea of conditional contracts. Halacha felt this was very important and made sure to include aspects of it in the Shulchan Aruch, posited by Rabbi Meir.  This sets up four conditions that must be upheld in order to make the contract valid. These conditions are: 1) it must be stated twice as both a positive and negative, 2) the positive must come first, 3) the condition, the “if,” must come before the consequence, the “what” and 4) the condition must be fulfillable. This being used as the foundational circumstance that brought about conditional statements, we see just how important this situation was. Although it needed to be handled tenderly, it was eventually resolved and brought to light, with both parties satisfied with the conclusion.

In many ways, this is just another example of how Moses serves as leader to the people, channeling God and attempting to do the best he can with the time and circumstances he has. He demonstrates that he must treat everyone and every situation objectively, while also looking at the greater picture of where he is and what needs to happen for the success of the Jewish people.  We see that Moses knows how important the land of Israel is and ensures that some selfish behavior does not cause the entire people to lose this birthright. Moses serves as a valiant leader, as a conduit for God, and handles this situation with fairness and equanimity.

May our Shabbat too be filled with a sense of fairness, where we understand the greater circumstances around us, while we simultaneously take time to deal with each individual situation we face. May we be strong and persuasive leaders like Moses, knowing what is right and what is important.

Pinchas and Protective Edge

This week's parsha, Pinchas, BaMidbar 25:10-30:1 is an odd one. It doesn't stand out as much as last week's (Parshat Balak), but it has a seemingly strange conglomeration of events and laws that occur or are prescribed to the Jewish people. We are first faced with the end of the story that ended last week's parsha: the Israelite men cohabiting with Moabite/Midianite women. Pinchas is named as the one who kills the Israelite Zimri and his Midianite woman, Cozbi. For his service, God tells Pinchas that he will always have a part of the covenant and the priesthood, because he acted for God, was jealous for God and atoned for the people.

Next comes the census. After forty years of wandering in the desert, Moses wants to know who is with him and to which tribe they ascribe. He needs the count of all men over the age of twenty in order to know how to distribute the land once the people get into the land of Israel. He counts out all the people, and when the results are compared to the first census, the numbers are pretty similar. The census may actually be a foreshadowing to what will happen next in the parsha (after a short break for women's inheritance rights), with Moses being told he will die, asking for a predecessor and having Joshua appointed. Joshua is appointed איש אשר-רוח בו, because there is spirit in him (Numbers 27:18). He is charged with the responsibility, but more importantly, he is charged with leadership. He must lead the people, them following him wherever he goes.

However, the intervening story is an incredible one of women's rights, not often espoused in our Torah. We hear the daughters of Zelophahad asking for land inheritance, even though they are not sons and therefore would not normally be given inheritance (at this time, land was passed on patrilineally). God takes their plea and sets down the laws of inheritance, making land go first to a son, then to a daughter, then to the man's brother and continuing. Women get something in the end!

Lastly, we are given the laws for sacrifices, moving from daily sacrifices, toward the one for Shabbat, for Rosh Hodesh, and then for the חגים, the holidays. We are told how many of each animal to sacrifice, with what to do the sacrifice, and when in particular on that holidays. The holidays are given in order, starting with Passover.

This week, I am struck by a parallel between the census and Joshua's appointment as leader, and the current situation in Israel, named in English, Operation Protective Edge. Getting updates on my phone every time there is a siren in Israel, I am constantly bombarded with these news flashes. Each one makes the knot grow a little tighter in my stomach. I am homesick. I am desperate. I want to be back in Israel. A mentor asked why I didn't just hop on a plane, go back there. I responded that I have responsibilities, a job, things I cannot simply abandon. She suggested that if it's that important, the people will understand. In the end, I felt that as much as I have a responsibility to Israel, I also have a responsibility to things to which I have already committed myself. Yet I still find myself daily checking prices for flights to Tel Aviv.

How does that connect to the census and to Joshua. The census was taken as the people stood on the brink of entrance to the holy land. They were preparing to go in, to take their place in a land that had been their carrot, their promise for over forty years. There is no question that they knew it would not be easy or perfect, but they were going into the land. The census is our indication that this is real. Israel today also does a census, taking account of who lives within her borders and where they are. Yet, Israel must also must take into consideration the people living within her at-on-time borders, in Gaza, those who now attack her in hatred. Although not the same thing, we also needed to firmly determine who was part of the Israelite people, and who was not. That would be the indication for Joshua as to who he would take into the land.

Our census from entering the land and our census statistics from this past Israeli Independence Day are hugely different in number, and are not recorded according to tribe. But the census is a gathering of the people, forcing them to come together and share in their common identity. These past few days, we have been forced to come together as a Jewish people, to acknowledge that despite differences, we are one people and must rally behind whatever decisions our Israeli leaders make. Joshua and Moses both made unpopular decisions, but they had to be carried out. So too, must we continue to stand with Israel, understanding that we may not always agree with the decisions promulgated from the top, but that she and her citizens need our support and our prayers.

This Shabbat, as we prepare to read the counting of the people, may we also count our blessings. No matter where we are in the world. we have blessings, however big or small, and we must acknowledge them if we are to bring more love and peace into the world. May this Shabbat bring quiet to those around the world, and a calm to those who need it. May it be God's will. Amen.

Korach and kamp

These past two weeks, I have been working at the summer camp here at B'nai Jehudah. Called Machane Yehudah, camp yehudah, we have spent two weeks learning about Jewish values and people, exploring Judaism and having a blast. We've separated into families, learned about Israeli cities, and even drawn with chalk on the cement.

My morning responsibility was leading the Religious Leadership kibbutz job. Although not entirely sure what our plan would be, I slowly recognized that if I simply led the kids, we could look anywhere to explore Judaism. Our intention was to discover where we found God and how we experienced God. Most importantly, we were doing different activities to see how we connected to God through each one. We traced our bodies outside, we did havdallah and meditated, we celebrated Shabbat with the preschool. We fingerpainted with preschoolers and ran around in the rain, jumping in puddles. We walked outside, discovering our most Godly places outdoors and asked different people how they felt about God. No matter what we were discussing, we always felt or found God somewhere. We always had fun.

But unfortunately, there are people in this world who do not find God. Our explorations led us to believe that we can always find God if we search for God. Yet we know that some simply don't care enough to do so, or do not believe that there is a chance of them finding God. This week's Torah portion, Korach, seems to be a similar justification for this. If we ignore God's warnings that we see in our everyday lives, we will be punished. Just as God punished Korach, Datan and Abiram, swallowing them and the 250 dissenters against Moses and Aaron in a giant hole in the ground, God finds ways to punish us. God may not go to such extremes as swallowing people in the ground nowadays (unless you think tsunamis and other natural disasters are God's wrath-I absolutely do NOT), but God finds ways. We simply need to discover those ways. However, a better method is not to bring wrath upon ourselves at all, instead being good and walking in God's ways.

These past two weeks have helped me understand that God can be found in so many things, even if I wasn't aware or am not considering God at a particular moment. I've found God in the blue jay on my morning run, in the smile on a 5th graders face when I complimented her. In the rain during our kickball game or making a girl enjoy her Hebrew tutoring and actually start smiling and talking instead of moping. God was in all those places. Instead of being against God and attempting to fight others, we should work to make the world a better place and find our own connection to God.

May this week bring ways of feeling and finding God, of experiencing God. May you discover that it is better/more holy to come closer to God then to distance yourself from God (by distancing yourself from other people). May this week be filled with contentment and peace. Amen.

Shabbat shalom.

Emor: consequences...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shabbat shalom

Achrei Mot

Aaron's Son's Nadav and Abihu have died and Aaron is moving on. God gives Moses to command to speak to Aaron about how he should approach the Beit haMikdash and what he should bring with him. God describes the two goats Aaron is to bring, one for sacrifice and one to be let go. The explanation goes on to include that of atonement and specifically, the day of atonement. As it is written in Leviticus 16:30: כִּֽי־בַיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֛ה יְכַפֵּ֥ר עֲלֵיכֶ֖ם לְטַהֵ֣ראֶתְכֶ֑ם מִכֹּל֙ חַטֹּ֣אתֵיכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֥י יְהוָ֖התִּטְהָֽרו For on this day atonement will be made for you to be pure (to cleanse you) from all the sins/impurities you have made before the lord. The surrounding verses similarly focus on Yom Kippur and give us a detailed explanation of how we must keep the Day of Atoenment, that it is indeed a day of rest and that we must "afflict our souls" during this Shabbat Shabbaton.

Yet the question arises: what does it really mean to atone? Why must we do it? And why now? Does Aaron have something he must atone for, or is God simply continuing the education God started for Aaron before his sons died? If we continue on in reading the parsha, we come across chapter 18, which lays out all the ways someone shall not uncover another person's nakedness. The various ways one might do so, like with a father's sister or a son or daughter's daughter, with one's sister or daughter or father's wife. Basically, the Torah covers the bases.  In 18:27-29, the Torah suggests that we must keep these ordinances and teachings, for if we do not, the land will vomit us out  for defiling it as it vomited out the nations that came before us (yes, the word vomit is actually used!). How are these two parts of the parsha connected.

With regard between the connection between the two parts of the parsha, it seems that God has detailed our path of atonement, and then provides us with specific incriminations for which atonement isn't even feasible. God understands that there may be times when we go astray and therefore do wrong, and that happens. However, we must take heed and atone for those wrongdoings once they occur. The transgressions described in chapter 18 are impermissible and must not be performed under any circumstances. Only with the serious transgressions will God smite the Jewish people and have them vomited on by the land itself.

In considering the first set of questions, of the meaning of atonement, Rabbi Ishmael in Tosefta Kippurim 4(5) 6-8 has much to add. The Tosefta shares with us four divisions in the matter of atonement. The one pertaining to our parsha is that "If one transgresses a negative command and then repents, repentance suspends punishment and Yom Kippur brings atonement" (Leviticus 16:30) The other three are of failing to observe a positive command and repenting, therefore being forgiven on the spot (Jeremiah 3:22), committing a sin punishable by death by repents and participates in the Day of Atonement, the punishment is suspended if the person continues to be good through the year (Psalm 89:33), and the worst that is deliberately profaning God's name, is only atonable by not only repenting and the Day of Atonement, but also suffering and final death. (Isaiah 22:14). Therefore, we find that atonement has different meaning depending on the kind of sin one commits. Atoning is the act of repenting, of apologizing, of making right the act that was so wrong in the first place. Atonement is the cleansing of the soul, the coming face to face with one's actions and taking accountability for them.

I am reminded of my children. Working with kids with special needs, they often don't understand that they need to apologize and simply continue on in their own world after doing something wrong to another. Stopping that child, I bring them over to the hurt party and ask them to apologize, in whatever way they are capable. Whether or not the child understands why he or she is apologizing, the hurt party gets some sense of righteousness and the world continues on, back in proper balance. However, atonement isn't always that simple. The more complex our ability to reason becomes, the easier it is to explain away what we have done as necessary or not painful. Yet we must always recognize that our actions have repercussions and apologize. If not, we must be held accountable for our actions. That is the purpose of Yom Kippur, to hold us accountable for our actions and make us aware that we have caused pain, even if the intentions were entirely pure.

This parsha, on the heals of Aaron's son's deaths, is the time to atone. However, the time to atone is before death. One makes a final death bed atonement, apologizing for the sins and wrongdoings one has done in life. This absolves one of his or her sins and allows one to die peacefully. Although Nadav and Abihu were not given the opportunity to atone for their sins before their deaths, God informs Aaron how he must make atonement in the future. Therefore, Aaron will know what to do with other people if they are to commit sins or transgressions.

This week, we learn about how to atone for our wrongdoings. As Passover approaches, we see that even in slavery, there are people who do wrong and must make the wrong right. No matter where we are in our lives, we must acknowledge that we must take responsibility for our actions and accept the punishment that comes with them.

Shabbat Shalom!

Parshat Tzav and Purim

מי שניכנס אדר מרבין בשמחה

Whomever welcomes the month of Adar, increases in joy!

Saturday night (Sunday night in walled/fortified cities), begins the holiday of Purim. A holiday misconstrued as one for children and simply full of frilly or scary costumes. In actuality, Purim is a holiday meant for those of all ages. With the four Mitzvot attached to it, it ensures that there is something for every family member: seudah v'shtiya, kriat Megillah, mishloach manot and matanot l'evyonim (a festive meal, the reading of the Megillah, giving of gifts and giving to the poor. The meal should be relaxed and enjoyable enough, where you drink enough to not know the difference between the phrases 'cursed be Haman' and 'blessed be Mordechai'. The Megillah reading is a family affair, with the mitzvah requiring all to hear it (except for a certain small group of people). The gift giving is also something everyone can participate in, teaching the important lessons of giving to those in need and sharing what you have. All in all, a good holiday.

Yet here in Israel we have been celebrating Purim for the past month and a half, since Adar aleph came in. Meaning the catchy tunes are no longer amusing and the face point no longer appealing. Yet the hamentashin (oznei haman-Haman's ears here in Israel) are still incredibly tasty and the joy still contagious.

The question then becomes, why do we read such a seemingly dry parsha the week before such a happy and joyful holiday? Well, first reason is that the Torah was not designed to be read in conjunction with the holidays (we have special parshiot assigned to certain biblically ordained holidays), and so the reading continues along, week by week, a progression from the week before. 

So what's with this weeks parsha, Tzav, in vayikra 6:1-8:36? We get a continuation of the instructions for the myriad of offerings and are told what the priests can take from each offering. However, all of chapter 8 deals with the consecration of the Mishkan and it's attendants (the priests). We are told in detail how the high priest (Aaron) is to be dressed and the order in which he puts on each piece. As it is written in 8:7, וַיִּתֵּ֨ן

עָלָ֜יו אֶת־הַכֻּתֹּ֗נֶת וַיַּחְגֹּ֤ר אֹתוֹ֙ בָּֽאַבְנֵ֔ט וַיַּלְבֵּ֤שׁ אֹתוֹ֙ אֶֽת־הַמְּעִ֔יל וַיִּתֵּ֥ן עָלָ֖יו אֶת־הָאֵפֹ֑ד וַיַּחְגֹּ֣ר אֹת֗וֹ בְּחֵ֙שֶׁב֙ הָֽאֵפֹ֔דוַ יֶּאְפֹּ֥ד ל֖וֹ בּֽוֹ׃ 

And he put on him (Aaron) the tunic and tied the girdle and dressed him in the robe and gave him the ephod and tied him with the band of the ephod, with the ephod he girded him.

We're also instructed how that Aaron must be washed and at blood must be put on the tip of Aaron's right ear, on the thumb of his right ear, and on the big toe of his right foot (the rabbis likely had a field day with the particulars of that one!).

Here, I am not concerned with the rabbinic interpretation, but rather with the dressing up aspect, of changing into something else. At Purim time, we get to shed our everyday masks and become another being, acquire another identity. The priest in this week's parsha does a similar thing. He shed's his former clothing, the mask of Aaron the man and becomes Aaron the kohen, Aaron the high priest. This new identity sets him apart from all the other Hebrews. Unlike with Purim, where we can simply take off our costumes and re-don our former identity, Aaron has been formally given this position, unable to simply abdicate or say he doesn't feel like it one day.

Fortunately, we can abdicate many of the masks we consciously or unconsciously don. This Purim, I challenge you to look within and discover what masks you wear, what identities you portray. Decide what is appropriate and what you can choose to discard. Become a new person or re-discover the best you. Be like Aaron and wear your identity with pride, demonstrating the process and necessity that comes with some masks along with the excitement of newness and passion.

חג פורים שמח, ושבת שלום

Happy Purim and Shabbat shalom!

Pikudei: repetition or reification

Tv host: "Welcome back to wandering the desert. And building a tabernacle in which to worship God!"

Audience member: "What, I can't hear you!!"

Tv host: raises voice "I said, WELCOME BACK TO..."

Sometimes we repeat ourselves. In fact, this happens often that we are asked to repeat an argument or a statement because someone else didn't hear or understand. This second time we speak more clearly, try to reiterate the point within a better framework. Whatever the reason, we speak twice.

However, the Torah rarely demonstrates redundancy. Words are chosen carefully and not wasted. Each word, each letter even, has a purpose and any additional letters would be excessive. Our Mitzvot are present in the Torah, irregardless of how fleeting their mention might be. That indeed is the purpose of the Mishna and Gemara; to explain and expand.

What then, do we make of repetition? Parshat pikudei, the last parsha in the book Shemot, is a reiteration of the past few parshiot, in particular Trumah and tetzvah. We are faced with a present tense retelling of story of building the Mishkan. The description is again detailed and the various jewels and colors necessary for the construction are specific to the end.

Noticing this redundancy in passing, I mentioned it at my weekly Torah study. As it turns out, Chabad rabbis also had a question about this. Their explanation centers around  Moses's commune with God. Rabbi schneerson argues that Moses's soul is already elevated to another level, the level of the heavens, so he can commune with God. Yet the people are not, so they must receive the instructions again, this time from Moses.

When I consider this issue, I see the idea in a slightly different light. First, it is possible that this is a demonstration of multiple authorship. The redundancy in Torah, with slight differences often regales the reader with the form knowledge that a descrepency between sources may have occurred.

Another explanation centers around God. God is this central character in the Torah and we do not take lightly the words which God utters. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that we reveer the actions God intends us to take. Following that line of logic, a repetition of the instructions of building the Mishkan is reasonable, even logical. How can we possibly imagine constructing the resting place of the holy God in any manner less than perfect?

Third and last, the whole book of Shemot, exodus, tells the story of the exodus from Egypt. The sensibility of ending this chapter of the saga with a description of how the Hebrews built the tabernacle is not only reasonable, but marvelous. Only a short time before, they were slaves in Egypt and now they are building a tabernacle of precious jewels and metals. This is definitely a demonstration of God's power and ability.

Whatever the reasons are for repetition in the Torah and in particular in this parsha, we may never know. In fact, we may not need no know. What we can know is that there is  God and God's dwelling place, which we do respect.

Also, we have officially finished the book of Shemot, which means next week we move onto a whole different method of communication and passing on knowledge: vayikra, Leviticus (the laws!!!)

Shabbat shalom!'

Ki Tisa: repentance to humanity

The psychological deprivation is astounding. Although the metal sheeting that serves as a roof is patterned red and white, there seems to be a distinct lack of color. No where is this more apparent than in the contrast between the muted tones of the metal walkway and the brightly colored jumpsuits of the boys walking through. Wrinkled men and women, intermingled with the vibrant life of youth, wait patiently for their number to be belted out by the garbled loudspeaker.

This site, the Qaladiya checkpoint, resonates with denigration and active dismissal of humanity. Instead of focusing on the necessity of treating every human as created בצלם אלו-הים, betezelm elohim, in the image of God, this check point focuses on demoralization and how to demonstrate Israeli superiority. As people who only recently experienced being hoarded into cattle cars, how is it that we can imagine a torture chamber of a fenced walkway, roughly the width and height of a human body? Only once a trigger is released does the mechanical turnstile progress to let in the next victims to search and questioning.

When human beings are placed in unfamiliar situations, they look for solutions to bring peace to the tumult this circumstances naturally brings forth. In pars hat Ki Tisa, the Israelites tell Aaron: עשה לנו אלוהים אשר ילכו לפנינו כי-זה משה האיש אשר העלנו מארץ מצרים לא ידענו מה-היה לו, Make for us a God who/that will go before us because this Moses who brought us out of Egypt, we do not know him (Shemot 32:1). This translates into the golden calf, for which Aaron takes all of the gold and jewelry and makes the calf. Instead of destroying the Israelites and just making Moses and his offspring a great nation, God listens to Moses's pleas for salvation on behalf of the Israelites and repents. As it is written in Shemot 32:15 וינחם ה' על הרעה אשר דבר לעשות לעמו, and God repented for the evil which he spoke of doing/wished to do onto his people.

Repentance is the key difference between these two stories. In each, we get a group of people or entity acting as the persecutors, and the victims of the persecution. In both cases, the victims have done something wrong (although arguably not at all on the level of the punishment which they are being served): the Palestinians have raised a number of terrorists and attacks did rock Israel for a number of years while the Israelites created a golden calf after being specifically given the Ten Commandants, which include a prohibition against idol worship. However, the Palestinians are not bad people as a whole, nor do they deserve to be treated as if each individual person is likely going to explode the next Israeli they see. Their address should not be a limiting factor, but it serves to strangle their life capabilities. The Israelites were untrusting of a man who brought them out of Egypt to then leave them standing in the desert as he ascended a giant mountain shrouded in mystery. Who wouldn't be in search of a physical reminder of what meaning their lives hold and which God brought them out of slavery.

The constant struggle between finding the proper balance of truth is tiring. Sometimes humans seek the easy route to simply move on with life. Yet in doing so, the minutia of meaning that exists between the words said and the actions taken are lost and evaporate from accessibility. With the situation of God and Moses, the repentance that God offers of his harsh words, we see that there is a possibility to not lose the beautiful and therefore maintain blessing and truth to life. Unfortunately, the situation and circumstances between the West Bank and the rest of Israel is not one entity against a nation, but rather two nations in direct competition with another. The checkpoints and barriers separating people and worlds, or simply families, are not going to end anytime soon. This week's Torah portion urges compassion and repentance, appreciation for the other in an unthinkable situation. Might we be able to appreciate the other, our brothers and sisters, and see them as human beings deserving of righteousness? Or is that too much to ask of a people who pride themselves on have the third best military capability in the world? Maybe, one day, there will be open borders and interactions between people. But today, God has redeemed the people, and God's self, while the Israeli military still condemns herself to violating human rights and denigrating other lives.

May this Shabbat be one where we explore the meaning of inclusion and understanding, and we recognize our fellow human being as just that, human. May it be God's will.

Yitro: Creating levels

This week's parsha is one that most people dream of writing about. It's got the Ten Commandments, the ten holiest instructions on how to be good people, Good Jews and is the beginning of knowing who we are and how to go about fulfilling that. Yet before we receive this benediction, we find Moses running out to greet his father-in-law, Yitro (Jethro in English), and hearing some well timed information that will certainly come in handy to Moses.

Moses had been spending all of his time sitting outside and waiting for the people to approach him, so he could judge their disputes, and give ruling on their problems. Yitro quickly recognized how time consuming and mundane this could be and suggested his son-in-law use his time more efficiently. Instead of listening to every argument, he should teach his men the laws and rules, making them into people who hate injustice, like truth, and know where they should walk (Shemot 18:20-21). This is a system of both incorporating others into the process of adjudication and ensuring that Moses has more time to communicate with God and deal with other issues as they arise. The explanation of these new men comes in verse 18:21, ושמת עליהם שרי אלפים שרי מאות שרי חמישים ושרי עשרת, translated to and you shall place on [the people] ministers of thousands, minsters of hundreds, minsters of fifties and ministers of tens.

This process of ruling in levels is very sensible to anyone who has ever worked in an organization or the army. There is always another higher-up to whom we must report. As we go up the chain of command, the person to whom we report becomes increasingly more responsible for both greater numbers of people and a more diverse work load (usually). Along the chain, there are people whom we feel may not belong in their positions or may not have the experience or knowledge to successfully serve it, but we must still determine the most effective way of working with them. Regardless, the process is the same as it has been from the Torah.

Moses was cautious to use this system. He was the initial one in whom God trusted, how could he then trust the men to understand the issues and judge them effectively. That is one of the scariest things about teaching someone to do your job. They may very well be more talented than you are, or find an analysis that you personally didn't pick up in. Yet this is also the place where the most joy may arise. As we allow ourselves to truly be a teacher and pass on our own knowledge to others, we find the pride and beauty in another discovering what we have not. We recognize that although we may be superior to the individual in rank, their opinions and descriptions often do hold significant value.

This Shabbat, may we recognize that is system of rank and order may irk us or cause us frustration in our daily lives. Yet may we also recognize that the system acts as a balance for us and still allows us to get our voices heard. By engaging the system, we can often find the answers which we seek. When those answers do not appear, that is the time to seek out Moses, and sometimes even the head honcho, God. God's presence is everywhere, informing our decisions, but sometimes the more pure interaction with God is necessary for a proper conclusion. כן יהי רצון, may it be God's will