Kedoshim: The Hearter Things to Change in Life

The Torah never tells us the obvious stuff. Think about it. Nowhere in the Torah do you read, "Thou shalt eat when thou art hungry." Duh. "Remember to breath both in and out in order that thou might live and not turn blue in the face, keel over, and die." Thank you. Very helpful. Self-preservation, base instincts, and human nature are things that we don't need instructions in order to fulfill. You generally remember to hold your breath when going under water, and after putting your hand on a hot stove just once, you most likely don't need a second reminder to stay away.

Once you get to common sense and common decency, however, the Torah starts to give more explicit instructions, and for good reason. This week's Torah portion lays out a ton of laws that govern behavior... and throughout the course of human history we've broken pretty much every single one. Even the really big ones - commandments like "Don't steal stuff," "Don't kill anyone," and "Don't cheat on your spouse" - they make perfect sense to all of us, and we're not surprised to hear they are prohibited, yet people nevertheless break them all the time. Why is that? Why are we so good at taking care of ourselves, needing no help to stay alive and navigate life's individual challenges and pitfalls, yet we struggle terribly when it comes to creating a productive society, or even just following laws that are explicitly laid out for us?

We could rail about this for hours. We could point to societal ills, we could point fingers, and we could argue until we turned blue in the face (just don't forget to breath...). But let's ignore all that for a moment. Let's focus instead on one important lesson from our Torah portion, Kedoshim, which unfortunately is a lesson we might prefer to ignore. It's a concept that affects us all, that every, single person is guilty of, and that is excruciatingly difficult to change. In Leviticus, 19:17, the Torah tells us, "You shall not hate your kinsfolk in your heart." Now I'm not saying most of us hate our "kinsfolk," some of us might be very close with our family members. But the commandments we violate are not in public, not visible, not even expressed in words; they are the feelings in our hearts. Kedoshim governs not only the behaviors that others see, but also the subtle, hidden, private actions that are a big part of our lives: How much we give (or never give) to charity that no one sees, how often we say (or don't say) "thank you" to the guy who fills our water glass in restaurants, how often we change lanes on the highway without signaling, or how we react to the plight of people halfway around the earth. These little behaviors - on our own, in our homes, when no one is watching - they are the ones that can truly change the world.

Throughout our parasha, the Torah keeps repeating the phrase "I am the Lord," or "I, the Lord, am your God." For example, "Do such-and-such, I am the Lord," "Don't do this-and-that, I, the Lord, am your God." Why? Because God is with us every step of the way. God is not only the Lord of the Universe, God is also aware of each person's behavior. "I am your God," meaning that God is in relationship with all of us, with each of us, and at all times. Like recycling, every little bit makes a difference. Your choices may seem minuscule, but they aren't. Your actions affect the course of human history, and they can improve it if you set your mind to it.

I encourage each of you to read through this week's Torah portion here. Find just one behavior that you can work on, one challenge that you are willing to take on over the summer, leading into the High Holidays. I know it isn't easy. If it were easy, the Torah wouldn't need to tell us about them. But the Torah does tell us about them. These commandments are important, and in order to create a better future you too are important. Just take a peak. I'll never know if you looked, or if you decided to make any kind of change. In fact, no one else will ever know. Well, maybe Someone will know...


Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of billaday on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of uncleweed on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of Ellipsis-Imagery on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of The Local People Photo Archive on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of telepathicparanoia on Flickr

Pesach: Connecting to My Heritage with a Nail and a Palm Branch

When I was in college, a roommate of

mine introduced me to an interesting Jewish holiday ritual. After the festival of Sukkot concluded, he took the palm branch of the lulav and nailed it to the wall above the door of our college room. Ah, the college years... Naturally I asked him what he was doing, and he told me that there is a custom of saving the lulav and using it to kindle the fire in which we burn our chametz before Passover. In doing a bit more research on the subject, I indeed discovered that many people save their lulav branches for six months, so that they can fulfill multiple mitzvot with the same object. In a sense, it is a way of honoring the lulav by using it for more than one mitzvah. I thought it was a pretty nifty custom.So every year since then I save my lulav, hang it on the wall, point it out to people, explain the custom, get myself ready... and then promptly forget to bring it down to burn with my chametz. Some years I forget it for weeks or months, and other times (like this year), I remember it 24 hours later. One day I'll get it right...

I bring up this custom because it reminds me of the cyclical nature of our lives. Judaism has many rituals that emphasize this: The full of month of Elul used as preparation before Rosh Hashanah and the High Holidays,

the ten Days of Awe between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the four special Shabbatot leading into Passover, and the 49-day Omer period between Passover and Shavuot. We do this a lot. We connect things, and we link together Jewish observances. Even at our Pesach Seder, we talk about connecting one Seder to another across time: "This year we are here, next year may we be in Jerusalem." We reflect on ancient Seders, medieval Seders, Seders from our childhood, and the future Seders where we will celebrate the arrival of the Messianic Era. One cycle after another, one cycle inside another.

At Ohev Shalom we've been debating quite a bit about whether our Seder should be traditional - filled with all the practices, songs, foods, chants, and lame jokes that we're used to from so many past Seders - or whether it should be innovative - with new questions, modern challenges, and experimental activities. And most of us answered that it needs to be both. Tradition helps link us backwards, to our ancient ancestors as well as our recently departed family members, and innovation helps propel us forward, inspiring our children and empowering them to keep these practices alive for future generations.

We get so bogged down in day-to-day life, we rarely have

opportunities to step back and reflect. Yet more than any other holiday, Passover is the perfect time for some reflection. How was

your Seder different this year from last? Who used to be there every year, always making the (insert special holiday food), but who passed away since last Pesach? Which nephew/niece/grandchild seemed to be an infant two minutes ago, but now stands proudly on a chair and sings the Four Questions in Hebrew? We compare foods, tunes, and stories to Seders of years and decades past, and we feel, in that moment, deeply connected to our heritage. And that is precisely why we think in terms of cycles.

Reminding ourselves about the passage of time helps us appreciate this moment, right now. As we continue on with the last five days of Passover, I invite you to reminisce about what this holiday means to you, and how it can serve as a connector and a reminder in your life. To what and to whom is entirely up to you.

Chag Kasher ve-Sameach - Happy Passover!

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of sandy.zieba on Flickr

2. Image courtesy of my iPhone

3. CC image courtesy of Suzie T on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of Robert Couse-Baker on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of telepathicparanoia on Flickr

Acharei Mot: Focusing on the After

"How do we face the reality of death?"

That line begins a reading that I include in nearly every funeral or unveiling that I perform. Though it later goes on to speak beautifully about cherishing our loved ones while they're alive and honoring the memories of those who have died, to me, the importance of this poem is in the very first line. Death is indeed a reality that many of us have trouble facing. We joke about death, we trivialize it, we ignore it, or we keep ourselves busy to simply avoid it; but ultimately, we don't like acknowledging the inevitable reality of death. Why?

Perhaps it represents chaos, standing as the definition of what we cannot explain or fully understand. It also may symbolize finality, after which we cannot resolve disputes or disagreements, say "I'm sorry" or "I love you." For many, it is even the embodiment of sadness and fear. So why would anyone want to talk about it?? Because it is a reality, and it is an important part of life. We appreciate living when we acknowledge dying; we treasure family, friendship, and love because they do not last forever. Even in other areas of life, the same is true, though we may not always recognize it. Food and drink taste better when there's a final bite waiting and we can see a bottom to the glass.

This week's parasha is called Acharei Mot, and it begins by telling us about what happened to Aaron and Moses after the deaths of Aaron's two sons, Nadav and Avihu. But the two most important words of the entire portion are the ones that give it its name: Acharei Mot - After the death. These words remind us that there IS something that happens after someone dies, even (and especially) when the death was a horrific tragedy. Yes, death represents a finality for those who died, but the living must go on! Death cannot become crippling; locking us into a spiral of grief and lament. Aaron was surely devastated after his sons died, but this week we learn that he moved on. Life continued.

But Aaron's sons did not die in last week's portion. It happened three weeks ago, and two other portions came in between, reminding us that moving on with life does not happen instantaneously. It takes time. There is a beautiful story about King Solomon, which I will happily share with you if you're interested, that teaches us the invaluable phrase, "This too shall pass." When we feel overcome by catastrophe, we must remember that things will, eventually, improve. Aaron needed time to grieve and mourn, but he also needed to begin to live again, and honor the memory of his two sons by moving on with his own life.

"This too shall pass" also applies to the good times in life. They won't last forever, so savor and appreciate joy as long as you can. Holding on to the wonderful memories and moments we have experienced gives us strength to face whatever lies ahead. Ultimately, life is a roller coaster with highs and lows. If we face it honestly, acknowledging that life will contain both joy and sadness, opportunities and challenges, then we will truly get the most out of every moment, and live life to its fullest.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of spisharam on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of pink_fish13 on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of scragz on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of Sister72 on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of aprilzosia on Flickr

Metzora: An Appeal to My Fellow Lepers...

Who is in and who is out? Who gets to remain inside the camp, and who has to wait outside? When you come right down to it, that is the subject of this week's Torah reading. On the surface, we are continuing the topic of ritual purity and impurity which began in last week's reading. A major part of this week's parasha describes how an "afflicted" and "impure" individual must remain outside the Israelite camp, and only once they have become pure again may they reenter. Even once they're back with the in-crowd, sometimes they must actually remain outside their own tents for seven additional days!

With this week's reading, it's easy to get bogged down in talking about disease and uncleanliness; but again, to me it's really more about who's in and who's out... and who gets to decide. Just like in ancient times, today we still judge one another, creating divisions rather than dialog. Within the Jewish world, we often feel the need to measure up to a standard of holiness or perfection, jumping through hoops to appease those considered more "pure" or "righteous" than us. When it comes to aliyah, conversion, marriage, and prayer (among other issues), one group makes all the decisions, and pushes everyone else around. Today I would like to add my voice to those who push back.

I was inspired by two recent articles: "Toward a more assertive liberal Judaism" by a former professor of mine, Alex Sinclair, and "Warning: Fundamentalist Morass Ahead" by the Executive Director of the Masorti Movement in Israel, Yizhar Hess. Both authors indicate that Israel is turning into a fundamentalist state, where the Orthodox agenda dominates all aspects of political, social, economic, and military life. And they warn that this crisis is quickly (and

somewhat quietly) swallowing up the entire country. Sinclair writes, "It is Orthodox Judaism that is the main force leading to the destruction of the Jewish people's unity," and he goes so far as to compare liberal Jews (that's us!) to abused spouses who allow the Orthodox authority in Israel to insult us, refuse our conversions, take our money and give nothing back in return; and yet we don't speak up because we don't want to disturb the status quo.

Hess writes, "When a full 13% of all 18 year-olds declare that Torah-learning is their life's work, and as a result the army must cut back on the number of pre-academic programs and public service programs it supports because there are not enough soldiers, something is rotten." There is a line being drawn of who is in and who is out. The Orthodox leadership in Israel is trying to muscle out everyone else; turning us into lepers waiting outside the camp, hoping and praying that we will "fit in" to their rules and be allowed to come home. Why? It is our country as well, and we need to speak up, loud and proud, if we want there to still be a homeland for us to return to.

Towards the end of his article, Sinclair writes, "we liberal Jews must be more prepared to dispute the fundamentalist orthodox position in our dialogues [sic] with orthodox friends and colleagues." In order to dispute, we must know. Please think about these questions: If you're a liberal Jew, do you know why? If you care deeply about Israel, but have no intention of making aliyah, can you defend your position

with pride and confidence? Sitting idly by is not an option, because the situation is devolving quite rapidly. Israel is our country as well. We are not lepers, and we simply don't have the time to wait for a priest to come and declare us pure. We are pure right now, let's get up and tell someone.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of Gabe Photos on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of Alasdair Middleton on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of Simply Boaz on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of leah.jones on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of Jewishfan on Flickr

Tazria: The Meaning of Pure Equality

I want to speak to you for a bit about something that bothers me, and it relates (in part) to this week's Torah portion. Our parasha is one of the most difficult to make relevant, because it deals entirely with ritual purity and impurity, skin diseases and inflammations, and "impurities" that affect clothing. But the challenge of finding meaning in our Torah portion is not what bothers me.

The concept of impurity, tumah, in and of itself is complicated. We find it jarring and (let's face it) creepy,

and we can't make sense of why God created it. The Etz Hayim Torah commentary tries to re-

frame it for us, stating, "We can see the notion of tum-ah, then, as growing out of a sense of reverence for the miraculous nature of birth, the awesome power of death, and the mysteries of illness and recuperation." Though I appreciate their attempt to redeem tumah, I remain unconvinced. I cannot help but feel that it is an ancient, outdated, and kind of gross facet of religion; one which I am happy to leave behind. Yet this also is NOT what bothers me this week.

Our first introduction to impurity in the parasha deals with childbirth. When a woman gives birth to a son, she remains impure for seven days, and then continues to be in a state of "blood purification" for an additional 33 days, during which she may not enter the sanctuary. When she gives birth to a daughter, however, she becomes impure for 14 days, and then remains impure for an ADDITIONAL 66 days before she can enter the sanctuary. And no, we are not given a reason why

the period of impurity is TWICE as long for a girl than for a boy. It seems terribly unfair, but we also have to keep in mind that theirs was not an egalitarian society. We no longer subscribe to these values, but we cannot deny that it was simply the reality of life in Biblical times that a son was more important than a daughter. I don't like this concept, but I recognize that priorities were different then. We are getting closer, much closer in fact, but this too is not what bothers me.

So let me tell you what IS bothering me. Today we are striving to create an equal society. Our

values differ greatly from those in the Torah, and we have reshaped our ritual life to reflect this reality. Women receive aliyot, they read Torah, they lead services, and our prayers have even been amended to mirror our evolved sensitivities. Yet many women in our synagogue, and throughout the Conservative movement, choose not to participate equally. Some women come to synagogue and do not put on a head covering, many do not wear a tallit, and at our synagogue's daily morning minyan not a single woman puts on tefillin. Though to be fair, many of the men aren't putting on tefillin either; which perhaps makes it more equal, but also equally troubling...

I look at this week's Torah portion, and I actually feel great pride that our religious community no longer treats women or newborn infant girls as second class citizens. But ritual life comes with BOTH rights and responsibilities. We say this to every one of our B'nai Mitzvah students: If you want the rights, you must also take on the responsibilities. You cannot pick and choose. And it's not just a generational issue; many of the young women who most recently celebrated a Bat Mitzvah come to synagogue without a tallit or head covering. I truly feel that it belittles egalitarianism when we do not all take on the same rights and responsibilities to observe Judaism as one people, with one standard, for all members of our community.

Next week we are celebrating Rosh Chodesh, the start of a new month. In Jerusalem the Women of the Wall will be struggling valiantly for the very same rights AND

responsibilities which we take for granted, and in a society

that sometimes seems no less advanced that the Ancient Israelites who observed the laws of tumah. We cannot be there to fight alongside them. But we can support their efforts by pushing for REAL equality in our own communities. We can lead by example, shed all traces of gender separation, and instead pray, celebrate, and live side by side with one another as Jews. Not male Jews and female Jews, not "true" Jews and "half" Jews; just Jews. Now that's getting rid of the tumah in our community!

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of land_camera_land_camera on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of mbaylor on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of handmaidenbymaria on Flickr

4. Image courtesy of Deborah Gerber. Women of the Wall, Jerusalem, 1988.

5. CC image courtesy of sakocreative on Flickr

6. Image courtesy of Deborah Gerber. Women of the Wall, Jerusalem, 1988.

Shemini: How Now, Brown Huh?

I want to start this week's blog with a quick disclaimer: Last week's post was not meant to be taken seriously, it was Purim Torah, meaning humorous, satirical material appropriate to the holiday of Purim. Some people asked why I didn't clarify that somewhere in the post itself, and unfortunately that's just not how I operate. Personally, I feel that a joke is inherently ruined if you have to say, "this is a joke." So beware, folks, more Purim Torah may appear here from time to time, and no, I will not warn you ahead of time. I will include this type of explanation after the fact, but that's as far as I'll go. Thank you to everyone who commented on it; I'm glad some people found it funny! :-)

Sometimes you have to wonder if the Torah is ALSO dabbling in satire, but without offering an explicit disclaimer. The closest thing we get to outright mockery was last week's holiday story, the Book of Esther. It's filled with spoofs, slapstick, and silliness; yet even that story is taken by some to be serious, factual material. If people can't find King Achashverosh funny, what hope is there for the rest of the Bible?!? This week, we are celebrating one of four special Shabbatot leading into Passover, namely Shabbat Parah - the Shabbat of the Cow. As if the name isn't strange enough, the story we are marking is even stranger.

In the Book of Numbers, 19:1-20, we read about the ritual of the Red Heifer, the proverbial Brown Cow. This special cow was to be taken out of the Israelite camp, slaughtered, and burned to ashes. When people became ritually impure in Biblical times, the only way to become "pure" again was to have water mixed with heifer-ashes sprinkled on you. Obviously. And if the ritual

wasn't peculiar enough, every person involved in the slaughtering, burning, or handling of the ashes would become IMPURE for the rest of the day; so the purifying agent itself renders the user impure. This ritual is SO strange that the ancient rabbis imagined King Solomon himself, one of the wisest men in history, saying, "I have labored to understand the word of God and have understood it all, except for the ritual of the brown cow."

So what do we make of all this? We get so caught up in being dumbfounded by the specifics of this Ruddy Calf, we often forget to take a step back and think about it conceptually. Red Heifer? Sometimes it acts more like a Red Herring! One thing that the Burgundy Bovine teaches us is that faith is about acceptance, not understanding. In many ways, this ritual tests our devotion more than other, more famous, passages. It's isn't hard to believe in God when we read, "Love your neighbor as yourself." And most of us believe the challenging parts of the Torah, like "Eye for an Eye, Tooth for a Tooth," or "Whoever does work on the Sabbath shall be put to death," are opportunities for us to reinterpret law and evolve as a religion. But what do we do about the parts that are just weird? They don't offend us, but they also don't enrich our lives, or inspire us to action. Like fasting, waving a lulav and etrog, and some of our other peculiar rituals, some things we do because they make us feel Jewish. And in Biblical times, this was one of those things.

To me, the Red Heifer reminds us that we don't need to explain ourselves to anyone else. Yes,

being Jewish comes with some weird, wacky practices, but so what? Who ever said everything needs to be rational, logical, and low key? Certainly not the Bible! And even though we no longer have a Temple, I think the Torah is still speaking to us when talking about the Maroon Milking Machine. It's one part satire and one part challenge. It's showing us how we've evolved our tradition since then, while also demonstrating what people were willing to do to demonstrate their deep faith. We may not still have the ritual, but, asks the Torah, have we retained the sentiment? Which actions/customs/traditions do you observe that make you feel truly Jewish? Practices which make you feel connected to your ancestors... even as they embarrass you a little at the same time? Especially as we approach Passover, this is an interesting question for all of us to consider.

Sometimes we are swift to censure satire and silliness, simply because it isn't serious (say that five times fast...). But I can tell you from personal experience, humor is often very hard to write, and takes a great deal more ingenuity than most somber topics. Comedy is also intricately linked to culture and values. When learning a new language, one of the final indicators of true comprehension and proficiency is the ability to understand, and tell, jokes. Amidst all its peculiarity and irony, the Rosy Ruminator is still very much a part of what makes us Jews.

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC image courtesy of wotashot (taking a break) on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of Olívia perdida na alemanha! :O) Lost in Germany ! on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of Kristian D on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of geraintandkim on Flickr

5. CC image courtesy of fczuardi on Flickr

6. CC image courtesy of Thunderchild7 on Flickr

Tzav: A "Burning" Desire for Change!

One of the great benefits of being part of a creative, dynamic, and forward-thinking entity like the Conservative Movement is having a front-row seat to the evolution and reshaping of Judaism. Our movement has played a critical part in redefining the role of women in Jewish worship, has developed rituals and practices for new holidays like Yom Ha-Atzmaut (Israel's Independence Day) and Yom Ha-Shoa (Holocaust Remembrance Day), and has led the way with Hechsher Tzedek, a group seeking more ethical practices in the preparation and handling of Kosher food.

Well, the leaders of Conservative Judaism are at it again! And this time Ohev Shalom has been invited to be a pioneer congregation for a new revolution. What would you say is the one thing that we really need in our lives, something that could bring more people to synagogue, reengage our youth, and inspire new members to join?

You're probably thinking what I'm thinking: Sacrifice. Ever since the year 70 CE, Judaism has been missing something. I know you've all felt it. Praying is great, studying the Torah is terrific too, and we all love Social Action projects and trying to be good people as well as good Jews. But our ancient ancestors knew that the "real" way to connect to God was through ritual offerings, and the Conservative Movement is ready to bring them back.

A group of young rabbis has formed a coalition called the Jewish Organization for the Conservative (or Konservativ, for our European colleagues) Establishment of Sacrifices (it works better as an acronym...). They wrote a responsum on how to bring back ritual sacrifice, and it passed unanimously. Now obviously we aren't talking about real, live animal sacrifices; that would be crazy! No, we're going to start off with grain, meal, and oil offerings, and build from there. I know what you're thinking, how would this even work? The Ritual Committee and I discussed it, and the Cantor is on board; from now on, the Cantor will lead services from the middle aisle, and we will use the space in front of the Ark as the new spot for the altar. We will have vents installed above the altar to direct the fire and smoke out of the building, and if/when we get really serious about sacrifices later on, we can create a drainage system underneath the altar as well.

It'll certainly take some time to get used to; let's face it, we haven't done anything like this in 2,000 years! But

it's a very exciting time for our movement, and for Ohev Shalom. One of the things we are going to need, however, are priests to help run the altar. If you are a Kohen (or a Bat Kohen), please consider dedicating some time to our new, merged committee, the Priesthood-Ritual And New-sacrifice Committee. Now I'm certain the biggest question on your mind is: Who's going to be our new High Priest?

Well, if you'd like to apply, and you're a Kohen, please click here.

We're also going to need Levites to help wash the hands and feet of our priests, so if you're a Levite and want to apply, please click here.

I think this is really going to ring in a new era for Ohev Shalom; one that will get a lot of people "fired up" about coming to synagogue. The last hurdle we need to clear is the fire safety code, which our Executive Director, Josh Laster, is working on as we speak. In the weeks and months ahead, we will learn more together about priestly garb, the laws for when to bring which type of sacrifice, and how much God has been longing for us to bring this back. It'll probably be a good idea for us to go over emergency exit rules with everyone, and we should definitely learn about "strange fire" so we don't risk any mishaps... But at least we now know what the theme-word is going to be for the year ahead, right?

Happy Purim, everyone!

Photos in this blog post:

1. CC Image courtesy of Living in Monrovia on Flickr

2. CC image courtesy of viralbus on Flickr

3. CC image courtesy of austinmcgee on Flickr

4. CC image courtesy of David Blackwell on Flickr

5. Image courtesy of Rabbi Gerber