Parashat Lech L'cha--An Open Destiny

Sarai and Avram are called the first Jews. In this week’s Torah portion, Lech L’cha, they are the first to pledge themselves to the one God. They are the first to leave their lives behind in search of a new destiny. In the chapters of Torah that unfold over the next weeks, we learn the complexities of Avram's inner and outer life. We learn the lengths of his faith. But what about Sarai? What does she have to say?

What follows is an imagined look into Sarai's thoughts and experiences. This is my reimagining of sacred text, an attempt to fill in the gaps. I invite you to leave your comments here and offer your interpretations, as well.

The text of this week’s Torah portion can be found online by clicking here. 

Grace Paley teaches that “everyone, real or imagined, deserves the open destiny of life.” My life had no open destiny. Avram was my husband. He led, I followed. His God was my God; not by choice, but by circumstance. Yes, there were ways to subvert the subservience. Yes, there were opportunities for small changes along the way on our journey. Some days I would suggest that we stop a little longer. I would whisper into Avram's ear, "The animals need feeding, the people need rest." Yes, I would say, let’s not stay here too long, I feel danger around us.

In time, as we marched through the desert, I came to know Avram’s God. I came to know God, because when all else failed--my husband, my place in our family, everything known--God remained with me. And, I realized, it wasn’t just Avram who could talk to God. I could too.

God knew Avram well. Maybe even better than I knew him. God knew that with a divine directive of “Go,” Avram would go. God knew that with a divine whisper of “Follow,” Avram would follow. But, God also knew that if I said, “Help,” Avram wouldn’t. And, if I said, “Wife,” Avram would say “Sister.”

My journey was a troubled one. One day I was by Avram's side. His wife, his partner, his companion. And the next I was in the Pharaoh's court, a play thing for royal amusement. Avram said to me, plain as day, "Look now, I know what a beautiful woman you are! So when the Egyptians see you, and say: 'This is his wife,' they may kill me; but you they shall keep alive. Please say then that you are my sister, so that on your account It may go well for me…" (Genesis 12:11). One small move and I was no longer wife, I was sister. I was left on the side of a road, in a forgotten kingdom, to serve the Pharaoh. A stranger in a strange land? No matter. "Stay there," I overheard Avram saying as he settled in to reap his rewards. It did go swell for him. But I knew my story: No land is mine through inheritance. No land is mine through struggle or trial or journey. I have no property, I am chattel.

God had promised Avram children, but God never made any promises to me. And neither did Avram. And it wasn't until things started going not well for Pharaoh that he figured us out, and I was released. Sister no more. Who helped Pharaoh get there? Who helped him realize this purposefully mistaken identify? God.

And so, you see, Avram was chosen, selected by God. Faith through honor. I was rescued. Rescued by God when I felt forgotten in life. I was remembered.

And so, in this most sacred of texts, I remain. I am here to remind you that the desert and wandering of life can be lonely. And we may come to the holy through the most desperate of circumstances. But, I know, that in the depths of despair, sometimes God is waiting. Avram might have heard God's call, but God heard mine.

My legacy is a troubling one. Told in the spaces between the letters. Left for you to imagine. What else do you read here?  Please post your comments.

Thank you to Soni Sanberg for first helping to read Sarai in a new light. My first insights into this side of Sarah came from Rosellen Brown and Ruth Behar writing in Beginning Anew: A Woman’s Companion to the High Holy Days.

Parashat Noach 5770--Walking with Humanity

“Noah was a righteous man (ish tzadik), blameless/innocent in his generation; Noah walked with God” (Genesis 6:9). Last week, I had the privilege of sitting down with members of Dorot Tzedek (Generations of Justice), a group of people at TIOH committed to working on behalf of justice. Noah and this group of folks from TIOH have something in common. He was called an ish tzadik and they are called Dorot Tzedek. Tzadik and Tzedek are from the same Hebrew root, meaning justice or righteousness. The similarities between them end here. You see, Noah learned that his world was coming to an end and he “walked with God” and “built and ark.” Folks from Dorot Tzedek see that our world is broken, and they have begun building relationships, accessing power, and publicly speaking words of truth to heal us.

Rabbi Moses Alshekh (c1498-1593) asks “Why are Jews not considered to be the descendants of Noah but rather of Abraham…?”

Alshekh answers:

The explanation is that even though Noah was righteous and perfect in his actions, he was not the ideal of the righteous Jew. “Noah walked with God,” not with people, not with others—he was not interested in humanity, in the environment. His righteousness was directed inward, to himself and his family…

In the face of brokenness, Noah was given a choice: Focus inward or focus outward? Focus inward: Either in despair, or personal triumph, or fear, or in an attempt to sustain life as he had known it. Or focus outward: Like the prophets of the biblical world and modern times, rail against injustice, seek ways to heal the brokenness, reach out to others, affect change. Noah focused inward.

Alshekh continues:

He was commanded by God to build an ark—he built it board by board and nail by nail, for a hundred and twenty consecutive years, and it never crossed his mind that there might be a way to avert God’s decree and save the world from destruction.

Noah was so focused on hammering and nailing (and how productive must he have felt in his toils!) that he never once looked up. No cries throughout the city, like the unwilling Jonah or the suffering Jeremiah. No speeches to move a nation like Martin Luther King, Jr. No attempts to turn prayer into action like Stephen S. Wise or Abraham Joshua Heschel.

Alshekh reminds us that we are the children of Abraham. Abraham and Sarah started their life journey as two individuals. The Torah doesn’t teach us that they were perfect. On the contrary, they were individuals who piled up a lifetime of flaws and hurts and mistakes. Much like all of us, if we’re being honest. But, Abraham and Sarah did something remarkable. They turned their two into hundreds and then thousands. They built relationships and sought to change their world.

I think back to the Dorot Tzedek meeting. And, I understand that we today are given a choice. Will we be the descendants of Noah or the descendants of Abraham? Will we build up the walls of an ark, nail by nail, surrounding us so thoroughly that we are no longer burdened by the sight of this world? Or will we build bridges that link us, inextricably, to the fate of humanity, and invite them along for the ride?

My deepest gratitude to Lila Foldes, from URJ's Just Congregations, for introducing me to this Alshekh interpretation.

Parashat B'reisheet 5770--The Infinite Within Us

This week, we begin Torah anew. We read the first words of creation, Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning...” and our tradition hands us, once again, an invitation. The scroll is rerolled and our opportunity to start learning and connecting to Torah anew is granted. This Shabbat, I want to offer you a few suggestions of books that might give you a new doorway in to Torah, as well as share with you a spiritual gift. If you have been looking for a way to reconnect to sacred text, have always wanted to read the Torah from beginning to end, and/or are interested in exploring a new avenue of study, might I suggest a few gems, which have brought greater meaning to my own study. As always, if something grabs you, I welcome the opportunity to study together.

A few suggestions:

Genesis, by Stephen Mitchell, provides “a new translation of the classic biblical stories.” This book opens up Genesis in ways that are unique, provocative, and gripping. Mitchell resets the biblical text according to different accounts and reorders certain passages. If you are looking to have old assumptions about Genesis challenged, this is a wonderful place to start.

The Five Books of Moses by Everett Fox provides a fresh translation and wonderful commentary on the Torah.

The Torah: A Women’s Commentary by Tamara Eskenazi and Andrea Weiss is a publication with which many of you are already familiar. If you have not yet picked up a copy, I urge you to do so. I spent a number of years while in rabbinical school serving as Dr. Eskenazi’s assistant, working on the Voices section of this commentary, and co-writing the central commentary on one parasha. This truly was some of the most interesting work on text I have done as of yet.

And finally...

The Language of Truth, by Arthur Green, provides a translation and interpretation of a great Chasidic Text, “The Torah Commentary of the Sefat Emet, by Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter of Ger.” Green’s commentary provides a key to understanding this marvelously spiritual (and sometimes esoteric!) work.

And now, my spiritual gift to you for the week, a look at a gem from the Sefat Emet's commentary on this week's Torah portion (using Green’s translation and commentary).

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat B’reisheet, includes the following words in its description of creation: “Heaven and earth were finished...” (Genesis 2:1). The Sefat Emet explains that a midrash (rabbinic commentary) on this verse cites the following line from the Psalms, “I have seen an end to every purpose, but Your commandment is very broad” (Psalm 119:96). The midrash suggests, “Everything has a fixed measure, but Torah has no measure” (Green 6).

Yes, teach the ancients rabbis, there are limits to all of life. But, Torah has no limit.

The Sefat Emet takes this assertion a step further. It teaches:

Torah gives life to all of Creation, measuring it out to each creature. But that life-point which garbs itself within a particular place to give it life—it has no measure of its own, for it is beyond both time and nature. ...The same is true within everything: The inward point has neither measure nor limit (Green 6).

Jewish mystics teach that there is a Torah both of this (revealed, limited) world, and a Torah of the other (hidden, infinite) world. While the Torah of this world has, like all of creation, its own limits, the Torah of the hidden world has no limits. Jewish mystics teach that, like Torah, all of creation exists in two worlds. One: The revealed world of limits. Two: The hidden world of infinity. There is a link between this (revealed, limited) world and the other (hidden, infinite) world. This link between the two worlds takes the form of an essential point of limitlessness which is inside each of us.

The Sefat Emet continues:

This is true of the human soul as well; it, too, has no measure. ...The same is true of the world’s soul, because the person is a microcosm. The Sabbath is a revelation of this inwardness, and it is called ‘the day of the soul, not the body’ (Green 7).

The Sefat Emet understands the Torah, the human soul, the world’s soul, and Shabbat to all share the same fundamental link: We all have a core of the infinite inside of us.

Green, commenting on this passage from the Sefat Emet explains:

As each creature knows its deepest self, it knows Torah. Only when Torah enters into this-worldly human discourse, does it take on tsimtsum, the contraction that makes it take on limits. So, too, the soul; its root is boundless. Only as it lives in this world does it have to exist within limits. This is why the soul loves Torah; it recognizes within it a secret partner from the world of infinity (Green 7).

Yes, the Sefat Emet teaches, our souls are called to Torah because deep down our souls know Torah to be made of the same stuff we are, that which is infinite.

On this Shabbat, I pray that all of our souls come to Torah anew. May we find within it purpose and meaning. May we feel a renewed call to study and experience a fresh take on text. “In the beginning…”

Simchat Torah 5770--Cycling Again

During Sukkot, we read from the biblical book of Kohelet or Ecclesiastes. Kohelet teaches us, “Enjoy yourself while you are young…make the most of your early days; let your heart and eyes show you the way” (Ecclesiastes 11:9). These are fitting words to hold close as Sukkot comes to a close and we begin our celebration of Simchat Torah tonight. Tonight, along with joyful Torah dancing, Torah reading, and words shared from TIOH congregants, we will offer a special blessing for all students in our schools who are new to Jewish learning.

On Simchat Torah, we read the last verses of the Torah, focusing on the end of Moses’ life, as well as the first words of the Torah, focusing on creation.

Often, in our daily lives, we experience time as linear (e.g. timelines and timetables). Our secular society likes to draw time in boxes and lines. Jewish time is deeply different. We experience Jewish time in cycles. Each day beginning anew, each week beginning anew, each month beginning anew, and most recently, a year beginning anew. Tonight Torah begins anew.

Why separate experiences at all, our tradition implicitly asks? On Simchat Torah, endings and beginnings are not two points on opposite ends of a line, but closely linked moments, touching in a circle. No neat boxes separating death from birth. But rather, we read in one fluid motion Moses’ death and the first word-acts of creation. Just like that, to life again.

Tonight, when we bless our newest students, they become like Torah itself. They are both beginning anew and inextricably linked to the young people they have already become. This is a blessing to mark who they have been, who they are, and who they will be. Within our community. Within their own lives. Tonight we consecrate them, that is to say we mark their lives and their learning as sacred, and in turn, they bless us by becoming the newest learners in our community.

“Enjoy yourself while you are young…make the most of your early days; let your heart and eyes show you the way.” Tonight, with joyful dancing and words of Torah, we all become young again. In our turning cycles, anything seems possible. New beginnings are the order of the day. On Simchat Torah, we let our hearts and our eyes lead us to a new cycle of living and learning. We celebrate those in our community who keep us young with their youthful joy and new ways of seeing. We commit ourselves to them as they commit themselves to us and our people.

Around and around, we dance. Flags and Torahs in hand. Life celebrated anew.

Sukkot 5770 -- Take your lulav & etrog

Dr. Rachel Adler teaches that Judaism should be made more sensual. By this, she means that we should experience Jewish life using all of our senses. She talks of the importance of a multi-sensory Jewish experience and explains that a sensual Judaism is an embodied Judaism. Educators know that lessons taught with an emphasis on taste, touch, and smell are lessons well remembered. And this is why Sukkot is my kind of holiday. Sitting outside. Meals shared with friends and family. Fruit. Leaves. Trees. Decorations. It’s like camping. But Jewish. It smells good. It tastes good. It feels good.

This is the most sensual holiday of the year. Yes, tonight we enter into Z’man Simchateinu, the Season of our Joy. On Sukkot, we are commanded to be joyful and to embrace nature. The Torah tells us:

On the first day, you shall take the product of beautiful trees (citron), branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees (myrtle), and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before your God Adonai for seven days. ...You shall live in booths seven days, all citizens of Israel shall live in booths (Leviticus 23:40, 42).

In Hebrew, we call the fruit of the citron an etrog and we put the myrtle, palm, and willow branches together to make a lulav. Part of the great fun of Sukkot is taking these elements together and shaking them. For blessings and instructions of how to take the lulav and etrog click here.

For Sukkot, I would like to offer you a spiritual gift of three different understandings of what the lulav and etrog symbolize. I invite you to share these at your Sukkot meals. This is the week for family picnics and lots of time outside. Enjoy!

PARTS OF THE BODY
The palm branch is like the spine.
The myrtle is like the eye.
The willow is like the mouth.
And the etrog is like the heart.
“With all your limbs praise God.”–Vayikra Rabbah 30:14

AGRICULTURAL AREAS OF ISRAEL
The palm branch represents the lowland.
The willow represents the river.
The myrtle represents the mountains.
The etrog represents the irrigated areas.–Encyclopedia Judaica

THE JEWISH PEOPLE
The willow has neither taste nor aroma, symbolic of those people who neither study Torah nor perform good deeds.
The myrtle has a wonderful aroma but no taste, symbolic of those people who perform good deeds but do not study Torah.
The palm has no aroma, but has a delicious taste, symbolic of those who spend their time studying Torah but do not perform good deeds.
The etrog has a delightful aroma and a delicious taste, symbolic of those who both study Torah and perform good deeds!
“God says: ‘Let all four be held together so that they may protect and complement one another.’”–Vayikra Rabbah 30:12

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR FAMILY TO CONSIDER:

• Which of these explanations resonates most with you? Why?
• Can you think of your own interpretation of what the lulav and etrog might symbolize?
• Each of the three different explanations talk about bringing different things together. What are ways you can make Sukkot a holiday for celebrating differences?