B’Ha’alotecha - Influencing the Tide

“A rising tide lifts all boats.” That’s a nice phrase, isn’t it? I looked it up, and discovered it was popularized by President John F. Kennedy in 1963, though there’s also an ancient Chinese proverb that expresses the same sentiment. 

It’s been used in many contexts over the centuries; for example, in 2010, President Obama famously used this phrase to advocate for equality of opportunity and prosperity in America. But it’s also painful to talk about it, right? Since we know that across this country and around the world, rising tides have NOT lifted all boats, but have sometimes mainly raised up the proverbial super-yachts, oil tankers, and military vessels of society. I don’t want to flounder around for too long in this one metaphor, but the concepts of “raising up” and “elevating” actually permeate our Torah portion. And so I want to “lift up” an essential teaching for us all at this crucial time in our country and in the world. 

The name of our Torah portion is “B’Ha’alotecha,” which literally means, “when you raise up” (Numbers 8:2). In context, however, it is *merely* referring to mounting 

lamps on the Menorah in the ancient Tabernacle. So not all that meaningful, right? But then I also noticed a couple of crucial things. First, the parashah goes on to use various synonyms at least five times in our reading; dealing with ‘raising up‘ the Levites, the Cloud of God’s Presence ‘lifting’ off the Tent of Meeting, an ‘elevation’ offering, and Moses imploring God to “STAND UP!” and fight on Israel’s behalf. Ultimately, the text circles back to the same word used for the portion’s name, though this time it’s talking about God’s Presence (9:22), which arguably ‘heightens’ its significance. 

Ok, but so what? What does it matter if this term repeats, and how does it connect to yachts and dinghies or a rising tide??? 

Well, let me bring us back to the first reference, the name of our Torah Portion, “B’Ha’alotecha.” It literally means, “when you raise up.” And there’s a key difference there from the Chinese proverb or JFK’s vital speech. The Torah is saying YOU need to do it! You can’t wait for the tide to rise or for anyone else to engage in this work. You, me, we, all of us; we are the ones who need to lift up important issues, bring attention to painful problems in our community, and raise our own voices - and the voices of others - to make sure they are heard. AND, when you do that, when you put in the effort, God will respond in kind... but you gotta go first.

Back to our overworked metaphor: The tide simply goes up and down. It just is. We are the ones who need to partner with each other and with God, to make sure that 

everyone benefits equally. It is aspirational. It is not an objectively true statement, or one that can even be achieved without hard work, sacrifice, and solidarity. Right now, a small group of people in this country and throughout the world hold a tight grip on power, wealth, and influence. So very many others are being left behind, and are suffering and dying. Yet we are all stakeholders. We are part of this infrastructure and this society, and if we want things to be different than they are, WE have to take action. So let us resolve to ‘raise up’ the brokenness in our world, and do everything in our power to bring about change. Whether our own boat is going up or down, we are all responsible. And it is most definitely time to influence the tide. 

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. Myrabella on Wikimedia Commons

2. watch4u on Flickr

3. Pauline Moir on PublicDomainPictures.net

4. liz west on Wikimedia Commons

Naso: #ListenAndAmplify

The Torah pushes us to lean into the uncomfortable. Honestly, so does the rest of the Tanach, and the rabbis pretty much follow suit as well. You ever try reading the story of the Binding of Isaac? 

It's agonizing and heartbreaking... and the text wants you to be there for all of it, and not miss any of those emotions. Are they fun? No, not especially. Are they absolutely essential to be a fully-functional human being? 100% yes! How can you be compassionate, if you don't feel the pain of someone else's suffering? How could you care about the environment, if you don't feel any guilt or shame about leaving an absolutely awful mess for some other generation to clean up? Think about it; it's true for any unpleasant, uncomfortable, undesirable emotion. Even "disgust" has been studied, and linked to poison avoidance and disease prevention behaviors. I know it is hard and painful to sit with those emotions... but the Torah requires it of us, and I submit to you that at this very moment in human history - facing a pandemic and being forced to look face-to-face at the history of racism in society - it is more crucial than ever.

Our Torah portion offers a perfect example of this. And one that is DOUBLY upsetting, because our ancient ancestors might not have been disturbed by this text at all. And frankly, that doesn't matter right now, because it's troubling to you and me, and the Torah is speaking to us - right now - and wants us to feel fully our challenging emotions. 

The legal issue that is being dealt with in our reading is known as the "Sotah," or a woman suspected of adultery. You will recall, I'm sure, that this is an ancient patriarchal text we're talking about here, so you probably already suspect that this isn't going to end well for the woman. Indeed, she is put through a humiliating ritual, involving drinking water mixed with dust from the floor (!?!?) of the Tabernacle, and a series of incantations and public declarations that basically ASSUME she is guilty. I find it especially irksome and repugnant, because one of the verses introducing the case of the Sotah states: "[if] a fit of jealousy comes over him and he is wrought up about his wife who has defiled herself - or if a fit of jealousy comes over one and he is wrought up about his wife although she has NOT defiled herself - the man shall bring his wife to the priest" (Numbers 5:14-15). So right off the bat, the text actually *admits*, blatantly, that this entire thing might be based purely on suspicion and jealousy, and be unfounded. But, she's put through the ringer nonetheless...

I couldn't help but think of this story, of the Sotah, when I read (over and over and over again...) about the horrific killings of African-Americans in our country, especially at the hands of law enforcement. Like the Sotah, the suspected adulteress, they are assumed guilty instantly, and the burden of proof is entirely on the "alleged criminal," i.e. innocent civilian, to prove that they weren't up to something. 

One article that really crystallized what this might feel like for the victim, was a first-person account of being stopped by the police, written by a college professor, Steve Locke. It's called "I Fit the Description," and you can read it here. When you hear about the Sotah in the Bible, or read Locke's account, or watch the videos and read about the murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and countless, countless others - what emotion do you feel? I think (I hope) I can image a few different options, but I don't want to name them for you. What I want you to do is, feel that emotion or those emotions. Sit with them. Do they hurt? Do they make you squirm and shift in your seat? Or do you suddenly feel hungry, sleepy, distracted, or any number of other things, that almost certainly just *happened* to appear to desperately try to get you away from this pain?? It's not fun. I know. I get it.

No one is asking you to feel that all the time, every day, wherever you go in life. But wouldn't you perhaps agree that even the feelings we DON'T like probably have *some* function, some purpose? They're trying to tell us something that is vital - perhaps even life-threatening - for us to ignore? In this case, it might not even be your own life that is fatally at risk. 

But our Jewish tradition, our ancient sages, and this rabbi writing to you RIGHT NOW, are all imploring you to stay with the outrage, deep sadness, disbelief, and yes, even perhaps disgust, that you might be experiencing. Because we cannot stand idly by. And if we do ANYTHING other than act right now, we are indeed standing idly by. If you've ever been upset about Jews being oppressed or killed, discriminated against or harassed, and if you've thought to yourself, "well this isn't just a Jewish problem; EVERYONE should be upset about this!!", then please remember this: It's easy to ask others to stand up for you, it's harder to stand up for someone else. What can you DO? Well, on Facebook, I wrote #ListenAndAmplify. I believe this is a moment to listen to one another, and to amplify and raise up the suffering of the people around us. But not just passively; we need to seek out opportunities to #ListenAndAmplify. This is a momentous time to be alive. Scary, chaotic, and unknown, for sure, but also pivotal. Let us be fully present to this experience, using the entire range of emotions at our disposal, and let us begin the long journey towards change, healing, and ultimately peace and understanding. 

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:

1. Averyaudio on Wikimedia Commons

2. needpix.com

3. vectorhq.com

4. Fibonacci Blue on Flickr

B'Midbar: Remember when...?

Memory is SUCH a powerful tool. I think we all know that, but - ironically - sometimes we forget. It bears repeating, much like the memories themselves, because especially in times of turmoil, chaos, and uncertainty, memory can help us

get by. Maybe one of the reasons we forget, or just don't like to think about it, is because memories can also be painful. Right now, as most of us continue to endure lockdown and quarantine, talking about our social lives pre-virus, or sharing funny stories about things we did only months ago, can really hurt. It feels bitter to focus on what we had, what we did, and who we were... yet, conversely, it can also help give us hope, motivation, and resilience. This concept converges for me, this week, in the intersecting of our Torah portion, Memorial Day, and a special Shabbat celebration that I'm still gonna try and pull off.

Memorial Day is a particularly good example of this, right? We talk about people we have lost, who were often cut down before their prime, and/or whose service to our
nation sometimes seems tragically forgotten. So even if it hurts to focus on them, shedding tears and talking about their serving in uniform for all our safety DOES indeed honor their memory. More than just recalling, it may also help us pursue peace today, take better care of our current military veterans, or imagine a better future for the next generation(s). Every year, at Ohev Shalom, we hold a lovely Memorial Day service at our own synagogue cemetery. This year, most of the participants will be joining online, over zoom. But the service WILL take place, and a few individuals handling logistics will STILL be at the cemetery. We do this because the service is important, its meaning remains vital, and even just the value of repetition and continuity, of holding the annual service no matter what, has immeasurable power and purpose. If you'd like to call in, our Memorial Day service will take place on Monday, May 25th, at 11:00 a.m.

It doesn't always work out this way, but in 2020, Memorial Day Weekend lines up with the Torah portion of B'Midbar, the beginning of the fourth Book of the Torah (also called B'Midbar, or "Numbers" in English). Having spent the whole third Book
camped at Mount Sinai, learning about a gazillion laws, the Israelites now restart their journey through the desert. As they shake off the dust, stretch their legs, and prepare to march, the Torah tells us, "The Israelites shall camp each with their standard, under the banners of their ancestral house..." (Num. 2:2) An ancient rabbinic text, called Midrash Rabbah, asks a logical question here: What did those "standards" or "banners" for each tribe look like?? Like our favorite sports team today (well, a few months ago anyway...), did each of the twelve tribes have a different color scheme, logo, and symbol printed on all their desert paraphernalia???

The author of Midrash Rabbah attempted to answer that question by assigning a different symbol to each tribe, using various references and reasoning for each. In 2015, our synagogue, Ohev Shalom, created a set of beautiful, artistic mosaics, that now adorn the walls of our Main Sanctuary.

And because the images on each mosaic were chosen from THIS text, based on THIS Torah portion, I decided to make parashat B'Midbar our annual Shabbat Shevatim, the Shabbat of the Tribes. If you participated in the art project, please join on Saturday morning and share something about your experience. Or if you just want to know HOW people participated and what it was all about, come join for that as well. I do want to also note that we may feel a twinge of pain and lament, remembering how well-over 100 people joined to get their hands dirty and make these works of art. No social distancing back then! But memory is truly essential. It reminds us what community is all about, what we're striving to get back to, and how great it will be when we can sit together once more, and enjoy the artwork - and each other - (please God) someday soon.


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Billy Hathorn on Wikipedia
2. Ohev Shalom's Memorial Day service, 2013
3. Feedback on Wikimedia Commons
4. mosaics

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

Emor: What's in a Name? (repost from 2016)

While this blog post is from 2016, we ARE actually planning to do another visit to the cemetery in 2020... albeit virtually! If you would like to join our Hebrew School students, to learn about the Ohev Cemetery, about how we create (and decipher) inscriptions on grave markers, and about the burial of books/documents with God's Name on it, please see below for updated info IN RED on the 2020 edition of this event...

A couple of months ago, I wrote a blog post about God's Name. It was sort of a rant, mainly around how much I dislike the use of "G-d" when writing God's Name in English. If you haven't already read that post (and would like to), you can find it here.

One lingering question that I never really answered, and which I think deserves at least SOME consideration is, "Why does it matter?" What are the long-term ramifications of writing "G-d" versus "God," and who, honestly, cares? I wanted to return to this question now, because next week (update for 2020: in a few weeks) we are engaging in another important Jewish ceremony here at Ohev Shalom. It is a ritual that is entirely pointless if we cannot answer the question, "Why does it matter?" And I also believe that having a sufficient and meaningful answer to this query has a lasting impact on so many other things that we do in our day-to-day lives.

This week, our Torah portion is Emor, and we read in Emor a familiar statement from God: "You shall not profane My holy Name, that I may be sanctified in the midst of the Israelite people - I, the Lord, who sanctify you." (Leviticus, 22:32). In fact, at least six times in Leviticus - from chapters 18 to 22 - we are instructed not to defile, desecrate, or simply disrespect the Name of God. Back in March,

when I wrote about God's Name, I referenced the Ten Commandments, which also talk about not taking Adonai's Name in vain, but the reality is that it is a common trope throughout the Bible: Stop misusing God's holy Name!!! But if these laws and regulations AREN'T talking about using "G-d" (and I promise you, they are NOT), what are they asking us to do? What does it mean to disrespect God's Name, and how can we avoid doing so? One of the rules that the rabbis created, based on this concept, is the importance of treating sacred books, that contain God's Name, with respect and dignity. And yet, try as we might to take good care of holy books like Siddurim and Chumashim, sometimes they just get worn out. What then?

Well, next week (update for 2020: in June), we are inviting children from our religious school, AND any interested adults who would like to participate, to come to our Ohev cemetery in Brookhaven, PA, and help us bury sacred books that can no longer

be used. In Judaism, we honor God's Name in writing by not throwing away any text that includes that Name, and instead burying it at a Jewish cemetery. This also includes every single sheet of paper that has "Adonai" or "Elohim" written on it, whether handwritten, Xeroxed, or printed out, and it is further extended to all old tallitot (or talises), to sets of tefillin, and honestly anything that is a sacred, Jewish object. I am inviting you to join us, to bring any Hebrew prayer books or Judaica items, on Wednesday afternoon, May 25th, 2016, at 5:00 p.m., (update for 2020: Wednesday, June 3rd, at 4:30 p.m.) and together we will honor God's Name in a way that our Jewish ancestors have done for thousands of years.

And yet, I feel we must also return to our original question: "Why?" Why are we doing this? Why does it matter? Well, I can definitely tell you that I'm NOT doing it for fear of angering God. My theology doesn't work that way. We aren't doing this to appease or placate some ill-tempered deity who might otherwise smite us all for our insolence. No, I believe it's about you and me, right here back on earth. The way we show respect for someone or some-thing says A LOT about us.

Respecting God and God's Name is actually about respecting ourselves; showing sensitivity, humility, and appreciation for something outside of our own internal narratives. We otherwise get terribly caught up in our own needs. You may ask, "Why care so much about God's Name, a four-letter scratch on a printed piece of paper?" Well, you have to believe in something, don't you? Some concept, value, or ethic outside your own echo chamber? So much of the violence and devastation we see in the world comes from a lack of humility; people who care only about themselves and their own needs. Honoring God's Name is about saying there's more to this world than just me and my immediate needs. Our ceremony on Wednesday (update for 2020: on June 3rd) may look like it's focusing on death, but to me, it's actually a symbol of how much our religion is full of respect, sensitivity, mindfulness, and life. I hope to see you there! (update for 2020: I still hope to see you there! 😁 )

Photos in this blogpost:
1. CC image courtesy of Geagea on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of Daderot on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Gordon Griffiths on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Rrafson on Wikimedia Commons

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim: A Shabbat of Joy and Hope... and Eight Others Too!

A few years ago, a group of folks from my congregation planned a trip to Israel. We worked together for many months - created a whole itinerary, met several times to get everyone excited, discussed logistics, and ironed out all the details - and then, a few, short weeks before the trip was going to take place, fighting broke out in Israel (more than usual), and we had to cancel everything.

We were all devastated and heart-broken, and it was a very painful defeat. However, one year later, almost the entire group was back together, and THIS TIME we made it to the Holy Land!! Not only that, but the experience was perhaps heightened, and that much more special BECAUSE we had to start all over again and overcome adversity. It felt so incredibly devastating at the time, yet all the more meaningful and empowering twelve months later. I am feeling similar emotions to that Israel trip right now, in preparation for tomorrow's Shabbat morning service.

In January of 2019 - 16 months ago - I started meeting with a group of congregants to learn (or relearn, for some) the Aleph-Bet-basics of Hebrew. An impressive group of people kept meeting for months, and then eventually transitioned to an Adult B'nai
(or actually "B'not," since they're all women) Mitzvah class. A few people had to drop out along the way, and a couple of new people joined in, and for the past year, I've been working with an absolutely phenomenal group of ten women. They've been studying, discussing, learning, arguing, laughing (and sometimes crying), supporting, and committing 110% to the monumental task of chanting from the Torah scroll & leading parts of the service. And some will also be speaking in front of the congregation about their/our shared experience. As if the task wasn't daunting enough - having to fit study time into "regular" life and delving into some way-outside-their-comfort-zone skills - a pandemic was suddenly thrown into the mix! Obviously, our service would need to be postponed... possibly even canceled... right?

Nope! Not this group. Tomorrow morning, the service will continue as planned, but over Zoom, and with a few necessary modifications.

In addition, similar to our thwarted Israel adventure, the whole class has resolved to learn yet ANOTHER Torah reading in the future, so that they too can enjoy the gratifying feeling of both doing the service in-person AND proving that we will not be defeated by adversity. Some individuals have postponed their sharing of reflections, until such time as they can be done in our Main Sanctuary... because they WILL be back! (You're welcome, Tammy...) I am so impressed with their resolve and commitment, just as I was inspired by the participants on that Israel trip, several years ago. And even though our Torah portion is about something TOTALLY different, that has nothing to do with traveling or Torah reading or perseverance, I actually still found a section that reminded me of these two fabulous and undeterred groups.

In Leviticus, 19:23-25, the Torah talks about practices and commandments for when the wandering Israelites eventually enter the Land of Israel. (They too had to wait to get there, though slightly longer than our tour group...) This particular passage talks about

when you plant new crops, and how you cannot partake of the fruit for THREE years after they've started to grow! Then, when three years are finally up... you have to wait yet ANOTHER year, as the Torah declares: "In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before Adonai." Only in Year Five may you begin to enjoy the produce... that YOU planted!! Whatever agricultural, theological, or halachic (legal) reasons the text may have for these laws, one thing that you and I may learn from this is patience. There is value in delayed gratification, and even a sense of HEIGHTENED joy when you finally get to have that coveted experience! Often, in life, we want what we want when we want it. And we believe that getting it *right away* would without-a-doubt be the ideal. But whether it's travel abroad, a delicious looking apple, or a hard-earned rite of passage, sometimes waiting makes the fulfillment that much sweeter.

Mazal Tov to our wonderful, fabulous, phenomenal, inspiring, talented class!! This post is dedicated to all of you; Bev, Hope, Inge, Jodi, Joy, Lisa, Sherry, Tammy, Vicky... and maybe just SLIGHTLY more to Cathy, who was my partner-in-crime on that Israel trip too! :-)

Images in this blog post courtesy of my iPhone:
1. Our brave Israel travelers in August of 2015!
2. A dreaded page from the trope/cantillation portion of our learning :-)
3. B'not Mitzvah class, hard at work last summer
4. The whole crew, ready for a Zoom-stravaganza!!!