Torah & more… תורה ועוד

Imagine: you are about the start teaching Torah in kindergarten, and you have to pick where to start them. Which story would it be? Abraham’s journey, Rachel at the well, Joseph’s coat, Miriam watching Moses gloating in the basket, perhaps the sea splitting or the amazing experience at Mount Sinai?
You would look through the whole text, cover to cover, and then, excitedly, point to the Book of Leviticus: Here! Confused parents demand to know, why and you say, “The sacrifices are pure, and the little ones are pure. Let the pure one deal with the pure things”, at least this is what the midrash said (Psikta D’rav Kahana, 6).
It’s not clear what is meant by this statement, so I allowed myself my own musings.
The Book of Leviticus begins with sacrifices: what to bring when, how and mostly why. The Hebrew word for sacrifices, korbanot, comes from the root k.r.v. which also makes the word karov, to be close, also a relative, and kravayim, internal organs. I’m reminded of another midrash that before the world was created, tshuva was created, that is a way “to come back”, “repent”. This has to be one of our best contributions to humanity’s mental health, the idea that one is not doomed, that there is a way to go back and fix things, that there is a way to get closer, especially when we move away; what a liberating idea.
Let’s be clear: The sacrifices were not a quick fix. Watching one’s animal slaughtered on the altar had to be very (very) hard. I think that for variety of reasons, people must have tried to avoid it. But that did not matter. It matters that it was there, and that this is something we learn early on: having tools to come nearer to G-d; having good and bad, both, within us; having a way to make up, all that is critical.
There is another beautiful and critical lesson right in the first word of this reading, Vayikra, and He called – G-d called Moses, and then spoke. Last week’s parasha ended with the completion of the mishkan, the Tabernacle, covered by the cloud. How would Moshe know what to do? G-d calls him, then speaks to him! Rashi says that G-d calling Moshe first, as if getting his attention, or inviting him into His house, is leshon chiba, a loving way of speaking. Indeed, G-d and Moses model a relationship: G-d Himself doesn’t assume Moses is always available. He calls first. Moses waits, ready to hear. And we teach this two-way communication to our children: We call G-d and He calls us.
But then, if you look at that first word in Hebrew., you might notice the last letter, the alef, is small. Why? What if the alef was not there? The word would be vayikar – “and He chanced”. Commentaries say that Moshe was so humble, he didn’t want to show off that G-d is calling him. Further, this is the book of Torat Hakohanim, the Priestly Law (hence “Leviticus”) but Aaron is barely mentioned. Moshe was thinking about his brother, being considerate of his feelings too. Yes, it is a midrash, but this too we teach our kids early on, as if we say something like: ‘the stories are great: how the world was created, where we’ve come from, who were our forefathers, but if we have to choose between that and how you will behave I your life, in your future, well guess what’…
So maybe this is why children started their Torah learning with because Leviticus includes more than a third of all mitzvoth, and we believe that what we do is what matters; that if we err, we can correct; that we have to be busy building our relationships horizontally and vertically, with patience and respect and love.
Shabbat Shalom.

After spending long chapters in measuring beams, building tables, preparing coatings of gold, fashioning a lamp and other details such as tying loops around the curtains, making olive oil and sewing fancy clothing for the Priest, the Torah portion os Ki Tisa brings in a mix of topics: We’re counting the people, going through more descriptions regarding the construction of the Tabernacle, talk about Shabbath observance, and ends with the famous golden calf. It’s a minute before Shabbat, so I’ll try for just a quick taste of everything.

How do we count the People of Israel? From the desert time to our own days, we do not count by pointing at people and saying 1,2,3… In traditional synagogues, counting a minyan is done with a verse: הושיעה את עמך וברך את נחלתך, ורעם ונשאם עד העולם “Save Your people, bless Your inheritance, guard them and lift them forever” This verse from Psalms in Hebrew has 10 words, one for each man. But Moses and Aaron had to count the hundreds of thousands of people in front of them. What did they do? They did not count with songs but with a “half-shekel” which everyone had to bring. Why “half-shekel”? Why not a penny, a stone or perhaps stand in “threes”, army style? One interpretation suggests: half a shekel so that everyone remembers that s/he is not complete without at least one other person; that in our essence we must connect to others and the world around us, that we are not solitary mountains, hiding away from each other and away from the world.

There are other descriptions about the construction of the Tabernacle and the observance of the Sabbath, and all of a sudden, in the middle of all this pastoral work, the Children of Israel came to Aaron (Moses is on Mount Sinai busy) and seek to create a “God that will go before us.” An amazing story. Some people say, ‘I do not believe in God because I have no proof. If only I could see what a miracle, a tiny miracle, just something” … ever mind the discussion about the countless daily miracles in our lives which we miss or take for granted, but here are the people who must have seen the most miracles possible: the plagues in Egypt, the journey from slavery to freedom, the splitting of the Red Sea, the sinking of the Egyptians army… What else? But it’s all lost in a short time. True, Moses has been away for 40 days, maybe just 39, maybe already 41, but we know he’ll be right back, won’t he? How come they are already looking for alternatives, collecting gold (faster than collected the half shekel for the Mishkan …) and are hard at work on their new god? How did this happen?
We do not know. We are missing pieces of the story, but the Midrash offers to fill it in for us. Accordingly, Satan (whatever it is, we’ll leave it for another time) showed the Children of Israel the coffin of Moses floating in the sky. He created the illusion that Moses died and maybe – just maybe – they will remain in the wilderness without a leader. Important: The Midrash purposely says that what they saw was an illusion, with no real basis for what followed, because it wants to highlight for us how dangerous doubt can be. In order to undermine one’s confidence, you don’t have to destroy it completely or to bring ‘evidence’. It’s enough to plant doubts, safek. It starts gnawing us from within and the rest is history.

“And the children of Israel kept the Sabbath in their generations,” it says in our Torah portion, which we say in the Shabbat morning kiddush. Shabbat is often mentioned near the construction of the Tabernacle Saturday, lest we think that building a mishkan or synagogue for G-d is sacred and important and therefore permissible to violate Shabbat for such construction. But, as Abraham Joshua Heschel said, Shabbat is in the dimension of time what the temple or synagogue are the physical dimension. And while the physical might come and go, the spiritual remains with us everywhere, thus Shabbat takes precedence. Echad Ha’am who was not “religious” per-se (whatever that meant) said that “more than Israel kept Shabbat, Shabbat kept Israel”. Clearly, there were always different levels of observance or else we would not need so many laws, but the bottom line is that Shabbat was key in keeping our identity throughout the generations.
Shabbat Shalom.

It is the closing ceremony / party of my daughter’s Garin Tzabar. Garin Tzabar – literally translated as “cactus seed” – is a platform created by the Israeli Scouts, Jewish Agency and others, to accommodate young Jews from around the world, particularly children of expats Israelis abroad, who wish to make Aliya and join the IDF.

We are in Kvutzat Yavne, one of few religious kibbutzim in Israel (check out their canned olives and pickles we as well as olive oil in stores in the US). The kibbutz founders originated in Germany, made Aliya in 1929, spent time in training near Petach Tikva, and moved to their current location, just 6 km east of Ashdod in winter 1940-1941. Its 850 members comprise one of the most successful kibbutzim in the country, which has not gone through privatization, as many others have in recent years. Aside from the pickles factory, they have agriculture, poultry and other small factories including a place for making watches. This past summer, they became one of the religious kibbutzim to host Garin Tzabar.

Participants in this group come from the US, Europe and Australia, and volunteer for an intense, what some call “meaningful” IDF service. They engage in sincere, deep, soul searching; they want to contribute and give to a greater good. On that Sunday evening, on top of the jetlag and being with my daughter, my eyes just welled up each time one of them got up to speak. I owe the seed of the following to that evening.

The Hebrew names of the Torah portions comes from a significant word in the first couple of verses, something that catches our attention: hey you, with the yellow shirt! Ok, we’ll call this section “yellow shirt”, but a more serious look reveals that there are deeper insights.

For example, are Deuteronomy’s Ki Tezte and Ki Tavo coincidental neighbors, or is there meaning to the fact that the first is called “when you go out”, and the next “when you come in”, to the deeper connection between leaving and entering?

And how about these weeks now? Truma, last week’s parasha, tells us to give what we “feel like”, while Tetzave, this week’s parasha, starts with the word command! No longer a choice of “bring what you feel like” (Exodus 25:2) but something that must be done. Which way is it, doing what we want, or answering a call? Yes.

But Tetzave is not only connected to the word mitzvah. Or Hachayim (early 1700) points out that the same root for Tetzave and mitzvah is also the one in Tzavta, togetherness. Truma, on the other hand, comes from “ram”, to go up. It takes both: Truma, giving, especially what we feel like, might make us feel “on high” but has a danger of making us disconnected. Connections are not made by being “individuals” who do what they feel like, but rather from answering a call, from fulfilling one’s duty, from doing what is right.

The parasha continues with the clothing of the high priest, and next week, my daughter too, will be clothed in new garments as she joins the IDF, ready to serve. You must be proud, people say; you must be happy; you must be anxious; you must be teary. What can I say? My Jewish answer is, yes.

Shabbat Shalom.