Ki Teitzei: What the Torah Expects of You

 I want to begin by acknowledging that I've been off the blog for several weeks. In part, it was sort of a summer hiatus, and in part I am trying to decide how and if to continue this blog. I've been writing about the weekly Torah portion for thirteen-plus years now, and it may be time for a new topic and/or format. Your feedback and opinions are welcome, by the way. In the meantime, I will continue writing through the end of Deuteronomy, but will likely stop writing after that, either temporarily or perhaps more permanently. I just wanted you, my readers, to be aware. Thanks for your understanding!

This week, our Torah portion offers a series of laws that have a common theme. I find it interesting that the text doesn't outright *name* the theme (though it does so elsewhere), yet it's hard to miss it when you put all the pieces together. Our synagogue follows the triennial cycle of readings, so our Torah portion this week begins at Deuteronomy, 24:14, and here's how the reading starts off (I'm paraphrasing for brevity):

- Do not abuse a needy or destitute laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger.
- Pay people their wages on the same day (i.e. in the proper time).
- No one should not be put to death for someone else's crimes, even family members.
- Do not subvert the rights of vulnerable people in society.
- Leave some of your field for the poor and the needy.

I imagine you can see the theme as well as I can, right? Take care of those who either can't take care of themselves, or who have a lower status than you in society. You may be in a position to take advantage of them - clearly the ability is there and you won't face immediate consequences - but God will know, and just don't do it. The reason why I wanted to highlight the theme specifically, is because I think sometimes people get bogged down in the details. "Oh, sure," someone might say, "this applies if I own a field, or am meting out capital punishment, or have laborers working on my property... but I don't live in ancient times! None of this applies to me." Which is why I want to divert our attention away from the specific scenarios and instead focus on the overarching principle.

The idea that the Torah is putting forth, is that every person in society has obligations towards that shared community. In America, we hear a lot of people touting individual liberties above everything else, and the concept of certain "inalienable rights." Now, I would never disagree with each person's rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit (though not guarantee...) of happiness. However, the Torah is reminding us that our personal desires and interests are not the only factor at play. We are also part of a network of interconnected parts and people, and sometimes we are required to focus less on ourselves and more on the system as a whole.

As we work our way through the Jewish month of Elul, in which we prepare ourselves daily for the upcoming holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (blowing shofar in morning minyan and reciting a Psalm for the Season of Repentance), I urge each of us to think about this concept. Don't get too focused on the literal subjects of day laborers, courts punishing people, and what you're supposed to do with your field. What about sharing your income, resources, time, and energy with people less fortunate than you? What about speaking up on behalf of people who are being abused or taken advantage of, either within our country or around the world? Or abused animals, or the very planet itself? These laws in Deuteronomy 24 really do apply to all of us. We are never asked to be perfect or flawless, but we are indeed expected to strive to be better; to aspire to keep making the world (around us as well as globally) a little bit better every day. And that idea never gets old.

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Publicdomainpictures.net
2. Picryl.com
3. pxhere.com
4. Smart Chicago Collaborative on Wikimedia Commons (it's a quote attributed to Albert Einstein that states, "Strive not to be just a success, but to be of value.")

Tzav: Smells Like a Fond Memory

Now that we’ve passed the holiday of Purim, it feels like Passover - and spring - are right around the corner. Even though the weather has been fluctuating wildly, there’s still evidence of the seasons changing all around us. Flower buds poking out, it’s getting lighter and lighter, and everything seems to smell like spring. Once Pesach gets even closer, our sense of smell will truly kick into high gear; first when we clean for the holiday, then when the familiar festival foods start cooking, and eventually when we sit around the Seder table in less than a month. With all this in mind (or in “nose”…), I’d like to spend this blog post talking about our sense of smell. And not just ours, but the Torah portion this week appears to spend a lot of time picturing God’s sense of smell too!

Now that we’re into the Book of Leviticus, the text is really hyper-focused on the ancient sacrifices and all the rituals surrounding them. And while the text may emphasize the sacrifices themselves and the people doing the offering, the real focus of all of this is God. The sacrificial rite was essentially The Way that our ancestors communicated with the Divine. And how did they know if their offerings were accepted? The text repeatedly tells us that the smoke from the altar, wafting up to heaven, would produce “a pleasing odor to Adonai” (Lev. 6:8, 14; 8:21, 28). Watching the mists rising into the sky would tell the worshiper that God was listening… and smelling. The ancient rabbis emphasized that this term, “pleasing odor to Adonai,” was used to describe the most simple to the most complex offerings. It referred to gifts from poor and wealthy alike. The Mishnah states: “ "This teaches you that whether a person gives a costly one or an inexpensive one, as long as he directs his heart to heaven, the type is irrelevant." (Menachot 110a) In other words, what God is “enjoying” isn’t the smell of the food or the animal, but rather the meaning behind our intentions. 

Furthermore, whether we’re talking about God’s olfactory sense or ours, it’s clear that the meaning is deeper than just the aroma. The very first instance of the Torah referring to a “pleasing odor” (Ray-ach Nee-cho-ach) was back in Genesis, chapter 8, when God smelled Noah’s offering right after he emerged from the Ark, and immediately promised never to send another flood to destroy humanity. The scent seems to have triggered something for God, much like a perfume, spice, or food may “flood” our brain with memories. More than any other sense, fragrances can take us back to a long-forgotten memory with remarkable speed and accuracy. According to the mystical teachings of the Kabbalah, smell was regarded as the loftiest and most transcendent of the senses, the critical connection point between body and soul. Perhaps it doesn’t just work that way for us, but for Adonai as well.

Smells aren’t as closely tied to our Jewish rituals any longer. We have the besamim, spices, at the Havdalah ceremony that ends Shabbat every week, but otherwise smells seem more tangential or connected to customs and foods, rather than ritual or theology. But it is still significant to read in our ancient texts how pivotal our noses were, and how the “pleasing odor” from our various offerings were seen as a direct sign of God’s acceptance. As we move further into spring and closer to Pesach, I invite each of us to think about what smells remind us of this upcoming season. How closely linked to your nose are your own associations with nature and with Passover’s foods, rituals, and experiences? It isn’t always the first sense we focus on, yet when we really stop and think about it, it is quite significantly hard-wired to our memories and our emotions. Winter is behind us, the pandemic is receding (thank God), and even though we don’t know what lies ahead or what the future holds, now seems like a perfectly good time to stop and smell the roses… as well as the matzah ball soup, the charoset and maror, and all the other fragrances that connect us - and God - to this wonderful, aromatic season!

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Eric Horst on Flickr
2. pxhere.com
3. pxhere.com
4. Olaf herfurth on Wikimedia Commons

R'eih: Maintaining a Delicate, but Crucial, Balance

Sometimes I like to pose the question - to myself and to members of my congregation: Is the Torah focused on situations as they *are* or as they should be? Is it existing in the real or the ideal? And, in true rabbinic (and possibly infuriating...) fashion, my answer is: Both. Because one of the central messages of the Torah is that we should be grounded in our current reality, with our eyes wide open to the pains and challenges of the world, while always mindful of all the blessings and opportunities we have, right here, right now, in our lives. Simultaneously, we can never give up hope of things improving, evolving, and growing continuously towards a better future for ourselves and for the next generation. We must hold these two in balance; fully present to today, yet also ready to work with our hearts, minds, and bodies for an improved tomorrow. How do I know it's both? Well, let's look at two contradictory verses in this week's Torah portion and see what you think.

In Deuteronomy, 15:4, the Torah (through Moses) clearly states: "There shall be no needy among you." The text goes on to say that IF you obey all of God's mitzvot and stay loyal and faithful to Adonai, there will be no poor, no hungry, no oppressed people in Israel. Yet just seven verses later, the Torah also declares: "For there will never cease to be needy ones in your land..." (v. 11) Sooo, which one is it? If we do everything right (big "if," I know...), isn't the Torah saying there will be no more poverty? So how can the text also proclaim that there will ALWAYS be need and hunger?? No matter what you do! Do you see how it's a question of balance, of holding two seemingly contradictory messages and truths in mind at all times? We are not allowed to forget what we know to be a REAL truth about our world; that there will "never cease to be needy ones in your land." It is simply the reality of life on earth, basically as far back as the origins of our species! Nevertheless, we are not allowed to despair or give up hope. We STILL have to work constantly to alleviate the suffering of those in need. The real *must* be balanced with the ideal.

By the end of this weekend, we will have begun the Jewish month of Elul. It is the final month leading up to Rosh Hashanah and the start of a new Jewish year. Yup, it's panic-time for rabbis... (!!!) To remind us that we should be preparing ourselves, spiritually, for the High Holidays throughout this month, we add a special psalm (#27) to every daily prayer service, and we also blow one set of shofar blasts each morning as well. Furthermore, the ancient rabbis look at the name of the month, Elul, and see a hidden acronym. The four letters of "Elul" in Hebrew are Alef-Lamed-Vav-Lamed, and they see it as standing for "Ani l'Dodi, v'Dodi Li." "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine," from Song of Songs (6:3). In their mind, "beloved" isn't just a love interest or a spouse; it refers to the importance of interpersonal relationships throughout our lives. We do not live in a vacuum, and as we prepare ourselves for the High Holidays, we must not only focus on improving ourselves or our own lives. We must commit to these visions of social betterment, clearly outlined in the Torah, to perform the sacred work of Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.

Again, we need to hold up these two challenging concepts at all times; the real and the ideal. It can be unbelievably frustrating and discouraging to look around and acknowledge the amount of pain, oppression, poverty, and unfairness that exists in our world. I alone cannot change all of it. I can't even affect a fraction of it! But I still have to try. Certainly in today's reality - as we continue to battle a deadly, global pandemic - we realize perhaps more than ever how interconnected we are with all other people on earth. And with the planet itself. It is inescapable. We cannot shut out the ills of the world... but we can't let ourselves be crushed by their weight either. So as we prepare to enter Elul, and we remind ourselves how intertwined we are with all the "beloveds" who inhabit this earth beside us - including animals that walk, swim, or fly around us AND the vegetation growing under and above us - let us each examine ourselves. How do you balance the ideal with the real in your own life, and in the world you see around you? And as we prepare to begin a new Jewish year with a fresh start, how will you do your part in Tikkun Olam, in repairing our collective home and making this a better place to live for everyone? Welcome to the start of the High Holiday season, everyone!

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Solo Shutter on Stocksnap
2. pxhere.com
3. Folio Creations on Etsy
4. elycefeliz on Flickr
 

Va-Yeishev (pre-Chanukah): Waiting For A Special "Elixir" to Arrive

Chanukah is a good example of an evolving holiday. It's probably about 2,200 years old, and when it was first "dedicated" on our calendar (the word "Chanukah" means "dedication"), it surely must have seemed like a new-fangled kind of thing. Some people were on board with adding a celebration, others curmudgeonly said everything was better in the old days when no new holidays were added by anyone EVER! Over the centuries, Chanukah has been viewed as a symbol of Jewish military might and perseverance; as a lead-in to discussions of assimilation vs. ghettoization; a sign of God's protective power to make the oil last; a joyous day to exchange gelt (real coins or chocolate) and eat fried foods; a worthy competitor to Christmas in preventing little Jewish children from pining endlessly in December; a cautionary tale about zealotry; and an opportunity for interfaith connections, as groups join together to celebrate Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Christmas, Diwali, and more. Did I miss anything?

Oh, yes, I want to add one more: Chanukah, in more recent times, has also become a favorite holiday for environmental groups and Jewish climate change activists. Why? Because one of the central "miracles" of Chanukah reminds us that we all can make do with less. We "thought" we needed x amount of olive oil, and simply could NOT perform the rituals without it. Yet somehow, magically (or perhaps just more sparingly...) we figured it out. Is this not a central lesson as we head into 2021, and our country - please God - refocuses on our obligations to our earth? Chanukah invites us to reframe how we define "need." Rather than indulge in eight days of presents, and allowing ourselves and our children to satiate our cravings for more and more STUFF; maybe discussing the rationing of oil can lead to new thinking around what is sufficient, how to be content, and how to share with others and with our planet?

I actually want to add yet ANOTHER new perspective as well, a new and vital teaching that we can glean from our Festival of Lights. Right now, in the lead-up to Chanukah, all the nations on the planet are preparing for the release of a much-needed, much-anticipated vaccine against the Coronavirus. But we cannot all get it at once. This precious commodity won't immediately be ready to “brighten” all our lives. We have to make do. We have to make strategic, difficult choices about how to keep our society going, even as we desperately wait for more of this "elixir" to be produced. The parallels to the pure oil needed to rededicate the Ancient Temple are actually quite striking. All of what I said above could apply to the Chanukah story OR our current pre-vaccine predicament.

More than even the holidays of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Pesach, Sukkot, or Purim, Chanukah teaches us about communal obligation. When we band together, we can defeat entire armies. But not only that, we can also figure out how to share our resources in a more well-thought-out manner that benefits everyone. Whether it’s olive oil, presents, gelt, the diminishing resources of our planet, or a miraculous vaccine that can put an end to this pandemic nightmare. Chanukah reminds us that we can, and must, *dedicate* and *rededicate* ourselves to one another, and to our shared benefits. When we do, we can make the most miraculous things occur.

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. ModernTribe.com
2. Christmashat on Freeimageslive
3. Stevepb on pixabay
4. KateNovikova on depositphotos

Bereisheet: I Changed My Mind

This week, we start the Torah reading cycle all over again. With the pandemic continuing to plague our world and with an ominous election approaching in just a few more weeks, I think new beginnings are really on EVERYONE'S minds. How do we start over? Where do we begin? How do we know what lies ahead, and when we realize we have absolutely NO WAY of knowing what lies ahead, how do we learn to prepare and plan... yet ultimately accept what's coming? The Torah (unsurprisingly) doesn't offer answers, but it DOES offer a manual, a code book, a guide. It is a reference work that can help you think about your own choices, your conclusions, and how to adjust them as facts change. The Torah is saying: "You need to be flexible enough to incorporate change into everything you do."

How does the Torah show us this? Well, from the very Beginning, it portrays God as demonstrating these characteristics. Sometimes God overtly states, "I regret that decision," while other times the text subtly presents shifts in God's thinking and attitude, and lets you discover for yourself that God is, indeed, saying, "I Changed My Mind." Let me give you an example: The Book of Genesis begins with TWO different Creation stories. It's possible they're the same story, just summarized and then fleshed out, and that's certainly what some commentators suggest... but you have to do a fair bit of mental gymnastics to square the two. I'm not going to spend more time on the existence of consecutive origin stories, but if you want to read more about it, you can click here and read what I wrote in 2019. For my purposes here, what I want to highlight is how God has one plan for how humans will interact with the rest of nature... and then God pulls back from it.

In Genesis, chapter one, God gives humans free reign: "God blessed them and said to them, "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground." (28) The two central verbs here are "Lirdot" and "Lichvosh," meaning reign over, subdue, subjugate, dominate, and even tyrannize, believe it or not. "YOU are in charge, here are the keys to the house, go nuts." Very quickly, God learns what a massive mistake that is. We have tremendous capacity for good and compassion, for sure... but we also wreak immense havoc on our surroundings, and we can be horrifically selfish and callous. By chapter two, God has realized we cannot be trusted with that much power. When we get to the second Creation story, and God commands Adam regarding the Garden, God now states: "God placed Adam in the Garden of Eden to cultivate it and guard it." (15) These are VERY different verbs!

God has reworded the instruction, now tasking humans to "La'Avod" and "Lishmor," to work/till/tend/cultivate, and to protect/keep/watch over/take care of/guard our charge. What a striking change! And again, my larger point here isn't even about our environmental responsibilities to the earth (though that is vital as well), but rather about being able and willing to learn, incorporate new information, and adjust. The Torah is saying, if God can change God's Mind, surely we can do the same. If we realize we're not taking something seriously enough, or not as aware of someone else's oppression, or if we discover we've hurt someone else very badly; we have to learn to be contrite. Can we be humble enough to pull back and say "I was wrong"? New beginnings are always hard... but I think they're even harder if/when we don't want to learn anything new, or change any aspect of our behavior. So as we prepare to restart the Torah, AND vote (please vote!!), AND pray more fervently for a vaccine, let's also work on ourselves, and our own ability to change direction and stay in the discomfort of humility. It might not be easy, but it's a very good place to start...

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. pixabay
2. Martin Rulsch on Wikimedia Commons
3. Mark Moz on Flickr
4. needpix.com

Ki Tavo: Cursed by Chaos

No one likes bad news. We don't like to hear it, and we CERTAINLY don't like to deliver it. But the problem is, sometimes there simply IS bad news that must be conveyed. We can cover our ears, run away, sing loudly to drone out the unwelcome "noise," or even attack what we deem to be the source and/or bearer 

of it... But none of those things change reality. And not only will those things not improve the situation, but they actually make everything worse. Denial, evasion, and anger exacerbate the problems. It leads to something that every one of us, in 2020, has become all too familiar with: Chaos. The result of refusing to address climate change appropriately? Chaos. Our current predicament with no unified message or coordinated effort to end the pandemic? Chaos. And the disaster that ensues when we endlessly, endlessly deny that there is systemic racism and refuse to change centuries-old practices that continue to harm and kill? Chaos. So yeah, there's bad news to deliver here. But if you close out this blog post and/or stubbornly refuse to listen, the Torah has a very "interesting" and graphic list of consequences that await you...

So, look, I'm not saying *I* have all the answers here. Most of the time it feels like I have closer to NONE of the answers. But if we all agree that 

the problems swirling around us are undeniable, doesn't it make sense to start doing a lot more listening and a lot less yelling? Because this week's Torah portion includes a very stark and uncomfortable list of the curses and tragedies that were predicted to befall our ancestors - and yes, us as well... - for non-compliance with the Torah's commandments and laws. The "list" from our parashah is actually an entire section, a tirade, if you will, that has its own name, The "Tochecha," meaning "Rebuke." Here are some of the unsettling components in the Tochecha, that feel alarmingly relevant in our lives RIGHT NOW:

First, and most painful, the Tochecha speaks repeatedly about disease, plague, and... you know, pandemic. I'll spare you the details, but in Deuteronomy, chapter 28, illness in one form or another is referenced in verses 21, 22, 27, 35, 59, and 

60-61. There's also reference to heat, drought, and environmental disasters in verses 22, 23, and 40, that I am sure in NO WAY are meant to make us think of our current forest fires, powerful hurricanes, or floods. In addition, the Tochechah mentions infestations of locusts, crickets, and worms; surely nothing like the spotted lantern flies, murder hornets, or yes, locusts, that plague the planet today. If none of this was on-the-nose enough, the Tochechah includes this verse, which never stood out quite so much as it does in 2020: "[The enemy] shall shut you up in all your towns throughout your land until every mighty, towering wall in which you trust has come down." (v. 52) I read this and thought "quarantine"; and indeed, many trusted institutions are falling by the wayside as a result. 

The last section I wanted to mention, which is particularly painful in light of the protests, lootings, and violence ravaging our country at the moment. Repeatedly in the Tochechah, God tells the Israelites that what awaits you is terror, fear, and ultimately chaos (verses 20, 25, 29, 32, 34, 49-50, and 64-67). This sounds 

excruciatingly like what's happening across America, and it's tempting to point to one side or the other as the "bad guys," the "instigators," or the "perpetrators of violence." However - and here's the part I think we ESPECIALLY need to hear - it is the act of turning on one another that leads us down the path of curses. All of these awful things I've listed above, they are all the SYMPTOMS of a rot in society, and that toxicity is NOT better or more faithful adherence to law and order. It is about compassion, sympathy, equality, and communication. We are all failing, NOT because one group or another is perpetrating violence, but because we are all vilifying one another and pointing fingers.

When God says "observe my commandments," we should all be thinking "Golden Rule." Treat others as you'd want to be treated. You want the benefit of the doubt? You want the situation to calm down? Then we all need to take greater personal responsibility to BE the change we want to see! The more we ignore this message, the deeper we are going to dig ourselves into this hole of disaster, chaos, and rebuke. The chaos itself is our enemy; not the person on the other side, whose proverbial pitchfork matches mine. Unless we start to see what unites us instead of what divides us, the curses will indeed proliferate without end...

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Depositphotos
2. pikist
3. Wikimedia Commons
4. pixabay

R'eih: Neat Trick... But No Thanks

R'eih, our Torah portion, begins with a very ominous line: "See, I set before you this day blessing and curse." (Deut. 11:26) It's ominous and daunting, because God was saying back then - and is still saying TO THIS DAY - that each of us has to make a choice. God will not force observance; we have free will. But our actions also come with consequences. It's still a choice, as we well know from tragedies in our own lives. Someone may choose to drive despite being drunk; an individual may become addicted to drugs, despite knowing all along how dangerous and devastating that abuse will become; and even on smaller, less dramatic levels, life is full of temptations to make bad decisions. We don't - and never will - get it right every time. The Torah persistently reminds us that we DO still have choices... but we must keep our eyes wide open, hence the word "R'eih" meaning "SEE!!", to the reverberating effects of all that we do and say.

One of the fascinating ways this plays out in the Torah is a phenomenon that is often not the object of our focus; our gaze, if you will... The author of our text regularly acknowledges the power of other religious traditions and belief systems. This may be surprising, because we often learn (in Hebrew School perhaps) that hocus-pocus, black magic, psychics, ghosts, and other supernatural phenomena are antithetical to our Jewish tradition. And indeed, they are... but not because they're "fake." From stories like Bilaam the prophet, to the magicians in Pharaoh's court, to laws prohibiting witches; the Torah often conveys a message that could (justifiably) be interpreted as, "Sure, that stuff works, but it's not part of Judaism." I think that sometimes surprises people. Somewhere along the way, most of us were taught that these phenomena simply do NOT exist. The problem there, of course, is that were they to prove their existence, we might now lose our faith and reliance on the Torah: "You told me it was all mumbo-jumbo; how can I trust you about ANYTHING now?!?!"

There is an intriguing example of this in our Torah portion, where Moses poses the theoretical scenario of a rogue prophet or what he also calls a "dream-diviner" showing up. That bizarro-Moses might try to lure you away to false gods and idolatrous traditions! And Moses even goes so far as to say: "even if the sign or wonder that he names to you comes true, do not heed the words of that prophet or that dream-diviner." (13:3-4) Think about that for a second. Moses is conceding that this interloper might be able to control supernatural forces and impress you with some really inexplicable and awe-inspiring demonstrations! Nevertheless, this does not come from God, and it is not the path we should follow. To me, this actually demonstrates tremendous strength on the part of our religious tradition. It is not fazed by magic or miracles. Those things are, surprisingly, irrelevant. The focus must remain on the ethics, morals, rituals, traditions, and stories of our heritage; regardless of whatever fancy-shmancy tricks that other guy may have up his sleeve!

This brings me back to the notion of "choice." God, and the Torah, is reminding us that you may see some impressive things and be dazzled by the charisma or strong words of a false prophet... but you already know whether you should be following that person or not. No matter what magic they unleash or dominance they may exert, if they contradict the fundamental principles of the Bible - to take care of the poor, the orphan, the widow, and the disenfranchised; to love our fellow humans as we do ourselves; to be good stewards of the earth and all its creatures; and to remain faithful to our religious traditions - you gotta walk away. Nevertheless, it's still a choice. No one can make it for you but you. But if what led you astray was greed, power, lust, and callousness towards the plight of others, there WILL be repercussions for your actions. It's still up to you. Each of us gets to decide. But for all our sakes; choose wisely.

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Sami Keinänen on Flickr
2. pikist.com
3. Jim Capaldi on Wikimedia Commons
4. needpix.com

Devarim: I Thought I Was The Favorite!

Sometimes, it feels like the divide among various religious groups is comparable to rivalries like the Bloods & Crips, Hatfields & McCoys, or Red Sox & Yankees. Everyone's gotta pick a side!! 

What I especially find distasteful and toxic about this concept in relation to religions, is that it perpetuates the notion that there is One Truth, or that God has One Chosen (and thus "Favorite") Group. Not only has this widely held principle caused wars, destruction, misery, and devastation, but it's also false. Look, the Torah does use the language of our having a special relationship with God... but it never purports that no one else can therefore EVER have an equally unique and loving bond with The Divine. It would be like saying that you and your mom are super-super close... which somehow (I guess) must mean that your mother couldn't care less about your siblings! Furthermore, even though the Torah uses terms that denote exclusivity, it is also a LONG book, with many contradictory messages. Sometimes we're told that preserving life is more important than anything EVER... while other times we're instructed to stone to death someone who gathers firewood on Shabbat! Viewing religions as bitter rivals is a choice, not a given... and I prefer the message in this week's Torah reading instead.

That last sentence may have been surprising to you. You see, Devarim/Deuteronomy is a long monologue - or even a soliloquy - by Moses. Standing at the border of the Promised Land, Moses makes a (proverbial) 

sweeping gesture with his hand, and preaches to the people that "all this will be yours." Doesn't he? Well, sort of. In fact, the text is fascinatingly specific about which parts of the land are indeed designated for the Israelites... and which parts are NOT. In chapter two, God instructs the people, through Moses, saying: "You will pass through the land of the descendants of Esau... be very careful not to provoke them, for I will not give you of their land, not even so much as a footprint's worth!" (2:4-5) So God's being pretty clear here. God has a relationship with the children of Esau AS WELL, so you have no right to dispossess them of their land. Ok, fine, but that's unique to Esau, right? Surely that's the exception to... Um, hang on. Four verses later, the text states: "Do not harass the Moabites or provoke them to war, for I will not give you and of their land as a possession." (v. 9)

There goes that theory... But we also know that Ruth, the great-grandmother of King David, would eventually come from the Moabites, so maybe... Wrong again? "Do not harass [the Ammonites] or start a fight with them, for I will not give any part of their land to you as a possession" (v. 19). Three different times, the text tells us that other peoples live in this region, and we are not to disturb them. What I find particularly striking, is how Moses speaks of God having relationships with those people, making promises to the various groups, and not wanting everyone in the entire region wiped out in deference to the Israelites. 

We mustn’t ever forget either side of this coin: We DO have a special relationship with God... but it is NOT - in any way - to the exclusion of God’s other relationships 

with basically everyone on earth. We should be proud Jews, wrestling audaciously with God and with our religious tradition, but we have no right to place ourselves above other people. Or see anyone else as “less than.” The Torah is even using the language of “footprint,” which might (should?) make us think of our own carbon footprint; the importance of not taking up more space or resources than we need. Sometimes it’s hard letting go of the notion of being “The Favorite.” But I think if we stop for a moment and examine the repercussions of such thinking, we’re actually much better off with a humbler approach. If it can work for good parenting everywhere, I’m confident God can love us all equally as well!

 

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. Pixabay

2. Pixabay

3. zeevveez on Flickr

4. Peakpx

Behar-Bechukotai: Don't Shoot, Stone, or Sting the Messenger!

Hey there. It's me again, Rabbi Gerber. So, um, thanks for coming back to my blog. Great to have you here. I imagine you've returned to hear something uplifting, maybe inspiring, or at least something to get your mind off the coronavirus epidemic??? Ha, ha! So... funny story. Um... about that... Ok, ok, I'm gonna stop beating around the bush here, and be forthcoming

with you: This Torah portion isn't pretty, folks. And I don't mean gross or ethically problematic or theologically upsetting. No, this one is going to hit home. I need to say something that is going to sound a little prophetic, and not in the form of cool-predictions-about-the-future or awesome-conjuring-of-divine-miracles. No, the yelling-at-us-all-for-destroying-our-planet-and-ignoring-all-the-warning-signs kind of way. Friends, it's bad. I don't like being the bearer of scary news. But I also can't shy away from what I see as my obligation, which is to hold up the text and say, "SEE?!?!? It's right here!! Why is it so hard for us - for ALL of us - to listen?!?!?!?!" So, I guess, if you really don't wanna hear angry-preachy Rabbi Gerber, this is probably a good time to stop reading. Oh, and if you DO read on, please don't shoot (or otherwise attack) the messenger, ok??? Oy. Here goes:

Our parashah this week includes a section called the "Tochechah," meaning "The Rebuke." Mildly put, it's the "Hey, dummies, listen up!!" portion of the Biblical narrative. The Torah isn't pulling any punches here. God begins by saying "if you do NOT obey Me and do NOT observe these commandments..." and then goes on to 

list punishments we can expect. And yeah, you guessed it, we're living through soooooo many of them right now. We can't ignore this any longer. The very first repercussion for misbehavior listed is, "then I will do this to you: I will visit you with panic, with wasting disease and fever that consume the eyes and make the heart ache" (Lev. 26:16). A little on-the-nose, wouldn't you say?? I'm almost surprised Leviticus didn't just come out and say: "I'm referring, of course, to the coronavirus in the year 2020." If that didn't hit close enough to home for you, verse 19 states that "[God] will break down your stubborn pride and make your sky like iron and your land like bronze." So we've got the infuriatingly misguided stubbornness of the conspiracy theorists, AND we've got the sky refusing to yield rain, causing drought... check, as well as the ground encased in a concrete-like substance (bronze) that causes destruction... check.

PEOPLE!! We have to see this. We have to look squarely at all these things. They are terrifying, yes. But this is not "someone else's" problem, and it's not a "sometime down the road" problem. It's right here, right now, right in front of our mask-covered-faces! Verse 22 mentions 

wild animals destroying our planet - murder hornets, anyone?? And just to REALLY gild the lily (but with fear...), verse 25 adds, "and if you withdraw into your cities, I will send pestilence among you," which sounds unsettlingly like quarantine and stay-at-home orders. But here's the most important thing I want to emphasize: Our Torah portion restates FOUR TIMES, that all these things will happen - and continue to happen - if we refuse to listen, reject the tough remedies, insist on making excuses, and scoff at the data. None of this is going to be easy. This is painful for EVERYONE. But turning a blind eye to the realities (and the facts) in front of us is making things infinitely worse. Or, to borrow the parashah's phrase: "sevenfold" worse...

Do I have answers? No, I do not. But I'm ready to face the excruciating, tragic, life-altering truths that are so obviously playing out before our eyes. I'd offer to hold your hand to comfort you... but we both know I can't get closer than six feet, and not without a face mask or gloves! Again, I don't have the solution. But let's stop 

talking about "returning to normal" or "getting back to the way things were." We need to reevaluate what it means for some (often mistreated) members of society to be called "essential workers." If they're essential to us, shouldn't they be valued better??? We have to reexamine our treatment of the earth, our use of cars, planes, and fossil fuels, and so very many things that used to be commonplace and utterly taken for granted. It must end here; it has to stop now. HOWEVER, despite all the horrific things we read in the Tochechah (Rebuke), the Torah is actually still NOT saying it's inevitable, unavoidable, or irreversible. We are not powerless. But God isn't going to change. The hornets won't turn around; the earth being suffocated by concrete can't speak up for itself; and this virus doesn't care about its toll on our economy. WE need to change. WE need to stop ignoring the deafening sound of alarm bells, which, by the way, is getting louder and louder... 

I told you this wasn't gonna be a "fun" blog post. It gives me no pleasure to say any of this, and I don't feel all that excited or mighty, positioning myself as a prophetic voice. But we need to listen. I do too. Because this already hurts... a lot. Let's get rid of the "stubborn pride" at least, and then take it one step at a time from there...

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. seton.com

2. wallpaperflare.com

3. Andrea Piacquadio on pexels.com

4. pikist.com

L'Chaim (newsletter) article, May 2020: If We Can’t Take It Away... What is the Takeaway?

This coronavirus pandemic, which we’re all collectively enduring right now, feels very Biblical. Plagues, economic crisis, upending social order; usually we turn to the Torah for stories like these! And you’d think that if ANYONE was ready for world-wide reckoning and forced-self-reflection-on-a-GLOBAL-scale, it would be the clergy folks. You know… me. But I was just as surprised by this whole crisis as everyone else! Even as I see signs ALL AROUND about how enormous and, well, Biblical the proportions are of this ordeal, I am struggling to figure out how to interpret what is happening. Or how to respond. 

Obviously, one option is to shout “God told you so!!” on a daily basis, but that doesn’t seem very pastoral, and I imagine that would get awfully annoying and self-righteous pretty quick. And while there are some incredible lessons and signs that I DO believe we all need to acknowledge, it is also true that people are dying - every day - on a massive scale; the joblessness is terrifying; and the economic impact that we’ll be feeling for years is daunting. Noticing the “silver linings” and the important “take-aways” that we, as a human race, are perhaps meant to learn from this isn’t about sugar-coating our pain. It isn’t about ignoring the devastating toll we’re all paying for these lessons. It is, however, crucial to acknowledge - now more than ever - that the most important insights we ever learn as human beings are essentially ALWAYS painful. And this, without question, is hurting.

Focusing on the take-aways isn’t about trying to be upbeat or cheery, it’s about making sure these deaths and this pain hasn’t been for nothing. We cannot allow ourselves to suffer so enormously… and then learn absolutely NOTHING on the other end. No, let’s stop and be mindful for a moment (or A LOT longer…) and notice some incredible things that are happening right now:

Pollution is down globally on an unprecedented level. Read stories about India, Brazil, China, and the other places around the globe where people can breathe - and actually SEE without smog covering their eyes! - for the first time in decades!

Animals are coming out of hiding. Their habitats are normally shoved aside by human growth and expansion. All of a sudden, lions are sprawled on roads in Africa, mountain goats saunter through Welsh towns, and bird song can be heard in city centers where it was NEVER silent enough for such things before.

But also other puzzling consequences, like prisons having to reexamine who should (still) be incarcerated, and what might it mean to ACTUALLY try and reduce the prison population?

And perhaps one of the most important realizations for us as a civilization; who is an “essential worker”? Before COVID-19, the “essential” people in our lives were athletes, movie stars, politicians, financial managers and lawyers (and I don’t mean to offend any Ohevites here…). Now, doctors and nurses are still essential; perhaps more than ever! But we’ve also discovered that the people who are REALLY vital to basic human existence are also the grocery store workers, trash collectors (maybe more than anyone else!), pharmacy workers, mail carriers, and those who work in ANY aspect of the food industry. So why are they paid minimum wage? Why are so many without benefits? How is any of this acceptable? Perhaps these are jobs that don’t require a lot of education or specialized skill… but I don’t see most of us lining up to be trash or recycling collectors. So the people who ARE willing to do those jobs, shouldn’t we be more grateful to them and pay them for their incredible service to EVERYONE ELSE in society??

I’m sure you’ve had other insights of your own as well. Or heard others in the news. Focusing on these stories is about learning something from this, and striving to make our world better as a result. Otherwise, if all we do is demand that things go back to “normal” and we try to forget this ever happened as soon as possible; it will all have been absolutely and utterly in vain. I don’t know where the coronavirus came from, why it is here, or how long it will be a fixture in our lives. But RIGHT NOW is the time to utilize this pandemic to improve human (and animal, and plant, and air…) quality of life. 

So often we ask God for signs. We ask for some signal to come and tell us what it means to be a human being, why we are here, what we’re supposed to do with our lives, and what the meaning of it all really is. Maybe the sign has come. It’s scary, it’s overwhelming, it comes wearing a facemask and gloves, and it involves spending A LOT of time quarantined indoors. But it IS a sign. Of BIBLICAL proportions! Let’s listen and learn and internalize… and change.

Sincerely,

Rabbi Gerber

Va-Yikra: Sorry About All This...

It had been my hope and intention to be fully back up and running with my blog posts by now. I mean, I know there's a worldwide pandemic out there, and the eye of this proverbial storm very recently moved across the Atlantic to our shores, but still... I was hoping to my "normal" routines back online, and it's taking me longer to get there. Sorry. I am, however, quite pleased that we've been able to get an active Facebook Community Board up and running, and that we've held a whole host of online prayer services, learning opportunities, sing-along's, and story time for kids! Which, of course, also explains why the blog isn't back to normal speed just yet. Again, sorry.

I offer these apologies, in part for you - my loyal and dedicated readers - but also in part for myself. In this strange, unfamiliar, topsy-turvy world, any opportunities to maintain normal routines is quite welcome. This post isn't going to be up to my usual standards; lacking, among other things, pictures that help tell a story. But nevertheless, I wanted to push myself to write SOMETHING about our parashah, and hopefully I'll be even MORE prepared for next Shabbat! Ok, so here goes:

This week, we launch into the third book of the Torah, Leviticus. And with it come a myriad of laws, rules, strictures, prohibitions, guidelines, blueprints, measurements, design descriptions, and other how-to's to keep the Ancient Temple running smoothly. One thing that jumped out at me from our text this week, reflects one of the main "reasons" for Temple worship. We might ask the question: What did sacrifice DO for our ancient ancestors??? Well, some of the sacrifices were about thanksgiving for good times, hope for uncertain times, and tribute for mandated-celebration-times. But perhaps more than almost all other purposes, sacrifice was established to ask forgiveness. Throughout our Torah portion specifically, the text describes guilt offerings, sin offerings, offerings for unintentional and accidental transgressions, and even differentiates between offerings in response to individual mistakes versus communal ones. Why so sorry all the time???

And this is what jumped out at me for us to think about this week. Do we truly know WHEN to apologize, HOW to apologize, to WHOM we even need to offer our apology, and what it means to be sorry and repentant?? As we all worry about the spread of this horrific pandemic, we often hear people in the media search for "scapegoats": Who is to blame for all of this? But right now, it's honestly not a particularly relevant question. Collectively, we need to acknowledge our failings around caring for the sick, the elderly, and the poor in our country. We need to put aside our bickering, and instead demonstrate humility and concern for one another. And we need to think long and hard about how we've been taking our planet, our environment, and the amenities in our lives for granted, and how ALL THAT has to change. In short, we need a lot less blaming and bluster, and a lot more "sorry." The Torah goes out of its way to even emphasize UNINTENTIONAL transgressions, or ones where leaders need to take responsibility for the wrongdoing of others. The Torah is trying to model behavior for us, which we especially need when it isn't being modeled for us elsewhere.

Sacrifice - whether we want it or not - is once again going to become a word, and a concept we need to grapple with. And if we can also internalize the concept of "sorry," along with humility, contrition, and change, this is all going to become a lot more manageable. Sorry for harping on about this so long...

Coronavirus Check-in - Blog as Community-Engagement Tool

Dear all,
I was not able to manage a blog post last week; I was honestly just feeling too overwhelmed by all the craziness swirling around the coronavirus pandemic outbreak, and all the extreme (and seemingly draconian) measures that we have already had to take to protect ourselves. I am still reeling somewhat - as I'm sure we all are - and I am not sure what this new reality holds for us. What will our day-to-day look like; in a week, a month, a year?? How will this affect our congregation, our country, our environment, our world?? Clearly, there are no immediate answers, and some of us are having a harder time than others acquiescing all forms of control or planning at this time. Sooo, what now?

Well, the first thing I want to say is, our community has moved online. We have no choice, and whether you're a fan of, or expert at, using technology or not, we all have to get used to this... at least for now. We could be here for a while... Here are some Ohev resources that are up already:

- Zoom!! We're holding morning minyan (prayer services) on Zoom, as well as Bible class, Hebrew School, story readings for kids, and adult learning. The main link to our Zoom account is:

• https://zoom.us/j/2538382425 
• You can also call from ANY cell phone or even landline to connect; just dial 646-558-8656 and use the Meeting ID: 253-838-2425

- Facebook Community Board and (coming soon) Facebook Live. If you're not already on Facebook, this might be a good time to create a VERY rudimentary account, just so you can stay connected. And if you're not already on our community board and want to be, let me know!

- YouTube Channel - Also coming soon. But we do hope to put up videos from our calls, as well as educational content and funny/silly videos to help us all cope with our current predicament.

And then, there's this blog. I certainly intend to keep using it for weekly Take on Torah messages on the Torah portion. But in addition, I'm wondering if there are other things you'd like to learn about? Can I post (short!) videos with topics of interest? Should I write a little about this moment in time, and lessons from our Tradition, responding to calamity? Let me know what might interest you. That's it for now, but I'm be back on here again VERY soon. In the meantime, stay safe, wash your hands, and please make sure to take care of yourselves and your loved ones. 

Bye for now,

Rabbi Gerber

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Va-Yeishev: Feeling a Little Unsettled

Earlier this week, at a synagogue board meeting, I gave a brief D'var Torah about this week's Torah portion. I observed to the board members that a major "character" in our Torah portion, more central and crucial than we often realize, is the very land

itself. Like his ancestors before him, Jacob attempts to settle in Canaan, and put down some roots. So much so, in fact, that the name of the parashah, "Va-Yeishev" *means* "And he was settled" (Gen. 37:1). But the Torah sure does love its irony, and the entire portion is about anything BUT being rooted, stable, comfortable, or settled. Not only is Jacob's "favorite" son, Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers, who then deceive Jacob by telling him Joseph has been killed by a wild animal! But their very lives are threatened by a devastating famine, forcing them to seek food elsewhere. Remaining "settled" in Canaan is no longer a viable option. Food insecurity was a vital concern back then, and it still is to this day.

I would even go so far as to say that we ignore the role of the land itself in our Biblical stories at our own peril. God repeatedly

threatens us, saying that if we do not care for the land - abusing it or the other inhabitants with whom we share it - the land will "vomit" us back out! (E.g. Leviticus 18:28) God doesn't like to mince words. Time and again, our texts emphasize famines, floods, fires, plagues, and various other instances where the land - and our stewardship of it - are of PARAMOUNT importance. One of the things that's crucial, yet painful, to realize, is that the responsibility is on national governments, local municipalities AND every individual person alive today. There are big-scale problems that need addressing, and there are small-scale ones. When you start to think about this issue at length, you see hints and warning flags all around.

Even the Jewish holiday that is about to begin, contains an environmental message hidden within it. We don't often think of Chanukah as focusing on sustainability.

Yet, when you look past the military victory, the dreidel-spinning, the latkes-eating, the candle-lighting, and the Temple-rededicating - it is, in fact, right there! Our ancestors were certain they *needed* a certain amount of oil. Keeping the Menorah lit without it was simply impossible. Nevertheless, somehow, miraculously, the small jug of oil lasted long enough for new oil to arrive. So maybe we all need to reassess this notion of "need." Can we make do with less? Can we put less food on our plates, use less water to clean our dishes and our bodies, and extract less resources from our earth to fuel our civilizations? You don't notice it at first, but when you shift your perspective to notice this aspect of the Chanukah message, it seems plain as (organic, home-made, vegan...) pie.

To add one more layer to this conversation, I was reminded of a (rare) positive headline in the news lately, namely that Greta Thunberg was named Time Magazine's Person of the Year. In my mind, this story brings all these narratives together. She has become a household name,

and a role model to so many of us, because of the climate crisis we are currently in. Like Jacob's story, land - and our stewardship of it - is a central part of the issue; it fundamentally reshaped the world millennia ago, and it is changing our lives just as much today. In Genesis, Joseph becomes the young, upstart, unlikely hero, who gains fame by speaking truth to power. Generations later, Judah Maccabee is the young, upstart, unlikely hero, who also becomes a hero for battling greater forces and winning against all odds. Today, I venture to say that Greta Thunberg embodies that same spirit. She should inspire all of us to realize that WE can be change-makers. Anyone can make a difference, and the responsibility to try and do so is EVERYONE'S! As you light your Menorah, remember all these stories. And as we look ahead to the start of a New Year, let us all be fueled by their messages, and inspired to affect change for ourselves, our community, our country, and our world. Don't get too comfy; we've got work to do.


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Michael Levine-Clark on Flickr
2. Ebrahim on Wikimedia Commons
3. Mariamichelle on needpix.com
4. Streetsblog Denver on Flickr

B'Chukotai: We Need a Reset...

Next Saturday night, June 8th, we will be celebrating the holiday of Shavuot, when - according to Tradition - we received the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai.

This year at Ohev, we are partnering with Beth Israel in Media to first hear a panel discussion (with Muslim and Christian faith leaders), then learn together in breakout discussions, and later also share experiences of chanting, meditation, and singing, all centered on a common theme. And this year, our theme is Spiritual Resilience. I can't speak for you, dear reader, but I imagine MANY people are feeling utterly exhausted by political tensions, environmental disasters, threats of war, religious battles and scandals, and a general sense of uncertainty, chaos, and concern. My rabbinic colleagues and I felt it might be a good time to discuss Spiritual Resilience; how do the texts/practices/stories/rituals of our various traditions help us keep going in troubled times? How do we replenish, where do we go for support and nourishment, and how do we soldier on in spite of all the obstacles? Are you curious to know what the answers are? Well, let's talk.

So, I already told you that this whole Resilience-discussion is taking place NEXT Saturday, but how then is it relevant to the Torah THIS week? Well, I already had

Shavuot on my mind, so when I opened up the Chumash to look at our reading, B'Chukotai, it was like I was already wearing a filter and looking for connections. Sure enough, I found something. Our parashah concludes the Book of Leviticus, and offers as its final subject in this volume on laws, rules, and regulations, a series of instructions regarding donations to the Temple. Inevitably, this leads to a discussion of wealth and poverty, and acknowledging the have's and have-not's in society. The Torah desperately tries to urge our ancestors to create (and maintain) just and fair community structures, so that social stratification doesn't keep widening and widening. One major tool that the Torah attempts to implement in this regard is the Jubilee Year, the Yovel.

In essence, the Jubilee Year is meant to be an occasion, every fifty years, where land reverts back to its original owners. So anyone who sold off land due to famine or poverty would get a chance to start over.

But it isn't hard to imagine who was wholly AGAINST this concept, and the kind of societal power those people might wield. Nonetheless, the Torah keeps pushing and pushing, demanding fairness. Ultimately, we don't know how often the Jubilee got implemented, or if it leveled the playing field as much as the ancient Biblical author had hoped. If nothing else, it should serve as a reminder to us all that we need a RESET. That is where I return to the idea of Spiritual Resilience. When the status quo drones on endlessly, when we perpetuate bad behaviors because they're just how it's ALWAYS been done, or when our apathy, lethargy, and fatigue cripple us and make us unable to even imagine change, let alone implement it; we need a reset.

It's not the ONLY tool. Next weekend, we will discuss many ways to recharge, lean on one another, and seek inspiration in the texts and practices of our various

traditions. But the Biblical Jubilee Year can inspire us to envision HOW to start afresh, get out of old ruts, and think outside various boxes. It may even have been aspirational, but nevertheless the text itself, and millennia of subsequent commentators, continued unrelentingly to push the concept of a do-over, a "mulligan," an equalizer that levels the playing field. So come and participate on June 8th. Delve into Muslim, Christian, and Jewish texts and rituals that renew our spirits and uplift our souls. As we head into the summer, let's hit the "reset" button, and approach our troubled world with new eyes, greater support for one another, and an unyielding insistence that better times lay ahead. See you on the eighth!


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. The U.S. Army on Flickr
2. Uni Hamburg on Wikimedia Commons
3. gillicious on Flickr
4. flattop341 on Flickr

B'Shallach: ... and That is Why We Celebrate the Trees...

It doesn't really have a clear beginning and an end. It's strange, I know, but it's done that way on purpose. Everything is part of a cycle - the year, the Torah,

life-long learning - all things go around and around, and thus our Jewish tradition intentionally likes to leave us with no obvious and definitive beginnings. Like this blog post, for example. Did it feel like you just jumped into the middle of a conversation? Good. :-) The Torah itself sets this tone, when the very first verse of Genesis states: "When God began creating..." as if something else preceded it. At the end of Deuteronomy, the Israelites are standing at the border of the Promised Land, about to enter and begin a new story. Hardly a final resolution for the end of the Torah. This week, we are celebrating a "minor" Jewish holiday that really emphasizes the cyclical nature of, well, EVERYTHING in a very crucial way.

Every year, it strikes me as a bit funny that we celebrate the festival of Tu Bishvat in January, in the dead of winter. This is the New Year for trees, plants, fruits, and basically for nature. We sing about how everything grows so beautifully...

while looking out at a barren, frozen, desolate tundra. Sure, we're singing in solidarity with the land of Israel (where it's still pretty cold too, by the way...), but it still feels odd and misplaced. Like, if we waited two more months, we'd belt out "Ha-Sh'keidiyah Porachat" (about a blooming almond tree...) with a lot more fervor! But then I always come back to the notion of "absence makes the heart grow fonder." We sure do miss the trees and leaves right now, don't we?? With so much of winter still ahead of us, we long for spring and the regrowth of nature, so our singing and yearning takes on another level of intention. To me, this also relates to how Tu Bishvat has become a central holiday for the environmental movement.

We take our planet for granted. I can give you countless proof-texts, but I sincerely hope I don't have to. Just google "trash island" if you want to see one horrific example... The point is, opportunities to express our gratitude to our planet, and recommit ourselves to caring for it, are *vitally* important.

The Torah constantly nudges us to value the earth, yet sometimes uses subtle techniques for doing so. You see, the ground/land/earth partners with God time and again, either to reward or punish us. We don't always think of nature as a character in our Bibilical stories, but it's ever-present. This Shabbat, we are chanting "The Song of the Sea," after the Israelites escaped through the Sea of Reeds on dry land... and the water crashed back down and drowned the pursuing Egyptian army. Moses then led the Israelites in singing this song, which indeed praises God, but also refers to all manner of natural phenomena - water, wind, rocks, and fire - that team up with God on our behalf. Noticing the role of nature in *this* story might also make us pause and discover its pivotal role elsewhere too. Suddenly, we see that just prior to our Torah portion, the Ten Plagues turned natural phenomena into instruments of terror against our enemies. And right *after* the Song of the Sea, the Israelites head into the desert, and there God will turn bitter water into potable drink and the morning dew into life-sustaining manna.

We sometimes miss this message. We talk about God and Moses and Pharaoh and the miracles... but we miss the role of our earth. In the Torah, it looks like fantastical fables and pure science-fiction. But the message is dead-serious. Can we really dispute the claim that if we take care of the earth, it rewards us with

bounty... and when we abuse it, it turns barren and fruitless? The text tells a riveting story, but let's not ignore the vital underlying lesson - the central principle of the holiday of Tu Bishvat: Be good stewards of the planet. Stop abusing it. Time is running out, and we simply cannot afford to ignore the warning signs. Are there costs involved with becoming more environmentally conscious and reducing our carbon footprint? Sure, of course there are. But do you think it's cheaper to maintain the status quo?? Aren't we *actually* paying, one way or the other? We humans sometimes have the absolute audacity - the chutzpah - to think we're outside (or above...) the natural order. Well, guess what? We are part of all these cycles. We are not the be-all-end-all of creation; it existed before us and will continue after us. Everything goes in a circle, without a beginning or an end. But while we're here, we need to do our utmost to take care of that which has been entrusted to us. We haven't got much time. Soon another chapter will begin, and...


Images in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of kmicican on Pixabay
2. CC image courtesy of Andrea Pokrzywinski on Flickr
3. CC image courtesy of amboo who? on Flickr
4. CC image courtesy of Rkantckd on Wikimedia Commons