May 22, 2009

Parashat Bamidbar 5769--the roots of existence

This week we begin a new Book of Torah, the book of Bamidbar or Numbers. Bamidbar begins with a census taking. All of the Israelites are counted and the number comes to 600,000. There are many famous commentaries on this counting. One of my favorites comes from the Sefat Emet, a collection of hasidic teachings written on the weekly Torah portions. The Sefat Emet was written by Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter, and was published in Poland in the first years of the twentieth century.

The Sefat Emet explains:

The midrash refers to this counting of the children of Israel as being ‘like the scribe’s count.’ Just as the Torah has words and letters that are subject to counting but its root is high above, beyond all count, so, too, are the souls of Israel countable in this world, while in their root they are beyond number. Thus the holy books say that the 600,000 Jews [who came out of Egypt] are parallel to the 600,000 letters in the Torah.

The Sefat Emet cites here a well known mystical teaching, one which equates the number of souls that came out of Egypt with the number of letters in the Torah. While the Torah actually has just over 300,000 letters in it, the spiritual lesson here is worth reflecting upon.

Two questions to consider:


1. Why would Jewish mystics make this link between people and letters?
2. Why would Jewish mystics assert that the roots of both letters and people were beyond their counting?

The answers to both questions lie within the Sefat Emet itself:

The Torah that lies before us is in the garb of Torah. It is by means of study that we arouse the force that lies within it. That is the real power of Israel: to awaken the root of Torah. For the same is true of the human soul; the nefesh is but the garb of the neshamah that lies within it. And that neshamah, or deeper soul, is part of God above.

Mystical Jewish teachers believe that the Torah as we know it (the Torah of letters and words) is actually only a garb, a cloak covering the real essence (the roots) of Torah. It is by study and deeper reflection that we are able to unlock the true Torah from its shell. The same is true of human beings. The true essence of who we are (our roots) is covered by our shell. Underneath that shell is our truest form, our neshamah, our deeper soul, the divine spark within us. That divine spark is only unleashed when we attend to our own spiritual work and contemplation.

According to the mystics, what we see around us, including Torah and ourselves, is only the outer layer of true existence. If we take the time to peel back that which is apparent, we will uncover the true deeper unity that defines existence.

Our spiritual work this Shabbat is clear: Let us take moments to search beyond the obvious, to peer into the core of what we know, and open ourselves up to the deeper reality that pulsates all around us.

May 17, 2009

Parashat Behar-B'hukkotai 5769--Gardening

I am growing a vegetable garden for the first time. Words cannot describe to you the deep delight I feel each morning as I walk out to my garden patch, coffee cup in hand, ready to see what happened over night. I feel the wonder of a small child. I examine each and every new bud, watch small peppers and strawberries beginning to form, help pea vines cling to their trellis, carefully water delicate leaves, and smell the fragrant herb leaves. It is like a mini Eden. And it is one of the most “Jewish” things I am doing these days.

A recent article in LA Times reported:

With Sabbath candles burning and 14 guests seated around her dinner table, Joanna Arch held up a cup of kosher red wine and chanted the kiddish prayer in Hebrew:

"God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it he rested from all his creative work."

As is the custom, the guests observed the holy day of rest with a meal, but with a twist: They were sharing a "sustainable" Sabbath dinner on this Friday evening, with food that was locally grown, mostly organic and intended to elevate their practice of Judaism.

Click here to read the rest of the article.

There is a current flowing through our world right now, one which links the renewed (organic victory) gardening movement with spiritual traditions.

Since Torah times, our tradition has expressed a deep connection between Jewish life and the land we live on. In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Behar-Bechukotai, we read of this connection. “Adonai spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai: Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe a Shabbat of Adonai. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield” (Leviticus 25:1-3)

Our Torah makes the assumption that the Israelites were a people who tilled the land. In fact, the Israelites work the land to such an extent that the land needed its own a Shabbat, a year-long rest. (I wrote of this relationship in my D’var Torah last year http://rabbihudson.blogspot.com/2008/05/parashat-behar-5768.html) And I wonder: Might we need to take a reverse approach? Is it time for our community to make a commitment to a year of planting?

In a recent edition of National Public Radio’s Speaking of Faith, Krista Tippett interviewed theologian Vigen Guroian in a segment called, “Restoring the Senses,” which explored the relationship between Greek Orthodox Easter and gardening. Some of Guroian’s writings, as well as a downloadable podcast, can be found here. And, while it is clear that Guroian is speaking from a faith tradition different from our own, his message is clear: one encounters creation when one grows new life.

In times of uncertainty and change, planting a few seeds or starters and watching them grow can be deeply centering and fulfilling. It can also be a reminder of our tradition’s deeper commitments to food, ethical eating, and creating a sustainable world (check out Hazon for more on this). On this Shabbat, let us re-explore our relationship with ourselves and our world by re-connecting with the land.

Inch by inch, row by row.

May 8, 2009

Parashat Emor 5769--Rally for Darfur

On Sunday, May 17, at 2:30 p.m. the Orange County Jewish community will join together at Mile Square Park for an unprecedented action. Together, we will stand side by side and march in a Rally for Darfur. Together as one community, we will protest the ongoing slaughter taking place in Darfur, Sudan.

Many of you gathered last Sunday to hear Holocaust Survivor Leon Leyson speak at Temple Beth Sholom. Still others joined two weeks ago with Hadassah to hear TBS Congregant and Holocaust Survivor Sarah Schweitz’s story, and still others joined with our TBS Teens to hear Jenny Unterman’s story. Yes, we have been deeply honored to have many in our Orange County community come together to hear first-hand accounts of the horrors of the Shoah, the Holocaust, in commemoration of Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day, which took place on Tuesday, April 21.

We say “Never Again” and we gather to hear the sacred memories of those in our community who suffered at the hands of the Nazis. We say “Never Again,” and yet violence continues in our world. What is our moral responsibility as a Jewish people when we witness acts of violence and genocide in our own times?

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Emor, continues to explore that which makes life holy and ritually pure. Like the rest of Leviticus, Parashat Emor goes to great lengths to describe details of ritual purity, including the ways in which Israelite priests must remain ritually pure, as well as the rhythm of the Jewish holy days. And, while the ancient particulars of the Levitical Authors may seem removed from our own sensibilities, I believe their deepest intentions are well in-line with our own.

The Levitical Authors intended to construct a world, a world of order and holiness, a world that mirrored the Divine and the Divine’s intention. A world which, illustrated through ancient sacrifices and rituals, breathed out messages of wholeness, holiness, and life. We too aim to create a world of wholeness, holiness, and life. And, we at times succeed. And, we at times fail.

We know in our hearts that what takes place in Darfur each and every day is a crime. We know that the crisis in Darfur is the antithesis to all that our Torah and we hold dear: wholeness, holiness, and life. We know and yet we feel overwhelmed by the scope of the task.

On May 17, we have an opportunity to take another important step against the outrage in Darfur. Let us gather as one community. Take one hour out of your life to spread a message of wholeness, holiness, and life. Our brothers and sisters in Darfur cry out for our help. Never Again. May it yet be so.

Please check out details regarding the May 17 Rally for Darfur in Mile Square Park at www.jewishworldwatch.com.

May 1, 2009

Parashat Achrei Mot-K'doshim 5769--Loving Ourselves, Loving Others

This week’s parashah, Parashat Achrei Mot-Kedoshim, is centered around holiness. It includes the central message of Leviticus: “You shall be holy, for I, Adonai your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:1-2). Dr. Tamara Eskenazi, who blessed TBS by serving as our scholar-in-residence this past Shabbat, teaches that the Bible’s concept of holiness is often described as one of separation. However, in Leviticus 19, this is far from true. In Parashat Kedoshim, “holiness comes from cultivating relationships. Connections…” (The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, 716).

Yes, this week’s Torah portion is about the holiness we bring to our lives through our connections with others. Dr. Eskenazi explains that the Torah tells us to “love” three different times (The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, 716). Once, immediately following the Sh’ma, in what we refer to as the V’ahavta, “You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart” (Deuteronomy 6:5). The other two instances of commanded love are in this parashah:

  1. Love your fellow [Israelite] as yourself (Leviticus 19:18)
  2. Love the stranger as yourself (Leviticus 19:34)

Yes, we are commanded to love others (both those who are like us and those who are not like us) as we love ourselves. And I wonder: What is the more challenging part of this mitzvah? Is it loving others or loving ourselves?

In a telling scene from the novel Joe Jones, by Annie Lamott, the book’s main character, Louise is sitting at her kitchen table, doing her bills, and drinking coffee. In the process, she accidentally knocks over her cup of coffee, ruining all the bills and papers she had laid out on the table before her. “You stupid jerk” she says to herself immediately, “You saw this coming…You’ve done this so many times before.” As Louise storms out of the house, fuming at herself and her own carelessness, the narrator muses, “She’s barely speaking to herself.” I think: There is Torah in this description. Part of loving others is loving ourselves. This character, Louise, was kind to everyone in her life, except herself.

Louise reminds me of a basic lesson that feels very difficult to learn: We should talk to ourselves like we want others to talk to us. We should talk to ourselves like we want to talk to others. Think about this for a moment. How does your inner voice speak to you?

The psychologist Judith Jordan presents a concept called “self-empathy” that mirrors the Torah’s commandment to love others as we love ourselves. Jordan explains that one way for us to better connect with others is to develop deeper empathy for our own experiences. Jordan explains that one way for us to work at being more empathic toward our own selves is to seek out connections with people who are empathic toward us and our experiences. That is, by connecting with people who show us empathy, we may come to understand ourselves “more fully and truthfully and compassionately” (Miller and Striver 134). When others see us in a gentle light, we can learn to see ourselves in a gentle light. The compassion we feel from these connections can help us to better connect with others and help others to connect with us. Extending love to others helps us to love ourselves, and extending love to ourselves helps us to love others.

And, what about the commandment to love God in the V’ahavta? Is this somehow related to loving others and ourselves? I believe this is, indeed, what the Torah is teaching us. When we accept ourselves with love and compassion, and when we accept others with love and compassion, we learn to accept and love the Ultimate Other—the Divine (see Martin Buber, I and Thou). Our relationships with others and with ourselves teach us how to relate to God.

This is a Shabbat of holiness, a Shabbat of connecting. This is a time for working on relationships, in all their wondrous variations. This is a time for talking about and thinking about love. This is a time for remembering that all is indeed interrelated. “You shall be holy, for I, Adonai, your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:1-2). You shall see yourself as holy, for Adonai your God sees you as holy. You shall see others as holy, for Adonai your God sees them as holy. You shall see others as holy, for Adonai your God sees you as holy.