March 19, 2010

Parashat Vayikra--Hearts Tied Together

This week, we begin reading Leviticus, the third book of the Torah.  In the book’s first portion, Parashat  Vayikra, we are introduced to the organized sacrificial system of the ancient Israelites.  It is true that we today are far removed from the blood and guts of Leviticus in our daily lives, and it is also true that we are deeply connected to many of Leviticus’ thoughts about community.

The sacrificial system was predicated on an almost unbelievable premise:  There was only one sanctioned place in the world at which Israelites were allowed to offer sacrifices to God.  These sacrifices represent our ancestors’ primary form of worship, and so it is significant that in their entire known world they were only able to commune with God in one place:  The Temple.  The ancient Temple, which stood in Jerusalem, functioned as the center of Israelite life in the ancient world.  (And while we know today that there were quite a few renegade sacrifice sites in existence, the intent of Leviticus is clear:  In order to form a religious community, the people had to gather together together!).

In fact, the nineteenth century’s Rabbi Shmuel David Luzzatto (or Shadal) teaches that the main purpose of the sacrificial system was to build community.  He writes:
The Torah commands that each person should not build his own place for sacrifice, but rather that everyone should offer sacrifices in one singular place.  The purpose of this is not to belittle the act of sacrificing, but rather, it is for the good of the nation, for success, and in order to perfect our [communal] values.  Since there was only one Temple for the whole nation, everyone would gather to one place and, as a result, their hearts would be tied together in fellowship and they would be always as one group.
Shadal paints a beautiful image of community in his teaching.  His words allow us to understand the sacrificial system not as something that separates us from our ancestors, but rather as something that connects us.

We all are in search of meaning and community.  We too are looking to have our hearts “tied together in fellowship” with others.  As our world grows even bigger, this need starts even deeper.

For our ancestors, community was built into the system.  Do you want to worship God?  Go to the Temple!  Do you want to interact with other Israelites?  Go to the Temple.  With no options, the community was built and sustained.

Today, our choices are more varied.  Community is certainly not a given.  We have to choose our temple.  And then we have to choose to walk in its doors.  And then we have to choose to be active members of its community.  And, only with our work, do we come to find our hearts tied in fellowship.

This week, we are reminded by a nineteenth century rabbi that our efforts to build and connect are worthwhile.  Beyond even our own needs, we were intended to be “as one group.”  When we gather for learning and prayer, or for connecting and celebrating, we live out our ancestors’ legacy.  We take our place in the ever extending line of the Jewish people.  Shadal teaches this is our purpose.  It may also be our deliverance.

March 4, 2010

Parashat Ki Tissa--Reacting

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Ki Tissa, when God sees the Israelites building a golden calf and worshiping it, God is filled with anger and wants to destroy the stiffnecked people (Exodus 32:9).  Moses pleads with God, saying “Adonai, do not let Your anger blaze forth against Your people!” (Exodus 23:11).  In this first snapshot, God seems to be out of control and Moses seems to be the image of calm.

Interestingly, God is easily swayed by Moses.  God not only backs down, but “renounces the punishment” (Exodus 32:14) that had been previously articulated.

On the surface, these verses tell a story of God’s irrationality and Moses’ sage leadership.  But, this only tells part of the story.

God may have been initially enraged and even dreamed up some pretty elaborate responses to the Israelites’ betrayal, but God never goes through with them (Think of the parent who finds the child destroying a wall or table with markers).

What is interesting is what happens next.  Moses goes down the mountain, sees the people dancing around their golden calf, becomes “enraged,” smashes the tablets of law that God gave him on Mount Sinai, burns up the golden calf, and makes the people drink the ashes mixed in water (Exodus 32:19-20).

This is not exactly the reasonable Moses presented a few verses earlier!  What happened to empathizing with the people who had just emerged from slavery?  What happened to reasonable leadership and learning?

In the end, I think the real lesson of this parashah lies neither in the reaction of God or nor of Moses, but in the contrast between the two.

God initially reacts with anger and plans all sorts of responses to the people’s infractions, but in the end, God is able to hear words of reason, rethink the position, and act appropriately.  For me, what is remarkable in this account is the pause that God takes.

God waits.

God’s initial (justified?) reaction is anger, but instead of simply reacting, God asks for advice and remembers the people (who God ultimately loves deeply).

We think of our own lives: This story has no hastily fired off email dripping with rage before the author could reconsider, no voicemail message left in anger before the speaker could calm their voice.

In the end, God is the picture of grace.

And, Moses?

Well, Moses is able to look at God and see all the appropriate ways to react.  But, when faced with the people’s disloyalty to him (and that must have been what Moses imagined as he walked down the mountain), Moses lets loose.  Moses is unable to control his own rage and, in fact, enacts his own destructive plot against the people.

Moses was a well-reasoned adviser, but a violently impulsive leader.

In our own lives, I am sure each of us can see ourselves reflected both in God and Moses’ reactions.  There are moments when we are able to give reasoned advice, only to turn around and act irrationally on our own accord.  And, there are moments when we may lose control initially and are able to reign in ourselves enough to react with calm.

What I love about this week’s portion is that it is understood that sometimes we may lose control.  We are human and we get angry.  We lose our cool.  We blow up.  This week’s Torah portion is a lesson in managing these very human and natural reactions.  This is the stuff of life.

Ultimately, we are, all at once, created in the image of God, students of Moses, and descendants of those who built the calf.