Torah & more… תורה ועוד

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.

 When you’re on the road, time changes shapes and forms. It’s easy to lose count of days. Weeks seem like days. Days seem like weeks. One travels far in order to say, this looks like somewhere else’, said Yehuda Amichai. “It’s Monday”, we say, “so this must be Portland”; and also “it’s Portland so it must be Monday”…

It’s been more than three weeks since I started my current adventure, tour guiding with a group of teens through the Western States. In the day, we visit beautiful sites, trying to see more and more; in the evenings we review where we’ve been: “We traveled from point A to point B, and here is what we learned”.

The Torah (Num. 33:1-49) sets out a similar list of the stages of the Israelites’ route: “They journeyed from X and camped at Y”, over and over again. It’s poetic, and the effect heightens the tension and increased anticipation between being somewhere, settling down, unpacking, letting stuff scatter around the room, and getting to know a place, and between the endless urge to travel on, to see more, to check out what’s “behind the river bend”, to dream with the views passing by the bus window. The Torah could have just listed a long list of places, but it pauses at each site, as if to say, everywhere we stop at life has meaning to the journey.

Finally the journey draws to a close, and G-d tells Moses: “Take possession of the Land and settle in it, for I have given you the land to possess it” (33:53). According to Nachmanides, this is the source of the command to dwell in the land of Israel and inherit it. The end of the Book of Numbers emphasizes what we already know, that the Land is central to who we are.

The whole story has been about the promise and the journey to this place, and yet, the paradox of Jewish history is that though a specific piece of land is at its heart, Jews have spent more time in the diaspora than in Israel; more time longing and praying for it than dwelling in it; more time travelling than arriving. Much of the Jewish story could be written in the language of the closing Torah portion: “They journeyed from X and camped at Y”.

As Rabbi Sacks puts it (I think it’s he who said this. I found it in my notes unnamed and it’s too good to be me -): “On one hand, the G-d of everywhere can be found anywhere. He is not confined to this people, that place… He exercises His power in Egypt, in Nineveh, in Babylon. There is no place in the universe where He is not. On the other hand, it must be impossible to live fully as a Jew outside Israel, for if not, Jews would not have been commanded to go there initially, or to return subsequently”.

The sages shared two seemingly contradictory ideas. They said, “Wherever the Israelites went into exile, the Divine presence was exiled with them” (Mekhilta, Bo, 14). And they also said, “One who leaves Israel to live elsewhere is as if he had no G-d.” (Ketubot 110b).

Can one find G-d, serve G-d, experience G-d, outside the holy land? Yes. And – No. If the answer was only yes, there would be no incentive to return. If the answer was only no, there would be no reason to stay Jewish in exile. On this tension, Jewish existence is built.

This is highlighted when the two and a half tribes decide to stay on the other side of the Jordan. Moses eventually gave in to their request and allowed them to stay where pastures were greener but only when they agreed that should the people in the Land need help, they will be there for their brethren. Not that Moses had many choices, but what he set in place, is also etched into us.

This is what happens even on our bus, when 13 and 14 year olds show me their Jerusalem Post ap and updates regarding the “matzav” (current situation) in Israel. To paraphrase an old saying, you can take someone out of Israel, but you might not be able to take Israel out of them.

Just before Shabbat, we arrived at Zion National Park. “The settlers who came here named it after the Biblical Land”, says the shuttle driver by rote, but everybody in the group grows two more inches. “This is us”, calls one of the teens, proudly. This is us.

Shabbat Shalom.

Whoever divided this and last week’s Torah portion must be the spiritual great, great grandparent of modern day suspense movies. Last week, we left the Children of Israel in the middle of a turmoil. After Bil’am’s failure to curse the people, he advises king Balak to get the girls of Midyan and Mo’av to seduce the Israelite men and entice them to idol worship. There is a party, followed by a plague. Moses is confused at the scene, waiting for G-d’s instructions. As he’s trying to make the senseless sensible, Zimri, the leader of the tribe of Shimeon, approaches wrapped around one of the Midyanite princesses provocatively. The Midrash fills in for us what happened, accordingly, Zimri says to Moses, ‘you have a problem with this? Why, but you yourself took a Midyanite woman to be your wife! You can’t chastise us!’

Moses is dumbfounded, but Pinchas whose training has been in Temple matters, grabs a sword and skews both Zimri and his lady, Kozbi together. They die; the plague stops; last week’s parsha – ends and everybody takes a very deep breath.

Because the Torah wants to keep us hanging and leave us unclear: is Pinchas going to be named a hero or a dangerous lunatic?

G-d awards Pinchas the brit shalom, a covenant of peace. Pinchas, declares G-d, did the right thing for “he has turned My wrath away from the Children of Israel, as he was very jealous for My sake among them” (Numbers 25:11).

What is it about Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, a high priest who engages in bloodshed, that merits this special brit shalom? Some say maybe because of the last two words in the above verse: “among them”. Pinchas did what he did, not for personal gain, but for the sake of the people and their wellbeing. Others suggested we should note the missing spelling of the word “shalom” (sh.l.m. – without a vav): Pinchas gets a covenant but it’s a onetime thing. Complete peace comes from a life filled with kindness, not one brief act. And perhaps, it is because he saw himself as personally obligated to sanctifying G-d’s name, not hiding behind greater leaders who here stood by silently. So often we pretend the commandments are said to an amorphous “everybody” and that “somebody” will do it. Pinchas knew better. He assumed responsibility. What a mensch.

Modern fanatics like to align themselves with Pinchas. And yet, from the somewhat forced explanations we can sense that the rabbis were not comfortable and definitely did not want to encourage this kind of behavior, and that they struggled to understand Pinchas and his reward. True, there are situations when there is no time; when one needs to act quickly and swiftly; when life must be scarified, but this is very (very!) rare and not our role model. We value life and its gifts. Therefore, they created a break between last week and this week. They also taught that even on years when we combine Torah sections due to changes in the calendar (as is the case in a leap year), the Torah portion of Pinchas is always read by itself. The zealots, they told us, might only very rarely be right in their actions, but let us be extra careful with it, and generally stay away from them and their ways.

Towards the end of the parasha, we meet Moses again, explaining how the land should be divided among the tribes, allocating it to men and their sons. Five sisters approach him: “Our father died in the desert… and left no sons. Why should the name of our father be done away from among his family, (just) because he had no son? Give unto us a (land) inheritance among the brethren of our father.’” (Numbers 27:1-11).

What would Moses do? Draw his sword? Hasten with a quick ruling? No. Instead, Moses “brought their case before G-d” (27:5), and G-s “uses it” to highlight an exception: “yes, the daughters of Tzlofchad are correct; you shall surely give them a possession of an inheritance among their father’s brethren” (27:7).

What if Moses acted like Pinchas, shooting from the hip, and what if Pinchas paused hesitatingly, submitting debatable legal questions to G-d? And mostly we want to know, we need to know, for us: which is which in our own life?

I think the Torah tells us that life is more complex and nuanced that what we think; that no matter how many laws, there is always going to be something that was not covered in the original material; something that will demand of us to stay awake, and make our own good choices.

Shabbat Shalom.

(published in jweetly.com)

A whole nation held her breath for 18 days, hopeful. “To be a realist in Israel, one must believe in miracles”, said Israel’s first primeminister David Ben Gurion, and this is how we grow up, this is what we teach: the worst can happen, but always remain “hopeful”. What is hope, this fragile line between reality and delusion?

In Hebrew, tikva, hope – and the name of Israel’s national anthem – comes from the same root as mikveh, the spiritual water pool. The same root is used in the description of the 2^nd day of creation – yikavu hamayim, let the water gather. The root k.v.h. therefore, implies, not a mere fantasy, but a purposeful gathering of energy. We hold on to it even when we know chances are slim.

Being under attack – sucks, but is nothing new. Already thirty five hundred years ago, our enemies devised different tricky plans to “get us”. A fearful and evil king. A wise yet greedy magician. Then as now, we are not bullet proof. Having faith or a special way of life doesn’t provide insurance that something bad won’t happen; it doesn’t shield us from pain, from vulnerabilities, from horrible events and terrible heartache. We are human. We get hurt. We can’t take every hit. But then, somehow we get up. The fact that we’ve been able to do so, gives us that hope, that purposeful energy to go on.

I’m on route to Mount Rainier National Park as we speak, spending this month tour guiding a Jewish youth group through the U.S. Western States. Needless to say, it’s beautiful. But the trip is not just about beauty. It’s a leadership program and therefore our itinerary includes working with a nature consortium and environmental organizations, getting our hands in the dirt (literally) and opening our minds to how we can make a positive difference in the world around us.

One of our stops was at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Remember Tevya “If I were a rich man”? It’s fun to play a game of what would I do if I had a million, two, 10, 100. We usually think about all the things we’d like to do and get – mostly for ourselves, and at best, our nearest and dearest. What if we saw everybody as part of us, thereby realizing what we have / want is enough? Looking to care for others?

Bill Gates had a dream: to make computers accessible to all. Then he realized that while this is starting to happen, there are also still people in the world with no clean water to drink, no good medicine, no useable, healthy toilets. In dismay he noticed that the dream to connect people, might pull them apart. The experience made them come in touch with some of the gravest pain in the world. It’s the point where most people would stop and turn away because it hurts too much.

But as they share, they went after the pain, after what is lacking. Rather than turning away, they felt that davka where there is pain, there is an opportunity for positive action. Being at their foundation, is a truly inspiring stop.

It’s easy to get discouraged. It’s easy to become enraged. The Torah, never blind to the existence of evil, asks us to refocus. And in this week’s reading, the haftara, the section from the prophet Micha 6:1-8, also offers a different route. “For it’s been told to you, oh human, what G-d demands from you: to do justice, and loving kindness, and walk humbly with your G-d”.

“Katonti”’ said Jacob, “I’m too small for all the kindness You shower me”. I don’t understand everything. I want to know why. Especially when something horrible happens, I want to know why; I need to know why!

But turns out, why is not my question. Of course, I can ask it, but it will only take me so far. My question is – what. What can I do about it; what can I do at all; what is my task.

“Vehatzne’a lechet”, walk humbly, Micha’s words, was the motto of my school. It’s all that mattered. There will be bad. There will be good. It’s just what it is. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn.t At some point, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t show off. Just do what’s right. On weeks like this, that’s all we got.

Shabbat Shalom.

The midrash tells us that the first human spent his time giving names to the animals. In Hebrew, of course, and he had fun playing with the letters and roots to convey their core essence. Take for example the dog, kelev, which literally means “like a heart” (ke-lev), portraying how loyal dogs are; or the arye, the lion, whose name is made of an alef – leadership and reish – head, emphasizing its role as king of the beast.
There are animals in this Torah portion and here’s a story about one. It’s a strange story so I’m bringing the text in full (Number 21:4-9; translation from Sefaria):

What’s with the snake? I had to go back finally check what does nachash (“snake”) means. The word shares its root with “lenachesh” (to guess but also as in divination), nichush (guess, as in a game), nechoshet (copper), and Nachshon (prince o the tribe of Judah). How do all these connect??
We all remember the first snake’s appearance who introduces death to the world; not just physical death, but finality, end, stalling the flow of life; separation in the truest connection there can be.
And here?
The Children of Israel complain; their “soul is short”, but unlike other times, when their complaints have a point – there is no bread or water, and they eventually get what they ask for – here they “loath this light bread”. The bread became flavorless, meaningless. It started feeling “light” (from kal), like it’s nothing. That is to say, there is bread; it’s just not up to par. They want an upgrade, taking the good they receive for granted.
Unlike the time when Miriam was sick, this time, Moses’ prayer doesn’t help. But neither does a stick with a snake on top.
Because the nachash (snake) can be both good and bad. It stands for everything uncertain, indecisive, squiggly, hard to grasp, sneaking away. The rest of the words? Nichush, guessing – is a… well, a guess, also uncertain. Divination is unreliable and even copper – the metal this snake on the stick is made of – is an especially soft and malleable metal. What does help is the focus and looking upward. We’re asked to consciously pick up our heads, look up and attach ourselves to what is steadfast, life giving and eternal; to not let our soul be “short”; to stay focused.

Shabbat Shalom!

Three kids were on route home a week ago and since then we’re holding our breath. There is nothing to say, but pray. May we hear good news soon.

* * * * * * *

This week I had the opportunity to participate at a SWAT training, role playing for emergency situations. The reply to my ‘good morning’ as I walked in was, “great, we need a dead female”… I got a torn shirt, “bullet shot” in my forehead, a very “bloody” wig and lots of red paint – which is still in my currently pinkish hair. Over the next 7 hours I “died” and was resurrected numerous times.
Lying motionless with my eyes closed on the (relatively) cool concrete floor in this somewhat macabre pose, listening to the rescue teams training, working hard to figure out how to move in unison, anticipate complicated situations, support each other and save us, I had some extra time to think of this week’s parasha hero, Korach and his 250 people. Korach incites a mutiny challenging Moses’ and Aaron’s leadership. After all, they are all from the tribe of the Levi and the whole nation is “holy”, why should Moses and Aaron tell everybody what to do? Korach is further accompanied by Moses’ inveterate foes, Datan and Aviram. Joining them are 250 distinguished members of the community, who offer holy incense to prove that they are worthy of the priesthood. You might think Moses and Aaron feel relieved to have so many willing helpers, but instead, the earth opens up, swallowing the mutineers and a fire consumes those who offered the incense.
Who is Korach? In my usual manner, and with my extra time (on that floor), I started trying to analyze Korach’s name, the root and the letters. Korach is spelled kof.resh.chet. Rabbi Hirsch points that the same root is used for the word for balding (karcha: check Leviticus 21:5), a smooth interior of a garment (karachto, check Leviticus 13:55) and frost (kerach, Genesis 31:40), which is also the word for ice in Modern Hebrew. The root means “cohere”, which the dictionary says means- 1. to stick together; be united; hold fast, as parts of the same mass. 2. Physics (of two or more similar substances) to be united within a body by the action of molecular forces. 3. to be naturally or logically connected: 4. to agree; be congruous.

I was excited to find a letter by letter analysis of his name (ah, the things that make me excited!):
According to kabala, the ideal balance between thought and action is hinted in the letter heh. The letter heh is made of three parts: the top – for thought; the right side – for speech and the left – for action. Notice, that the left side is shorter than the others and that it stands sort of “under” the top, indicating that action is subject to thought.
Each of the letters is Korach’s name is very similar to the heh, but is different, and how it’s different is significant to what happened and what we can learn.
The letter kof is like a heh except the left line goes down lower than the right, indicating a situation when those who act are not under those who think, which drags the former lower.
The letter resh is like heh except it has no left side at all, parallel to Korach’s dmand to separate thinking from doing.
The letter chet is like heh, except the left side is closed, making all three aspects – thought, speech and action – equal.
Just from his name, we see that Korach demanded often conflicting things: to be “equal” as in “kulam kdoshim”, everybody is holy, and yet, to be a leader, unique above everybody, so which way is it?

In Pirkei Avot (the Sayings of the Fathers 5:20), we’re told: “Any dispute that is for the sake of heaven will have a constructive outcome; but one that is not for the sake of heaven will not have a constructive outcome. What sort fo dispute is for the sake of Heaven? The dispute between Hillel and Shamai. And which was not for the sake of Heaven? – The dispute of Korach and his entire company”.

Wait, if we want to use these role models, shouldn’t the parallel to Hillel and Shamai, two giants of two different opinions and ways of thinking, be Korach and Moses?
But the Mishna chose to say, Korach vechol adato, Korach and all his crowd, to say, the dispute was not at all between Korach and Moses, but rather, it was internal, between Korach and his very own people!

Korach is considered the prototype of divisiveness. His criticism, even if it had some valid points, is not constructive. He is not interested in fixing or improving things. It is all about glorifying himself and only himself. Hence, his priorities are mixed up and messed up; his “gang” is united by who they are opposing, not positive input and desire for anyone’s well being; and their “togetherness” is only temporary. He is a role model for how not to be, how not to do things and thus is not sustainable. Like ice (kerach), Korach and his group break apart and melt away when light shines on them.

Shabbat Shalom.

Long ago and far away, people used to tie a knot in their handkerchief to make sure they didn’t forget something important. Today, while tying a “Kleenex” is pretty much impossible, there is a website called “KnottedHandkerchief” that sends reminder email before an event.
Why do we need reminders? Why do things slip our mind? And how these knots supposed to help?
At the end of this week’s Torah portion, God tells Moses to instruct the Children of Israel to tie knots on their garments as reminders of the obligation to observe all the commandments. A mitzvah for our clothing??
The first humans were naked (Genesis 2:25). Initially, they had no shame and they had no evil inclination within them. They also had no free will, and thus no ability to see choices and make decisions, all essential components in a real relationship.
After the “fruit”, it was no longer natural for them to roam around naked in the Garden, and thus, they “hid”. Their first set of clothing was made and given to them by G-d (Genesis 3:21). It was an act of care, compassion and protection, but also of sadness and distance since the humans were no longer one with each other or with the Divine. Clothing symbolically expressed closeness, G-d’s kindness and empathy, yet also separation. Indeed, from before birth till after we pass, we’re clothed, shelled, divided – and yet, connected. Through our clothing we communicate who we are and check who is another, like soldiers who recognize a member of their unit, a member of another army (this can be a “dangerous” and not very PC metaphor, so just work with it for as long as it works and toss when no longer useful).
Hebrew plays with us a bit, because “begged”, a garment, shares its root with “bagad” and “bgida” which mean – betrayed and betrayal. It turns out that contrary to what we think, what we wear has little to nothing to do with the climate we might live in for even in perfectly comfortable weather, where we would be fine in nothing at all, humans wear something! The Torah teaches that clothing are a way for us to communicate; they are a reminder of our original separation (and not “sin”!) from G-d and each other. This is why we can use them to reconnect.
The commandment of tzitzit specifies: “…so you may not wander after your heart and your eyes to lead you astray (Numbers 15:39)”, and by the way, “lead you astray” is a PG translation to the Torah’s blunt language literally saying “which you prostitute after them”.
Why does the Torah place the heart before the eyes? Aren’t we first attracted by what we see, and then ‘feel’? Apparently not. The eyes are an agent of the heart and not an independent organ. The heart leads, the eye follow. 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 all of a sudden, “it changed”. Did “it”? How about the familiar phenomena that when we’re pregnant, so is everybody, and when we’re looking for college, so is everybody, etc. Is that objective “seeing”?
This very same Torah portion also opens with the story of the “spies”: Twelve esteemed princes of the twelve tribes are sent to check out the Land of Israel before the rest of the nation would follow. Only two of them, seeped in trust in God,  saw the Land’s potential! The ten 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 were sent “latur et ha’aretz”, to scout or “wander” the land, using the same root from the mitzvah of tzitzit where it says “velo taturu”, do not wander! Don’t go around aimlessly without first preparing your heart! In this regard, the heart is just like any other muscle. We hopefully wouldn’t run a marathon “cold”; likewise, we should not send our heart out to decide our life for us without some prep. It too needs some training, some “reminders”.

And there is maybe a little comfort: The Torah tells us that often that which separates us also brings us closer again. Just like what we wear is not only a divider, but also a tool to reconnect, so too, our exit door can be our point of re-entry, and where we erred is where we begin to correct – with each other and with the Divine.

Water fights to celebrate Shavuot? Yes, that’s what was done in some North African communities; true, summer has arrived and it was fun to cool off, but why then, davka on Shavuot? More serious commentators and historians explain that it was because the closest thing to Torah in this world is water, and what better holiday is there to be joyful with water, with the Torah. So say the Midrash (English continues below):
נמשלו דברי תורה במים
מה מים, מסוף העולם ועד סופו [=יש להם התחלה וסופם אינו נראה בעין]
כך תורה, מסוף העולם ועד סופו
מה מים חיים לעולם
כך תורה חיים לעולם
מה מים מן השמים
כך התורה מן השמים
ומה המים מטהרים הגוף
כך תורה מטהרת הגוף
ומה המים יורדין טיפין-טיפין ונעשים נחלים-נחלים
כך תורה: אדם לומד שתי הלכות היום ושתים למחר
עד שנעשה כנחל נובע
ומה מים אין אדם גדול מתבייש לומר לקטן: השקני מים
כך דברי תורה אין הגדול מתבייש לומר לקטן
למדני פרק אחד, דבר אחד, פסוק אחד, ואפילו אות אחת
ומה מים כשאין אדם יודע לשוט בהם, סוף שהוא מתבלע [=טובע
כך דברי תורה, אם אין אדם יודע לשוט בהן ולהורות בהן, סוף שהוא מתבלע
מדרש שיר השירים רבה א’, י”ט
The Torah is likened to water:
Just like water have a beginning but no end in sight,
So goes the Torah, from one end of the world to the other
Just like the water lives forever
So the Torah, lives forever
Just like the Torah comes down from heavens
So the Torah…
And just like the water purifies the body
So the torah…
And just like the Torah comes down bit by bit and joins to great rivers,
So the Torah: a person learns a couple of ideas today and a couple tomorrow
Until he becomes like a flowing stream
And just like with water, when one is thirsty, a greater / older person isn’t embarrassed to say to a younger / smaller one: please, give me some water
So it is with Torah words, and an older person is not too shy to say to a younger one:
Please teach me one chapter, one matter, one verse, and even just one letter
And just like a person doesn’t know how to navigate water, ends up drowning
So it is with Torah words, and a person who doesn’t know how to find his (her) way in them, can drown.

This quote is from the Midrash on the Song of Songs. There are others in the Talmud: Rabbi Akiva said that just like water softens and changes a rock through constant dripping and persistence, so does the Torah makes changes in one’s heart through repeated learning. The Talmud says elsewhere, that just like when it rains in the night, one can only see the effects when the sun comes out, so it is with the Torah that the effects can take time. And another Rabbi Akiva parable tells about the fox who tries to convince the fish to escape the dangerous fishermen’ leave the ater and climb to safety on land as a metaphor for how crazy it is for us to leave the Torah in order to expect gains elsewhere and be saved from all sorts of troubles.
When I garden I think of other metaphors. For example, if we go with the ‘just like the Torah gives life, so does water’, we can easily see that just like the water is not responsible for the weeds along its way; it just gives water to all, so does the Torah. Torah learning is not a guarantee for goodness or wisdom, long life, success or anything. In fact, in Pirkei Avot it says, “derech eretz kadma leTorah” – mannerism and how one behaves takes precedence to Torah learning, and literally – comes before Torah learning, exactly because of the above principle, because if one waters weeds, they’ll grow too.
In Isaiah we read, “oh, everyone who is thirsty! go to the water! (Isaiah 55:1)”. This too is true for the Torah. One must have a thirst for this in order for the learning to be interesting, inspiring and make sense. When we are not “thirsty”, Torah words fly over our head with no meaning. Some of it has to do with age or personal maturity and some – with developing an inquisitive learning style. And just like we know we should drink at least so and so many glasses per day, how about watching our Torah intake? Last but not least, clear, clean water is what’s attractive – and healthy – rather than dirty, “standing” water. On Shavuot we have an opportunity to drink the “real thing”. Enjoy & chag same’ach!