Ki Tavo: This Too Shall Pass… And This Too.

In the Biblical book of Ecclesiastes, we find the following insightful verse: “Be pleased when things go well; but in a time of misfortune, reflect.” (7:14) One of the central lessons of the entire Tanach, the complete Jewish Bible, is the value of mindfulness. Be present to your current experience - right here, right now, TODAY! - regardless of what’s happening. If it’s a time of celebration, peace, relaxation, and joy; fabulous! Good for you, enjoy it, and may more of these be in your future. Above all, be grateful and appreciative. And if it’s a time of uncertainty, pain, frustration, apathy, or grief, you should *still* be present to it. Don’t hide from such moments or try to numb them with distractions, willful ignorance, or - at the more extreme end - substance abuse. Instead, ask yourself what you can learn from this experience, and how it can make you stronger and a better person. Our Torah portion this week not only echoes this sentiment, but offers a formula to recite at precisely such moments.

We are approaching the end of the Five Books of Moses, and thus the moment when the Israelites will enter the Promised Land. Even though Moses himself won’t get to join them, he still has his gaze firmly set on what will happen to them when they cross over. And, as articulated above, he implores them to remain mindful and present to their experiences, be they good or bad. Moses prophetically looks ahead to a time beyond just their entrance, to when the people will eventually be settled, at peace, and comfortably in possession of this land of milk and honey. He instructs them: “When you enter the land that Adonai, your God, is giving you as a heritage, and you possess it and settle in it, you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land Adonai, your God, is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place where Adonai, your God, will choose to establish God’s Name… you shall then recite as follows before Adonai, your God…” (Deut. 26:1-2, 5) The formula/prayer/declaration that follows is one that later gets included - verbatim - in the Passover Haggadah. It begins, “My father was a wandering Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and stayed there, and became a great and populous nation.” (6)

Several rabbinic commentators focus on the beginning of this phrase, and the sentiment that our ancestor, Jacob, was once alone in the desert, impoverished and afraid. Even when the family moved to Egypt to escape famine, it was a small clan; a single family of outsiders in this mighty, foreign empire. The purpose of starting the declaration this way is so that the Israelite reciting it, now with land of his/her own, surrounded by allies and countrymen, may say: “And now look at us! Look how far we’ve come!!” Remembering how our ancestors had nothing is meant to evoke humility, appreciation, and most importantly gratitude to God. One medieval rabbinic commentator, Rabbeinu Bachya, writes on this verse: “The moral lesson implied in this whole recitation is that precisely at a time when one is prosperous and free from worry one has to look back upon what preceded this success and acknowledge Who it is that enabled one to achieve this well-being.” The “Who,” of course, is God.

Even then, part of the point that these rabbis are making (and that this rabbi writing right now is echoing..) is to be mindful regardless of what is happening in the present moment. We sometimes mainly think to offer prayers when we’re upset, concerned, or in need of something… but isn’t it also crucial to say a prayer in good times as well? One of my favorite phrases that expresses this perfectly is “This too shall pass.” When times are bad - whether because we’re wandering in the desert, enslaved somewhere, or enduring a pandemic - we can feel comforted in knowing This Too Shall Pass. But in times of joy, remember also that This TOO Shall Pass, and just savor it as long as you can. Change is inevitable, and time marches on regardless. So don’t waste a single second of it. Every moment is a chance to learn something, to grow, and to improve. We may no longer be wandering Arameans, or even Israelites offering the first fruits of our harvest at the Temple, but the message remains the same: Be mindful and grateful, and then our lives will be filled with meaning and purpose. Shabbat Shalom!

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Sheila Craan on Flickr
2. Nandhinikandhasamy on Wikimedia Commons
3. pxfuel
4. caramoulds on Flickr

Shoftim: Royally Accountable!

I guess we should have seen this coming; the number of Covid cases has risen sharply again in the US. One of the most infuriating things about this latest surge is how preventable it was. Our country was never able to bring the vaccination rate above ~50% - nowhere near the 70-80% needed to possibly achieve herd immunity - and so this awful pandemic wears on. I think a major hurdle that we cannot seem to overcome is a pervasive mistrust of government. It isn’t *every* American, or all the time, but it’s probably been grafted onto the American psyche since we broke away from British rule. It hasn't improved much over the centuries; take, for example, Ronald Reagan's famous quote about the nine scariest words in the English language being, "I'm from the government, and I'm here to help." I don't know that I have any great solutions to this problem in my back pocket, but I definitely appreciate how the Torah proposes at least ONE way that our authority figures can try to earn our trust. Lord knows, they (and we) need all the help they can get...

This week's parashah, Shoftim, includes some best practices for selecting a monarch. Interestingly, choosing an earthly leader is not a mitzvah, a commandment, or even something the Torah encourages. It is more like an acquiescence to the human desire to have a regent: "If, after you have entered the land that Adonai, your God, has assigned to you..., you decide, 'I will set a king over me, as do all the nations about me,' you shall be free to set a king over yourself, one chosen by Adonai, your God." (Deut. 17:1-15). The Torah goes on to say, if you *must* have a royal ruler, then here are the rules s/he must follow: They can't amass too much wealth, keep too large a harem of wives, or stockpile tons of weapons (foreshadowing postscript: "try as they might..."). So there are several restrictions and boundaries for said regent, but interestingly, the text only commands *one* obligation, something our new ruler MUST do. We read: "When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall write a copy of this Teaching (the Torah) for himself... Let it remain with him and let him read from it every day of his life, so that he may learn to fear Adonai, his God, to observe faithfully every word of this Torah, as well as these laws." (v. 18-19)

I find it fascinating that it isn't enough to keep a copy of the Torah, but *each* new leader must physically write (though pretty quickly they added a loophole that it could be commissioned instead) her/his own copy... and then lug it around everywhere they go! Talk about a physical reminder of the 'burden' of leadership... The Torah also greatly values humility, suggesting that the higher your office, the more humility you'll need... and maybe the increase should be exponential! The emphasis is also squarely placed on service, on the idea that our leaders must never forget that they serve the people, and their first priority has to be the good of the broader population. If nothing else, our regents - then and now - desperately need to learn, repeat, and commit to memory the Golden Rule: "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Lev. 19:18)

Sadly, the Biblical kings and queens more often proved how right the Torah text was to be concerned. They mainly served their own interests, and went out of their way to hoard wealth, power, and weaponry. Sounds painfully familiar, doesn't it? Yet to this day, leaders remain essential, especially when we need a centralized authority to help *everyone* survive and rebuild after a catastrophe or a pandemic. Millennia ago, it was hard to impress upon someone that they would be given tons of power... yet would remain beholden to their constituents. Finding that complicated balance hasn't gotten any easier. But perhaps encouraging our leaders to carry around constant reminders of their obligations could be a good start? And not just a small booklet to keep stashed at the bottom of a bag, but something more like a massive scroll, impossible to ignore. It wouldn't solve the whole problem of people not trusting their own governments, but maybe it would be a start? Next time there's a major gathering of world leaders, remind me to send them a few quills and a TON of parchment paper...

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Marco Verch Professional Photographer on Flickr
2. Alan Schapire (scribe visit to Ohev Shalom, January, 2020)
3. Adam Cohn on Flickr
4. Mushki Brichta 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
 

Eikev: Thanks for the Grub - Yay, God!

Judaism considers it important to bless our food. We have short phrases to recite *before* we eat something (with specific wording for basically ANY food or drink you can imagine!), and then longer prayers that are recited or sung *after* we eat as well. So let's take a moment and ask ourselves, “why?” Well, the Biblical explanation comes from a single verse in this week’s Torah portion… but that only tells us part of the story. It can get us thinking about the importance of blessing our foods, but then we need to dig deeper still. Our ancestors believed a fundamental truth about how food relates to the Divine, to the earth, and to our bodies, so let’s examine their perspective and see whether it remains relevant for us today as well. 

You may be familiar with the traditional Jewish Grace after Meals, a.k.a. Birkat Ha-Mazon, a.k.a. “the benching” (Yiddish for "blessing") There are shorter versions and longer ones, with special additional paragraphs for Shabbat and holidays. Interestingly, in even the longest version, there’s only ever ONE verse that comes directly from the Torah. The benching does include psalms and other Biblical quotes, but in terms of material specifically from The Five Books of Moses, it’s just this one verse from our parashah: “When you have eaten, and are satiated, you shall bless Adonai, your God, for the good land which God has given you.” (Deut. 8:10) So back to our original question, why? Why do we bless God? Because the Jewish theology around food is quite clear - you don’t own anything that you eat. It all belongs to God, and you/me/everyone needs to express gratitude for our ability to eat and be satisfied. 

Maybe that concept seems obvious to you… or maybe you fundamentally disagree (and feel free to comment below and share your thoughts), but it has always resonated with me. Whether we grow our own food, support a farm collective, or buy everything from a store or online grocer; the food still isn’t ours. We really need to acknowledge that in our community today, many of us do not struggle with food insecurity, the way millions of people do across the globe every single day. We had no control over where we were born or in what era. Our financial means and our abundant access to food - all these things are miraculous gifts from God! Yet sometimes we let ourselves think that we made this happen. 

All around us, we hear sentiments in society that essentially amount to some version of: “Why should I share my resources with others who don’t deserve it?” The Torah’s resounding answer is, it’s not your decision. God gave you this bounty, not you yourself, and you are expected - required even - to thank God for all these blessings. There are so many dangerous pitfalls where we may be tempted to think we made our own successes happen. We contributed, sure, but God’s partnership was, and always will be, vital for anything to work. When we acknowledge that, we hopefully learn to be humble, and then ideally show compassion towards (all!) others who have less than we do. So many of us are truly blessed to not worry where our next meal will come from. That verse I quoted from Deuteronomy reminds us that when it’s effortless for us to eat, and obvious that we’ll get to feel satiety, we must then also bless God. Now, who’s hungry?

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. jimbomack66 on Wikimedia Commons
2. AllaSerebrina on Deposit Photos
3. pxhere.com
4. The US National Archives

Vaetchanan: Reflecting on our Jewish Creed

Let’s take a few minutes to talk about the Shema. I don’t even really have to add the other five words, do I? I bet you can hear it in your head right now, to that same heralding tune we all know! This probably isn’t true for everyone reading this, but I bet for many/most people, if I hypothetically woke you up at 3am and said “Shema…!”, you could add - bleary-eyed and confused - “… Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.” And then promptly fall back asleep. The Shema prayer is essentially *the* most well-known verse in all of the Torah, and in all of our daily prayers. And yes, its triumphant, exclusive appearance takes place in this week’s Torah portion. Sooo… what do we really know about the Shema?

Well, for one thing, I wonder how many people have stopped and noted that our #1 most famous prayer - and prayer, as we know, is directed to God - isn’t addressing God at all. It’s right there in the first two words, I just don’t think a lot of people have reflected on it: “Shema Yisrael,” meaning, “Hear, O Israel…” Usually we say things like “Baruch Atah Adonai,” “Praised are YOU, Adonai,” but not here. In my mind, I picture Moses - who most often is speaking with, to, and for the Divine - turning around, facing *away* from God, and speaking to us, the people. It’s not even really a prayer, but a declarative statement. It’s entirely a human-to-human interaction; heavily emphasizing the importance of community, collective belief, and shared creed. And more than anything else, it is a proclamation of monotheism, and of complete loyalty to THE One God, who has a unique relationship with us, the people of Israel. 

Another interesting feature of this verse, Deuteronomy 6:4, is how it is actually written in the Torah. In every Torah scroll across the globe, the last letter of the first word, and the last letter of the final word, are written in large, bold font. The letter Ayin in “Shema,” and the letter Daled in “Echad,” seemingly radiate off the page to form their own word, “Eid,” meaning “witness.” The rabbinic interpretation of this peculiar script is that we all are meant to testify and bear witness to the essential truths of this verse. It is not enough to just know it on your own, but we encourage one another to remember the exclusivity of God, and how precious is our relationship with Adonai. 

Several rabbinic commentators also point out that while Moses more often instructs the Israelites to be loyal to “Adonai, YOUR God,” here Moses makes a point of including himself, both because of everything God has done for him, and to further hit home the point that we are *all* part of this covenant and theological partnership; no one is excluded and no one is exempt. What a powerful message to convey in only SIX words! Add to this our Jewish history of times when we’ve been banned from saying these words aloud; have huddled together in secrecy to declare the Shema for comfort, unity, strength, and courage; and stories in our tradition of martyrs who died uttering these very words - and the Shema becomes even more meaningful. Many of us know it by heart, and it may seem mundane and basic, but I hope we can all pause and appreciate the depth and potency of this short, majestic, declarative creed. Do you hear what I’m saying, O Israel??

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Pxhere
2. Katrina Cole on Flickr
3. Yaniv Ben-Arie on Flickr
4. Wolfgang Sauber on Wikimedia Commons

Guest blog! Tisha b’Av: We are still here.

This week, I am THRILLED to share with you a D’var Torah that my mother, Debbie, shared with her Executive Board of Women’s League. My mom is a Jewish educator with over half a century of teaching experience. She is also an active member of her synagogue in central New Jersey, and serves (or has served) on countless boards and committees in all aspects of Jewish life. And, quite frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed that I haven’t invited her to guest blog for me sooner! 

Enjoy!!

The Jewish calendar is filled with wonderful joyous holidays and days when we remember some of our victories in Jewish history. But it also has sad and mournful days when we recall some of the terrible moments in our past. One of those sad days is coming up this week – on Sunday. It will be Tisha B’Av- the 9^th day of Av. This is a day to remind us of many of the worst dates in Jewish history which all happened on or close to the 9^th of Av. 

Some of the major ones are: 

- In the second year after the Exodus from Egypt, the Israelites listened to the spies and refused to go into the Land of Israel. Their cowardice and lack of faith led them to spend a full 40 years wandering in the desert. 

- Many of you may know that in the year 586 BCE the First Temple was destroyed by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar and the Second Temple by the Roman Emperor Titus in 70 CE; both on or near this date. 

- Another lesser known event was the Edict of Expulsion of the Jews from England which was signed by King Edward I in 1290 around this date. 

- The beginning of the Inquisition in Spain - where King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella expelled 100,000 Jews and forced them to board ships to leave Spain -happened also on the 9^th of Av. 

So we recall these awful incidents by fasting and not drinking for a full day in the middle of the heat of summer. But in the calendar we have actually been building up to remember these terrible events for several weeks. Three weeks prior to Tisha B’Av, we don’t schedule weddings or musical celebrations, we avoid getting haircuts, and we do not buy new clothes. The nine days before the fast day are a more intensive period, beginning on the 1^st day of Av, where the custom is to stop eating meat and drinking wine. 

Then, on the fast day itself, there are special customs that more intensely show that we are in mourning:

- The meal before the fast is a simple one including boiled eggs and lentils- foods often eaten in a house of mourning. 

- We shouldn't bathe or use any skin oils or creams

- lovemaking is prohibited on this day.  

- When arriving at the synagogue, people don’t greet one another as they usually do when they come to a service.  

- In the synagogue, shoes are not worn, and we sit on the floor or low benches with the lights turned down low, or often just with candles burning to provide dimmed lighting. 

- The book of Lamentations - Eicha - is chanted in a low voice using a special plaintive melody. - - The ark is sometimes draped in black shrouds and the Sifrei Torah are also covered in black cloths.  

The rabbis of the Talmud also said that there was a strong connection between Tisha B’Av and our duty to others. The First Temple was destroyed, they say, as a punishment, but the Second was destroyed because of causeless hatred. People need to learn to treat each other with love and respect. WE all need to work together - B’yachad - to make this world a better place. 

We cannot understand why the terrible things we remember on Tisha B’Av happened – nor why God let them happen. We can not understand why bad things happen to us or our families in general, but as we look back - particularly as we get older - over the history of our people, something becomes clear: We may not be able to find a reason for everything that has happened to us in our past, but Jews have been able to find a lesson in almost everything that happens, and it has helped us become better people. We Jews are still here and we need to work B’yachad, together, to preserve our people and our heritage.

So, what lessons does this fast day have for us? In his book, When a Jew Celebrates, Harry Gersh writes: “The cycle of sorrow and comfort, pain and joy reminds us once again that life is precious and must go on. We remember and we mourn but not for too long. After the mourning we return to our lives once again.” The whole Jewish calendar - the whole Jewish sense of time - is a series of lessons about appreciating life and where we’ve been, while also recognizing and being thankful that we are still here… and, God willing, we will continue to be here for many generations to come. 

Pinchas: What About MY Point-of-View??

How could anyone be expected to appreciate another  person’s perspective, if s/he never knew there was another way to see things? As human beings, we are conditioned since birth to see the world through our own eyes, our cultural lens, and our inherited biases. That’s how you develop a sense of self, identity, and pride in who you are. However, EVERYONE’s point-of-view is different, so we eventually have to learn to take others into account, in order to learn empathy, compassion, and curiosity. It’s fine to expect the world to think/act/behave like you when you’re four years old… less so when you become an adult. 

This week, the Torah wants to teach us the value of multiple perspectives… and in particular emphasizes how critical it is that people who don’t feel seen or acknowledged speak up and advocate on their own behalf. Our specific example comes in the form of five daughters (with wonderfully unpronounceable names…) whose father died in the wilderness before the Israelites could enter the Promised Land. These confident women approach Moses (and God) and point out that since their father is dead, and they have no brothers, their families will receive no land allocation once they enter Canaan. They declare: “Let not our father’s name be lost to his clan just because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father’s kinsmen!” (Num. 27:4) Moses brings the matter before God, and God agrees with the daughters. 

What I find especially striking here is the notion that God hadn’t considered this before! Or any issue, for that matter!! It never occurred to God that families with only daughters could lose their inheritance? The idea of God learning and adjusting is unique in-and-of-itself, and I kind of love it. If even God can be persuaded… shouldn’t we humans be willing to hear new ideas and allow our thinking to shift and evolve? But even if that *isn't* the case, and God DID already know, I still think there’s a powerful lesson here: Speak up for yourself! Advocate on your own behalf, because someone else truly might not have seen it from your vantage point. Perhaps they did… but you’re never gonna know until you step up, come forward, and let others know what you’re experiencing. 

And from a leadership perspective I think the lesson is equally crucial! You don’t know what others are seeing or feeling. There’s simply no way for you to know! So you have to solicit feedback and create an environment where people feel their input is valued and heard. For me, as a white, straight, cisgender male, I need to invite anyone and everyone to offer their opinions - their own Takes on Torah, if you will… - to enrich and expand my outlook. I can’t know what it looks like from your seat, so please tell me. But it isn’t all on you to speak up. I’m not released from any obligation to be inclusive, just because others haven’t spoken up. It is absolutely my responsibility to create the space and vulnerability for others to know their input is welcome and appreciated. This Biblical story is about one, ancient, brave, trailblazing, confident group of women; but right now, today, we all can truly learn from their example!