Beha'alotecha: When Manna isn't just Manna

Sometimes when we're dealing with a difficult situation, we see what we want to see. Whether through denial, deflection, defensiveness, or some other d-word, we can always turn things around to avoid dealing with a problem. Perhaps we don't want to face the real issue, or the underlying causes are too huge, too scary, or too overwhelming to handle. Whatever it may be, we often prefer wishful thinking or pleading ignorance to dealing with the situation at hand.

The Israelites found themselves in a similar situation in the desert, and we read about it in this

week's Torah portion. One of the recurring themes of the Exodus is complaining. The people whine about being thirsty, hungry, tired, scared, or because they want to go back to Egypt. No matter how much Moses reassures them, or how often they see God's power displayed, they remain discouraged and depressed. This week, we see them rebel against the manna.

Now in this case, the rabbis are actually the ones in denial, or perhaps it's just wishful thinking. We know that the Israelites ate primarily manna for the duration of their 40-year trek, and the rabbis tell us that one of the miracles of the Exodus was that the manna tasted like anything you wanted it to. I.e. you never got sick of it, because it always had a different taste. But that's not true! In this week's reading, the Israelites cry out because they're so sick of eatin' the same stuff every day. No matter how good it was, too much of ANYTHING still leaves you feeling pretty ill...

The manna, however, is really just the symptom. The Israelites

aren't dealing with the real issue and the underlying problem that permeates every other situation: They don't want to be there! They would prefer slavery to independence, because it means they don't have to move, they don't have to change, and they don't have to try. How often don't we see this happening today? People put up with an awful lot if it means they can avoid change.

Only once the Israelites take ownership of the Exodus, and feel a desire to conquer Canaan and become a nation, are they able to enter the Land. As long as we keep avoiding the real problem, we're really just going around in circles. We have to face our fears and take on challenges head-on, otherwise we'll keep chewing on the same bland manna for 40 long years.

Naso/Shavuot: The Outlier Holiday

This past week, we celebrated the Jewish holiday of Shavuot from Tuesday night through Thursday evening. Shavuot is actually one of three Pilgrimage festivals, together with Passover and Sukkot, and as such it is one of our most important holidays. Yet very few people observe it (or are even aware of how to observe it), and many of you may not have realized it was Shavuot at all. But don't feel bad. If this description applies to you, you're in very good company. Even in the Torah, the festival does not have a fixed date, we are merely told to celebrate it seven weeks after Pesach OR on "the day of the first fruits" (Num. 28:26). The Torah itself isn't sure what to make of it! Some say the holiday is about the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, others say it's about harvesting barley, pulling an all-nighter of Torah study, reading the Book of Ruth, or even eating cheesecake and blintzes. Shavuot should be all of these things, yet somehow it amounts to none of them. The holiday tries to be so many different things, and still ends up being our least famous, and least acknowledged holiday. But why?

Part of the problem is marketing. Look at our other holidays: Passover has freedom from bondage, matzah, Seders, and plagues. Sukkot has the connection to the land, the lulav and etrog (pictured on the right), and the building of funky, outdoor huts. Chanukah has presents and candle-lighting, Purim has costumes and Hamentaschen, and so on and so forth. Other holidays have easily recognizable symbols, relevant themes, and distinct foods. Shavuot somehow missed the boat on most of these issues, and in every generation the rabbis have tried to talk it up to no avail. But the more I think about it, I wonder if Shavuot's status as an outlier isn't part and parcel of the holiday itself.

You see, the Bible contains five scrolls, and each is read at a different holiday. At Passover we read the Song of Songs, at Shavuot the Book of Ruth, at Tisha B'av we read Lamentations, at Sukkot we read Ecclesiastes, and at Purim we read the Book of Esther. In addition to having connections to each holiday, the five books together represent five major facets of life. Esther and Lamentations are the Comedy and the Tragedy. Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs represent rational thinking and romantic excitement. These are four major aspects of the human experience. And the last one, the Book of Ruth, tells the story of a Moabite woman who "converts" to Judaism, and who rises from poverty and obscurity to become the great-grandmother of King David.

Both Shavuot and the Book of Ruth teach us about the outsider, and the very common experiences of feeling alone, forgotten, and insignificant. It is a unique perspective, and an important one that can help us learn how to treat the people around us. Too often in society we idolize celebrities who take center stage, but who teach us terrible values, and represent the worst human attributes. So much time is wasted on people who are flashy, charismatic, and boisterous, yet who have absolutely nothing useful to say. Shavuot and Ruth make us focus on quality over quantity, on the quieter, more reserved people who deserve just as much attention and praise.

As we celebrate every other Jewish holiday and come together with family and friends to celebrate, eat, and pray; we should also think about how to bring a little Shavuot back into our lives. Who are the people around us who should be honored and recognized, but who are easily missed? What can be done to bring true heroism to light, when it is too humble to speak on its own behalf? Shavuot may have just ended, but really that just means we have a whole year to figure out how to make next year better. Let us begin right now by focusing more on the people, values, and experiences that have real meaning and value in our lives. And next year, we will use Shavuot, the Outlier Holiday, to celebrate and give thanks for these things that matter most.

B'midbar: A Fitting Time to Enter the Desert

Something has changed these past few weeks. Can you feel it? The days are longer, the weather is warmer, our favorite television shows are airing season finales, school is coming to a close, and the pace of life has somehow slowed down. Even though baseball is only just getting going, the rest of us are all moving towards an off-season; a time for recuperation and relaxation.

Thankfully, that's how life goes. We simply cannot function at our best 365 days a year. We have periods of high efficiency and great productivity, which are only possible because we also have periods of calm and rest. And though sometimes we imagine that the down-time is going to be filled with fun, adventure, and exotic vacations, a lot of it is also catching up on sleep, lounging around, and maybe a little more sleep. Appropriately, we are now moving into a new book of the Torah, which in some ways mirrors our seasonal shift. Last week we finished reading Leviticus, which was a stand-alone book containing all the laws of behavior, ritual, and relationships. The fourth book, Numbers, brings us back to the narrative of the Israelites leaving Egypt, which we haven't read about since book #2, Exodus.

Numbers picks up the story of the Israelites as they march through the desert. But in a lot of ways, the most exciting parts of the Exodus were at the beginning and end, NOT the middle. The Israelites left Egypt with plagues, splitting seas, and God speaking to them at Mount Sinai. They conclude the journey with the conquest of the land, and the establishment of a new nation. But in between, well, it's just 40 years of desert living. Not too riveting, not too flashy, just daily life and the slow, gradual, patient creation of a society. There are some interesting stories in the Book of Numbers, to be sure, but I also believe the main message is that religion is about daily life, not just culminating moments of excitement. Ritual, culture, and community are a part of our everyday experience, not just once a year or at certain lifecycle celebrations.

One way that we see this playing itself out in Numbers is the shift in leadership. Moses was our hero back in Egypt. He brought Pharaoh to his knees, split the sea, and came down from the mountain with the 10 Commandments. Not too shabby a resume! But can the same person be the day-to-day governor? In Numbers we see the mantle of leadership move to Aaron, Moses' brother. As the High Priest, he is in charge of sacrifices, and he oversees the daily rituals of Israelite life. The priest and the prophet simply serve different functions. A society cannot survive based only on occasional moments of celebration; it needs rules and regulations to govern the everyday as well.

Life is about creating balance. Too much work and we burn out; but not enough work and we get stir-crazy and bored. Too much mundane time and we long for some excitement; but too much excitement and we can't wait for a little peace an quiet. That's life! We each have to find the balance that works the best for us, and sometimes you need a little trial and error to get there. Whether you're someone who lives to work or works to live, I hope this summer will be a time of enjoyment, relaxation, and rejuvenation. And of course, plenty of baseball!

Behar-Bechukotai: A Selfish Curse

When we are in crisis, we don't care who we hurt. It's sometimes hard to admit, but if we are in pain - whether because of sickness, financial trouble, physical assault, depression, or something else - we tend to shut down all other concerns, and self-preservation takes over. We often cannot help it; it's just our nature. But that is rarely the best approach to a crisis situation, and it is unlikely to help resolve the issue at hand. The real question is, how can we shift our mindset away from this detrimental and unproductive way of thinking?

In this week's Torah portion, Behar-Bechukotai, we read about a long series of curses; outlined

for us as the consequence of ignoring God's laws. If we refuse to live a life of holiness and ethical behavior, we can expect crops to fail, poverty to rise, enemies to attack us, and fear to spread rapidly. We read this chapter with shock and horror. How can God do this to us? We may even turn it around, looking at the disasters around us and asking if this is punishment for disobeying God. Was Hurricane Katrina an act of God? Was the Haitian earthquake???

My answer is an emphatic and unequivocal "NO!" When we ask such questions, we're missing the point of this Torah reading entirely. Look at the reading more carefully. It doesn't just talk about disobeying God's command. It talks about people ignoring the sabbatical year and overworking the land; destroying the planet's natural resources. THAT is why there is hunger and poverty! Also, the Torah tells us that, "With no one pursuing, they shall stumble over one another as before the sword" (Lev. 26:37). We're not being attacked by an evil enemy, we are sacrificing others to save ourselves, fleeing instead of defending those who cannot defend themselves. When I read about these curses, I see calamities that human beings inflicted upon society, not God. They are unrelated to natural disasters over which we have no control.

The Torah describes these as curses from God, because when we're in the midst of personal crisis, we blame someone else and refuse to admit fault. When we read more closely, however, we see that our society and the culture we've created really brought these curses upon us. No one person is to blame, but I believe one particular attitude is a BIG part of the problem:

selfishness. Rather than focusing on what's best for myself or my immediate family, I need to think about society as a whole. If we cannot change the selfish attitudes and "me first" mentality that is displayed all around us, we can only expect more "curses" to strike us. We cannot expect change to come from someone else. It starts with me. And it starts right now.