Leah, Our Mother

This week’s Torah portion,Vayetze,means and he left. Jacob leaves his parents and brother Esau, to evade Esau’s rage after Jacob stole the blessing from him. He also leaves to find a wife from his mother’s family in Haran. On his journey, he dreams of a ladder with angels going up and down on it. God speaks to him in his dream and promises to be with him, to guard him, and to return him to Canaan where he will have many offspring and inherit the land. He arrives in Mesopotamia, falls in love with Rachel, the younger daughter of Laban, and works for Laban 7 years, for Rachel, since he had arrived in Haran without a dowry. When the 7 years are completed, he tells Laban, “deliver my wife for I have fulfilled my term.” Laban makes a wedding feast and gives him Leah instead of Rachel. In the morning Jacob is outraged and confronts Laban, who promises Rachel to him after one week of marriage to Leah, on condition that he work another 7 years. In this story we are so caught up with Jacob, Laban, and Rachel that Leah becomes lost. In Torah commentary, we hardly hear anything about Leah. Who was she and what does she have to teach us? The Torah says, in the Rashi translation, “Leah‘s eyes were tender, while Rachel was beautiful of form and beautiful of appearance.” Here we have the ugly older sister, the beautiful younger sister, and the scheming father. What would Laban have had to do to make his deception work? He would have threatened Leah and Rachel. In a patriarchal society women have no power. But in this society, it was even worse: they had no access to food, shelter, or even livelihood outside the family unit. Their undervalued feminine selves were necessary for procreation and childcare, and not much more. Self Esteem? How could there be very much? What was there for a woman but marriage and children? Leah knew her prospects were slim to nonexistent. So she went along with her father’s command, which may even have been: Don’t tell or I’ll kill you. So Leah and Rachel chose life. Another translation of Leah’s eyes is: Leah’s eyes were not tender but weak. One midrash says, weak from crying. In either case, there was a compassion there, the willingness to go along with where events took her, hoping for an outcome that would eventually be better than what she had. Unlike Rachel’s her beauty was internal. How did she feel as she impersonated Rachel, under the chuppah and later in the bridal chamber, on what was supposed to be a happy day in her life? How filled with self hated, fear, and also desperation must she have been. How sad, on her wedding night, knowing how angry her new husband would be at her, in the morning. No love from a parent, no love from her husband, no love from her sister. But God saw her compassionate nature and God knew her suffering. She was blessed with sons, while Rachel had none. She named her children meaningfully. Reuben means, look, a son, meaning, God has seen. Simeon, God has heard, Levi, now my husband will be attached to me, and Judah, praise God. Leah seems to have become a monotheist, unlike Rachel, who even 20 years after having met Jacob, steals her father’s idols to take them with her on her journey to Canaan. Perhaps Leah took on Jacob’s religion in order to be closer to him, and actually found an authentic relationship with the One God.
Desperately wanting Jacob’s love, Leah uses her children to try to gain it. It is only at the birth of her 4th child that she allows her relationship with God to fill some of the void in her heart. She is still not the preferred wife. The Torah calls her unloved in some translations, but really the Hebrew text says hated. Jacob hated her, we are told, but she was healed by God and the love of her children. Much later, Reuben finds mandrake roots in the field. Rachel, who is still childless, desires them for fertility. Leah says, “was your taking my husband insignificant, and now to take even my son’s mandrakes?” She and Rachel strike a bargain. Jacob will be with Leah that night in exchange for the mandrakes. The roots Rachel wanted produced results: Rachel conceived, perhaps even because of making peace with Leah, but also, Leah has 3 more children: Issachar, Zebulun, and Dinah. Her seven children plus the two from her servant Zilpah gave her the full life she craved. She was never beloved by Jacob that we know of, but she was beloved by God through the great blessings sent to her. Her willingness to persevere through hardship, offering herself without complaining, creating blessing for those around her and herself, make her the ideal Matriarch from which most of us are descended. Her 4th son, Judah is the name we call ourselves. We are Jews from Judah: from the same root as Todah, and Modim, giving thanks. As we give thanks to the Holy One on this Thanksgiving weekend, may we also be grateful for Leah, who gave thanks to the Eternal for the blessings she received. She was deeply grateful to be one who creates more life, and was ultimately satisfied with the blessings she received. May each of us be truly grateful for all our blessings, and also for Leah, our compassionate, loving, life giving Mother.

When Acceptace is Complete

This week’s Torah portion is Toldot, generations. It tells the story of the original dysfunctional Jewish family. Rebecca gives birth to the twins, Esau and Jacob. Jacob pressures Esau, who agrees to sell Jacob his birthright. Later, Isaac, the twins’ father, wishes to bless his firstborn, but Rebecca overhears Isaac’s plan and substitutes Jacob, who impersonates Esau, and receives his father’s blessing. The Torah tells us that the boys were very different: it says, “The lads grew up and Esau became one who knows trapping, a man of the field, but Jacob was ‘tam,’ whole or complete, abiding in tents. Isaac loved Esau, for game was in his mouth, but Rebecca loved Jacob.” Love is elusive – difficult to define or explain. It is hard to know just why we love someone, but we can ask the broader question, why do we love at all? This question takes us back to B’reisheet, the first Torah portion. This portion dignifies the emptiness in each human that is described metaphorically as the expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Given that each human being has the feeling of not being complete, I would suggest that we love to become whole; to compensate for our own lacks and deficits. In the case of Isaac, he seemed to love Esau because Esau was a man of action, whereas Isaac was a more passive personality, evidenced by his compliance at the time of his father’s almost sacrificing him. Jacob, a quieter personality than Esau, was loved by Rebecca, the courageous and spunky young woman who left her family, friends, and native land to follow a strange servant to a new land where she would marry another complete stranger. In this family, opposites seemed to attract. But the fact that the parents Rebecca and Isaac could not love the boys equally points to a lack of acceptance of themselves. If they could have truly accepted themselves, with their faults and strengths, then they could have accepted their sons and loved each of them, perhaps not equally, but individually and fully. In child rearing, I am fond of saying that it is necessary to say YES to the whole person. When many of us were growing up, we had the experience that our parents accepted parts of us and not other parts, creating inadequacy, loss of self esteem, inner conflict, and self hatred. If we could truly love and accept all of ourselves, we could love and accept others. It is a failure of self love, a failure of self acceptance that leads to our projecting our self hatred onto others and dividing people into those we like and those we do not like. To heal ourselves, we have to be God to ourselves, the loving accepting parent we may have never had, in order to become a compassionate brother or sister to our neighbors. I am not however recommending the abandonment of common sense. Our quality of judgment about people is one of our necessary and useful gifts. One of the Chassidic masters, Rabbi Naftali, said that “innocence by itself is not necessarily a good quality.” But the quality of judgment can lead us astray, giving us an excuse for the refusal to accept others in their totality, the way God accepts us. My most recent tool for myself, which I use to talk to myself about people who are harder for me to love is that: the person is a wonderful, loving person, but that the person has a hard time showing that side of themselves to me. In order to fulfill the commandment in the Torah, Love your neighbor as yourself, we have to love and accept ourselves, choosing love over judgment, albeit with clear eyes. It is a skill that can be acquired; a habit of loving that will come back to us as the richest of rewards. Through the ability to accept and love our whole selves, we can become whole; experiencing the Divine love between people that we are meant to give and receive. Each of us was born to be loved and to love greatly. As we approach this holiday season, may we allow ourselves to love each person for who they are, knowing how alike we all are, knowing and accepting who we are: fallible creatures who make mistakes, but also magnificent, loving, and Divine.

Beyond Hospitality

This week’s Torah portion is Vayera, which means, and God appeared. It is packed with events: Abraham’s welcoming of three travelers, who announce the birth of Isaac; Abraham’s questioning God about whether any righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah will be saved; Lot receiving the Angels who save him and his family, when Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed; the birth of Isaac; the sending away of Hagar and Ishmael, and finally, the test of Abraham in which he is asked to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. This portion begins: And God appeared to him in the plains of Mamre; while he sat at the entrance of the tent in the heat of the day; And he lifted his eyes and saw, and three men stood by him; he perceived so, he ran toward them from the tent entrance, and bowed toward the ground; And said, My Lord, if I have found favor in your sight, pass not away, I pray, from your servant; Let a little water, be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree; And I will fetch a morsel of bread, that you may sustain your hearts; after that you shall pass on; seeing that you are come to your servant. And they said, do so, as you have said.
Several things are notable in this first section. Abraham ran eagerly to the men, then bowed deeply to them, calling one, My Lord. Torah commentary for this section always speaks about hospitality, how welcoming Abraham was. At this time, and even through the middle ages, there were no restaurants and few inns; and it was a matter of human survival and a universal law that one had to take a traveler in; feed that person, and keep even one’s enemy overnight and up to three nights, because their survival depended on it, and your survival might depend upon it tomorrow. Abraham not only welcomed the travelers, but attended to them as a servant would, seeing to their comfort and giving them his best foods. He honored the Godliness in them, treating them as he himself would have wanted to be treated. This portion then, begins with the theme of how we treat others. We sense our own inner royalty and are disappointed or even offended when others do not treat us with honor and respect. To act at every moment in such a way that we honor the royalty in others is the mark of a very high spiritual level. Based on the Mussar literature, Rabbi Zvi Miller writes, “Abraham’s ability to treat people like royalty reflected his profound understanding of the world.” But it is so easy for us to forget and even easier to deny the spark of God in others. Our sages say that certain people cannot enter the kingdom of heaven; and among those are scoffers: those who discount other human beings and treat them badly.
Lot, too, is seen as offering hospitality in this portion. Lot urges the men who come to him, to stay the night with him in his home and eat a meal there, knowing that the townspeople of Sodom will brutalize them if he does not shield them. But Lot shows a moral failing, offering his virgin daughters to the mob, in place of the travelers. The society Lot lived in was corrupt; out of balance, devoid of moral kindness, and Lot had absorbed some of its disregard for human decency; because it does not matter who we treat badly. As long as someone is mistreated, whether or not, like Lot, we have an excuse for our behavior, we ourselves are pulled out of balance. We transgress a law of the universe that we are all equal and part of each other. And this theme is continued in the portion, with the treatment of Hagar and Ishmael. Their banishment and the divisions it caused still are being played out today.
If we could act as though we believed that there is Godliness in each of us, we would never be able to treat each other the way we do. Rashi discusses Abraham’s use of the term My Lord. He asks whether Abraham was addressing the men politely or whether Abraham was addressing God. But in reality, every time we address another human being, we are addressing God. Abraham’s willingness to attend to the comfort of the travelers showed where his passions were directed: not to satisfying his own desires, but to serving. He found the greatest satisfaction in being of service to others, never putting himself above them, but imagining himself in their place with empathy. The very first words of the portion, God appeared to him, points to the intent of the story of Abraham and the travelers. Whenever we behold the true face of another, the intrinsic holiness of that person, God appears to us. Or rather, we bring forth the appearance of God when we honor another human being. It reminds me of the story about Rebbe Moshe Lieb of Sassov, retold by Elie Wiesel. “I saw two drunkards sitting in an inn drinking and drinking, silently. But from time to time they would stop for a brief exchange. Are you my friend Alexei, asked the younger one. Do you love me? Yes, Ivan, I do. I am your friend. They emptied another glass and dreamed their separate dreams in silence. Again the younger peasant said, Alexei, Alexei, are you really my friend? Do you truly love me, Yes, I am your friend, he said. After Ivan’s asking and asking, finally Alexei got angry. How many times must I tell you, Ivan that I am your friend? Don’t you believe me? Must I go on repeating it all night? At that point Ivan looked at Alexi and shook his head sadly. Alexei, Alexei, he said. If you are my friend, if you do love me, then why don’t you know what I need? Why don’t you know what is hurting me?” A society is known for the way it treats all its members, not just the wealthy, the powerful, or the famous; and we, like Abraham, are known for how we interact with others. Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of how the people treated each other. May we spur ourselves to greater consciousness in our interactions with others, being willing to intuit their needs and find holiness in honoring them. May we not forget their Godliness when we speak to them. May we remember that we are each created with the spark of the Divine, and act to honor our own inner royalty by the honor we give to the spark of the Divine in each and every person we meet.

The Journey Beyond

This week’s Torah portion is Lech Lecha, the first historical portion in the Torah, it being about a real person. The portion relates God’s call to Abram, his going forth out of Mesopotamia to Canaan, God’s promise that the land will be given to Abraham’s descendants, the birth of Ishmael and the prophecy of the birth of Isaac, the covenant between God and Abram in which Abram and Sarai receive their new names, Abraham and Sarah, culminating in their promise to worship only God, and the rite of circumcision.
This portion famously begins, God said to Abram, Lech Lecha, go for yourself, from your land, from your relatives and from your ancestor’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation I will bless you and make your name great and you shall be a blessing.” The first few words, Lech Lecha, go for yourself, have intrigued scholars for centuries. Lech, go, would have been sufficient. The addition of lecha, for yourself, makes the sentence mysterious. Lech lecha can also mean: take yourself, go into yourself, and also, go beyond yourself. It is interesting that Abram needed to leave behind his family and the influences of his society in order to grow spiritually. In our lives, we are guided by our upbringing first, and then by the messages society continually tells us, In our upbringing, a tremendous amount of information was imparted to us, some of it vital, true, loving, and valuable; some of it false, misleading, and perhaps even detrimental to our further development. The society was different in our parents’ times. The assumptions were different and often they had beliefs that came from the society their parents lived in. Part of being an adult is testing, evaluating, retaining, and disregarding information from our past. Through Abraham, we are taught that, even as an adult, even an adult well past middle age, as Abraham was, it is possible to go beyond ourselves to be a greater blessing than we have thought is possible. The first step is to have the courage to leave the confines of the teaching of our society. I am always impressed that Sarah, without hearing God’s voice, as Abraham did, left the good shopping to live in the hinterland, the sticks, leaving civilization for a rude and crude existence. But their existence was much richer on the inside than on the outside. Society will always stress the outside at the expense of the inside. Abraham and Sarah chose the path of elevating and testing their inner abilities, rather than being concerned with the values their society fed them. They chose the path of inner growth and an attachment to the Divine. Many sages write about the potential of aligning ourselves with the Divine force in the world. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson writes: Real spiritual progress requires that one leaves one’s current state behind. Yet as long as an individual’s growth depends entirely on his own power, his progress will be limited; nobody can exceed the bounds of his own understanding. The quotation, “Go out of your land, your native land and your Father’s house” is an instruction to abandon one’s ordinary way of thinking, to go to levels beyond and to transcend one’s own limits. With progress that is guided by God, there are no limits to the potential of growth.” By separating from the commonplace we can transcend our upbringing and cleave to the Divine force for goodness and purity in the world. It is a matter of identification. With what do I identify myself? How do I define myself? What is my mission and purpose? The S’fat Emet commented that the opening verse mentions the words, which I show you. He says this refers to that which a person cannot see on his or her own. The story of Abraham leaving home teaches that Divine guidance is there once we take the first steps to separate ourselves from the habitual. This includes habitual thinking as well as habitual action. We can cause blessings to flow when we align ourselves with the greater purpose of the world, transcending our upbringing as Abraham did, going beyond the self we think we are in the present, attaching ourselves to the root of goodness, service, and harmony, by becoming one with our inner spiritual potential. God chose Abraham, because of his inner goodness and potential, to be the instrument through which God’s presence and teachings became known in the world. We, too, can bring the Divine presence into the world and make the teachings of the Holy Scriptures manifest. May we take the journey, for ourselves, going into and beyond what we think we are, to the land God will show us, where the landscape is not quite familiar, but is filled with great promise and great blessings.

The Allegory of Noah

This week’s Torah portion is Noach: the story of Noah, the flood and the ark. It is a story that is so well known but whose meaning is difficult to comprehend. For me, it answers the question, why do bad things happen in this world, which I wrote about last year. But perhaps there is another approach to understanding the story. Noah, is described as a wholly good person. The Torah introduces him by saying, These are the generations of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, perfect in his generations. Noah walked with God. Already we are suspicious. In a corrupt world, full of robbery, as we are told, Noah was completely good. This story, then, is a tale of archetypes, not of real people. We can look upon it not as history but as allegory. Noah’s name is allegorical and means satisfaction, tranquility, rest, even nachas, pleasure and comfort, as Midrash rabba suggests. How did he get that way? How can we travel to that place? Noah is portrayed not in speech, but in actions. Noah hardly speaks more than one sentence in the whole portion named after him. God speaks to Noah and Noah simply acts, building the ark, the shelter, which also means, word, according to Rabbi Noam Elimelech. Noah constructs his words in silence, speaking only as much as is absolutely necessary. His quietude is the shelter from which his contentment comes. He is not the kind of person to argue with God as Moses did. He is there to serve. In Midrash rabba it points out, Noah fed and sustained [the people and animals in the Ark] twelve months, as it says, And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten (Gen.VI,21). When tranquility meets service, shelter, nourishment, and safety are born. But Noah also has generations, actions, that are human births. He has three sons, whose names are also allegorical: Shem, the Name of God, Ham, warmth or heat, and Japhet, pleasantness or beauty. Rashi has said that the offspring of the righteous are good deeds. In this story, Noah’s actions bring forth Shem, the Holy name of God, whose name is existence or being. Tranquility brings forth life and holiness. It also brings forth warmth, spirit, élan, the heat of love and the warmth of human and Divine companionship, which form a three legged support when beauty and pleasantness are added. Noah is saved because of his righteousness, which teaches that Goodness is precious to God. Where there is goodness, there will be protection. Though Noah lived at a time when most people were not at his level of goodness, he saw himself when he looked at his neighbors. He projected his own goodness on them. He only saw the good in others and lived in peace with them, literally holding his peace, not being critical of others or arguing with them. The Maggid of Mezritch interpreted the statement, know what is above you as know that everything above all that transpires in the spiritual realms is from you, dependent on your conduct. Rabbi Menachen Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavicher Rebbe noted that Each of us has the potential to influence even the most elevated spiritual realms. He said, Noah and his offspring implanted their qualities among their fellow men and drew down the spiritual gifts from above. Every person affects his environment. Therefore our thoughts, words, and deeds can inspire tranquility, both above and here, below. Our deep spiritual center provides the Noah in us, showing us the way to satisfaction, tranquility, rest, even nachas, pleasure and comfort. Our actions can magnify these qualities and reflect them out into the world, creating Japhet: beauty, pleasantness, Ham, warmth, and even Shem, manifesting the presence of the Divine.

Sukkot Reflections

At the daily morning service during the Feast of Tabernacles a libation of water, in addition to the usual libation of wine, was poured out on the altar. This was drawn from a pool on the first night, and carried in procession to the Temple amid great rejoicing; (cf. Suk. 53a):In the Talmud it is written: the person who has not seen the rejoicing of the Water-Drawing has never seen rejoicing in his life. Sukkot is called Z’man Simchateinu, the time of our rejoicing. It is the time of plenty: of a bounteous harvest, of ease after spiritual effort and physical labor to bring in that harvest. The water drawing ceremony, one of pouring out water, was, in a sense a physical manifestation of overflow: letting a renewable resource go to waste, in the service of The Eternal. The juxtaposition of harvest, gathering, and spilling, going to waste, retention and abandon, protection and being unprotected permeates this holiday. We are on the edge of winter, still looking back to the hot weather we so recently left behind, balanced between two poles. We have the illusion of plenty in the hut that does not shelter us. This is the holiday that makes its point through paradox: from where do our blessings come? What offers protection? What is real and what is illusion? The custom of reading Ecclesiastes, attributed to Kohelet, or King Solomon, also urges us to take a look at the deeper meaning of our lives.

In the mussar literature, Living Mussar every day by Rabbi Zvi Miller quotes from the sage, Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, who said that the sukkah is related to the clouds of glory that accompanied the Israelites in the wilderness, after a verse in the Zohar. The clouds led them by day and by night. Insubstantial as they were, yet they comforted the people because they knew that the clouds represented Divine protection, sustenance, and plenty. The clouds imparted spiritual elevation, bathing them in spiritual benefits, with supernal light from the Eternal, The sukkah too, insubstantial as it is, creates an aura around us of the spiritual benefits that are more real than material; more important than that which can be seen. Kohelet sums up a whole life of material treasure and power with the simple words: The end of the matter, after all has been considered. Revere God, and keep God’s commandments; for this is humankind’s whole duty. For God will judge every deed, even everything hidden, whether good or evil. Kohelet urges us to value the insubstantial, to reverence what cannot be seen: to sit in the sukkah and, while we are enjoying the fruits of the harvest, to take a deeper look into reality. As the Hindus say Life is an illusion, On sukkot we have the opportunity to peel away the mask from our eyes and see the power that is concealed by the mundane. As we sit in the sukkah, we are transported into the miraculous existence of our ancestors, basking in the light of the Shechina, seeing clearly, that what seems is not what is; that there is Divine light and the potential for enlightenment, which is the true power in the Universe. May our eyes be opened as we sit in the sukkah and ponder our existence. As Rabbi Miller writes, May the light of God’s glory illuminate our souls, nurturing them with exquisite light and holy emanations on this holiday of Sukkot.

Letting our Light Shine

This week‘s Torah Portion is B’haalotecha, which means when you light or when you raise up. The portion begins with the verse, “And God spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to Aaron, and say to him, When you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps give light.” This commandment, to kindle light, is one that we continue to fulfill every Friday, on Shabbat. The flames on the candles are an enduring mystery that speak to the human soul: of understanding, enlightenment, and spiritual attainment. The sages of the commentary Midrash Rabba, which was written to fill in the gaps in scripture, asked why this commandment was given. Who needs this light: is it God, or is it we who need it? They wrote: “Israel said to the Holy One, blessed be the Eternal: ' Sovereign of the Universe! Do You ask us that we should give light before You? You, surely, are the Light of the universe, and brightness abides with You’; as it is written, ’The light dwells with You’ (Dan. II, 22) The Holy One, blessed be the Eternal, said to them: It is not because I require your service, but in order that you may give Me light even as I have given you light. .. as it says, WHEN YOU RAISE THE LAMPS; implying: in order that you may be elevated.”  (Numbers Rabbah V:5)
Light is given to us: daylight, fire, understanding, learning, sustenance, beauty: life itself. We are given such great gifts as an act of love, surely not to keep them for ourselves only, but to give them freely, as it says in King Solomon’s book of Proverbs, The spirit of man is the lamp of God (Prov. XX, 27). The book of Kings tells us that Solomon built the Temple with windows that were narrow on the inside and wide on the outside, not to let the light in, but to let it out: to let the light shine forth from the sanctuary. (I Kings VI, 4). Many of you know that my teacher, Rabbi Gelberman, teaches that we may kindle the inner menorah and bring light into the world. By allowing the beauty of our souls to shine forth, we can bring more love, more light, and more Divinity into the world. We are given hearts to love, minds to understand, hands to help, and eyes to let others know we care. It is through us that God’s Presence can manifest in the world. It is through us that tears are dried, arms embrace, and love is given. The Torah urges us to perform acts of lovingkindness. By giving our light to each other, we, ourselves are raised up, purified, and blessed. Our light is the light that makes the world shine. It is ours to give, and may we let it shine forth, lighting up our lives, and the lives of everyone we touch.

So Much To Give

This week’s Torah portion is Naso, in the Book of Numbers, which means take. It continues the taking of a census from the previous Torah portion. All of the males of the Israelites, from 20 years of age and older, had been counted. Now the Levites were to be counted, from 30 years of age to 50 years, to do the work of the sanctuary: dismantling the Tabernacle, the portable place of prayer and sacrifice in the wilderness; covering it, and carrying; setting it up again; but also serving the priests, serving God, serving the people and later, when there was a permanent Temple, singing and playing the music of worship.
The Israelites were counted for the legion, in case there should be war and they had to defend the nation. They could serve from 20 years of age and onward. The Levite men could not serve until they were mature enough to take their tasks seriously. But why should they have to retire at 50? We are told in the prayerbook about the expected life span of the time: “three score and ten our years may number, four score if granted the vigor.” Most people were expected to live to between 70 and 80 years – not too dissimilar to our own time – slightly less, but not radically different. There is a hint in next week’s portion about this question. It says (Num. 8:25) “from 50 years of age he shall withdraw from the legion of work and no longer work. He shall minister with his brethren in the Tent of Meeting to safeguard the charge but work shall he not perform.” He shall minister: in other words, the Levite was asked to be there for people: a shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic ear, an understanding smile, help when it was needed: to be parent, friend, and even like God for people who seemed to be floundering or who sought a friend; to be a loving presence and to serve in any way his life, and the Eternal One, called him to serve.
And in a sense, this is the service we have been called to as well. Judaism teaches that there are no coincidences. That you, as members and friends, have been called here to be a part of a community where there are opportunities for service and for growth is not accidental. As we are here together, we will be walking along parallel spiritual paths. We are now companions on life’s journey: teaching each other and learning from each other; modeling God’s attributes as given in Exodus, during Moses’ intimate encounter with the Eternal Presence: compassion, kindness, patience, forgiveness, and truth. Each of us, like the Levites during their last 30 years of life, has so much to give. It is a spiritual opportunity for us, as we grow. And we are always in the process of learning how to give; how to get out of the way of our own impulse to love. Service is perhaps, the highest form of love. May our coming together tonight, be a grand new chapter in the history of this synagogue and also of our lives; the creation of a vibrant and sacred community; diverse, promoting and supporting our spiritual growth; accepting, loving, and committed to serving each other, our fellow human beings, and the Eternal God.

Bubbameises of Creation

In reading about Torah, one comes across legends: bubbameises, or fairy tales, from the sages, which, for years, I never understood. For example, from Midrash Rabba, (I:1) "In human practice, when a mortal king builds a palace, he builds it not with his own skill but with the skill of an architect. The architect moreover does not build it out of his head, but employs plans and diagrams to know how to arrange the chambers and the …doors. Thus God consulted the Torah and created the world, while the Torah declares, IN THE BEGINNING GOD CREATED (I,1), BEGINNING referring to the Torah, as in the verse, God made me as the beginning of His way prior to His works of old (Prov. VIII, 22), or also, I:4 “Six things preceded the creation of the world; some of them were actually created, while the creation of the others was already contemplated. The Torah and the Throne of Glory were created;” or in the Talmud (Shabbat 88b), “When Moses ascended on high, the ministering angels spoke before the Holy One, blessed be God, ‘Sovereign of the Universe! What business has one born of woman amongst us?’ ‘He has come to receive the Torah,’ answered God to them. Said they to the Holy One, ‘That secret treasure, which has been hidden by Thee for nine hundred and seventy-four generations before the world was created;” Or from the Zohar (I 5a) “See now, it was by means of the Torah that the Holy One created the world…. God looked at the Torah once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time. uttering the words composing her and then operated through her. … Seeing, declaring, establishing and searching out correspond to these four operations which the Holy One, blessed be God, went through before entering on the work of creation. Hence the account of the creation commences with the four words Bereshit Bara Elohim et (“In-the-beginning created God”), before mentioning “the heavens”, thus signifying the four times which the Holy One, blessed be God, looked into the Torah before performing God’s work.”
These statements tell us that the sages actually thought that Torah preceded creation, as a plan or specification precedes the construction of a building. We also encounter this idea every Friday evening in the first verse of the L’cha Dodi prayer by the 17th Century mystic Alkabetz: “Sof maaseh b’machsheva t’hila: the end of deed is first in thought.” It is only recently that for me, these bubbameises began to make sense. Not that the statements are literally true, but that they offer a window into the way the world is constituted. What the stories are trying to tell us is that the structure of creation is embedded in Torah. Torah gives us the information about the way the world is put together by giving us guidelines or underlying principles by which to understand that which happens. In this sense, what was revealed in the revelation: the receiving of the Ten Commandments at Mt Sinai, was what we as human beings felt all along. We, as part of creation, can feel Torah in our own bodies. We feel when we do what is right, and we feel when we do something wrong, simply because it is part of us and we are part of it. The Torah is the manual that describes the way the world works. It tells us that by doing certain kind or virtuous things that we are going with the mechanisms of creation; and by doing certain other things, like murder, lying, stealing, or engaging in acts of selfishness, that we are opposing creation and causing dis-harmony. This suggests that the principles of Torah are not so much commandments as a blueprint, in story form, revealing the underlying structure of creation. It is our manual for living but it is also a manual for the unseen mechanisms of cause and effect. Rabbi Arthur Green, a contemporary mystic expresses it this way: “The Torah is the key that unlocks the hidden meaning of all existence.” To have such a precious document at all is remarkable. To be able to understand it is God’s gift to us. That we are privileged to celebrate the giving of its wisdom once each year on Shavuot is a great and deep joy. May the Torah continue to speak to us, revealing its secrets, as we change and grow, allowing us to be changed; gaining insight into the functioning of the world and ourselves, expanding our hearts, and leading us to holiness.

Opening the Locks

This week we read two Torah portions, Behar, or “on the mountain,” and Bechukotai, or “my decrees.” Behar gives us the laws for the Sabbath of the land, each seven years, and for the Jubilee, every 50th year. At the Jubilee, the land was to return to its original, ancestral owner, slaves were freed, and liberty was proclaimed for all inhabitants. In this portion we are told that the land belongs to God and that we belong to God. Then there are laws to prevent poverty, such as the necessity to buy back land that was sold out of dire economic need, and the responsibility to help a relative who becomes impoverished.
This portion has a number of teachings about social justice. One statement, “You shall not aggrieve each other,” or in another translation, “you shall not wrong each other,” refers specifically to the sale of land proportional to the number of crop years; but of course, you shall not wrong one another, has much wider implications. Another statement is, “If your brother becomes impoverished and his means falter in your proximity, you shall strengthen him, proselyte or resident, so that he can live with you.” And then two more regulations are promulgated, asking us to redeem land or a contract of indentured servitude for relatives in need.
The portrait being painted here is a model society in which all members are responsible for each other. And this idea is reinforced by the use of the words, “with you, imach”, mentioned thirteen times in this portion, which affirm the idea that the poor are part of us. In the very first Torah portion, B’reisheet, Cain has just killed Abel. God asks Cain where Abel is and Cain retorts, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” It is a rhetorical question for Cain, but it demonstrates an enduring truth. The correct answer, of course is, yes, we are our brother’s and sister’s keepers. We are all responsible for each other. This is not just an idea or even an imperative. It is a fact. The Chassidic master Rabbi Noam Elimelech of Lizensk wrote, “When the Blessed God created the world, in God’s goodness The Eternal created pipelines that carry shefa, an abundance of blessings, to fulfill human needs. The blessings of shefa are ceaseless, but when we fall from our spiritual level and lack trust in our Creator, who is the true Provider, who supports and sustains everything in never-ending abundance, such a person causes a blemish in the higher worlds and with impure thoughts, that is, lack of faith and trust in God. This weakens the power of the heavenly hosts above, it disrupts the shefa. God then has to re-command or reconnect the shefa of blessings anew so that it can flow again as it did previously since the time of creation.” This quotation tells us that it is by the flow of energy from God to us that we live. We know that God is existence, which means we all live within God. So blessings should just naturally come to us. But we don’t usually perceive that they do. What we experience is that we live, breathe, eat, and work: that there are baseline blessings, the miracles we call Nature, but that there are further blessings that are denied to us. The Torah gives us certain guidelines for the way we are to treat each other, that we understand as commandments. But really they are Keys, allowing us to unlock the flow of blessings.
When we touch another person, when we help that person; when we are honest and share God’s money with them, that we regard as our money, or God’s food, that we regard as our food, we create an arc between us and them. It may simply be an arc of love or it may be an arc of love plus something tangible, but when we make that connection, then God completes the circle by being present between us: whenever our love is present; whenever our generosity is present, whenever or caring is present. The Mussar literature, Living Mussar Every Day, by Rabbi Zvi Miller, quotes the sage Chafetz Chayim in saying that, “the truth is we are never alone, we have the most loving Parent, the Master of Power and Wealth who is always there to help us.” In the Torah, God is constantly modeling behavior for us. By giving to us, the Eternal shows us that our giving to others is the mechanism by which all giving is regulated. When we create a blockage, through anger, fear, or selfishness, the interdependence of energy flow is stopped. The energy becomes diverted. Love can be expressed as hate or anger. Plenty cannot reach us and blessings go to waste. The techniques to unlock blessings are fundamental to our interdependence as part of God. If we act as though we are in isolation, which is untrue, we will become isolated. If we act as though you and I are connected, which is true, we will be linked back to God through the channels of love energy we create. The world is designed to promote the flow of blessings by our opening the channels of relationship. The Torah holds the keys that unlock the flow of abundance; and we can, if we choose, open the locks.

The Divine Energy of Healing

This week’s Torah portions are Tazria and Metzora. They speak about skin diseases, discharges, and ritual purification. Metzora means one who has a skin disease, and this portion begins by describing the process by which someone who has had such an infection is purified for re-entry into the community. The person who is healed was to be examined by the priest. Then the person was to bring two birds, red wool, a bunch of hyssop, which is from a small bush, and cedar wood. He was to shave his body, wash body and clothes and then re-enter the camp. After seven days of dwelling outside his tent he was to shave and wash again and then he was declared to be pure. On the next day there were more offerings: a sin, guilt, and elevation offering to be placed before God by the Priest. The sin and guilt sacrifices were for atonement and the elevation offering was to elevate the person so that he could draw closer to God’s Presence. The blood of the guilt offering was put on the right ear, thumb, and toe of the person atoning; and oil, which was part of the offering, was sprinkled before God seven times, and was also put on the ear, thumb, and toe of the penitent and then on his head as well.
In reading this ceremony, the similarity between the purification of the Metzora and the ceremony for the consecration of the priests is inescapable. The priests underwent a seven day term of isolation in which they dwelt outside their tents, in front of the tabernacle. It was followed by a ceremony of atonement offerings, a ritual of blood applied to the ear, thumb, and toe, and the oil of anointment being put on their heads. This similarity between the consecration of the priests and the purification of a penitent seems strange. Why should they be so similar and what might this be telling us? The similarity of the two rituals points to the conclusion that the priest and the penitent were learning from each other. Skin diseases are the biblical result of slander: Lashon Hara, or evil speech. The Zohar also says that: “just as a person is punished for uttering an evil word, so is there punishment for not uttering a good word when there was the opportunity, because that speaking spirit is harmed which was prepared to speak both above and below in holiness.” In terms of Divine Justice, this can be expressed as: those who separate, through speech, will themselves be separated, through absence. Speaking ill of someone, Rashi taught, is the result of haughtiness. The person who had a skin disease was quarantined outside the camp to heal, but also to think about what he might have done to deserve such a disease. The Kohen, too, by being responsible for the purification ritual, must have been constantly reminded not to engage in slander and gossip and not to allow his position to lead him to haughtiness. We know that haughtiness is really its opposite: a lack of the feeling of self worth rather than an excess of confidence. It is only those who are insecure who need to talk about others in an effort to raise themselves by seeming to lower other people. The Kohen needed to be reminded to seek true self worth in service to God and others and not in the glory of his seemingly high position. The penitent, after the affliction was gone, was raised up in a ceremony that elevated and anointed him after his disgrace. In giving him back his dignity and having the priest serve him, transferring some of his royalty to him, he was given the impression that he could ascend to the heights of holiness through his atonement and participation in the anointment ritual. The elaborate ceremony in which the priest put the holy blood and holy oil upon his ear, hand, toe and head was a way to give him the confidence to be able to obey the commandments, do what is right, walk in God’s ways and think before speaking. The penitent could then seek true worth within himself after being purified and anointed, finding the sense of self love transmitted by God’s love, and self worth that had been missing formerly.
The Lubavicher Rebbe said that every mitzvah performed brings with it Divine Energy into our material world that will blossom and bear fruit. In a sense the mitzvot exist to give us an entry into Divine energy; a prescribed ritual by which to enter into the awe of co-creation with God. The Zohar calls the Torah a great and mighty tree of life. “It is called Torah (lit. showing) because it shows and reveals that which was hidden and unknown; and all life from above is comprised in it and issues from it. One that “takes hold” of the Torah takes hold of all, above and below.” The definition of mitzvah as commandment gives us back the awe that modern life robs us of. When we participate in awe we are all priests: serving in the knowledge that our actions contribute to the well being of all existence. The common ritual reinforces the equality of priest and penitent. The priest remembers that the penitent’s purity is as great or now greater and surpasses his own after his process of cleansing is complete. As the Talmud says, “In the place where the penitent stands, not even the completely righteous can stand.” The penitent now understands that his inner royalty has been brought forth by his being anointed to God’s service, which could only have happened because he sinned and learned from his mistakes, falling down being the pre-condition for learning. The priest knows that it is a very thin line that prevents him from sinning in the same way. The Commentary, Midradsh Rabba, refers to a quotation from Deuteronomy: “I have wounded, and I heal, Rabbi. B’re-kiah said in the name of Rabbi Levi: [A physician of] flesh and blood wounds with a knife, and heals with a bandage, but the Holy One, blessed be The Eternal, heals with the very thing with which God wounds, as it is said in Jeremiah, For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee out of thy wounds.” This ritual involves the Kohen and the penitent in the exquisite dance of Paradox: that we humans are all alike: at the same time lowly and magnificent, humble and royal, constantly called by God to greater understanding and higher deeds by being given exactly what we need to learn and grow toward Goodness and Holiness.

A Holocaust Poem: We Do Not Understand

We Do Not Understand - Rabbi Jill Hausman April 2006


We do not understand
We cannot grasp six million dead
And if their names were said
Three months we would be standing here.
We are diminished by the hugeness
The intensity of hatred: of fires fanned
And we do not understand.

All, all was swept away
The lives, the way of life,
The scholars, pious ones
No sins could be that great, no faults so grave.
They could have; should have left, or could they?
Or was it planned?
And we do not understand.

The innocents who died: free of guilt and free of sin
The children, maidens, hardly had they lived;
Their cries, the trust betrayed
Reflected in their eyes.
Could You have made it one, or two perhaps,
But six? Why six? We cannot help demand,
And we do not understand

And did they die for something?
For our return to Zion?
Were they martyrs for rebirth?
Were they martyrs for the land?
Was their death ordained
By hand of God or hand of man?
And we do not understand.

And did You hide Your countenance?
You must have heard their prayers.
Were you busy with affairs
That we can’t even fathom?
And why were they expendable
So many grains of sand
And we do not understand.

But could it have been so much worse
And could we all have died;
Tiny miracles of persons saved
Of people still alive.
Did it finally stem from our free will
Man’s inhumanity to man?
And we do not understand.

Please remember to our merit
Or put it down to desperation
That we have not forsaken.
We are still here
We are still Jews, Am Yisrael chai.
Please, oh Please
O One Most High
Take us by the hand;
Be near us, comfort, teach us
For we do not understand.

The Economy and Religion: CBS Interview

Rabbi Jill appeared on CBS’s The Early Show on April 11th. These are CBS’s questions and her answers.

CBS: Unemployment numbers are out of control, people are losing their houses, their savings... Is religion more relevant in troubled times like these?

Rabbi Jill: Religion is vital in difficult times. Just as there are corrections in the market, so there are spiritual corrections. In Deuteronomy, Moses told the people that in good times they will forget about God and claim that they were the sole cause of their wealth. It is in tough times that people return to their relationship with the Divine Presence to renew it, which brings the flow of blessings back into their lives.

CBS: What are you telling people that have lost their jobs or homes to try and inspire them?

RJ: I tell them to do as many deeds of lovingkindness as they possibly can. I tell them that my teacher, Rabbi Gelberman, who is 97, teaches that rain and clouds are a sister to the sun. The clouds will disperse. The sun will shine again. The flow of Divine blessings is in their hands; if they spread light, light will come back into their lives. If they take this spiritual opportunity to deepen their connection to God, their lives will be enriched.

CBS: Do you find that people sometime lose faith in organized religion in times of despair?

RJ: Of course they do. But it is in times like these that they may also seek out a priest, minister, or rabbi to talk to and find that religion has answers that are unavailable elsewhere.

CBS: What's it like out there for all of you -- has attendance for your services risen or dwindled since the start of the recession?

RJ: It’s hard to tell, but I think attendance is about the same. What I notice is that more people are calling me to talk to them one on one.

CBS: What are some of the biggest concerns you're hearing from people at your Temple?

RJ: There are some who have lost jobs and are worried about being unable to pay their rent. They send out resumes but the jobs don’t seem to be out there right now. It’s a very difficult environment.

CBS: Newsweek magazine ran a poll about religion -- One of the results was that 68% of Americans say religion is losing it's influence in our society -- What do you think is the underlying cause of this statistic?

RJ: I think there is a very interesting phenomenon occurring. Religion was historically authoritative: people had to believe and do what the denomination of their religion prescribed. But now there is a movement to individualize religion, which actually results in a universalizing of religion. People are seeing that there is great truth and beauty in all religions and want the freedom to pick and choose from each religion that which speaks to them. So there is more respect for each of the religions and more people saying that they are spiritual but not religious. I can see in the far future that perhaps, eventually, the prophet Zechariah’s vision will come to pass: that God will be one and God’s name will be one.

CBS: The magazine also reported a rise in Americans who claim no religious at all affiliation up from 8% in 1990 to 15% today -- Are you all alarmed by these numbers?

RJ: What I say is that God calls in the exiles. The Divine Presence sends us experiences that contact our souls. God has it covered. It may be that one person will leave religion entirely, but their children will return. It’s in God’s hands.

CBS: Are you worried that these numbers will only get worse as time goes on?

RJ: Religion is the last taboo in our society. You can talk about sex. You can talk about violence. But if you talk about religion, people may think that you are a religious fanatic. Our scientific, acquisitive society does not support dialogue about religion as readily as it does other topics, but people will find a way to speak about what is important to them, hence the statement, “I’m spiritual but not religious.”

CBS: What do you see as the biggest threat to religion in today's world?

RJ: The worship of what the Torah or Bible calls false gods: money, sex, and power. That’s the way it has always been.

The Small Flame

This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, the second portion in the Book of Leviticus. Tzav means command. In this portion the major categories of sacrifice are continued from last week’s portion. We hear about the unleavened meal offering, the sin, and guilt offerings, and the offering of thanksgiving for good fortune and unexpected blessings. The beginning of the portion reads, “God spoke to Moses saying, command Aaron and his sons. This is the law of the elevation offering, to be on the flame on the altar all night until morning; and the fire on the altar should be kept aflame on it.” The word flame, mok-da is printed with a small letter, a smaller than usual mem, to begin the word. When there is a smaller or larger letter in the Torah text, which is rare, it is an invitation to have a closer look at the meaning of the verse, to see what it might be trying to say on a deeper level. The elevation offering was also called the burnt offering. Its purpose was to allow us to draw near to God by making a voluntary offering for in atonement for our human sins. The Baal Shem Tov said that the altar is the heart. The flame on this altar that should not go out is the inner spiritual fire about which the S’fat Emet says, “In the soul of every person there lies a hidden point that is aflame with love of God, a fire that cannot be put out.” This ecstatic impulse for God is not what we usually experience. Instead we often experience the small mem of the flame, the embers that are barely burning, which is our dissatisfaction. There is a lack that we feel, a hole in our hearts that nothing can permanently fill. Possessions don’t do it. Infatuation: falling in love; is a taste of spiritual ecstasy that quenches our longing temporarily, but infatuation is not permanent: it never lasts. The story of the Garden of Eden describes the feelings we have in the form of a parable: by exchanging ignorance for consciousness, we exiled ourselves from the state of nature where we were at one with all existence. Now, fully conscious; we are outside the Garden and have the feeling that we used to be smarter, we used to be happier, we used to have union with God. There is a vague feeling that something is missing. Dissatisfaction is a permanent part of the human condition, but far from being a punishment, it is a marvelous blessing, put there to lead us to re-union with the Divine Presence at a new level of synthesis. The small mem urges us forward toward God. King Solomon wrote about this. He had it all: hundreds of wives, untold possessions, fabulous wealth, kingly power. “Vanity of vanities,: he wrote. “All is vanity.” We can believe him because he experienced it all and he was the one person who really did know. “Have awe of God and keep the commandments,” he writes at the end of Ecclesiastes. King Solomon knew. The dissatisfaction is there in us to lead us to the ecstasy of spiritual fulfillment, the flame that burns continually on the altar of our hearts. It is the soul’s pure love of God. This spiritual fire, the sages said, burns the impurities of our souls, atones for sin, and finally turns our transgressions to merits (Yoma 86b). The desire for union, the spiritual fire, never goes out. It is part of our being. The low burning embers can be fanned into the warmth of God’s love and the light of true understanding, culminating in the joy of union and service. May our dissatisfactions melt before God’s healing power and be transmuted into unconditional love. May the love of our souls for God raise us up until we again feel reunited with the Oneness of all Being.

Angelology

This week’s Torah portion is Terumah, which means portion or contribution. Terumah contains the request for the Israelites to give a freewill offering of materials needed for the construction of the Tabernacle, the portable site of worship and sacrifice that the Israelites carried with them in the wilderness, and also the instructions for building it. The Tabernacle, which many of us saw a reproduction of last year on our trip to Lancaster, PA, was a large rectangle comprised of posts and lace hangings. In the rectangle was an altar for sacrifice and a large bowl for washing. At the center rear of the Tabernacle was the Tent of Meeting. In the front of the tent was the incense altar, menorah, and a baker’s rack, called the table, holding 12 loaves of bread. A curtain partitioned the tent into two sections. Behind the curtain was the ark of the Covenant, in which were placed the stone tablets of the Ten commandments. The ark was a box covered inside and outside with gold, and had a crown around it. The ark cover was also made of gold. The Torah says of the ark cover, “You shall make two cherubim of gold, beaten, from both the ends of the lid…at its two ends. The cherubim shall be with wings spread upward, sheltering the lid with their wings with their faces toward one another, toward the lid shall be the faces of the cherubim.” And a sentence later, “I shall speak with you from atop the lid from between the two cherubim.” It seems strange that there should be a commandment to make representations of angels on the ark, especially because in the 10 Commandments, we are specifically prohibited from fashioning a likeness of anything, to worship it. In exploring the symbolism of angels and investigating what the cherubim might be trying to tell us, we might first ask, what are angels and are they real? We have spoken previously about angels – called malachim or messengers: those who visited Abraham and Sarah to tell them they would have a child; the angels who spoke to Abraham and saved Isaac from being sacrificed; and the angel who wrestled with Jacob before his reunion with Esau. The word for angels in this week’s portion is not malachim, messengers, but Cherubim. Nachmanides, cites the Talmud in saying that the word cherubim may come from the word that means lads, in which case k’rabim means “like lads.” So the cherubim were to look like children and Rashi comments, “they each had the image of a child’s face.” Angels then, must be something real, but surely they are not children. However they may be like children in certain ways. Children come from their parents, as energies come from God. We are like God in that children and energies come from us. Children, we know are pure, but are also bordering on the amoral: they have little natural sense of right and wrong, but can be educated and led to goodness. Martin Buber sheds light on the nature of angels when he writes in the Legend of the Baal Shem Tov, “From every deed an angel is born, a good angel or a bad one. But from half hearted or confused deeds which are without meaning and without power angels are born with twisted limbs or without a head or hands or feet. These teachings lead to the conclusion that angels are a personification of energies from us and from God, that accomplish things. When we work to accomplish things for the sake of Heaven, as is said in the Talmud’s Pirkei Avot, we work with God’s cosmic energies. And the converse, when we act selfishly or with confused intentions, our deeds sprout energies that can be ineffectual or even destructive.
There is a Kabbalistic tradition that we are protected by four angels below, while the Shechinah, God’s Eternal Presence, hovers above; Michael on our right, from the words, Who is like God; Gabriel on our left, from the words, God’s Power, Uriel ahead of us, from God‘s Light, and Raphael behind us, from God’s Healer. Michael according to Rabbi’s Gelberman’s book Physician of the Soul, is the angel of protection and balance; Gabriel the angel of Hope, Illumination, and Love, Uriel the angel of vision, leading us to God, and Raphael, the healer. The childlike faces of the angels and their wings remind us of God’s protection. There is that vulnerable place in us that always remains childlike and pure, and that place is precious to God. It is a part of us that trusts; that knows that a Divine Parent will always care for us, nurture us, and help us by making sure that we are fed, clothed, housed, and loved. The Faces of the cherubim remind us that it is through that vulnerability that we may approach God. When we identify our inner purity with our childlike nature that adores and is excited about life, that loves everyone without distinctions, and lives every day in joy, we attach ourselves to the Ultimate Purity and Simplicity of the Eternal Presence. Then we can touch our inner holiness, our inner reverence, and feel our connection with the Divine. When we approach God with our childlike nature, we allow God to speak to our highest selves, directly to our hearts, as it was written, I shall speak to you from between the two cherubim. May our deeds sprout beautiful angels//: like Michael, angels of trust that we are safe in the Universe, like Gabriel, angels of merciful justice and understanding, like Uriel, angels of light, and like Raphael, angels to heal the divisions between us and our brothers and sisters, and between us and the Divine Presence. May the angels we create spread goodness and shelter us; and may our faces always be turned to each other in love.

How High?

This week’s Torah portion is Mishpatim, which means ordinances or statutes. It contains a code of civil law that directly follows the giving of the 10 Commandments, and includes rules governing such areas as slavery, theft, accidental and intentional murder, negligence, and many other subjects. The 10 Commandments, heard in last week’s portion, are the minimum laws that God asks us and expects us to keep. But we know there are 613 commandments in the Torah, and in Mishpatim alone we find more than 50 commandments. How are we to regard this long list of obligations, some of which are as meaningful today as they were 3,000 years ago, such as you shall not taunt or oppress a stranger, and some that are antiquated, such as the laws pertaining to slavery and sacrifice?
There is a statement in this Torah portion, “People of holiness shall you be to me.” It indicates that the 10 Commandments are a start for becoming an ethical and holy people, but that they are only a beginning. The S’fat Emet speaks of straightening our paths; and King Solomon, in Ecclestiastes, wrote, God made man upright or straight; (but they have sought out many schemes7:29) but we know that we are not upright. In looking back over our lives each of us can recall things we did that we shouldn’t have done, things we did in the past that we would not longer do; how we failed to live up to our own standards or intentions. The rules of the 10 Commandments help us to live lives that are straight, to walk in God’s ways, as in the Psalmist’s claim, “All the paths of God are straight.” But we need more straightening. Life presents us with constant tests and opportunities to choose the even straighter over the not so straight; and in this the additional laws of the Torah are exceedingly helpful. Our sages taught that all the rungs of perfection already exist in us. If we go about setting right our actions they allow us to ascend the ladder higher and to straighten our lives even more. And there is no limit to how high we can ascend. However the is a correct way to ascend and an incorrect way. The Chassidic sage, the Kotzker Rebbe said, in effect, be holy because God wants Holiness on earth. The laws in Mishpatim all deal with real life on earth, with interactions between people. Even in the 10 commandments, of which there are only really 9, the first being a statement, I am God, and not a command: of the 9 Commandments only 3 deal with the relationship between people. In other words, they are laws for society. Our sages taught that it is of greater merit to repair our relationship with our fellow human beings than with God, and the Torah certainly reinforces that interpretation. Possibly it is more meritorious because making peace between people is harder than making peace with the Creator. But the irony of repairing our human relationships is that it must be for the sake of heaven and not only for ourselves. Everything we do to another person we do to ourselves and we do to God. Every YOU is really me. Every THEY is really us. It is all really God. It is circular and it is all One. We cannot help becoming better people by being better to each other, which helps us to draw closer to God. As we draw closer to God we also become kinder to each other. The pathway we choose, deeds or study, community or communion with the Divine, lead to the same result, if done correctly, that is, with good intentions. The Torah’s statutes are there to create a harmonious society and help us to climb a little higher, should we wish to do so. The S’fat Emet said that the quotation, “A people of holiness shall you be to me,” is not only a command but a promise. God promised us that we should and could reach the level of holiness that was given to us as our birthright and also as a sacred trust. The Divine Presence revealed the rules in Mishpatim to ensure that our innate holiness would one day be realized. It is there, waiting for us to discover it, to embrace it, and to choose it in our daily lives. May we climb the rungs of holiness that we find within us, and may the ascent expand our ability to dwell in the dimension of the holy.

Guest Blogger, Tad Campbell on Shabbat Shirah

Ours is a faith built on miracles; each in constant remembrance of the loving G-d who stirs our hearts to sing the song of life, even when we are unsure of the notes.

Pillars of fire, parting seas, dancing today, resting tomorrow, all wrap us in a beautifully woven fabric. Each strand is unique, in hues of hope and desire, drawing us closer to the melodic heartbeat of heaven’s harmonious call.

Deep within, Hashem has planted a divine spark. Light to an often darkened world. Each of us longs to glow with its brilliance, seeking the guiding hand of our saving Creator.

Some years ago there was a song on the radio called “Emotional.” In the chorus is the line: Ain’t t it shocking what love can do! True words. An honest idea.

We who come before the Book of Life, the Torah, know its laws are planted deep within. Here we join other voices lifted in praise, in acknowledgement of all the Eternal lays before us. We reach out, joining our paths with rich and stirring chords. Tolling the bell of spiritual freedom.

In the flames of a burning bush or manna fallen from above, we the Jewish people stand in appreciation and immeasurable awe of the G-d who walks not before us, but with us. We are embraced in a truly stirring ballad, its words written on our minds, its melody parading in our hearts. Shocking isn’t it, what love can do!

All About Truth

This week’s Torah portion is the second in the Book of Exodus, Va’eira, which means, “and I appeared.” It contains an account of the first seven plagues. God speaks to Moses about the covenant previously established with the Patriarchs, and then goes on to make five more promises: “I will take you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, I will rescue you from their service; I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments; I will take you to me for a people, and I will be a God to you;… I will bring you in to the land, which I swore to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and I will give it to you for a heritage.” These promises establish an underlying principle of the Torah: that life and the Divine Presence work on the basis of a covenantal relationship: a relationship of integrity, honor, and truth, of promised made and kept. The promises of God are juxtaposed against the actions of Pharaoh. Pharaoh shows no compassion for his people when, during the first plague, their drinking water is turned to blood. After the fourth plague Pharaoh promised to allow the Israelites to leave Egypt to worship God, but he went back on his promise and did not permit the Israelites to go. Moses even warns Pharaoh, advising him not to mock by not sending out the people. Pharaoh continues to fail to protect the lives and property of his people, which is his sacred trust as their ruler, during the fifth through the tenth plagues. After the hail, plague seven, Pharaoh again breaks his word and goes back on his promise to allow the Israelites to leave.
Rashi comments that God’s name implies that God is faithful to give reward. The two names we use for God, Adonai, the God of Compassion and Elohim, the God of Justice, remind us: of love and mercy for Adonai, and integrity for Elohim. They tell us that the actions of the world occur through love and justice and integrity. These attributes not only describe God but describe God’s world as well, being embedded in the very fabric of cause and effect. When Moses admonishes Pharaoh not to mock, Moses is telling him that his lack of integrity goes against the natural laws of life, which will bring dire consequences. Mocking Moses and Aaron, or the Israelites commits a falsehood, being based on the idea that people are not a part of God and have no innate value or importance. Indeed, the Torah teaches just the opposite: that each widow, each orphan, each stranger: not the highest person, but the least noticeable, has worth, value, importance, and is known to God. Each time we demonstrate a lack of integrity we break faith with the Universe, alienating ourselves from the Divine Presence.
There is a parable in the modern Mussar literature by Rabbi Zvi Miller, taken from ancient sources. A lion once lay in wait to spring on a fox. At the last moment the fox said, I am nothing but skin and bones. Spare me and I will lead you to a fat man who will be a succulent and satisfying feast for you. The fox led the lion to a man sitting behind a pit that was covered with branches and leaves. The lion saw that the man was praying and he said to the fox, I am afraid to attack this man. The merit of his prayer may awaken judgment against me. Don’t worry, said the fox, Neither you nor your son will be held accountable for this offense. Rather, it is you grandson who will be punished. You are hungry now, so satisfy your desires! The lion was convinced by the fox’s clever words. It approached the man from behind, and as it started its leap, it fell helplessly into the deep pit. In the story the lion was lured by its own desire to believe that he would not be held accountable for his actions. But we know that this is not how our lives work. The voices that speak to us in our minds with the words, “oh, it will probably be okay,” are the fox-like voices: of prompt gratification over lasting integrity.
The S’fat Emet writes that there is much falsehood for every point of truth…every bit of truth is surrounded by falsehood on all sides. Nevertheless, by means of struggle that point of truth can be found in every place. Our struggle to live lives of integrity is a struggle to be in consonance with God and the universe. When we honor our commitments and fulfill our words, being honest with ourselves and conscious of our true intentions, life honors us and we feel at one with the harmony of existence. In the Torah, if God is careful to be faithful and scrupulous to fulfill each promise, so much more should we strive to emulate this behavior, because it is being modeled for us to teach us be able to keep our commitments to each other. The Torah is telling us how very important this is. An aphorism about truth was repeated at the EST training: When you always speak the truth your word becomes law in the Universe. The struggle for truth in an imperfect world leads us to holiness. It is a struggle worth caring about. Each promise kept, each fulfillment of a covenant, between us and others, and between us and God, is a tool toward self improvement. It’s a step upward on the ladder that leads to goodness, peace, honor, and dignity. The harmony we then feel is simply God’s approval and God’s blessing.

Approaching Ourselves

This week’s torah portion is Vayigash, which means, and he approached. Judah, the fourth son of Jacob, approaches Joseph, Viceroy of Egypt, to plead for his youngest brother, Benjamin; and to ask to be enslaved in place of Benjamin. Benjamin has been wrongly accused of stealing Joseph’s silver cup. When Joseph learns that his brothers love and support Benjamin, Joseph reveals his identity to them and forgives them. He then arranges to bring his father and his brothers’ families to Egypt so that they will be sustained during the continuing famine. The Torah states, “Then Judah approached him and said, Bi Adoni, if you please my Lord.” Judah then makes a heartfelt speech to Joseph in which, as the scholar Nechama Leibowitz points out, the word father is used 14 times in 17 verses. Judah’s speech arouses Joseph’s compassion, culminating in, what for the brothers, was a miraculous redemption and a complete reversal of their perilous situation. What are the dynamics that allowed this transformation to occur? The S’fat Emet comments that Bi Adoni, please my Lord, also means God is within me. He goes on to explain that when Judah approached, he was approaching Joseph, himself, and also God. This teaching is an opening for us into a new possibility. We know that we have been told that our souls are from God, the Divinity within each one of us; and yet it’s so hard to live out of that reality. We have defenses that we learned how to use to protect ourselves when we were growing: defenses for the family, for school, for friends, for work. And these defenses can become our persona, the face others see and the face we see ourselves as representing. But there is a deeper personality with which Judah approached Joseph; a personality that was revealed when all of Judah’s defenses were useless, when anger, indignation, and confrontation, the walls that separate us as people, fell away. It was in that moment of vulnerability that Joseph’s compassion was stirred. Joseph identified with the humanity of his brother. Buy negating himself and his defenses, Judah allowed his soul to shine forth and affect everyone around him. By opening himself he opened the gates to the flow of Divine blessings.
When there is a difficult situation in life, there are many ways to relate to it. When there is a difficult relationship it is easy to react automatically with customary defenses. The secret of Oneness, Bi Adoni, God is within me, shows another way, which is seeking wholeness and finding the lost treasure of our souls. By negating our defenses and our ego, which is the false persona, we allow our true and whole selves to emerge. Having the courage in adulthood to unlearn and let go of customary defenses allows inner wisdom and Divine guidance to become available because they were there all along. In interacting with another person we can create the space of Divinity for each other by opening our hearts in self negation; becoming less, in order to expand into the More of who we really are. This is Martin Buber’s I-Thou relationship of two Divine entities coming together, recognizing each other, and creating understanding. In this New Year, may we truly touch each other, having the courage to be more than we think we are; showing our true selves, our radiance, our love, and our inner Divinity.

There is Enough

This week’s Torah portion is Vayeshev, which means, “and he settled.” It relates the beginning of the story of Joseph, Jacob’s favored son and offspring of Rachel, his favored wife. The teenage Joseph tattles on his older brothers and they hate him. He dreams of ruling over them and they hate him more. While they are far from home, the brothers plot to kill Joseph. They throw him into a pit on Ruben‘s advice, Reuben being the oldest brother, who means to save him later. Then on Judah’s advice they decide to sell him. He is sold to traders who take him to Egypt and resell him to a courtier of the Pharaoh.
There is then an important incident which interrupts the main story, concerning Judah and his family. Judah’s son marries Tamar, but his son dies. As was the custom at that time, Tamar is given to Judah’s second son, who also dies. Tamar, who is childless, impersonates a prostitute when she realizes that she will not be given to Judah’s youngest son. She arranges to have sexual relations with Judah without revealing her identity and becomes pregnant. When her pregnancy becomes known, Judah sentences her to die. But then he learns that it is he who committed the sin and relents. One of their twin boys becomes the ancestor of King David. Then the Joseph story resumes. Joseph is thrown into jail, when he the courtier’s wife wrongly accuses him of sexual misconduct.
This portion is filed with human passions. It begins with jealousy. The brothers are jealous of Joseph because they realize that their father loves him more than he loves them. In this family there seems to be a shortage: a shortage of love. Joseph’s dreams and the brothers’ reaction to them also suggest a shortage of money or perhaps power. Their feeling and actions are all about that which they lack. But we know that love is not a finite quality. It’s not limited. Power is also not finite, and really, money is not finite either when viewed over time. Money flows just as love and power do. The brothers do not seem to understand that there is Enough: there is enough love for each of them, enough personal power, even enough money for their ultimate prosperity. One of my teacher Rabbi Gelberman’s sayings, from his Chassidic forebears, is “Kol B’Seder”: all is in Divine order. We are provided for by the Divine Presence: with enough food, enough space, enough money, enough power. Sometimes I get very rushed and act as if there is not enough time, but in truth, there is even enough time. Kol B’Seder, there is enough of everything.
However, we can cause temporary shortages in money, in love in power, and in time by our actions. Divine justice is the outworking of the problems we cause. This is illustrated in the Judah story. It was Judah who proposed to sell Joseph, separating Joseph from his father. Judah then experiences Divine Justice. Later, Judah himself is separated from his two sons when they die young and before their time. In the Joseph story, the brothers kill a goatling, dip Joseph’s coat of many colors in the blood, and bring it to their father, saying, Identify if you please, is this Joseph’s coat? When Tamar is being taken to die, she sends several articles to Judah, which belong to him, saying, Identify if you please, thus reminding him of his earlier transgression against Joseph and Jacob, their father. Further along in the story, Joseph when he is sold to the courtier in Egypt and is thrown into jail becomes separated from his father, and family, and freedom, because he spoke against his brothers. By separating himself, he himself became separated.
Truly there is no lack of the things we need, but we can cause a temporary lack when we choose to act or speak against the flow of Divine love and plentitude. We stop us the flow of blessings, until such time as our mistakes and shortcomings are worked out, and the blessings begin to flow once more. There is an infinite supply of love. The more we love, the more love there is. The challenge is to be able to live it: to act as if we believed it. Truly, all the blessings we need and all the love we desire are available to us. The Torah teaches again and again that the Eternal God wants to bless us. When we are a blessing we are greatly blessed with Enough and with everything we need. May each of us be a blessing and through our love, be greatly blessed.