Naso

Parshat Naso has always been a little complicated for me. In my feminist past the thought of “sotah” was fairly sickening. For those that don’t know sotah was a practice in which wives accused of adultery would have to drink a mixture. If she was innocent she would become pregnant and if guilty she would die. From the outset it looks a lot like jealous husbands intimidating women. Understandably this idea used to upset me quite a bit. You may be wondering why it doesn’t upset me now. Well…I was getting to that. Patience, my friends.

The sotah concept is placed directly before the Nazarite description. A Nazarite was a man that took a vow (usually of 30 days) in which they did not drink wine, have sexual relations, cut their hair, or come into contact with a dead body even to attend the funeral of their own parents. Afterwards they would have to offer up a sin offering to the priest. Why do they need to offer a in offering? They couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong during that period?

Wow, reader. You cease to amaze me with your insightful questions. The juxtaposition of the Nazarite and the Sotah is fascinating. On the one hand, you have the (supposedly) adulterous woman that gives into her physical desires and overindulges herself. Then you have the Nazarite that completely deprives himself of all physical enjoyments. It has been explained to me that the Nazarite gives a sin offering because of the mitzvoth that he cannot possibly do. He can’t make Kiddush, for instance. Hashem didn’t give us the physical world so we could take ourselves out of it. We are meant to enjoy alcohol and to have sexual relations…but we must also limit ourselves to the proper contexts. Also to enjoy with limits is what makes us human and not animal. Enjoying with limits also extends our enjoyment as our passion will be renewed and heightened when we have boundaries. Neither overindulging nor depriving is optimal according to Parshat Naso. There must be boundaries on either end.

I know that my life doesn’t interest you so I won’t bore with details, but I can personally attest to this worldview. I have lived a life of complete deprivation (although I did the reverse chronology; deprivation followed by over indulgence). I allowed myself zero physical enjoyment in life and I was, quite simply, miserable. So, I thought to solve my problems, then lead a life of attempting to obtain ALL physical enjoyment. Thanks to that fantastic experience, I lost friends, I lost my short term memory, and I devalued myself in the eyes of others and, more importantly, in my own eyes.

So yes, we can be upset over the unfairness of the sotah. Or, we can understand it within a bigger framework. The story had a bigger point to make over the way we should live our lives then and for forever. 

BaMidbar

"Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: 'What does his voice sound like?'" ---The Little Prince

BaMidbar! In English we start the book of "Numbers" this week. The first parsha of the book of Numbers lives up to its name. I would guesstimate that 90% of the parsha is a census of the Israelites in the desert and of the Levites who are now responsible for the Mishkan. Now, I don't know about you, but I find numbers to be boring. I zone out as soon as I see a number, I just don't care...which made reading the parsha a little difficult. I won't lie to you. On top of the dullness of the counting of people (over and over and over again), numbers are so impersonal. Why does Hashem need us to be counted so much??? Seems unnecessary for Hashem, unnecessary for the reader, and unnecessary for Moshe whose job is to keep counting.

Several times this week I've heard the idea that counting is actually a form of affection. We count things in a collection that we love, we count our money in our wallet, we count off our children after leaving the house. The Israelites being counted isn't just us being thought of as simply a number...Hashem cares so much about us that every once and a while we take a break in our journey and makes sure we are all still there. Sometimes when we think of ourselves as just a number we tend to assume that we are easily replaceable; if someone disappears another number fills in. However, using this other perspective completely flips the idea of replaceability. Every single Jew matters. That's why we need to stop account for each other so often. Hashem cares so much about each person that we have to count ourselves off several times. Additionally, the Torah uses the term "lift the head" to denote counting. Why lifting the head? Why not just count? Rabbi Sacks points out that lifting the head makes the counting more personal, I think. It connotes love and pride. Each person lifts their head to be looked at as a person, an individual. No one is forgotten, left behind. More importantly, every person is recognized as their own unique person.

I'm trying to notice the people around me more. I live in my own little world were I stare at tumblr/Liz Lemon memes four hours at a time. I'm going to be honest...people usually annoy me so I keep to myself. However, I'm working on realizing that everyone matters, everyone is here for a reason, everyone has fears, ambitions, stories. Now I'm aware of my limitations, I can't lift the heads of seven billion people but I can start with like five. Not five billion, to make that clear. I meant just five. My talk-tor told me to set achievable goals. I guess what I am trying to say is...if Hashem thinks each one of us matters then there is probably a reason for it. So let's try to treat each other in a way that acknowledges that super awesome fact.

Bechukotai

Welcome to Heather’s blog 2.0. I’m hoping that by having this blog have a point I will be more readily willing and able to keep up with it? Mostly I just want to know what the parsha is every week so this is the easiest way to do it. I guess we’ll see. Life is busy, friends. I’ll do my best. Shteig!

What a great week to start a parsha blog. Parshat Bechukotai essentially threatens us with cannibalism if we don’t study Torah so I’m glad that I can help contribute to the non-cannibalism of the Jewish people by studying Torah aka reading my blog. You’re welcome, reader. You owe me one.

This week’s parsha is both unpronounceable (in English) and terrifying. Hashem tells us if we are good and do mitzvot then he will reward us with various forms of prosperity and security…then goes on for a VERY long time (32 verses) about what will happen if we don’t act in a proper way. Exile, insecurity, destruction of material goods, and the classic “you will eat the flesh of your children” are all on the agenda. To be blunt, I am not a huge fan of threatening punishment if one does not do as one is told. First of all, it is ineffective. Has the threat of prison stopped people from murdering others? No. Secondly, it doesn’t flow too well with the idea of a loving and caring creator. I am no theologian however so I will leave those kinds of questions to the smart people/I don’t really care that much. Religion is not so academic in my world and I don’t intend it to ever be.

What I did find comforting while reading was the idea of consequences. Not consequences in that “if I don’t do this someone will punish me,” rather the idea that my actions will affect someone else. Almost every rebuke given by Hashem for not doing the mitzvot are community oriented. Fields, crops, holy sites, and wild stock are all essential parts of the community and directly at risk. If someone messes up then everyone is in jeopardy. We live in a selfish world where we (myself definitely included) think that we can make stupid choices because YOLO or it’s my life or whatever. Every stupid choice, or smart choice for that matter, impacts someone else. Every. Single. One. Unless you live in a cave and all your family and friends are dead, God forbid. You want to sleep around, do drugs, drink a lot, drive without a seatbelt, be obnoxious in class, say rude things, steal because “hey it is my problem and I’m not really doing anything to anyone else.” Guess what? You are wrong. Family and friends see you and get hurt. Maybe you have children, younger siblings, students, or friends that look up to you. Maybe you are distracting and/or influencing people around you. Maybe you are hurting someone and you just don’t have the foresight to see it. Since the parsha focuses on the negative, I also did. But the same can be said for all the good things we do. Just want to throw that out there before everyone starts yelling at me for being so negative all the time. Everything we do has a consequence so be the best person you can be. I realize I need to take my own advice, so please don’t yell at me for that either.

The parsha ends with some words of hope, though. Even if we mess up and start eating our children (sorry, I’m obsessed with that one) we can make up for it. We can try again tomorrow so let’s all wake up each day and not get too stuck on whether what we did yesterday is permanent. Spoiler alert, it isn’t. Unless you really did eat your children...in which case that is probably permanent.