Parashat Vayikra -- Levitical Intent

This week, we begin a new book of Torah, Vayikra, or Leviticus. As I shared with you at this time last year, I look forward to Leviticus, and its listings of sacrificial laws and gory details of blood and suet, with a secret joy. First of all, when we begin reading Leviticus anew each year it means that spring is here. It means Pesach is coming. It means that the smell of jasmine is ripe in the air, that trees are budding again, and that springtime allergies are in full bloom. Yes, beginning Leviticus each year means longer days, warmer afternoons, and more opportunities for picnics. It also means that we are stepping away from Torah narrative and into a whole new world of textual exploration.

By far, my favorite author to write about Leviticus is Mary Douglas. And so, I was overjoyed to see that Rachel Adler, a professor of mine from rabbinical school and my thesis advisor, sited Douglas so extensively in her URJ Torah commentary this week. Check out her words at http://urj.org/torah/.

This week, I will expand on Dr. Adler’s d’var torah and share with you another assertion of Mary Douglas’. Douglas explains that it is no surprise that contemporary readers have difficulty reading and connecting with the descriptions and laws of Leviticus. This difficulty stems from a basic place: we don’t think like the Levitical authors. Douglas asserts (and this notion may be quite challenging to you) that Leviticus was written by human authors during the 5th century BCE, following the destruction of the First Temple and the exile in Babylon). This discrepancy, this huge gap between the world-view of the Levitical authors and the world-view of Levitical readers, leads to confusion and alienation. It becomes our task as readers, then, to bridge this gap and learn to think “Levitically.”

There is something poetic in the gap between Levitical authors and today’s readers, for, it seems, such a gulf between the text and reality has always existed. Douglas suggests that when the authors of Leviticus set about writing the laws and practices of their community, they also set out to purge their religion of its (previously central) magical elements. Leviticus, then, is at its heart a “resynthesis.” The book reflects the authors’ attempts to meld an imperfect present with an imperfect past, and, through a careful excising of “immoral” elements, create a new future.

The writers of Leviticus, having witnessed the dangers of monarchic rule, attempted to return back to the “roots” of their community through the creation of Leviticus. Having lived through the pains of kingship, they set out to record their past, a time before kings ruled and succumbed to the temptations of power. As they traveled “backward,” though, the authors came into contact with what they understood to be an imperfect past. You see, the Ancient Israelite religion was marked with what had become in the 5th century to be out-of-mode practices, like magic, ancestor worship, oracles, and polytheism. Therefore, they had to “recreate” the past in the lens of an already altered present.

And so, they wrote a book that had no mention of “polytheism, kingship, oracles, ancestors, demons, magic, diviners, healers, and images” (Douglas, Leviticus as Literature, 5). Leviticus, at its core, then, is a radical work: it is an assertion of what spirituality, community, and worship could be. It reflects the authors’ attempt to re-work their tradition in a more perfect form. Leviticus is reform.

Today, we have much to learn from Leviticus and from the Levitical authors. We too are in the process of creating a new future for ourselves. And, for us, as well, future making is a process that is steeped in both the realities of the present and the past (for good and bad). Future making is a challenging process. It forces us to look at open eyes at the world around us and the days that came before us. It forces us to ask difficult questions and dream forward. My blessing for us all this week is that we open ourselves to the treasures that Leviticus has in store for us. May we allow ourselves to delight in a world that is foreign to us. And maybe, we will even be inspired by this foreign book in our work of reforming our world.

Parashat Va-Yakhel-Pekudei 5769--Creating

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayakhel-Pekudei, we are reminded that we, as human beings, have the power to create worlds. Each of us, every day, wakes up with the capacity to create our own reality. What will the world we create look like? How can we create our world with intention?

The Torah teaches us that acts of creation happen in four stages: Doing, finishing, admiring, and blessing.

When God created the word, God’s creation unfolded in the four stages we would expect:

Doing: God said “let there be light” and God began creating

(Genesis 1:3-31)

Finishing: “On the seventh day God was finished with the work which God had made,” (Genesis 2:2)

Admiring: “God saw everything that God had made, and indeed it was very good” (Genesis 1:31)

Blessing: “God gave the seventh day God’s blessing (Genesis 2:3).

In past weeks, we have followed the process by which the Israelites constructed the Tabernacle, or in Hebrew the Mishkan (literally, the Dwelling Place). In this week’s parashah, the Israelites finish their work. Many ancient rabbis, as well as modern thinkers, assert that the Mishkan was made to be a microcosm of the universe. God created the world and we created the Tabernacle. Our building process, as well as the language that the Torah uses to describe it, parallels God’s creation of the world.

The Israelites built the Tabernacle:

Doing: God says “let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8) and the Israelites made the Tabernacle (Exodus 25-39)

Finishing: “Thus was completed all the work of the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting” (Exodus 39:32)

Admiring: “Moses saw all the work, and- there it was!- they had done it! Exactly as Adonai had ordered, they had done it.” (Exodus 39:43)

Blessing: “Moses blessed them” (Exodus 39:43)

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes “Bereishith [Genesis] begins with G-d making the cosmos. Shemot [Exodus] ends with human beings making a micro-cosmos, a miniature and symbolic universe. Thus the entire narrative of Genesis-Exodus is a single vast span that begins and ends with the concept of G-d filled space, with this difference: that in the beginning the work is done by G-d-the-Creator. By the end it is done by man-and-woman-the-creators. The whole intricate history has been a story with one overarching theme: the transfer of the power and responsibility of creation from heaven to earth, from G-d to the image-of-G-d called mankind.”

Today, we exist in the image of God-the-Creator and inherit the legacy of Israelites-as-creators. God created the world, our ancestors created the Mishkan, and we create our own reality.

On this Shabbat, I invite you to imagine the reality you would like to bring into being. What resources do you have to help you? What obstacles stand in your way? What active steps do you need to take in order to see your reality realized? What is in your end goal, and how will you know when you’ve reached it? How will it feel to live in your consciously created world? Who will be blessed by your endeavors?

When God commanded the Israelites to create the Mishkan, God didn’t use the word “build,” but the word “make.” When God created the world, God didn’t use fire or force, but words. We can make and speak and imagine our world into being. It begins with intention, and ends in blessing.

Parashat Ki Tissa 5769 -- Encountering one another

I was stuck in traffic again this week (an experience, which I know, is not unique to me).

So, I was stuck in traffic and this huge truck was blocking my entire line of visibility. I could see nothing except big wheels, mud flaps, and metal. No one was moving. At all. And, I was becoming very familiar with the intricacies of the back of the truck in front me. Slowly, my eyes came to focus on a sign posted on the truck’s rear: “If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.”

I must have read that sign a hundred times. “If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.”

The message was still echoing in my mind as I sat down to study this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Ki Tissa.

“If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.”

In this week’s Torah portion, the Israelites are stuck in a camp at the bottom of Mount Sinai. Moses, their leader, has disappeared up the mountain, and no one seems to know when he will return. The Israelites start to wonder: What has happened to Moses? And what has happened to Adonai, the One God who has declared the intention to lead us?

Up on the mountain, God is handing Moses the Torah. While down in the camp, “the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, ‘Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the land of Egypt — we do not know what has happened to him.’” (Exodus 32:1).

“If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.”

It seems that Moses forgot a primary rule of leadership this week. Moses may have been doing important work up on the mountain, but without direct, face-to-face communication with the people he was meant to lead, that work meant nothing. It was Moses’ job to articulate not only his vision before going up the mounting, but also to check in periodically about his ongoing reality. Cut off from their leader, the Israelites began to create their own alternate vision and reality.

When we look into the eyes of another, we see reflected back at us that person’s fears and hopes, intentions and reactions, worries and dreams. But, in today’s world, this kind of interaction—deep, meaningful, individualized, in-person—is becoming rarer and rarer. Despite the fact that we are easily connected by email, facebook, cell phones, and text messages, we miss something when we rely too heavily on these communications. This week our Torah reminds us that when we pass on opportunities to directly connect (in the “real” face-to-face fashion) with those in our personal and professional lives who are important to us, we risk isolating ourselves up on a mountain or down in a camp.

And I invite you to reflect on your own relationships: “If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.” If you remain in my blind spot, outside my radar, or disconnected from my life, I stop seeing you. If I remain in your blind spot, outside your radar, or disconnected from your life, you stop seeing me.

On this Shabbat, we are called upon to take action:

Who have you left down in the camp? Who has left you down in the camp? From whom are you isolating yourself, up on your mountain? Who has isolated themselves from you, up on their mountain? Who have you left in your blind spot? Whose blind spot are you left in?

The Israelites, faced with abandonment from the person on whom they relied, built a golden calf. On this Shabbat, we are reminded: The answer to our disconnection does not lie in gold or complicated constructions; all we must do is traverse a mountain! The solution to disconnection is simple—connect. Prioritize encounters. Understand them as central to your own health, wellness, and success. Remember: If you can see my mirrors, I can see you.

Purim 5769 -- Remembering and Forgetting

We all deserve to escape reality once in awhile: To hide our face from the cruelties that go on around us, to become giddy, to laugh in the face of hard times, and to assume the carefree attitude of someone else. As Jews, we not only deserve this, it is a mitzvah to do it.

The holiday of Purim begins on Monday night, March 9. Our TBS Purim Family Day, featuring our Super Heroes Shpiel & the Persian Marketplace carnival, begins Sunday morning, March 8 at 10:00 a.m. This is a season to forget and to remember!

This Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor, a Shabbat with a special maftir Torah reading and Haftarah reading, on which we are commanded to remember the past evils that our ancient enemy Amalek inflicted on our people. We are supposed to remember Amalek and blot out the memory of the Amalekites. We are supposed to remember by forgetting. This troubling commandment has, since rabbinic times, been reinterpreted (a desire, always, to move away from our people’s early fantasies of power from a place of powerlessness). I believe, through my interpretation of Shabbat Zachor, that this is a time to focus on that which is “evil” in our midst—injustice, poverty, homelessness, and degradation—and focus ourselves on eradicating them from our midst. We must remember them to forget them.

It is fascinating that we are called upon to “remember” by “blotting out” the name of our enemy. How do we remember by forgetting?

Each society has its own version of our Purim celebration—Carnival, Mardis Gras, and Shrovetide. It is human nature to need a break. And, it is our people’s custom to take a break. And so, with the harsh realities of the world swirling around us, we let loose. We forget our proscribed roles and allow ourselves the decadence of fantasy.

But none of this is done for naught! It is our duty to awake from this reality-respite renewed. It is our duty to regroup, to make a difference. Our world needs our help. Today we may hide, but tomorrow we must act. Today we might let loose, but tomorrow we must stand firm. During this time, we forget in order to remember.

On Purim, there are three mitzvot, three commandments, of Purim (commandments that I believe help us to remember-forget) that I would like to invite you to fulfill this Purim: To hear the Megila, to give gifts to the poor (Matanot LaEvyonim), and to send out little gifts/plates of food (Mishloach Manot) to friends. By remembering others and our people’s story with joy, we forget (even for a few minutes) our own troubles, and re-center ourselves on that which is blessed in our lives.

So, I invite you all to take your groggers, secure your masks on tightly, and get ready to have fun!

Parashat Terumah 5769 -- Connect to Power

For the past three days, I have been taking part in the Selah Leadership Conference, a training for Jewish leaders interested in exploring the intersection between Judaism, justice, and leadership. Last night, after an engaging day of learning, I returned to my room, put my earphones in my ears, and distractedly hit play on my iPod. I was ready to listen to the Idan Raichel Project and lose myself a little. I hit the button again, but still no sound came out. Disappointed, I shifted the tiny wonder box to see what the problem was. A message had flashed onto the screen: “No battery power remains. Please connect to power."

“Yes!” I said to my iPod.

No battery power remains. Please connect to power.

Please connect to power.

There is deep truth in this instruction.

In this week’s Torah Portion, Parashat Terumah, God says to Moses, “Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him.”

From Torah this week, God is affirming a number of significant truths. Each of us has gifts. Each of us has a heart that can move us. And, it is up to us to access our hearts and feel moved to share that which is inherently present in us.

In my recent learning, I heard an instructor address a room with a simple statement: “don’t hide your light under a bushel.” In Parashat Terumah, God shares these sentiments with us. Bring your gifts forward to your community. But…

No battery power remains. Please connect to power.

It is easy for us to feel our own “battery power” drained by our world. We need only open a newspaper, go online, or turn on the radio to be bombarded with messages of a world in turmoil. It is easy for our battery power to feel drained. It is easy for us to lose touch with our hearts and that which moves us. It is easy for us to forget that we are all connected to power. It is easy to slip into states governed by fear, worry, and despair.

I took my iPod, connected it to my computer through a USB cable, and instantaneously, it was ready to play again. Like the iPod, we need to connect periodically to that which energizes us. For me, my battery connection looks something like a daily walk, some study, meaningful conversation, prayer, and (if I’m being honest) a strong cup of coffee. It means recognizing that the power I gain from these practices of personal ecology is connected to the Power that animates all life.

On this Shabbat, I invite you to take stock of the power to which you need to connect. What gives you the power to access your gifts? What gives you the power for your heart to be moved? What gives you the power to live your life grounded in gratitude, generosity, and joy? This week God has asked us to bring forth our gifts. What might you bring to the meeting?

Parashat Mishpatim 5769 -- Journeying with Angels

This week's Torah portion, Parashat Mishpatim, includes the Book of the Covenant, the first large grouping of Torah laws. These chapters immediately follow the giving and receiving of the Decalogue, or the Ten Commandments, which we read in last week's Torah portion.

At TBS Shabbat services this Friday night, I will speak about the ethical issues inherent in these commandments and the relevance I believe their message holds in our lives today. In this D'var Torah, however, I am drawn, not to the laws themselves, but to the Torah text that immediately follows the Book of the Covenant.

The Torah says:

I am sending an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have made ready. Pay heed to him and obey him. Do not defy him, for he will not pardon your offenses, since My Name is in him; but if you obey him and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and a foe to your foes. (Exodus 23:20-22).

The commentators love these verses! What was this angel? Was it a supernatural creature? A reflection of the Divine? A messenger from on High? Or, as the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai suggests, a human prophet? (Eitz Chayim 474-475)

While the essence of this malach, this angel may be nebulous, the angel's purpose is neatly defined. Pay heed to this angel, God said to our ancestors. Journey onward, knowing that you are guarded and led. Travel, knowing that this angel has your best interests at heart. Act, knowing that this angel wants you to live a moral life. Live, knowing that this angel knows you and reflects you.

And, I wonder: Is it too far a leap for me to read these lines of Torah and imagine that there is, today, an angel still leading us?

In the desert, our ancestors knew that their destiny was inextricably bound up with the fate of those traveling with them. They left Egypt together, wandered together, and would arrive at their Promised Land together. They were led by a malach, a messenger that protected them and unified them. Their path, while unknown to them, was guarded by a divine being, which held their best interests at heart.

We too are wanderers. And, at times, it is all too easy for us to feel that we are journeying alone. But, in this week's Torah portion, we are reminded this is not so. We are a part of a sacred community. The Jewish mystics teach us not only is God one, but all is one. Yes, the Kabbalists teach us, "I thought there were many, but really there was only one."

On this Shabbat, let us focus on the common direction and purpose that unites us all. Let us remember that we do not journey alone. Let us journey as a people who are led by an angel. Let us live our lives believing that, for good or bad, we are guarded and protected. Let us take in the ultimate truth that the interests of our neighbor are really our own. Let us imagine that our paths, wherever they may take us, are blessed by the Divine. Let us use these teachings to inspire us to live lives of deeper purpose and meaning.

Parashat Yitro 5769 -- Sharing Leadership & Visions of Justice

We still have a long, long way to go before we reach the promised land of freedom. Yes, we have left the dusty soils of Egypt, and we have crossed a Red Sea that had for years been hardened by a long and piercing winter of massive resistance, but before we reach the majestic shores of the promised land, there will still be gigantic mountains of opposition ahead and prodigious hilltops of injustice (“Where Do We Go from Here,” by Martin Luther King, Jr.).

Yes, last week, we stood on the shores of the Sea of Reeds, stepped in and crossed (despite our fears), and arrived safely at the other side. We sang. We drank bitter waters made sweet. We camped. We learned to eat manna from heaven.

And, this week, in Parashat Yitro the Israelites once again complain bitterly. And they are dissatisfied with their lack of water. And they are attacked by Amalek. And they fight back. And as long as Moses can hold up his arms, they prevail in their defenses against Amalek. But Moses’ arms grow heavy. And, it seems that the people will be overcome, yet. And maybe at the root of all that complaining there was truth, maybe they would not see the Promised Land? But Aaron and Hur were determined. They would not return to slavery. And so, they moved to sit on each side of Moses and support his arms. And the people did prevail. Yes, the people prevailed when Aaron and Hur stepped up. And Moses was not left to lead alone.

And I figure Moses must have been very tired by this point. He must have been tired of the complaining and fearful that he would buckle under the pressure. He must have known that he could not continue to hold up his arms alone.

And one day, Moses’ father-in-law saw Moses sitting from morning until evening with people lined up all around him. “Why are these people here,” he asked? Moses explained that whenever people had a dispute, or were seeking justice, they came to him so that he could deliver the just message of God. Yes, Moses was once again holding up his arms alone.

Moses’ father-in-law Yitro saw that this was problematic. And, he suggested a new way of leading to Moses, delegation. Yitro would help Moses. And Moses would appoint chiefs to settle small disputes amongst the people.

And I wonder: Was this only about efficiency? Was this only about delegation? Or, was there a deeper message hidden in Yitro’s words? Maybe the truth is this: Moses alone could not support the affairs of justice in his community. Yitro seems to say, justice is only possible amongst a people when the entire community is invested in it. Justice is only possible when one person stands side by side with another and holds up their arms. Justice is only possible when everyone from leaders to chiefs to people believe in its virtues.

How often do we stand alone and hold up our arms until they shake and shudder with exertion? How often do we stand alone? And how often do we seek out others to stand by our sides and help us with our efforts?

Yes, on this Shabbat, let us learn to be like Yitro. Let us be dissatisfied with singular voices of justice. Let us seek out partners to help us. Let us be catalysts of change and sources of goodness in our community.