Torah & more… תורה ועוד

Looking for a penny in the light (published in the Times of Israel blog)

Last Saturday night, I was invited to a sacred Rosh Hodesh Kislev women gathering. I say “sacred” in all earnestness, not because that’s how anyone of the organizers described themselves, but rather, because of how the space felt, because of the care, love and attention present. In a modest, ovely Brooklyn apartment, there were 12-15 women, most under 30 (at least one not…). When I came in, havdala was already done. There were small candles on the low round table, snacks and wine (all kosher, some homemade and most environmentally friendly). Someone prepared thoughts on the Torah portion and inspirational words from Chasidic masters; there was a guitar and songs, Jewish and others; there was time for relaxed personal sharing. Each of us comes from a different Jewish upbringing and backgrounds, from growing up ultra-Orthodox to “nothing”, but the thirst for an authentic, personal way is evident.
At the end, we all joined on the floor for an art project: In honor of the month of Kislev, the month of dreams (Jacob, Joseph and Pharaoh), darkness (with the shortest day and shortest Shabbat coming up soon) and desire for light (as evident by the festivals of this season), stuff “showed up”, for each of us to make an aromatic candle. I asked if there’s a charge, and the organizer said, that’s part of her tzedakka.
Recent studies are big on how remote and uninterested is the younger generation of American Jewry; how they are ditching Judaism, and generally, oy vey and what’s going to be with them. Aside from sounding like our parents and all the things we said we’ll never say, perhaps it’s time to look again. At least around here, Judaism / Yidishkeit is alive and well, it’s just doing much of it on its own: friends meeting for Shabbat dinners and potlucks in the park, gathering for Rosh Hodesh, planning chagim, starting new and alternative minyanim, and more.
There is an old joke about a person who loses a penny in a dark alley. When his friend tries to help him, he finds him under the street lamp. ‘Why are you looking here?’ the friend asks. ‘That’s where there’s light’, he answers.
I’m not suggesting that there is no intermarriage, disinterest, criticism of Israel and other issues that need our attention. But I would like to suggest that along with that, much is happening that isn’t yet obvious because it does not look like what we’re used to. It’s not always inside one of our institutions (and that fact alone might offend us, blinds us and makes us quick to judge, yes, more things we said we’ll never do…). Costs and attitudes, dues structure and membership requirements have driven the younger generation’s Jewishness away, and they, ironically, took it back to where it always used be: home.
To the doomsayers who tell us American Jewry is diminishing, disappearing, vanishing; to those who flash scary statistics with glaring numbers, I’d like to say, just because you don’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not there.

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Jacob Rocks 

Driving through the desert of south west Nevada, the town of Tonopa could easily be missed, if not for the Mitzpah Hotel. The Mitzpah Hotel is a historic site: until 1927 this 5 story structure was the tallest building in the State of Nevada.
Built in the early 1900’s, it was named after the Mitzpah Mine nearby, specializing in silver, and thus, sharing its name with a famous line of silver jewelry. The Mitzpah Jewelry, which is often made of two complimentary pieces, is the kind that generally was exchanged between two people who were lovers or close friends and might be separated from each other for some amount of time. It’s common to see it engraved with the verse, “The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another,” which is right in the end of this week’s Torah portion (Genesis 31:49).
The reading begins and ends with “bookends”: There is Jacob’s journey to Haran, instructed by his parents to escape his brother and find a wife; and – his journey back, 20 years later. There are angels on the ladder in his dream, and angels meeting him as he – and his family – are about to enter Cana’an. And there are rocks: We begin with Jacob arranging a pillow of rocks as he sleeps along the way (where he’ll have his dream and G-d’s promise); then Jacob rolling the giant shepherds-rock off the top of the well when he sees Rachel approaching; and now, Jacob building a mound of rocks to mark the border between him and Lavan, rocks that “rock” their relationship, transforming them from hostile to more peaceful.
“Good fences make good neighbors” says Robert Frost in his poem, “Mending Wall”, perhaps because a fence is not only my way of saying, “ad kan”, you only get to go so far, but it’s also my way of saying, I respect your space over there. For Jacob and Lavan, for many (many) years, life was extremely “enmeshed” and messy. It’s a powerful moment when Jacob says, ad kan and no more. Solid, strong, self-identity comes with knowing one’s healthy boundaries.

Shabbat Shalom.

We seem to be the people of the 2nd. First’s – are just not our thing.

Take creation for example: the first story was just perfect. Everything was in the right place: the water that hung above, did just that, and the water below – lay peacefully below. The earth rested secure and the trees grew up beautifully. The sun, moon and stars twinkled in the sky. The fish and the bird swarmed about. The animals roamed around and the one human showed up on the scene as the crown of creation. Then came Shabbat and everything basked in glory.
But that story is like a still-painting. It has no continuation.
Then the second story opens, like toys falling out of a box in disarray: there are no plants, no rain, no animals; steam comes out of the earth; a strange surgery is required in order to produce two distinct humans. A snake shows up out of nowhere followed by disobedience, embarrassment, accusations, banishment and expulsion. You’d think this would be the end”. And yet, that was really The Beginning. And here we are.
Seth, the father of humanity, is not Adam and Eve’s first (or second); Noah’s son, Shem, who is our forefather, is not the oldest, strongest, or most beautiful. And most likely, neither is Abraham. Yishma’el is oldest, but Isaac, Yitzchak, is the one to inherit the spiritual blessing. Now comes the next generation.
What was Yitzchak telling Rivkah when he brought her into his mother’s tent, when he realized he felt love for her, and saw she was “the one”?
‘See honey, this is how our life will be. This was my mom’s tent and now it’s yours. We too are entrusted with my father’s mission and journey, except for this one thing I wanted to talk to you about… well, I don’t know if they told you’, he says when they stroll through the fields, the sun setting in the west, ‘it’s my brother. He’s quite upset with how things went down. And truly, I can’t blame him. What, with my dad taking a second wife, then kicking her out… I am definitely not going to do that. Let’s just have one kid and raise him well’.
Of our forefathers and many other Biblical heroes, Yitzchak and Rivkah are unique in their monogamous relationship. When they can’t have kids, even for twenty years, longer than the proscribed time, they keep praying. Then the text says (Genesis 25:21):

כא וַיֶּעְתַּר יִצְחָק לַיהוָה לְנֹכַח אִשְׁתּוֹ, כִּי עֲקָרָה הִוא; וַיֵּעָתֶר לוֹ יְהוָה, וַתַּהַר רִבְקָה אִשְׁתּוֹ. 21 And Isaac entreated Hashem for his wife, because she was barren; and Hashem let Himself be entreated of him, and Rebekah his wife conceived.
G-d heeds the prayer of Yitzchak, and not Rivkah. Why? The temptation is to insert our contemporary feministic reading: ah, of course! G-d listens to men and not women… But aside from being nonsense, going this route, we’ll be missing something.
Quite often we read the stories with the end in mind. But what if we’re reading this for the first time; what if…
Perhaps, Rivkah, who has seen a rougher world than Yitzchak, already knows that the unavoidable can’t be avoided. She therefore knows there will have to be (at least) two children, but as no one yet had twins, that option cannot cross her mind. What she might be most worried about is to not be Hagar; to not get kicked out; to not lose her beloved to another. Accordingly, her prayer would be to not mother the “1st” child”, but instead, ‘let me be the one pregnant with the 2nd child’.
Yitzchak, who has seen G-d’s incredible miracles first hand, can – maybe – offer a different prayer: “Dear G-d, please give us a child we can raise to be the successor of this path”. Hence the Torah says, Hashem listened to his prayer. That also explains why Rivkah was so troubled by her strange pregnancy. First, because no one had twins before. And, because there was no “first” before her pregnancy. How will this work out?

Lidrosh Elohim – לדרוש אלוהים
The same girl who tirelessly ran to serve the unknown visitor and his camels at the well; the same girl who told her family “elech”, I will go – from whom the whole world should learn asking a girl first and acquiring her consent prior to deciding for her if she’d like to be with anyone – is the one, who, is the first person in the Torah to go and seek G-d.
Well respected commentaries on this concept sadly minimize this great act. Rivkah, they say, went to seek advice from the judge or priest of the time; she went to the beit midrash (the study hall) to ask the learned what’s going on inside her own body. I resent the plausible read of “Elohim” here, as “judge”; plausible but one that reflects on its later times, when we became bound by structured prayers and lost that ability to go out and “inquire of G-d” directly, without intermediaries, and robs me of my role model.

I “like” the spunky Rivkah who does things her way; who initiates and takes charge, but more than liking her, I need her. I need to know that it’s possible to come to G-d directly, without anyone between us. I need to know that He can hear my pain, my cry, my deepest, craziest, most radical wishes and thoughts. He might not always grant it, but I want to know that He can be with me through whatever it is.

Shabbat Shalom.

Rivkah going to inquire of G-d – by Ahuva Klein
רבקה הולכת לדרוש אלוהים – ציור של אהובה קליין

Vignette:
Time travelling in NYC: You leave one side of the city and the GPS shows an hour to your destination. You drive for 20 minutes, check again, and lo and behold, you now have 50 minutes left. You drive another 15 minutes, check again, and, what do you know, you’re still only 55 minutes away…

The Romantic Torah:
This week’s reading, Chayey Sarah – “The Life of Sarah”, opens with Sarah’s death, and Abraham seeking to purchase for her a burial place, achuzat kever. Rabbi Hirsch (19th century Germany) shares a beautiful explanation. And so he writes:
“To interpret “achuza” as “property”, because the object is held – ne’echaz (which is from same root as achuza) is a mistaken interpretation. Achuza refers exclusively to land property, which is precisely what cannot be held. Further, in the instances the verb is used, the object (i.e. the land) is not held by tis owner but rather – the owner is held by the object…. Land holds its owner, and he is bound in its chains… This is also the reason why a person cannot take an oath on the land. This is because land outlines the person; the person is subordinate to the land rather than the land being subordinate to the person. Hence, he cannot subordinate the existence of the soil to the truth of his word”…
Likewise, Abraham wants a permanent place in the land, a place that will stay in the family long after he is gone. A place, that is not so much for her, as it is for him and future generations.
Interestingly, kever, the Hebrew word for grave, is the same word the Talmud uses for womb. Is it the hint for things that are deeply hidden? The end that is also a chance for a new beginning?
Abraham too will die at the end of this Torah reading.
And yet, framed by the deaths of these two giants, is one of the most beautiful love stories of the Torah, the meeting of Rebecca and Isaac, Rivkah & Yitzchak; a story that will culminate with the first time in the Torah a man will be described as loving a woman. Not Adam & Eve; not Noah and his dedicated (reluctant?) wife; not even Abraham & Sarah, but the almost speechless Yitzchak and the vivacious Rivkah.
What would Freud say about the last verse in Genesis 24?
וַיְבִאֶהָ יִצְחָק, הָאֹהֱלָה שָׂרָה אִמּוֹ, וַיִּקַּח אֶת-רִבְקָה וַתְּהִי-לוֹ לְאִשָּׁה, וַיֶּאֱהָבֶהָ; וַיִּנָּחֵם יִצְחָק, אַחֲרֵי אִמּוֹ.  And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her. And Isaac was comforted for his mother.
Isaac loves Rivkah as if he replaces his mom? The only challenge is that Rivkah is really a lot more like Abraham This is evident in the parallels between two stories: Genesis 18, when Abraham runs around to care for the guests, and Genesis 24, when Rivkah does the same to give water to the unknown servant as well as his ten camels. And if we missed it, commentators will remind us that gamal – camel – is at least linguistically related to gemilut chasadim, doing acts of kindness. And, consider this: most other Biblical men have a 2nd, 3rd and often many more – wife. Isaac has only one. He never leaves Israel. He never takes a second wife. He stands for gevura, strength, might, and is inspiring a solid, quiet, loyal presence.
And yet, they didn’t “invent” it all. There is another beautiful imagery the Talmud offers us when describing Abraham & Sarah’s final resting (Tractate baba Batra 58a). In the mind of the Torah and the Talmud, eternal love is totally possible and “normal”:
ר’ בנאה הוה קא מציין מערתא כי מטא למערתא דאברהם אשכחיה לאליעזר עבד אברהם דקאי קמי בבא א”ל מאי קא עביד אברהם א”ל גאני בכנפה דשרה וקא מעיינא ליה ברישיה
רב בנאה היה מציין (ממפה) מערות (קבורה). כשהגיע למערתו של אברהם, פגש באליעזר, עבר אברהם עומד בפתח (המערה). אמר לו (רב בנאה לאליעזר): מה עושה אברהם (עכשיו)? אמר לו (אליעזר לרב בנאה): אברהם שוכב בחיקה של שרה, והיא מסתכלת לו בראשו.
Rabbi Bena’a was marking burial caves (he was doing that so people know where there are burial places which would help prevent contracting of ritual impurity). When he arrived at the cave of Abraham, (the Cave of Machpelah), he chanced upon Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, standing before the entrance. Rabbi Bena’a said to him: What is Abraham doing (right now)? Eliezer said to him: He is lying in the arms of Sarah, and she is examining his head.

Shabbat Shalom.

Vignette:

I’m becoming a New Yorker… The recent realization follows needing to move my car due to “Street Cleaning”. The “whole world” double-parks from here until forever, waiting for this “seige” to be over. Should I go on a day trip out of town? Well, I could. But if parking is challenging at 1:00pm, at 10:00pm it will be impossible, so I don’t.
I join the double-parkers some blocks away, so I can find a spot, and then, “freely” take public transportation to whereever I need to go… But my my eyes remain tight like a sniper, and when I’m later back, I spot him: a van, idling, on two spots!! “hi there”, I say, stumbling over a sidewalk crack, almost falling into his car not very graciously and fully aware of how ridiculous this is, “can I please have one of these spots, please?”
“No”, he says, “I waiting for a repair van to fix some problem in my building”
“Repair? oh that’s great” Poor guy, little does he know I’m not letting go that easily, “And how long are they “reparing” for”?
“If all goes well, about an hour. Why? what?”
“Please”, I say, combining my Israeli and NY insistance with a CA smile, “Here’s my number; call me when this spot opens”…
And then, a miracle: He calls. I bring my car. He waves and drives away. My Blue Stalion and I cheer. Ah, America!

NorCal:
No better time to pray for rain. Please.

Shmini Atzeret & Simchat Torah:
One more holiday in this stretch of fall holidays. In Israel, the 8th day of Sukkot is the same day as Simchat Torah, some say because in Israel the material and spiritual – combine, while outside of Israel, we live in a more separate world.
Here, we will pray for rain geshem – tomorrow, which is symbolic of all “gashmiyut“, materialism, while the next day, we’ll celebrate with the Torah, sadly increasing the disconnect between spiritual and physical.
As customary, for some strange reason, there will be drinking and dancing and more drinking and even too much drinking (which can’t be said about dancing :-). This is a good time to remember that it’s not our simcha (joy / celebration), but the Torah’s! What makes her happy?

Chag / Hug Same’ach& Shabbat Shalom!

Much (and more) has been writing about Yom Kippur, this “day of Attornment” in an effort to figure out, explain, interpret, rationalize… words and words (and more… beautiful commentary and many wise insights, some of which I plan to use too, and yet, many are left without an answer: What are we doing? How does it make sense? What is this day all about?
We know it as a day to fast – from food and drink, but also bathing, anointing and marital relations. Mostly – it’s intended to be a day to pause from worldly “stuff”, which the sages, sadly, for us, had to put in concrete terms and practical restrictions. I pull out my machzor to prepare. It’s really beautiful and I love much of what’s in it. And yet, if I read through all of this, will that tell me what’s Yom Kippur? Is a day to approach through these words with one’s intellect, or maybe…

And then, a moment:

As background to my unpacking (great activity for erev YK morning 😊), I’m listening to Galgalatz, the Israeli “music and traffic” radio station. On this day, at 4:55pm Israel time, they play a new’ish version of Kol Nidrei. At 5:00pm – they broadcast the “News”, and then, they say, quite nonchalantly: כאן תמו שידורינו – this completes our broadcasting (until after chag).
And then, there is Silence.
Silence with capital S. Silence which rings in my ears as loud as the shofar; as loud the siren on Holocaust Memorial Day and Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day for IDF and Terror Victims; Silence which is piercing and all present, filling the air with great joy and great awe. Silence which calls out, “Shabbat-Shabaton”, this is a Mega-Pause from Everything to recalibrate back to zero, like a spiritual bathtub to dunk in. There are no words for that feeling when we get out a good bath. I listen to that Silence and think to myself, that’s it. This is Yom Kippur.