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

Lech Lecha: What's in a Name?

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

A (belated) Shabbat Shalom!

Genesis 12:1-17:27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

www.myjewishlearning.com

www.chabad.org

Blessings and Bounty

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

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

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

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

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

Shabbat Shalom.

Balaam's Ass

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cycling the Covenant

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shabbat Shalom!