Torah & more… תורה ועוד

My Indian “mother”, half my age and twice as determined as me, stands over me with a spoonful of rice: “just a little more”, she says, almost begs, her eyes on me as I struggle with the never-ending heap of food on my plate, “you want I make other food”? I love Indian food and yet, I put my hands together in prayer motion to sign, please please, no more food. Every day, when we break for lunch, two young mothers show up with pots and pans, settle on the colorful rug, and, using their skillful fingers, roll rice and veggies as they methodically pile balls of food into their children’s mouths. It turns out, that Indian mothers are Jewish mothers too.

The women of the community I’m visiting in Eastern India are amazing and a true inspiration. They are busy all the time, cooking, frying, sorting, cleaning, washing, and yes, learning. When I am away from my room teaching, little angels change my sheets, add bananas and dates, fill the fridge with bottled water they get just for me, and hang an ironed tunic dress. They come in and out unnoticed, tiptoeing barefoot on the stone floor, their scarves floating gently behind them in the all too light breeze. They do their tasks with pride and humility, not grudgingly with a puffed breath under their chin, but with grace and delight. It’s their honor to walk in Abraham and Sarah’s footsteps. What can be better than to be busy with the work of Hashem. They feel lucky.

They constantly move, but then, yesterday evening, they stopped. I was asked to show how to make challa. Ingredients were assembled based on the list I gave earlier in the week and set on a clean table; a new microwave-convection oven appeared and was connected respectfully in the main-room. Then the ladies, young and younger, adults and students, all changed into lovely dresses, each unique in its design and colors. They stood behind me curiously, singing heartfelt songs we learned this week for peace and the well-being of the Jewish people world-wide (yes, in Hebrew), while I was kneading and praying not to fail them. They on the other hand, didn’t care what will come out of this unusual creation of yeast and white flour in a world of rice and chapati. “Failure” was not an option Anything would be success, they told me. If it “doesn’t work, we would have learned how not to do it next time”. While the dough rose, they kept singing; then the students played games learned in history class earlier in the day. There is no TV not because we’re in “backwards” India; there is plenty of technology- cellphones, screens for learning, electrical musical instruments and more. But there’s a choice: to spend time with each other, with books, with learning, with Hashem and his commandments.

The students I am so very honored to teach, are incredibly bright, committed, studious and learned. They want to know and exactly, what happened when Zimri brought the Midyanite woman before Moshe; why could Moshe not answer; is there something in common to all the cases Moses could not answer and if so, is Pinchas related to Pesach Sheni (he is!). These daughters of Tzolfchad are polite, smart, and insistent: they don’t give up on their questions. In a society where dress code (for men and women) is pretty strict and different, and buses are separated as is the ball area in the stadium, the women nevertheless know they want to learn, and learning they will.

It’s warmer than 90F and the weather channel says it feels like 107F; humidity is in the 80-90%. No one says a word about it. It’s hot so it’s hot. But India is waiting for rain, a feeling I know after living in California and growing up in Israel. The monsoon season is delayed, and the summer sown crops are wilting in some areas due to the dry spell. We add prayers all too familiar to rain. Wherever you are too, may it be a Shabbat Shalom.

So this is what happened: Due to the mysteries of the calendar, I am not going to read the Torah portion of Korach this year. If you fly between Israel and Chutz-La’aretz (not Israel) between Pesach and the week of July 28, 2019, you will either double up on or miss a Torah portion. This is because the 8^th day of Pesach was Shabbat. For Israel’s Torah reading cycle, where it was not Pesach anymore, the reading resumed with the regular cycle on that Shabbat, while in “Not Israel”, it was still Pesach with its special holiday reading and the regular cycle resumed only a week later, introducing an imbalance which will be fixed only in about 4 weeks.

Aside from the practicality, it is painful to live in this disconnect. I don’t like it, and yet, find myself defensive when faced with angry voices: “Why are we still having 2^nd day holidays anyway? we know the calendar! Let’s just stop this nonsense??” Ah, well, maybe, yes, some day. Meanwhile, we’re reminded that we don’t live in a perfectly harmonious world; that we’re still scattered despite the immense power (and illusion) of the internet; and that there’s still so much work to do.

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The Torah portion of Chukat looks like another Numbers – laundry list of ‘what shall we put in here’: the Red Heifer; Miriam’s death and Moses hitting the rock; the complicated relationship between Israel & Edom, and its surrounding nations; the Copper Snake and the Song around the Well. In a way, it’s about how the same thing can give both life, purity and good things, as well as death, impurity and troubles / “challenges”. The same purifying process of the Red Heifer cause tum’a (spiritual impurity) to those who administered it; the same water that brought life to the People, also beget Moses’ death; the same Copper Snake that reminded the people of G-d’s power later became a source of idolatry; things that seems rock-strong, crack open, while “soft” water, gush out. The Psalmist says in his own poetic words (118:22):

  אֶ֭בֶן מָאֲס֣וּ הַבּוֹנִ֑ים הָ֝יְתָ֗ה לְרֹ֣אשׁ פִּנָּֽה׃    The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.

Last week – or two weeks ago, depending on where you are, we read about following “both our hearts” (Numbers 15:39). We have a good heart and a bad heart, suggests Rashi. We would think we should follow the “good”, but the Torah tells us that the same thing can be both good and bad, that it can go either way, and we can’t always figure those out.

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So Israel?? Yes. For-ever?? For now. That’s wonderful! You’re going home!? Well…. What did you miss most about Israel? That I can order ice-coffee and it’s sweet and soft (and not “ice-coffee at all), and that I can use my name, and not make up an easy to pronounce one, while I worry that my coffee goes to Michael, Mitchel and the like. Maybe, it’s symbolic of at least one a piece of my identity that’s in place and in peace here more than elsewhere.

Shabbat Shalom from the hills of the Shomron (for now :))

The endless wonders of the internet inspired www.KnottedHandkerchief.com, a reminders’ website, substituting the old custom to tie a knot in one’s handkerchief in order to not forget something important that might slip one’s mind. Tying a knot — and an “e-knot” — is still a way of communicating, both internally and externally.

At the end of this week’s Torah portion, God tells Moses to instruct the Children of Israel to tie their tzitzit – specially knotted ritual fringes which are added to the corners of the garment – as a reminder of the obligation to observe all the commandments. The word tzitzit might be related to the root נ.צ.ה. n.tz.h., which is used for ניצן – nitzan, a budding flower, indicating an ornament of the garment which sticks out. As we say in our daily prayers, the Torah (Numbers 15:38-40) instructs us:

דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם וְעָשׂ֨וּ לָהֶ֥ם צִיצִ֛ת עַל־כַּנְפֵ֥י בִגְדֵיהֶ֖ם לְדֹרֹתָ֑ם וְנָֽתְנ֛וּ עַל־צִיצִ֥ת הַכָּנָ֖ף פְּתִ֥יל תְּכֵֽלֶת׃

Speak to the Israelite people and instruct them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner.

וְהָיָ֣ה לָכֶם֮ לְצִיצִת֒ וּרְאִיתֶ֣ם אֹת֗וֹ וּזְכַרְתֶּם֙ אֶת־כָּל־מִצְות ה׳ וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑ם וְלֹֽא־תָתֻ֜רוּ אַחֲרֵ֤י לְבַבְכֶם֙ וְאַחֲרֵ֣י עֵֽינֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁר־אַתֶּ֥ם זֹנִ֖ים אַחֲרֵיהֶֽם׃

That shall be your fringe; look at it and recall all the commandments of the LORD and observe them, so that you do not follow your heart and eyes in your lustful urge.

לְמַ֣עַן תִּזְכְּר֔וּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֶת־כָּל־מִצְותָ֑י וִהְיִיתֶ֥ם קְדֹשִׁ֖ים לֵֽאלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃

Thus you shall be reminded to observe all My commandments and to be holy to your God.

This mitzvah is complemented by another reference (Deuteronomy 22:12):

גְּדִלִ֖ים תַּעֲשֶׂה־לָּ֑ךְ עַל־אַרְבַּ֛ע כַּנְפ֥וֹת כְּסוּתְךָ֖ אֲשֶׁ֥ר תְּכַסֶּה־בָּֽהּ׃

You shall make tassels on the four corners of the garment with which you cover yourself.

We go through our lives, and even in our death, clothed. Clothing is especially interesting in the Torah from early on. The first humans were naked (Genesis 2:25). They had no shame and they had no evil inclination within them. But they also had no free will. Free will means having good and evil within us, struggling with both and making choices, which is an essential component in any real relationship.

After Adam and the Woman partake from the fruit, they hide, as it was no longer natural for them to roam around naked in the Garden. While they initially sewed for themselves loincloths from fig leaves (Genesis 3:7), their first “real” set of clothing was made then and given to them by God (Genesis 3:21). Rashi explains that it was an actual garment from the hair of hares, soft and warm, while Ibn Ezra suggests that the term   כתנות עור kutnot or – literally meant the skin that was put on their luminous, soulful body. Either way, it was an act of care, compassion and protection, but also of sadness and distance. The humans were no longer one with each other or with the Divine. Clothing symbolically began as expression of closeness, God’s kindness and empathy. They communicate identity and presence, yet they also stand for separation.

In Hebrew, “beged,” a garment, shares its root with “bagad,” betrayed. It turns out that clothes have little to nothing to do with the climate we might live in for even in perfectly comfortable weather humans wear something. Rather, clothes are a reminder of our original separation (and not “sin”!) from God. As we saw above, the commandment of tzitzit specifies:

וְהָיָ֣ה לָכֶם֮ לְצִיצִת֒ וּרְאִיתֶ֣ם אֹת֗וֹ – That shall be your fringe; look at it

If we’re talking about fringes, it should have said –  –  אותםlook at them, in the plural! Why is it in the singular? The Talmud (Tractate Menachot 43:b) explains:

…תניא אידך וראיתם אותו וזכרתם את כל מצות ה’ שקולה מצוה זו כנגד כל המצות כולן

…The verse states: “That you may look upon it and remember all the commandments of the Lord”; this teaches that this mitzva of ritual fringes is equivalent to all the mitzvot of the Torah.

ותניא אידך וראיתם אותו וזכרתם ועשיתם ראיה מביאה לידי זכירה זכירה מביאה לידי עשיה ורשב”י אומר כל הזריז במצוה זו זוכה ומקבל פני שכינה כתיב הכא וראיתם אותו וכתיב התם (דברים ו, יג) את ה’ אלהיך תירא ואותו תעבוד

And it is taught in another baraita: The verse states: “That you may look upon it and remember all the commandments of the Lord and do them.” This teaches that looking at the ritual fringes leads to remembering the mitzvot, and remembering them leads to doing them. And Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai says: Anyone who is diligent in this mitzva of ritual fringes merits receiving the Divine Presence. It is written here: “That you may look upon it [oto]” (Numbers 15:39), and it is written there: “You shall fear the Lord your God; and Him [oto] shall you serve” (Deuteronomy 6:13). Just as oto in that verse is referring to the Divine Presence, so too in this verse it is referring to the Divine Presence.

The singular form indicates that the mitzvah of tzitzit is equal against all the mitzvot and through it, one can merit ti receive the Divine Presence of the Sh’china.

The verse also interestingly states:“ … So you may not wander after your heart and your eyes to lead you astray” (Numbers 15:39). Why does the Torah place the heart before the eyes? Aren’t we attracted by what we see, and then “feel”?

Apparently not. The eyes are an agent of the heart and not an independent organ. According to what’s in our heart, so we see. This is easily tested when we look at something, or someone, at different times in our lives, and suddenly, “it changed.” Did it?

The very same Torah portion opens with the story of the “spies”: Twelve esteemed princes of the 12 tribes went to check out the Land of Israel before the rest of the nation would follow. Only two of them saw its potential, and the fact that God’s people need not worry. The 10 others saw an impossible place to conquer or live in, full of “giants,” fortified cities and inedible fruit. Why the different view of the same exact place? Interestingly, the Torah tells us they went “latur et ha’aretz,” to scout or “wander” the land, using the same root from the mitzvah of tzitzit. There it says “velo taturu,” don’t wander! Don’t go around aimlessly without first preparing your heart!

But the Torah knows that sometimes we forget.

It therefore gives us a sign: it asks us to tie a knot. Famously, the word “tzitzit”) in gematria (numerical values given to Hebrew letters) equals 600. Adding eight threads (one doubled over in each of the four corners of the cloth) and five for the double knots on each of these threads makes 613, same as the traditional number of all the mitzvahs. The garment’s four corners, five knots, eight threads and other elements have additional symbolic meanings.

Behind it all there is a fascinating idea: The Torah tells us that often that which separates us also brings us closer again. Like two sides of the same coin, what we wear is not only a divider. It is also a tool to reconnect. Our exit can be our point of re-entry and where we erred is where we begin to correct with each other and with the Divine.

Shabbat Shalom from Limmud Bay Area 🙂

New York on this early morning hides her face under a blanket of clouds, so I can’t quite bid her good-bye, which is just fine. I know, I know – closure is so important, and yes, it is, but then again, we, the people who on the same day, finish and begin the Torah once again, do we actually believe in closure?? Does that (illusion) give us a feeling of comfort and control, to think (!) we know whether we’re done somewhere, and if and when we’ll be back, or not? I left Israel umpteen years ago for a less-than-a-year trip around the world, which I have not yet completed, and – at the same time that I am eager to do so, go back and settle “once and for all”, I already plan when to be back on this side of the ocean… Sometimes I wonder why we’ve been called “Am Hasefer”, “the People of the Book”, when really, we are the People of the Journey…

How fitting to be traveling (East through West) on the week of this Torah portion, Beha’alotcha, when the Children of Israel are just 3 days away from the Land of Israel, but then, as Paul Simon says: “the nearer your destination, the more you’re slip slidin’ away”…

Three days; that’s all it would have taken. The journey should have ended in no more than eighteen months. And now, instead, will last for 40 years. This Torah portion should have been named something like “the disaster”. Instead, it is called “Be’ha’alotcha”, erroneously often translated “when you light the lamp” when it really means “when you bring up”, from the root a.l.h.ע.ל.ה same as going up to the Torah and – going to the Land of Israel.
Some teach that the book of Numbers is really three books: first, chapters 1-10:34, and last, chapters 11-36. In between them, there are two verses (chapter 10:35-36) which the sages deemed as the second book.
It is easy to understand the theme of the “first book”, which centers on the last preparations and the final stages of the journey, including organizing the traveling camp and completing the mishkan. Similarly, it is easy to understand the theme of the “third book”, which includes all the stories of the “delay”: the complainers, the spies, Korach and his mutiny and more.
What are the two verses in between and why are those considered the whole “second book”? They will most likely look familiar from this week’s Torah service:

לה  וַיְהִי בִּנְסֹעַ הָאָרֹן, וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה:  קוּמָה יְהוָה, וְיָפֻצוּ אֹיְבֶיךָ, וְיָנֻסוּ מְשַׂנְאֶיךָ, מִפָּנֶיךָ.
35 And it came to pass, when the ark set forward, that Moses said: ‘Rise up, O LORD, and let Thine enemies be scattered; and let them that hate Thee flee before Thee.’
לו  וּבְנֻחֹה, יֹאמַר:  שׁוּבָה יְהוָה, רִבְבוֹת אַלְפֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. 
36 And when it rested, he said: ‘Return, O LORD, unto the ten thousands of the families of Israel.

That was supposed to be the whole journey: the ark will travel and rest. The Children of Israel, led by Moshe, will travel safely and uneventfully. No enemies, no trouble. It’s but a small distance. They’ll arrive shortly. The end.
Interestingly, in every Torah scroll, these two verses are separated by two upside down letters, two upside down nun’s. This was possibly done to accentuate the tragedy, as if to say, look! we were so, so close!
What happened?  Was it Moshe who was tired and heartbroken from the situation brewing in front of his eyes which led to his inability to enter the Land, who lacked in his leadership skills?  Were the People, in spite of being at Sinai, in G-d’s presence, and receiving the Law, not ready? Now I think that the Torah says, ‘it’s hard to know what exactly “happened”; it’s just did. Now let’s deal with what’s in front of us’….
Be that as it may, the Torah portion of what could be a tragic turning point, is called “Beha’alotcha”, literally, “as you bring up”, opening with lighting the holy menorah, what became the emblem of the State of Israel many years in the future, symbolic of who we are: not disconnected, fragmented pieces, but a one whole People. Indeed, we got used to quick stories, 90-120 minutes with “they lived happily ever after” caption smeared at the end. But, the journey is rarely that simple, and rather, often, much more complicated than we initially expect. Even when the path is clear, we fall short, fall down, have regrets (ragrets 😊), change our mind, get scared. And, get up. In fact, the Torah might be telling us that there is really no other way. What if the Children of Israel did everything “right” as they “should”? What if they just walked straight into the Land without any hesitation, full of faith and fervor?? I think that would be much worse – for us – than them making mistakes! The Torah in its wisdom, reminded us that even then, even in the strangest “detours”, our direction is still, always upward, to the light.

Shabbat Shalom.

176 – is the number of the verses in this week’s portion, Naso, the longest in the Torah, same as the longest Psalm (chapter 119) and as the longest tractate in the Talmud (Bava Batra with 176 dapim, pages). Why so long? Some suggest that this reading, usually closest to Shavuot, and the Giving of the Torah, from either side of the holiday (before or after), so detailed and flowing with information, is like being near a fountainhead, with fresh water gushing all around.

What is said in these 176 verses?
The parasha opens with the orderly travel of the Children of Israel in the desert, parallel to the orderly creation, and ends on the day the mishkan is erected and dedicated, the tribes’ princes bring lavish sacrifices, and Moses hears “The Voice” speaking to him there (Numbers 7:89).

With such ‘wow’ “bookends”, we might wonder, what else is in this parasha? Surprisingly, we find here obscure topics as the removal from the camp of metzo’ra’im (Torah lepers, sort of), description of the zavim (people with “impure” bodily excretion) and other t’me’im (spiritually impure people), maybe because we need to explore and clarify critical distinctions of holiness which were not previously discussed. It is here that we also find the Sotah, a married woman suspected by her husband of adultery. Then, the Nazir, the one who opts for extra religious observances. Then, the priestly blessing. And then, the tribes’ princes bringing their sacrifice.

Is this just a strange laundry list that fell into this chapter, before we get to the “real” stories??

Numbers is the Book of Travel, so appropriately here for me now. Once again, I journey. And once again, like the Children of Israel, the journey is expected to be roundabout. Ultimately, to the Promised Land, but, then, there are going to be detours… (and on that, tbc -).

Back to the Book and this parasha, Naso means “lift up” and begins with the end of the mifkad, a count. What an incredible organization!! Everything is spelled out: which tribes reside next to which other tribes, and where is each relatively to the Tabernacle in the middle; who carries what, who travels with who. Order is necessary before disorder or there is no meaning to either one, and in that we going back to creation: an abyss before an orderly creation; an orderly creation, like a painter setting his clean canvas and bran-new paints, just in order to create a mess again….

It’s the story of a People. but in order to hold the group, the “mess” of this book first must begin with the individuals who need a “tikkun”, a repair: there are those that need it in their relationship with themselves; others – who struggle int heir relationship with G-d and others – with their fellow humans; including those who live in agony and doubt in their closest circle, at home, and need to resolve that before continuing.

Only once the Torah prescribed a method for each, we continue to the priestly blessing, which must be said with love, and to the offerings of the leaders of the tribes. Throughout the book we’ll spiral through these circles: from individuals to home communities, tribes, to the “klal” (the whole people) to how we deal with the world around us. Only then, we’ll be ready to approach the Land.

I am in awe, again, at the Torah’s great wisdom: We, who most pray in the plural language (“our” G-d, “our” king, G-d of “our” ancestors), might think that the “group” is more important than the individual; that we always “must” sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. Comes the Torah and says, let’s not go there just yet. Let’s first find a way to heal each individual according to their pain and needs, as best we can, and then, go from there to build the tribe and then, the whole People. Although each one of us is incomplete without another (as symbolized by the half shekel), each incomplete part has to constantly work to be whole within its “complete incompletion”…. And to think Freud was Jewish! What a coincidence!

May it be a Shabbat of healing, good beginnings and re-beginnings, and safe journeys. Shabbat Shalom.

In the words of the one and only “Sunscreen Song”: You are not as fat as you think… and much more.

After the dramatic closing of the Book of Leviticus with “The Blessings and the Curses / Consequences”, there’s another chapter we rarely get to; a little appendix, as if the Torah says, oh wait, I have a few notes left here, let’s just put them where no one will see it…

If Genesis and Exodus were books describing G-d acting in the world, Leviticus spells out for us what to do. The first books are a pouring from on high – down, and this one – from down – up. At the very end we look at a person’s value. This is done vis-à-vis what happens is a person takes a vow and needs to redeem themselves at the Temple. This might seem sacrilegious: how can we speak of people’s value when people are created in G-d’s image? When we teach that people are created equally?? Isn’t each of us irreplaceable and therefore, impossible to estimate? How dare the Torah do that?!!

And yet, insurance companies, for example, must deal with this all the time: when paying for certain damages, how much is this or that human being “worth”? Why? How do we figure it out? I might not love or understand all the Torah has to say about this – I don’t know much about “vows” and “Temple calculations”, one reason why we have a whole Talmudic tractate on the issue called Arakhin and coming up in Daf Yomi later in June – but I love that it does dare to speak about it, and offer us two simultaneous scales: each person is equal: “If it is a male from twenty to sixty years of age, the “equivalent is fifty shekels of silver by the sanctuary weight” (Leviticus 27:3). What kind of a man? Wise? Kind? Strong? None of the above? Doesn’t matter. And at the same time, weather this is a free man or slave, might matter. Namely, not the human being but our role within the society.

There are many challenges in this chapter and the tractate, and laws following. I am not saying the scale is perfect or user friendly nowadays. For one, it applies to vows and Temple. But the idea that our worth is made of both who we are as single, unique, individuals, made in G-d’s image being while at the same time, influenced by the world we live in, does resonate. This is maybe the reminder at the end of a book filled with laws: You are one and only; you are an integral part of the whole and the whole does need to be considered. Which way is it? You got it: yes.

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This Sunday, the 28th of Iyar, is Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day, a day commemorating the reunification of the city in 1967. The midrash tells us that many, many years ago, Shem, the son of Noah suggested that this clear-mountain air city would be called Shalem, wholeness, perfection; while Abraham suggested that this site, chosen by G-d, should have be knowsn as Yir’a, reverence, awe.
G-d, who listened to both decided to combine both names into one, and call the city Yeru-shalem, but then Shem came back all sad: “not enough you put me second, Abraham’s name is longer: mine is 3 letters and his is 4”. G-d decided to rearrange things slightly, making from yir’a – yir’u (which combined the alef and heh into a vav, maintaining their numerical values), so Shem wont be upset. But after he left, G-d decided to add another letter, the letter yod for His name, maybe so we remember our priorities, and so that Yerushalayim will have 7 letters (in Hebrew) like the 7 days of the week, the 7 branches of the menorah, and many more sevens of perfection.
Just this morning, there was a stabbing attack in the city, that struggles to hold holiness and perfection along with the utmost mundane and pained life, of screams and sirens, noisy bulldozers and cranes and buses and light-train and traffic jams and taxi drivers honking through narrow streets; merchants yelling in the open markets where people rush between bins of fresh vegetables, sweet fruits, and colorful spices, avoiding the tahini sauce smeared on the sidewalk; kids running around. And soldiers. And people: religious, secular, Arabs, Jews, tourists, foreigners, locals; countless languages and accents. Talking about peace, perfection and reverence seems absolutely delusional. And yet, a gateway is naturally a place full of hustle and bustle. A place that connects heaven and earth can’t be all heavenly; it must be both. This possibility, now more alive than maybe ever, is what we celebrate.

Shabbat Shalom & a peaceful, joyful Yom Yerushalayim.

I’m watching the news about the recent, some still going on, fires in Israel with a strange mixture of anger and pain. Images from past fires, that of recent November in NorCal; Haifa of December 2010 and November 2016 come to mind. At first, I am angry at “us”. After all, if there are fires on the heels of Lag Ba’omer, a day notorious for hazards following elaborate bonfires at night, and especially when the temperatures are in the 100F and it’s super dry, it must be carelessness, it must be stupidity, it must be… it must be “us” “not doing enough”. Then initial investigation notes that those are not started by a random, unattended “kumtzitz” left to smolder, but rather by arson. And then… of course, it’s ok to be angry at ourselves but not quite as p.c. to be angry with anyone else. What to do? what to feel??

In tractate Bava Batra (117:a) of the Babylonian Talmud we learn: משונה נחלה זו מכל נחלות שבעולם – This Inheritance – i.e. this Land – is unlike any other in the world. How can anyone say it, especially some 1800 years ago? Have they traveled all over the world and checked it out? Did their “compare and contrast”??
The Torah reading of this week takes it further, with the commandment of shmita, the “sabbatical”. The Land, we’re told, has its own Shabbat. Just like us. The land is a living thing, not just something we act on, but something that responds in its own way. She “eats” (Numbers 13:32) and can choose to “throw up” (Leviticus 18:25); a land that responds to a loving hand and reject those who mistreat her, exhaust her and manipulate her to their own hearts content.
I have this idea that it’s possible to look at (at least) the first three Books of the Torah as a spiral rather than just a linear story. Things (motifs, verbs, themes…) happen in a parallel fashion, expanding on each other and not just a long continuance story (that too, but not just-).

I can’t help but notice that each book has a central, somewhat magical, godly, divine place of its own: in Genesis, it’s the Garden of Eden; in Exodus – it’s the mishkan (tabernacle) and in Leviticus –the Land of Israel. Under the “spiral theory”, each adds meaning as well as observance to that of previous one presented: Genesis is about individuals, Exodus – about Peoplehood, and Leviticus – about the practical implications of the earlier ideals in the form of mitzvot. This pattern repeats in more than one aspect.

Specifically here, as far as a “The Place”, in Genesis, we had a Garden, a heaven for just two people and G-d; in Exodus – the building of the mishkan – a place for the whole nation to connect directly with G-d who lives amongst us; and in Leviticus, we have the Land, a national home and source of “light unto the nations”, to inspire, not only our own individual and communal selves’ growth and well-being, but the whole world, in ways that are beyond what we understand.

The fires are extremely painful, and the smoke might cover our eyes and burn our lungs, but homes will be rebuilt and trees will be planted, those that were destroyed and more.

* * * * * * *

This Monday is Memorial Day, a fun, long, sunny, pleasant weekend of shopping, bbq’s, parks and travels. A Few years ago, back in CA, I got into a conversation with a community member, when I did my proud Israeli thing and invited him to Yom Hazikaron ceremony. He said, ‘will you also come to Memorial Day’? I said, ‘what’ in surprise, and thought (a little haughtily I must admit), ‘what, there’s a sale somewhere I shouldn’t miss?’ but he (patiently, I must add) directed me to the service at the Jewish cemetery, honoring fallen US soldiers, and I stood there, in awe and tears. And ever since, my Memorial Day changed. I still hope for a fun, long, sunny weekend with all its trimmings; no, it’s not at all Yom Hazikaron, and yet, somewhere along the day, it’s nice to pause.

Shabbat Shalom

This year, 8^th day of Pesach was on Shabbat. On that day, Israel went back to the regular weekly Torah reading, while outside of Israel, we remained with the holiday one more day, and since – one Torah portion behind. That’s how it’s going until the week of August 2!! Every week, in this season of celebrating redemptions, past and present, I get “Torah words” for two different Torah readings, mirroring two different worlds we live in. Ina  For this, and other reasons, I opt to write about a holiday coming up next week.

A holiday?? Yes, a Torah holiday; a Torah holiday which doesn’t appear in this week’s (chutz la’aretz) parasha of Emor (Leviticus 21:!-24:23) and the only Torah holiday during the month of Iyar.

Pesach Sheni – literally 2nd Passover – addresses people who missed the 1st Pesach. When it was time to bring the Pascal offering, they were unavailable, either because they were “ritually impure through contact with a dead body, or away on a distant journey” (Numbers 9:1-12). This situation has never come up before, so it is not obvious for Moses what to do. In response to their query, he asks G-d who tells him that these people can prepare the same offering a month later, on the next full moon, the 14th of Iyar, this year coming up this Sunday, May 19.

If you google it, you’ll find some lovely commentaries how the day has come to symbolize how there are always “second chances” and a “power to go back in time and redefine the past”…
Lovely. Except that for me, Pesach Sheni happens to be my father’s yahrzeit (the anniversary of his death). And there is nothing like a yahrzeit to remind us that try as we might, there is not “always” a second chance, nor a way to rectify and redefine the past. In fact, the whole teaching seems to highlight exactly the opposite! If there was “always” a second chance, then 1. there would not have been a need to ask Moses about it; 2. there would not have been a need for him to check with G-d Almighty before replying; and 3. We would have had already a Yom Kippur Sheni, Sukkot Sheni, Hanukkah Sheni etc etc.

But…. we don’t.

So the fact is that the people asking and Moses himself, knew very well, as I am painfully reminded each year, that second chances are super rare and hard to come by; that while we pray and hope, beg and bargain for them, rather than an “always”, they are usually not readily available and extremely unlikely; that life should be lived while we can rather than by relying on an “always tomorrow”.

More than anything: by focusing on the “p.c.” message of “second chances” as the core value of this day, we completely miss what it is, what is its place in our tradition, and what does it teach us about our own time!

So what it is? for that, please join me at Beth Jacob Congregation in Oakland, CA this Shabbat 😊

Shabbat Shalom.