Torah & more… תורה ועוד

This evening is shmini atzeret. What is Shmini Atzeret? Eh… just come over. There will be wine and drinks and food, although nothing uniquely dedicated to this day, no matza, no apples in honey, no blintzes or latkes; there is no artifact, no symbolic ritualistic anything, no menorah, no special branches. Some of us sit in the sukkah, some don’t; some do so with a blessing, some do so without. In Israel, it coincides with Simchat Torah there is one extra prayer we add on this day, but neither were part of the original commandment. So what is Shmini Atzeret??
Oy, it’s such a Jewish day! When I think about it, it might be the most Jewish of them all. It’s that moment that we get up to leave after a wonderful visit, standing at the door almost longer than we were at the table and finally the hosts say, perhaps another cup of tea? And before we know it, we’re sitting down again.
Shmini Atzeret comes from 2 words: shmini – 8th and atzeret – a gathering, from the Hebrew “to stop”; in the Hebrew numbers, seven usually represents what’s good enough, what’s “just right”. Eight – shmone, which also relates to sha-men, fat, represent the little extra, the above and beyond. After this long holiday season, it’s one more day for us to “be together” – with ourselves, with each other and with G-d before rolling into the New Year.
With time, a special prayer has been added to this day – “mashiv haru’ach umorid hageshem”, a line that will be added to each amida we will say from now until Passover, declaring that G-d is the one who makes the wind blow and drops down rain. This line is added everywhere, even though for the Jewish communities in the Southern Hemisphere, spring is just starting. This is because we pray constantly for the wellbeing on Israel. But, of course, I’d like to see in it an extra meaning, for ru’ach also means breath and spirit and geshem shares its root with hagshama, hitgashmut – fulfillment, realization and even gashmiyut, materialism; mashiv – means to blow wind (from n.sh.b) but with a slight change, it can be “meshiv” (from sh.v.b) which means to bring back, related to teshuva, repentance; morid (from y.r.d.) is to come down, or – cause to come down, but in its original Biblical expression (see Genesis 1:28) it shares a root with r.d.h, which means to rule). All this, is to share the grammatical justifications I have to read it as a prayer for the achieving – or better, working towards – the difficult balance between the spiritual and physical, between the tshuva of the ru’ach and the presence of the geshem in our lives.
Shmini Atzeret is also in Israel Simchat Torah (and here often the day after) – when we finish the cycle of reading the Torah and start a new one. Therefore, the Torah reading of this Shabbat is Beresheet, Genesis and “in the beginning”… Rashi, in his famous commentary on Genesis 1:1, questions why does the Torah begin here. After all, if the Torah is a law book, why not start with the first commandment given to us as a people (Genesis 12:1); if it’s a book about G-d, why not start like Maimonides starts his Mishneh Torah, describing G-d and His qualities.
It seems that the Torah purposefully directs us to what this book is really about from its first verse: This is not a book about G-d. And it’s not a book about man – or the world – either. Neither one will stands in the middle of the story. I will go as far as to say that neither one by him (her) lonely self matters here. What does though are the interactions, exchanges, debates, misgivings, happiness and hopes – in short, the relationships between them. This is what it’s still all about, our constant dialog with G-d through our daily interactions with everything around us.
Chag Same’ach & Shabbat Shalom.

The way a couple tells their story predicts divorce or marital stability with 94 percent accuracy. Turns out there is high correlation between an eventual break up and divorce, and low scores in fondness among the partners, high scores in negativity, the absence of positivity in problem solving, low in “we-ness”, high in chaos, low in glorifying the struggle, and high in disappointment of the marriage.
This (“coincidentally”) flew into my desk as I was thinking about this week’s reading of Ha’azinu, and it made me wonder, if our relationship with G-d through this Jewish way of life – however we define both of them – can be likened to other couple relationships and issues, which Kabala would say of course, it would follow that how we tell our story might have a lot to do with us still being here, still getting up to celebrate yet another new year, together.
Rosh Hashana is big, but, like in any other relationship, it’s not about the occasional “wow”. It’s about the daily investments. And when we finally get out of the holiday and walk into the next Shabbat, we’ll be coming to Moses’ last song, Ha’azinu.
Thinking about my writing this week, I could not get past the first word: Ha’azinu – listen – asks Moses of the heavens before he begins to speak, “listen and then I shall speak”, he says. In our modern-day hectic life, bombarded with millions of messages and attention grabbers, we might think, ‘start speaking and if you have anything useful to say and / or otherwise get my attention, maybe I’ll stop clicking and try and catch the rest’, but Moses knows it’s not so. Real, on-going listening must be one of the biggest commitment one can make. It’s like preparing a vessel to hold what another will put in. When there is no listening, there is no giving input and sharing, whether verbal or otherwise. This in turn takes us out of what we crave most, the flow in life.
Ha’azinu is one of the first instructions we’ll hear in the New Year. There are details in this grand song that are incomprehensible. No matter what language you read it in, it makes no sense. So what. Many of us go to Operas or listen to foreign chants without understanding a word of Italian or Hindi. To paraphrase a great teacher or mine, “life is not a cognitive experience”. A lot, but not everything can be grasped mentally. Sometimes we just have to stop and listen. Even Moses had to ask the heavens, who, we might think, have anyway nothing better to do! All the more so, when it comes to us.
But turns out, listening has to do not only with increasing the “flow”, but also with how we will retell our stories later. Studies show, the more details in the story – the better we’ll remember. But, if we go back to the beginning of this post, it’s not only about the amount of details but also about the content. What do we remember? Being slaughtered in Europe or being saved against all odds? Nazi soldier or righteous gentiles? The amazing miracle and joy of being Jewish or the burden of 613 do’s and don’t’s plus untold amount of extra sub categories?? All are true so it’s not about the “truth”; it’s about the story. That is our choice. So what do we choose? What do we tell? Further: is it possible that some of the troubles and “challenges” we see in the current state of the Jewish world (disengagement, assimilation etc etc) is due to the fact that we’re telling a depressing story rather than a happy story? That no one wants to “stay together” in a relationship that is all about gas chambers, a seemingly unsolvable Middle East conflict and an angry G-d??
Maybe that’s good for a New Year resolution – listen better and tell a happier story. Today, that’s all it’s about.
Shana Tova & Shabbat Shalom.

real listening. it’s a commitment.

Don’t get me wrong: I love the upcoming Holy Days, but I can’t shake the feeling of shear fear when thinking about Rosh Hashana. Rosh Hashana is like going through an airport metal detector with a Swiss army pocketknife, a can of pepper spray, a small handgun and a suitcase full of 5oz shampoo bottles, hoping security won’t catch you because of your beautiful smile… You know there is no chance – and no reason anyone should let you do that, and yet, you pray – to the same One who made these rules, mind you – to spare you just this time, because you really, really – really – want to get on the flight.
How can we do that?
Let’s picture the airport conversation: “Step aside, ma’am. You have some illegal luggage here”. “Eh, officer, it’s just some small stuff, don’t make such a fuss!” “Are you planning to use any of it, ma’am?” “Probably. I mean, I’ve used it before but not that much; at least, I think it was not that much; and besides, I couldn’t help it. It happens. Would you let get to my flight already?!”
I hear the sirens wailing in the distance.
There is no way to do it anywhere in “real” life and yet, we do it every year. Maybe because our security guard isn’t just a security guard; she also happens to be our parent, and suddenly the picture changes completely. We’re no longer a high-risk criminal with repeated offenses, traveling with master weapons and a crazy plot, but a little child, who sheepishly sneaks up to his mother’s apron with a chocolate-smear smile on his blushed face and chocolate smeared fingers, who when asked sternly, what happened here, says, ‘I don’t know’ and really believes it.
The duality of our complex relationship with G-d is best expressed in the High Holy Days liturgy’s Avinu Malkenu, but it repeats itself constantly in Jewish life (in fact, I’ve now decided, based on my private, not-yet-founded research that the reason we see so many Jews especially in the field of behavioral economics is that we’re taught to think “like this” all through our lives. More of that at another time -), and the last Torah reading before the New Year is no exception.
It’s a double Torah portion this week, Nitzavim-Vayelech. It recalls the covenant and affirms that our ability to fulfill it (or at least enough of it to not disappear); it reminds us that doing right is not beyond us. In its second part, it tells us about Moses’ last day, about his teachings as a role model in action and words; it asks us to do right again, and warns us from the dangers of “too much”: too much fat, too much anything; how we become haughty, thinking we can do it all, taking G-d’s gifts for granted, and causing our own downfall.
It’s a great reading with many powerful verses and messages but I like their names best: Nitzavim (nitzav in the singular) means to stand, tall and erect. It is used for the pillars in the Temple; for Abraham serving his guests (as in standing above them, ready to do their bidding). In Modern Hebrew today it’s used for answering the call and going to enlist in the army; and the same root is used for the matzav, the situation, when we sadly think there is no change. It denotes stability and preparedness.
Then there is Veyelch, from the root h.l.ch, to go. The first scene begins with Moses “going to” the People. It’s one of my very favorite scenes in the Tanach: 120 year old Moses, on his last day, going to see the people. Normally, we would assume, people come to him. If not because he cant walk, then just to honor him. But not Moses. He gets up and goes to his beloved people.
As is usually the case, on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashana, we read them together. We affirm that we’re about both stability and motion – at the same time. Which way is prayer supposed to be, keva or kavana? Right. Are we about doing or learning? Yes. On and on.
Picking a side and asking the either-or question expecting it to be answered with one or the other, is like wanting to surf only down the high waves down, but without carrying the surf board back. We can – and should, why not – find tricks, physical and spiritual, to make the process easier, but we have to know we can’t eliminate just one aspect. It is life. Our goal is not to chose one side of the pushmi-pullyu, but to learn to ride it, and enjoy the ride!
Nitzavim-Vayelech is one such reminder, so that on Rosh Hashana we don’t ask to sneak through a security check-point. We ask to be seen for – and celebrate – who we really are, and G-d knows, there is no machine that can do that.
Shabbat Shalom & Shana Tova.

I do not like TV, and there is no nice way to say it. yes, I know here and there, there are good shows, but on the whole… Last night, I wrote down what commercials we’re bombarded with in a supposedly 30 minutes show (really 20+). Depending on the hour, it might include – cars, internet service (“it’s good for your kids’ homework”, said in a squeaky voice), clothing (young kids around 7pm; cool high schoolers around 9:30pm), vacations, more cars, more “stuff” (“you can’t cook with this oven”), of course beauty products (if you use this shampoo, you’ll look like her) and even the joys of gambling.
I’ve trained my family to turn off the sound during commercials which sometimes, when I’m lucky, extends into the programs. Then I can examine only what we see. Alternatively, sometimes I sit with my back to the screen and treat the programs as if this is a radio. Try it: each one comes with its own oy as to what we’re exposed to day in and day out.
The Book of Deuteronomy continuously juggles between shma and re’e, listen and see, the two main senses we use to absorb the outside world. This week, our focus is on our eye sight.
We’re often not aware of the power of our eyes. We drive along and all of a sudden think, how did I get here… we read a full page, then realize, we don’t know what it says. The opposite happens too: we see things we don’t intend to, and those, undoubtedly, have an effect on us. Last night, along with my TV experiments, I tried to be a “good” and caring citizen and watched the news. I confess, usually I don’t and last night I remembered why. Who can sleep after watching bombing, a beheading, abuse, threats, death caused by an avalanche (in Tilden Park!), dangerous animals, drought, fires, bad weather and on and on. Makes one wonder, what do we use our eyes for?
Interesting, at the end of this week’s Torah portion, we’re told about aspects of the kosher laws (which animals we can eat). It hints that just as we choose what to put inside our stomachs, we should watch what we feed our eyes. One of the non-kosher birds is the ra’a (with an alef, spelled like re’e). We have a teaching that the forbidden animals are forbidden because of their internal qualities which we do not want to imbue. The Talmud says about the ra’a that, being a prey bird, “it stands in Babylon and sees a carcass in the Land of Israel”. This is the Talmud’s way of warning us from those times when we’re confused (Babylon, Bavel, related to the root for bilbul, confused) and we criticize things we don’t understand from afar. Simplistically, it can be “us” outside of Israel misunderstanding what’s going on there, but this goes way beyond the current “matzav” and politics, and is largely about any such situation where we hasten to condemn things we don’t fully understand. The eyes’ have the danger is being superficial, as opposed to the ears, which are more internal.
It is interesting to look into where the verb “lir’ot”, to see appears in the Torah. The first is G-d who checks what he created and “sees that it is very good” (Genesis 1:30). There are those who say that G-d did not just “see” the world like we would, but that He put the power to see the world as a complete, full picture. It is easier for us to see the world in separate, often unrelated pieces, but creation was one and we are called to see it as such.
A couple of other places to note the verb “lir’ot”: when Abraham took Isaac to the akeda, it says he “saw the place from afar” (Genesis 22:4). The midrash says that he asked Isaac what he sees, and Isaac said he saw a pillar of fire stretching from heaven to earth atop the mountain. Then he asked his servants, who said they saw nothing. Hence he said to them, “sit here (and wait) with the donkey” (22:5). Donkey in Hebrew is chamor, from the same root as chomer, materialism. Seeing then had nothing to do with what objectively was ahead; but with what was inside each one. This is not the only place where the Torah suggests that seeing a matter of choice; a matter of what’s in one’s heart (check Number 15:39).
And on the other hand, at the height of our closeness to G-d, at the Giving of the Torah, it says: “and all the people see the sounds”… We didn’t hear the sounds, but saw them. There was no separation. We were one and our senses were one.
And last favorite voice on this: Sforno, the Italian commentator of the early 1500’s, says that re’e here is a serious warning: “see, I set before you blessing and curse” – two opposite extremes. You might think, says Sforno, that there are more options in between, but don’t be fooled. There aren’t. The in-between is already a curse. The good news is that the choice is ours. Therefore, we don’t need to “hope” to see a blessing come our way. Just like we choose our food and even music, we can choose to see it, pursue it and thus bring it into our lives.
Shabbat Shalom.

Just today the U.S. Senate approved another aid package for Israel’s Iron Dome, and a UN representative immediately asked what about Iron Dome for the people in Gaza.  Well, well. Under the “twin siblings’ phenomena”, whatever mom gives the one child, she must right away give the other one too. If not, he might throw a tantrum and then who knows.
Don’t get me wrong: I wish there is a way to avoid civilian casualties in Gaza, but guess what, there is a way! Hamas can get its people out of harms ways. It can also stop threatening, stocking on ammunition, bombing, kidnapping, etc etc, and the shelling by Israel is likely to stop asap. As for the UN, I can’t help wondering if all things are equal, will they send aid for Israel so we too can build some explosive tunnels? Or maybe they want to send us an expert hijacker to help us kidnap a Hamas fighter?
I used to say, ‘I don’t buy skirts for my boys’, and people would look at me funny, as if dah… ? but so it goes: We often hear the saying, ‘it takes two to tango’, and yes, it does. But it does not take identical two. Each has different character, different values, different aspirations and thus different needs (which, by the way, are different from wants!). Failure to note that is at best overly simplistic and naïve,and right now more like stupid and dangerous.
Dr. Yair Caspi in his excellent article “The Secret Card of the Hamas” talks about what Israel contributes to the prolonged mess, echoing famous words of humorist Ephrayim Kishon (drawn by cartoonist Dosh): Slicha Shenitzachnu, So sorry We Won.
Accordingly, “the “secret” card Hamas has against us is the information it gets daily that Israel is not interested in conquering Gaza… it is our attitude towards this war like to any other deal: we want to know first what will we get and how much will it cost… We say out loud we don’t want to rule 1.8 million Palestinians in Gaza, even though we might have to, and even though this option might be much more humane than bombing Gaza from the air… (but) ever since the Six Days War we don’t fight to win; we fight to gain time, to fix broken cease fires… Zionism has grown fat and spoiled… we lost our inner truth, the one we so desperately need to navigate reality”.
Moshe in this week’s opening of the Book of Deuteronomy warns us about what happens when we forget that inner truth. Tradition has it that this is the last month of his life, and he will talk to us about everything that transpired with some frustration, very few regrets and a lot of love. Moses in this book seems to me like the parent walking his child to the bus stop on the youngster’s way to his own life. The child, half listening, barely grasping what the parent is trying to say, is eager to get going and be swept to the new, exciting future; the father, slowing down, dragging them back, takes another breath, repeating his words. Again.
Moshe speaks in the other side of the Jordan, at the entrance to the Land of Israel, like talking at the door to one’s home. Now the Land of Israel will take priority, so it’s important that we learn why we are going there. Not because it’s the emptiest or cheapest piece of dirt, nor because it is the greenest or the most desired tourists attraction, but because we have a job to do and, for many reasons, this is our place to do it. This job has been paraphrased before: to be a light unto the nations; to improve the world in accordance with certain values and ideals. It is a hard enough task, and it should leave us no time for wars, casualties, cemeteries, hospitals, endless pain and on and on. The latter just derails us from what we’re suppose to do. If anything, I am most angry that we allow the “teasers” to grab us. We win Nobel Prizes in creativity but in Gaza, we do what we’ve always done and what has never worked (I’m aging…), sending our best and finest to fight an impossible battle rather than implement creative solutions like, for example, flooding the tunnels with salty sewage water (not my idea, but I find it worth considering). It makes me want to scream!
Once upon a time, back in the 1960‘s, 70’s and 80’s, before the first Intifada, Gaza was a favorite tourist spot for many Israelis. The beaches are beautiful, the humus is delicious, the car repair shops are cheaper, the markets have great deals and you can negotiate in shekels, and in Hebrew. Throughout history, worse enemies, stretched across unbelievably tough borders, eventually made peace. Hopefully, one day, and not too far, we will be able to do so too.

Shabbat Shalom.