Behar-Bechukotai: What the Leaves are Trying to Tell Us

Last week, it was 90 degrees here in Philadelphia. In early May. I'm a big fan of warm weather, and I'm definitely excited for the pools to open, the barbecues to come out, 

and the sunscreen to get slathered on; but I also can't deny that 90 degrees in May seemed excessive and early. Tropical storms in the south, drought in the west, snowfall in the north - something is clearly going on. Interestingly, our Torah portion speaks to environmentalism and climate change, and I believe it offers us some important insights into what's happening to our planet, but also our own individual role in this shifting reality.

This week's parashah includes a series of blessings and curses, God's responses to us depending on whether we observe or ignore the mitzvot, commandments, in the Torah. The second half of our reading 

begins, "If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit... you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land" (Lev. 26:3-5). Conversely, if/when we choose to forsake God's stipulations, the Torah tells us "I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper" (Lev. 26:19), which I think is a very striking image. Sandwiched between iron and copper, with no food, no rain, no soil; how would we survive? The list of curses gets pretty detailed and graphic, but an image that I also think is memorable and significant comes in chapter 26, verse 36, when it says: "The sound of a driven leaf shall put them to flight, fleeing as though from the sword." Again, an important reference to nature.

On the one hand, you can see it simply as a metaphor. The people will be so filled with terror, so psychologically destroyed and vulnerable, that the sound of rustling leaves will send them into panic and retreat. Tiny, innocent, trivial 
things will seem to them like scary monsters and goblins. But I would also argue, on the other hand, that the actual leaf itself can be a poignant symbol as well. Because a fallen leaf in the wrong season IS scary. Barren trees when they should be lush and green, that is a legitimately terrifying image. Very often, we focus on the connection between these Biblical blessings and curses and things like idolatry, Shabbat observance, and keeping Kosher. But we shouldn't miss the ecological imagery that is so deliberately chosen in these passages. Rain and fruit will turn into iron and copper - that truly IS a frightening admonition.

So where does that leave us? Time and again, the Torah tries to speak to the individual - to YOU and ME. It isn't speaking in generalities, and it isn't speaking to ancient ancestors. It applies to us today - just look around at the weather forecasts in YOUR area - and change can, and must, be affected by every individual. Even if we said, for argument's 

sake, that our fate was inevitable, and your individual contributions couldn't avert the impending disaster. Don't you still have an obligation to try? How does ANYTHING happen on a mass scale, before one, single person decides to change his or her behavior? Please take an inventory. As we might have an annual financial conversation around tax time, or an annual spiritual accounting before Yom Kippur, we should also do a personal environmental examination on a regular basis. We sometimes call it a "carbon footprint," which really just means we look at the impact we, as individuals, families, organizations, nations, have on our earth. Perhaps you can take this opportunity to sit down - maybe outside with sunglasses on and some powerful sunscreen protection - and look at what you recycle, if you compost, what lightbulbs you use, and how you run your heating and AC. 

We're only stewards of this earth; we don't own the place. And if we're going to shift our curses back to blessings, and prosper together with our planet, we need to pay a little more attention to the sound of the rustling leaves. 

Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of Stevekc on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of JaneArt on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Alex Proimos on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Notnarayan on Wikimedia Commons

Emor: Art That Sanctifies

Before I "officially" begin this week's segment, I want to acknowledge something: This is my 300th blog post. I find it incredibly hard to believe it myself, but it's true. And after nearly six years, and an astounding 75,000 pageviews (well, 73,841, but you know what I mean...), I am so grateful to all of you for sticking with me. I still enjoy writing these (which is also a minor miracle), and I hope you enjoy reading them. I look forward to many more years here together, but I also like to stop and voice my gratitude and appreciation for milestones when they occur. So thank you. And now, Parashat Emor...

If you're gonna do something, do it well. If it's worth your time/energy/money/effort, then make it really count, and go the extra mile to achieve a sense of genuine gratification and satisfaction. 

I hear this message in our Torah portion, loud and clear, and I think it's an essential one in our lives today as well. From the Torah's point of view, it's about God. All of this - being Jewish, observing the laws, treating others with kindness, etc., etc. - is for God, so do it with passion and care. For you and me today, God is sometimes still the motivating factor. But we don't have to hear "God" in the text for the message to be meaningful. Ultimately, I think the Torah is still saying "CARE about what you do!" Take pride in your effort, get emotional about what you do, and invest in your projects, even if there's risk of failure, disappointment, and dejection. Elsewhere, the Torah tells us to "Love God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might" (Deut. 6:5). What would our lives look like if we placed THAT kind of effort into everything we did?

Our parashah is mainly interested in sacrifice and holiday observance. Technically speaking, it isn't addressing other aspects of life or how we should care about ALL that we do. But we extrapolate; that's what it means to interpret Torah and make it meaningful in our lives. 

So when the Torah says, "When you sacrifice a thanksgiving offering to Adonai, sacrifice it so that it may be acceptable in your favor" (Lev. 22:29), how do we understand the term "in your favor"? I think it's saying that the sacrifice will speak well of you, before God, IF you demonstrate that it's important to you. If you think you can get away with giving the crappiest animal in the flock, or the rotten apples you weren't going to eat anyway, it won't work! And not because God demands high-quality produce, but because it says something about YOU when you pull these kinds of stunts! You're showing how little you care, so your minimal investment will pay minimal returns. It won't help you, because YOU won't help you.

This weekend, at Ohev Shalom, we're embarking on a major art endeavor. Over the course of the next year, we are installing fourteen beautiful, incredible mosaic panels in our Main Sanctuary, depicting 

the Twelve Tribes of Israel, as well as a thirteenth for the Levitical priests, and a fourteenth for Jacob's daughter, Dinah, to break up the testosterone-overload. The first two panels are being dedicated this weekend; the tribes of Reuben and Naphtali. The panels are amazing, just from an artistic point-of-view. And they have added meaning, because embedded among the tiles are personal artifacts from members of the congregation; so the panels tell OUR communal story as well. But I also think the project, as a whole, says something larger about us as an organization.

A traditional, even Biblical perspective would say we're doing this for God; "l'Sheim Shamayim," "for the sake of Heaven." By making our prayer space, our sanctuary, a more beautiful and spiritual place, we 
are elevating our worship and creating new and (hopefully) profound ways to connect with prayer. And I don't disagree. Our Torah portion tells us, "that I may be sanctified in the midst of the People Israel; I, the Lord, who sanctifies you" (Lev. 22:32). God may be the One who does the blessing, but we bless God right back! And yet, it isn't just a theological thing. Prayer, in Judaism, 
is bi-directional; it goes out and it goes back in, inside ourselves. We elevate and sanctify ourselves with this project. The process, the journey, the togetherness it creates, and the investment of resources from SO many people; all these things create holiness. I, for one, am very eager to see how our Children of Israel Collection will unfold. And I'm excited for the plethora of ways in which it will enrich our community. Once the panels are in our midst, I know we will be "mekadishchem," "sanctified by them." 

Photos in this blog post:
1. The Tribe of Asher (olive tree) - mosaic panel to be installed later this summer
2. Past presidents of Ohev Shalom, David Pollack, Bruce Godick, and Frances Sheehan, working with me on the Tribe of Reuben (mandrake flower).
3. Members of our USY youth group working on The Tribe of Naphtali (deer). Danielle Berman, Shannah Stone, Leah Cohen, Jordyn Kaplan, Julia Katcher, Carly Paul, and Sarah Lieberman.
4. Reuben, the panel completed!
5. Naphtali, the panel completed!

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim: Judging Between the Torah and a Podcast

It's funny sometimes, what comes out of your mouth. Do you know what I mean? You think you're going to answer a question one way, but then you hear yourself say something entirely different. Or you're asked to respond quickly to a question, and the reply surprises even you. 

This happens to us occasionally, and I think it's an opportunity to introspect, and hopefully understand ourselves a little bit better. This was my experience earlier this week. You may have already seen me post about this on Facebook, but on Tuesday I was a guest "expert" on Dan Savage's podcast (radio show), "The Savage Lovecast." Dan Savage is an activist, writer, media pundit, and journalist, and he puts out a weekly podcast with relationship and sex advice. Not, perhaps, the obvious place to hear a rabbi weigh in, but I'm a big fan of his show. It's a really well-done podcast, and Dan Savage deals with human sexuality - and MANY other topics - in a way that you simply don't hear anywhere else. And he invited me on the show to comment on a call from a Jewish listener.

The details of the call aren't my focus here. What I wanted to unpack with you on the blog were some of the things I, myself, said! The show was recorded ONE day after I received the invitation, so I was still only processing that I would be on the air at all; I was pleasantly surprised to discover I spoke in coherent sentences! When I eventually listened to the podcast, days later, I found that I had chosen to speak about judgment in the Torah. Despite all its "Thou shalt's" and "Thou shalt not's," I actually 
think the Torah is a pretty accepting document. It's sometimes facetious, even playful, in the midst of laying down the law(s) that we must live by. I'll admit, it can be hard to see it, but I feel quite certain it's there, hidden in the text. Let me give you an example: When, in this week's parashah, we are told NOT to worship idols, it sounds so simple and straightforward. But it's not the only time we hear this commandment. It is repeated over and over, throughout the Torah and into the books of the Prophets. Soon you start to realize, no one is listening to, or abiding by, this rule! You hear something once, and it's a law. You hear it SEVEN times, and now you realize it's a law being ignored...

What I said to Dan Savage was, the Torah is not such a black-or-white document. We pretend it's a book of rules, with clear guidelines and parameters for behavior, but it really isn't. 

One minute it tells you that preserving life - pikuach nefesh - is the single MOST important law... then it tells you to stone someone to death if they break a commandment! The Torah is not a law code; it's a document about humanity. It depicts our heroes, like Abraham, Jacob, and Moses, as really flawed individuals, and sometimes portrays our enemies (Esau, Bilaam) as decent guys. It puts forth a lot of suspect behavior (for example, in the realm of sex, which is how it came up in conversation with Dan Savage), and doesn't necessarily tell us how to feel about it. Some things just ARE; we are the ones who add judgment, labels, bias, and prejudice.

So how do we push ourselves in the opposite direction? Towards greater acceptance? Perhaps we can redefine some of our standards. The second half of this week's Torah portion is called "Kedoshim," meaning "holy": "Kedoshim tihyu," "You shall be holy" (Lev. 19:2). What does it mean 

to be holy? I think we need to move away from the standard understanding, which focuses solely on law-abiding, prudent, keeping-up-appearances type behavior. What about integrity and honesty? Staying true to ourselves and our internal moral compass? The ancient prophets and rabbis understood this, and they railed against hollow practices, where people superficially observed the rules, but did so without passion, commitment, or intentionality. There is a way to marry these two issues - being holy in God's eyes AND in our own. But the answer is unique to each one of us; you have to find that balance for YOURSELF, just as I need to find it for me. We can, however, start by letting go of judgment and guilt. Let go of it in yourself, and stop ascribing it to the text of our ancient tradition! If you open your eyes, truly, you'll see that the Torah isn't judging our behavior. It's hard to believe, I know. But it really isn't. So, why should we?

Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of Magnus Manske on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of Oren neu dag on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Herostratus on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Rocket000 on Wikimedia Commons

Tazria-Metzora: Are You Ready for an Upgrade?

In Judaism, we love rituals. I mean we really, REALLY love rituals! Those of us who recently got through Passover can certainly attest to that. Jewish law doesn't just formalize all aspect of the Pesach meal; it also scrutinizes the house cleaning, the food disposal and purchasing, 

and the utensil-switching-over-ing. And that's just the start! Our Halachah, our legal system, also examines lifecycle ceremonies, Shabbat observance, eating standards, etc., etc., ETC... But let's put all that aside. Let's just talk about the concept of "ritual" in our lives, and not just the religious ones. We all have them. Even if you're not observant - in ANY religion - you still ritualize your behavior. All the steps you take before going to bed, your lunch habits at work, the rapport you have with friends and family; we each do it differently, but essentially we're all creating order in the chaos of life. I just don't think we pay much attention to ourselves WHILE we're doing this. And I think we should.

Our Torah portion this week is a weird one. It's arguably the weirdest, most uncomfortable one all year long. It talks about skin disease, mold, discharges, and all manner of not-fit-for-cocktail-party-conversation topics. Besides just talking about 

all this "fun" stuff, the Torah also REALLY formalizes our behavior around it. Every action and motion is prescribed. I'll give you an example. In Leviticus, 14:16-17, we read: "And the priest shall dip his right finger in the oil that is in the palm of his left hand and sprinkle some of the oil with his finger seven times before the Lord. Some of the oil left in his palm shall be put by the priest on the ridge of the right ear of the one being purified, on the thumb of his right hand, and on the big toe of his right foot." You see what I'm saying? I'm surprised the Torah doesn't also mandate what BRAND of oil they need to use!

Again, let's put all that aside. Just focus on the idea of ritual. Their version sounds really ancient while ours seems modern, but ultimately we're all trying to figure out how to make sense of stuff that makes us uncomfortable, or lifecycle occasions that bring big changes into our lives, or figuring out how to deal with stress, anger, anxiety, and shame. 

Reading about these crazy Biblical practices should merely serve as a springboard for conversations about ourselves; how am I taking care of myself, how am I creating order in the chaos of MY life, and how am I contributing to making the world a better place? The Torah is basically trying to tell us to treat ourselves well and to be mindful of our behaviors. It just has a funny way of getting there. Rabbi Elliot Dorff, in a Torah commentary on Tazria-Metzora, expresses a similar sentiment: "So today's Torah reading can serve as one example of a broader Jewish theme that we have the duty to engage in proper diet, hygiene, exercise, and sleep so as to preserve our bodies so that we can serve God." 

Rabbi Dorff's quote also brings me to my final point. What does "serve God" mean? We get so focused on the language of ritual and worship, we miss the real point of all this. Serving God is, at its core, about being the best versions of ourselves. It's about striving 

to live a full and rich life, filled with kindness and generosity, compassion and love. Even this gross stuff about leprosy is REALLY trying to remind us to give thanks for the goodness in our lives, and to be deliberate and intentional in EVERY thing we do. So take a moment to look at the rituals in your life. Be grateful for your ability to do them, and think about how you are (or could be) working towards becoming an even better version of yourself. You don't even need to make big changes; just living a bit more mindfully will open your eyes to your own life, and to the world around you. It will create more gratitude and appreciation, and right there, you're already on the road to the new and improved, You2.0! 

Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of Bill Branson on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of BAIA on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of AzaToth on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image (including the Hebrew word "Todah," meaning "Thanks") courtesy of נטע on Wikimedia Commons

Shemini: For Jacob and Ethan.

I know this may sound strange, but I am going to talk about a Holocaust survivor and a Bar Mitzvah boy. The connections may not 

be obvious at first, but please bear with me. I mention this at the outset, because both of these incredible individuals are on my mind right now... but that doesn't mean the two stories are being equated. I am NOT comparing them in all things, and so I hope you'll appreciate where there are similarities, and where those similarities end. Having said that, both men have truly inspired me this week.

As you may know, this past Thursday was Yom Ha-Shoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. At Ohev Shalom, we were tremendously honored to have Jacob Farkas, a Holocaust survivor, come and tell his story. As if his life wasn't remarkable enough, we were all blown away to learn that this was the very first time he had EVER shared his experiences. 

Even his children and grandchildren had not yet heard all the details of his survival from Auschwitz-Birkenau and other concentration camps. And it was quite an unbelievable story that he had to tell! To give you one example: One day, in Birkenau, he was moved to a barracks that was set to be "liquidated," as he put it. And the inmates knew it. Refusing to submit, refusing to accept his fate, Jacob climbed into the rafters, 20 ft. up in the air, out onto the roof, and jumped to the ground. The fall alone could have killed him. Instead, he survived, but fell right on a Nazi guard, who beat him and sent him back inside. Incredibly, Jacob once again scaled the bunks, climbed out, jumped, and yet again was beaten and returned to meet his fate. And astoundingly, Jacob ventured up a THIRD time - and jumped a third time! - and finally managed to escape. Unquestionably, his was a story of perseverance, of unrelenting refusal to die or succumb. What an inspiration!

I recognize that this is an awkward transition, but this week, Jacob's was only one of two stories that inspired me. You see, we are also celebrating a most amazing and special Bar Mitzvah on Saturday evening. A young man in our 

congregation, Ethan Chalker, has worked tremendously hard to prepare for his special day. Ethan has a rare neuro-genetic disorder called Angelman Syndrome. Among other things, Ethan is mostly non-verbal. But through the magic of technology, Ethan is going to lead services and have an aliyah to the Torah, through the use of an iPad, and with the incredible help of his family members and aides. I cannot fully describe to you how much work Ethan, his mom, Sharon, and everyone involved has put into making this day possible. It is going to be a very emotional service, and I am so excited to celebrate this milestone with Ethan.

While all B'nai Mitzvah celebrations are special, this one is clearly unique. In large part because Ethan WANTS this very, very much. Watching him overcome obstacles, push through challenges, and all with a huge smile on his face, THAT is what religion and Jewish identity is all about! And without trying to equate the two situations, 

or draw too many parallels, I still want to acknowledge how both Jacob's and Ethan's stories are about the triumph of the spirit. Each of them demonstrates to us the importance of living life to its fullest, and not taking things for granted. And having heard Jacob's remarkable story, in the context of all our ancestors and relatives who survived the Holocaust, I feel that Ethan's ability to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah is an extra-special triumph. It is such a poignant reminder that today we are living free, able to celebrate our religious beliefs, and that we are able to take a symbol of modernity and the secular world - the iPad - and use it as an integral tool for religious observance. Truly, Am Yisrael Chai - the Jewish people are alive!

Photos in this blog post:
1. Image of our Ohev Shalom sanctuary.
2. CC image courtesy of Julia Seeliger on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Tom Morris on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Hovev on Wikimedia Commons

Eighth Day of Pesach: Why Am I Still Eating Matzah?

Guess what? It's still Passover. The last "goat song" at the end of the 2nd Seder was sung on Saturday evening, and yet, one week later, the 

holiday continues. Friday night and Saturday, THIS week, constitute the final day of Pesach, so the end is in sight. Every year, I find it challenging to remain motivated through the end of the chag. There's so much excitement and build-up for the first two Seders and that initial bite of matzah; but how do we stay energized for days 6, 7, and 8? And why was the holiday this lengthy in the first place??

The Torah tells us to celebrate for seven days, and when the Jewish community moved out of Israel, two thousand years ago, Diaspora Jews added an eighth day. So the Torah 

tells us THAT we keep Passover for a week, but it doesn't really help us determine WHY we do. I could talk about Temple sacrifices or the length of time it took to travel to Jerusalem, but that's ancient news... literally! Here are three, more contemporary thoughts on possible reasons for an extended holiday. First of all, if you're gonna switch over your dishes, clean out your fridge, cover your countertops (if that's your thing), and go through that whole pomp and circumstance; is it all worth it for a ONE-day holiday??? Even two doesn't entirely justify all that futzing and fussing...  

Second, I think the lengthy holiday reminds us that we are Jewish... ALL the time. If it were just a festive meal, or even two, then we might feel connected to our religion and our people only at the Seder table. We certainly feel Jewish there! But packing up leftovers and eating them at 

work, obligating ourselves to these Passover restrictions in our everyday lives, THOSE things reminds us that we're Jewish 24/7! But for the record, I don't think we need to think about Judaism every second of every day. I remember an Orthodox friend of mine, when we were kids, who would look for Jewish adages in EVERY movie we went to see in the theater. It drove me crazy! Sometimes I just want to watch a James Bond movie, ok? I don't need to think about what Rabbi Akiva or Maimonides would have said about it... We can be Jewish in synagogue and in our homes on Shabbat. And yet, sometimes it's nice, like on Pesach, when Judaism peaks its head into our workspace and our school lunchrooms.

And finally, I think an eight-day holiday is just enough time to create a reset. It's long enough to start a routine, so that when you then switch your home BACK, everything seems kind of new again! Eight days allows us to create a little distance from our regular lives, and then look at ourselves, our homes, and our existence with a slightly refreshed perspective. Pesach, therefore, isn't just 

valuable in and of itself, it also affords us the opportunity to appreciate the rest of our lives anew. Leavened products seem so luxurious again (if only for a fleeting second...). The convenience of all our kitchen equipment and the plethora of food options in the grocery store feel almost overwhelming! When the holiday eventually does end, hold on to that moment for a bit longer, and really acknowledge it. That feeling of appreciation is so precious, and sadly, so rare. Pesach allows us to feel grateful for everything we have in our lives, and to see it with new eyes, at least once a year. I don't know if that will be enough motivation to keep you excited for more matzah on day eight, but hey, I gave it a shot! :-) And don't worry, the holiday will "pass over" soon enough...

Chag Sameach!

Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of O'Dea on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of Uwe a on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of BocaDorada on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Ralf Roletschek on Wikimedia Commons

Happy Passover!!

The house has been cleaned, the chametz (leaven) has been sold or burned, the charoset is being made, and perfect hiding places for the Afikoman are being scouted out. In other words, we're ready for Passover! If you, dear reader, are celebrating the holiday, I wish you a "Chag Kasher v'Sameach," a Happy and Kosher Holiday, in whatever sense the holiday feels "Kosher," spiritual, and meaningful to you. If you are not a Passover-celebrant, I wish you a wonderful Easter or simply a beautiful spring!

Wherever we are, whatever we're doing, I wish for us all peace and freedom, the true underlying hopes, prayers, and dreams of this season. May we remember and celebrate the things that unite us, and "pass over" all the things that divide and distance us. I hope you have a wonderful, tasty, and enjoyable Seder. And most importantly:

Warm regards,

Rabbi Gerber