Vayeitzei

Disclaimer: The world is a depressing place. And this is a semi-depressing parsha. Unless you're an optimist in which case this parsha is full of weddings and babies and Godly interactions. But that's not me.

We start out the parsha with Yaakov's journey to Haran and we hear about his wrestling match with an angel in which Yaakov is renamed "Yisrael" or "struggles with God." From here the struggling only grows more intense. Of course we know about the trials and tribulations of Leah and her weak eyes from all her crying. We know she isn't the favored wife and her seemingly never ending child bearing doesn't even seem to cheer her up that much. She's constantly comparing herself to her sister and attempting to gain dominance with her ability to produce male children. But surely Rachel's story is much happier? Sure, she doesn't have any children until the very end (even then only a modest number of two boys)..but Yaakov loves her from the second he sees her.

Rashi brings down from the midrash that Yaakov wept when he saw Rachel because he foresaw that she was going to be buried separately from him. Later in the parsha we find out why Rachel receives this destiny (according to the midrash as cited by Rashi). If we read the parsha through the lenses of the midrash we are constantly haunted by the knowledge that Rachel is going to die and she won't have the honor of being buried with the others in Hevron.

Struggle, struggle, struggle. That's like 90% of this week's parsha. However, it can't be that bad. We are all descendants of Yaakov so his struggles must have been important. For the first time in my life I went to Kever Rachel (on Erev Sukkot). There I read the Tikkun Rachel which is one of the most horrifying things I've ever read in my life..full of talk of destruction and exile. When I looked around I saw a lot of women in pain. I don't know any of their stories or why they were there but one could feel the collective grief in the room. Being a part of Am YISRAEL means being human. It means living in a world where we'll struggle and sometimes fail. But to have those struggles and still turn to Hashem and trust that it will all work out the way it is supposed to is what it really means to be a Jew.
That and bagels and lox (unless you're Sephardi).

Toledot

Parshas Toledos. Stam. I’m not that yeshivish/yeshivish even a little bit. I pronounce “Tav” like a “T”...most of the time.

Looks like I started this post off track. Bli neder, I’ll make a point about this week’s parsha at some point. And fill in awkward silences with my worldly observations.

Take two: Parshat Toledot. Upon my first readthrough of the parsha I came across (what I thought was) a brilliant observation; Rivka not only talks to HaKadosh BaruchHu all by herself but she is also answered by him! Women don’t get a lot of one on one time with HaShem and it takes quite a bit of courage to initiate such an encounter in the male dominated field of prophecy. Yet, there it is. Rivka demands to know why she is struggling so much in her pregnancy and HaShem answers that she is bearing twins..the futures of two very different nations are battling it out in her womb. Not only is she carrying twins but she even gets to know that the second born (Yaakov) will be the rightful successor of her husband Yitzchak. That’s amazing, I thought. Such an amazing encounter between HaShem and a woman will surely have volumes written about. Rivka must have been the first prophetess or something.

Oh..yes. Our sages have plenty to say about Rivka’s holy inquiry but it is not nearly as positive as I had thought it would be. Both the Maharal and the Netziv point out that Rivka inquired of HaShem behind her husband’s back. That she felt fear/awe of her husband and did not feel she could tell Yitzchak the truth. Which of course sets up the end of the parsha where Rivka helps Yaakov trick Yitzchak into receiving the first born blessings.

“If only Rivka was just honest with Yitzchak so much of the misunderstanding could have been avoided!” Yes. That is a cheap and easy point to be made using this understanding. HOWEVER, I do not wish to go there. First of all, I trust our matriarchs and patriarchs and the word of the Torah is holy. So I’m not about to condemn any of our holy ancestors. Or pretend like I am on their level and can understand their motivations. Everything happened the way it did for a reason. Using the Maharal and Netziv’s interpretations, however, does help teach a lesson. A lesson in understanding that emotional intelligence and rational action aren’t necessarily so easy to balance. Both are equally valid and should be respected and understood. There is a false dichotomy that things either “make sense” or don’t. That’s not quite how it works. There are many ways to see the world. Maybe if Rivka did what “made sense” she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to speak directly to HaShem. We weren’t given emotional reactions so that we could just ignore them...trust me. I’ve tried. That generally doesn’t end well. There are Rivkas and there are Yitzchaks in the world. Both serve HaShem and in different ways. As long as we’re following Torah and turning to HaShem (or his Sages as the midrash says is actually meant by Rivka’s encounter with the divine) then we’re free to listen to our inner truths as well.

Or something.

Ki Tisa

Ki Tisa is both one of the most important and one of the most problematic parshiot in the history of parshiot. At least, in my humble opinion. We start out by getting some more overly detailed instructions on how to build the mishkan, Moshe goes up Mt. Sinai to get the commandments, people build a golden calf, Moshe comes down, breaks the tablets, then needs to go back up for new ones, more mishkan instructions. That’s the gist.

I didn’t get it. I spent all week feeling annoyed and angry at the parsha. I read it over and over again trying to figure something out. God didn’t make sense to me. Moshe kinda made sense, and the I totally was on board with the golden calf idea. Having heard the golden calf story many times prior to this (and never thinking about in any depth), I was very aware that I am supposed to feel the opposite. It made sense to me that the people felt alone and needed some replacement. It’s like a kid with absent parents trying to adopt the closest adults as replacement parent-like figures. I used to do that all the time. I still do. It’s an understandable mistake on their part. God and Moshe maybe should have understood the reality of human nature better and calmed down about the whole thing. Instead they both got angry, threatened (and followed through with) mass murder, and broke things.

My feelings were troubling (as they often are, I’m a bit of a wreck). I read some commentaries and nothing was helping. Until I read an essay in Frameworks comparing the mishkan to the calf. The essay argued that the mishkan and the calf served similar roles; a physical manifestation of something beyond normal human experience. Humans need physicality and passion and lust. Godliness doesn’t work that way so we need a lesser form that we can more readily understand. God knew this and instructed us in a way we can achieve this. When Moshe went up to Mt. Sinai they took this idea into their own hands and built the golden calf. Having a physical, base way to serve hashem is not inherently wrong; it was the way in which we went about it. God commands us; not the other way around. When God instructed us in the ways of the mishkan, he was catering to our needs. When we decided to take the idea of worship and service to God into our own hands…that’s where the problem is. God DOES understand us and does what we need. It’s when we try to impose ourselves and our views onto God that we have a problem.

I feel better about this parsha now. I don’t exactly support mass murder of well meaning (although totally misguided) people…but I’m not God. Shouldn’t impose my misguided but well-meaning views either. So, let us all learn from their mistakes. 

Tetzaveh

Tetzaveh is probably an unfortunate choice of parsha to restart this blog with…but I am having a momentary lapse of nostalgia and wanted to see this thing up and running again. Six months is a long enough break. I will TRY and not wait six more months until the next one. Key word=try. Quitting things seems to be my main hobby. Anyways, I’ll attempt to make this parsha semi interesting.

We get to hear all about the kohanim and their special clothes. That’s literally the entire parsha. Actually that’s not true. We also get told about special Kohen jobs and Hashem commands all of Israel to keep the menorah light burning. Presumably the commands are being told to Moshe although Moshe’s name is missing throughout.

I could make something up about the importance of clothing or something. While perusing the usual commentaries that seemed to be the only thing people could come up. Instead I’ll just broaden the perspective. Broaden my perspective to the entire first two books of Tanach. I know…that’s cheating but I don’t care. It’s my blog.

A few days ago, I heard a shiur on Yaakov’s final “blessings” to his sons. We had a conversation about the role of brotherhood throughout all of breishit and each story is a small bit of rectification of the first brother story we read: Cain and Abel. We read about Isaac and Ishmael. Doesn’t end so well. Jacob and Esau…rocky, at best. Joseph and his many siblings; his siblings do sell him to slavery and ignore his pleas for help. But in the end they do teshuva and things are mostly okay.

Moshe and Aaron are the completion of that story. Two brothers that work in tandem with one another. Moshe receives the prophecies from Hashem and Aaron carries out the priestly duties. Without a prophet; there’s no instruction. Without the priest; there’s no functioning mishkan/temple/anything. And that’s exactly what Moshe’s instructed to do this week. Share responsibility with his brother. Spoiler alert: they end up working pretty well together. Aaron’s sons can’t say the same. But at least his sons go up in flames…together. On that morbid note: until next time. 

Re'eh

Re’eh

The parsha is called “seeing” which I thought was pretty cool. After the last couple weeks where we’ve been given a recap of what has happened after the Exodus from Egypt, this week we get an extended moral lesson on what is expected from the Jewish people (behavior-wise) as we finally prepare to enter Eretz Yisrael. What is it that we are seeing exactly? I like to think of the eyes as always looking forward and that’s exactly what is happening in this parsha. We’ve gone over the past and now it is time to set the groundwork for what exactly it means to a Jew living in the promised land.

So what do we learn about? We learn about kashrut. Kind of a big deal. Just how we eat which dictates our way of life as a people. We learn which animals are okay to eat and even where we should eat and how much to give as a sacrifice. Any observant Jew (that wasn’t previously observant) today can tell you how life changing keeping kosher is. Being mindful of the food that you put in your body is a 24/7 reminder of your commitment to Judaism. However, that wasn’t even the part of the parsha that I was most intrigued by…

This week we also learn how to behave towards fellow Jews. Moshe tells the people “Do not harden your heart or shut your hand against your brother the destitute. Rather you must open your hand repeatedly.” The context here is in reference to giving charity but there are other ordinances in this week’s parsha with a similar message; remember your fellow Jew and make sure they are all taken care of. Whether a Levite who has no inherited portion or a ger that you do not know. Even if you don’t trust him you must help him out if he is needy. What a principle! What other people have such moral obligations? It is a beautiful idea and would lead to a highly sympathetic and loving community… if it were actually followed.

What I see in the Jewish community is not just “community” but rather “communities” which isn’t always a bad thing. People are capable of having different thoughts about everything. The problem is that there is such mistrust and even hatred between the communities. We exclude each other, even sometimes hate each other so much as to turn our backs on a particular group and/or hope that something bad happens to them to justify our own thoughts. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I have all the answers on how varying groups of people can love and accept each other. I’m not even saying that I don’t hold reservations and prejudices against certain Jews. However, if we all worked to love every Jew for exactly who he is then think of what a community we could be, think of all that we could accomplish together. That was the original idea so maybe we can all work towards it even if it seems unrealistic and difficult. 

Eikev

Hashem would appear to be telling us this week that IF we observe the mitzvoth and act like good Jews THEN he will take care of us. IF we don’t, THEN we will have hard times (to put it lightly). Personally, I don’t subscribe to a systems of rewards and punishments as a motivator to do anything. If you instill in a child that the only reason to do well in school is to get a good grade then they won’t be learning for the sake of learning…they will learn only how to get good grades. Or if you tell them not do something for fear of punishment they will do the minimum in order to avoid punishment…not a good system. So you see how maybe this week’s parsha was a little off putting for me.

However, Rashi helped me out because he had a similar problem. Instead of reading “Eikev” as consequence, one could read it to mean “heel” (as in Yaakov who fell at the heels of Esau). How does reading “heel” help us at all? What a good question. Rashi explains it in a way I understood: basically Hashem wants us to pay attention even to the most minor of mitzvoth (the heels). To pay attention to these seemingly minor mitzvoth will lead to our spiritual fulfillment. Now that is an idea I can get behind.

It’s something that I struggle with…these minor commandments. I can get through life being nice to people, giving to charity, loving my neighbor, blah blah blah. However, for the life of me, I can’t seem to wash my hands before I eat bread every single time. Or really ever say blessings over food when it isn’t hamotzi at a big group meal or Shabbat or something. There are another million little things that I don’t do that I’m actively aware of but just choose not to for reasons of laziness or discomfort or WHATEVER excuse I use. I justify it in my head as being unnecessary. I understand why I need to be nice to my neighbor…it makes sense to me. The world would be a wonderful place if we were all kind and gentle and understanding toward one another. But what difference does it make if I bless the water I’m drinking??? Truthfully, I don’t know. I’ve heard beautiful answers/justifications but they still don’t push me to do it. And maybe this week’s parsha is telling me to. Just because I don’t necessarily understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t important. I don't understand 99.9 percent of anything. Hashem has probably got a better idea than I do. I’ll let you know how my minor observance thing goes. I’ll experiment this week. It’s a process. 

Va’etchanan

As with last week (and the next several weeks worth of parshiyot), we are once again hearing a recounting of the books of BaMidbar and Shemot. However, the book of Devarim feels more like Moshe Rabbenu’s final recounting before he passes away rather than an objective narrative. It’s what I imagine most older people would do/would want to do before they die; leave their version of their life lessons and stories behind to both try and teach the next generation some lessons as well as to make their point of view known one last time.  

Sometimes older people say really ignorant and hurtful things. And they also don’t really understand technology or anything new. This leads to the assumption that the elderly are to be dismissed and not to be paid attention to. It’s an unfortunate trend in our society and one that I think this week’s parsha speaks to. Up to this point we had seen Moshe Rabbenu stumble and fall. We have seen him at his weakest and we see him have to heartbreakingly admit to his followers that after all this time leading them through the desert, he would not be allowed to enter Eretz Yisrael. Yet, his final recounting gets an entire book dedicated to it. The final book of the Chumash, no less. Moshe gets the actual final word according to Hashem. That’s kind of a big deal. Maybe the Torah is trying to tell us something. Just kidding. OBVIOUSLY it is.

Interestingly enough, in this week’s parsha we get the words to the Shema prayer. This is probably heretical to say…but I’m going to say it anyway. When I read through Sefer Devarim I can’t help but imagine Moshe Rabbenu as a grandfather type figure. In his final words he gives Am Yisrael the quintessential Jewish prayer that all Jews must recite twice a day and preferably before they die. He leaves behind the words that have kept and unified the Jewish people for thousands of years! Not all of us can aspire to do the same with our last words!

Maybe the elderly have some quirky things to say…but in the end they have seen and experienced more than anybody else. That counts for something. They have made many more mistakes than we have and they are human just like the rest of us. But it is important to keep in mind that in the final retellings of their lives, they just might have a special message for us; a message that we may never get to hear again so try to take it somewhat seriously. 

Devarim

I'm a little late on this one...it was my last Shabbat on Kibbutz so I got busy:

The first time I read through this week’s parsha I thought to myself, “well…isn’t this familiar?” And that’s because it was. Devarim is essentially a slightly varied retelling of the Exodus story. That’s right. The same exact stories are retold right before (and immediately after) the death of Moshe Rabbenu. It’s easy enough to skim over the stories because we literally just read these events over the last couple of weeks so what’s the point of going over them again. However, there are slight variations in the retelling which give new perspective to the previous parshiot.

In the first parsha of the book of Devarim, we rehear the story of the twelve spies and their negative forecasting of the conquest of Eretz Yisrael. In BaMidbar we learn that the Israelites wish they had been left back in Egypt because clearly Hashem and brought them out here just to die. However, in the newest version of the story we learn that Israelites accuse Hashem of hating them. You read that correctly. The Israelites tell Moshe that Hashem hates them which was definitely not mentioned the first time around yet seems like kind of a big deal. Previously the Israelites just seemed frustrated and whiny (as they do throughout their journey). Now I could really feel the hurt in their plea. To accuse Hashem of hating them is extreme but also desperate.

There have been times in my life when I felt that people have hated me. There have even been times when I’ve told others that I hated THEM. It isn’t a word that is used lightly except maybe by children. To feel that your protector hates you when you are most vulnerable and to feel it strong enough bring the accusation to your mediator is intense.

I have made fun of Am Yisrael in this blog for their complaining ways and for their lack of trust in their proven leader. Yet, maybe I should have been more sympathetic to their plight. To feel hated by the one that is supposed to take care of you when you have no one else to turn to, is frightening. And lonely. And helpless. The path of our people to Eretz Yisrael was not simple. Is still not simple. It can be scary and we will feel alone sometimes. Through it all we have each other to fall back on. We build family and we have the traditions of our people that keep us united. Don’t get me wrong. Hashem has got our backs, too. It just can be a little difficult to accept and/or understand sometimes. 

Masei

“It’s not the destination it’s the journey.” I hate when people say that. I pretty much hate any cliché, to be fair. However, for the parsha called “Journeys” (Masei) this saying seemed highly relevant. Turns out it is a biblical cliché so what can you do.

The parsha starts out telling us about the 42 different “journeys” or encampments made along the way to the promised land. None of the plot points are mentioned except the death of Aaron on Mount Hor; just the names of the places that the Israelites stopped. It then goes on to enumerate the borders of the promised land and to remind everyone of their promised inheritance. Why do we need to be reminded of the various stops along the way? Why is each stop considered a journey unto itself? In my humble opinion, I think that the Torah is not telling us “it’s not the destination but the journey” bur rather it IS the destination AND the journey. Of course the destination is important, so important that we must be reminded of the exact borders of the land. But each stop along the way had its own significance and taught the people the lessons they needed to learn before they could even begin to think about entering Eretz Yisrael. It all happened for a reason; every single moment of the last 40 years of wandering.

Technically speaking, I am a citizen of the State of Israel. So what exactly is my destination if I am already here? Good question, reader. Very thoughtful. Living in the land of Israel is very important but we aren’t yet done. We aren’t done settling the land, first of all. There are many pieces of land that belong to Eretz Yisrael that aren’t currently a part of the State of Israel. Not to get political or anything (I understand that such a thing might currently be disastrous in the search for a peaceful Middle East…it’s just an ideal for the future of the Jewish people. Calm down, reader). We are still waiting for Moshiach and Beit haMikdash. We still have collective improvements to be made in the way the various factions of Jewish people talk to each other. Jews shouldn’t be fighting other Jews and yet I see and hear plenty of secular people act disgusted at the thought of a haredi Jew or I get called an unpleasant name by a religious Jew because my skirt doesn’t completely cover my knees. 

Not only do we have a collective need for communal harmony, but we also have an abundant need for bettering ourselves. I want so desperately to be at peace with myself and my past and to have everyone around me feel respected at all times. Those are my own personal goals and I am sure you have your own, too. Basically, to conclude, if you aren’t currently located in Eretz Yisrael you need to get here even if it takes you 42 journeys to do so. Better late than never. And if you are here, then you still have a mountain of work ahead of you. Our own geographic journeys are over but there is still a whole lot of work to do on the inside both individually and communally. 

Matot

I’ve spent the last week working on my kibbutz’s vineyard in 40 degree heat, getting dirty, working hard, settling Hashem’s land. I never thought of myself as a physical laborer but working outside in Eretz Yisrael is a whole other type of experience. I have never felt so productive and Zionistic. No matter how many times you are stung by wasps, or how sweaty and dehydrated you are, all you have to do is look out at Mount Gilboa or Shomron and realize that all your work is worth it. You are achieving the Jewish dream. All of this comes at a time when Eretz Yisrael finds itself at war with Hamas. Baruch Hashem for a Jewish state that protects its citizens and even goes out of its way to protect the people of Gaza that have the unfortunate circumstance of living in a piece of land controlled by a terrorist organization. Israel really is the promised land…so as I read this week’s parsha (Matot) I was confused as to why the tribes of Gad and Reuven asked to settle East of the Jordan rather than continue onwards to Canaan.

Well, I do understand a little bit. According to the Torah the lands that Gad and Reuven asked for were better for their cattle and would better suit their needs. We all want to take care of our families, I get that. Don’t get me wrong, it still seems absurd to make it that far and then stop right before the final destination and not inherit any of the land promised by Hashem. I would think that by this point in the journey the Israelites would finally understand that maybe Hashem really does know best as has been demonstrated countless times during their period of wandering and that anyone that has disagreed has suffered immensely...but that’s humanity for you. We are a stubborn bunch.

Moshe, being the just leader that he is, agrees to their request with a caveat; you may take the land that you want but only if you continue on with the Israelites to gain the land West of the Jordan as well and Reuven and Gad seem happy enough to go along with the plan. From this I feel it there is a message about communal versus individual needs and desires. The two tribes clearly felt staying in the East would be better for their own needs yet they agree to aid in the communal battle for Eretz Yisrael. Sometimes we have to put down our own selfish desires to help out our people, our community, the people that we needed and will need again in our lifetimes. Living life selfishly will get you nowhere in the end because everyone needs help sometimes and only within a community will you find the infrastructure for personal love and support. Of all communities, in the history of human existence, there haven’t been communities as successful as boosting one another up than that of Am Yisrael. Maybe I don’t understand why Gad and Reuven would want to settle outside of the land but I can respect that they, at least, put down their personal interests temporarily to fight for their people. 

Pinchas

Parshat Pinchas perplexes me every year. I simply do not know how to interpret it. For those that need to be updated, Pinchas was a zealous Jew that killed a Jewish man and Midianite woman for desecrating the Torah. Pinchas is seemingly rewarded with the “Covenant of Peace” which always him access to the priesthood. Surely Pinchas did the right thing for he stopped the plague and he stood up for Judaism…however zealotry is not a Jewish value. Never has been or never will be. Hashem and Hashem’s prophets can take decisive measure but giving everyone free reign to do what they feel is Hashem’s will is dangerous. Anyone can see how that could go wrong very quickly. So then WHY is Pinchas venerated?

Well…I read plenty of commentaries out there and they all have their theories but I found precisely none of them even remotely compelling. There is no way to distinguish Pinchas’ behavior from our own. Just the last couple of weeks the Jewish people have suffered at the hands of both Jewish and Muslim zealots. And I’m sure they all felt they were doing Hashem’s work just as Pinchas did. Nowhere else in the Torah do we find recommendations for zealousness so how exactly are we supposed to react to this week’s parshah? How do we explain it to our children? Do we encourage such strong emotional reactions? Condemn them? If we condemn them, how can we explain the reward given to him?

I will continue to search for an answer that is at least a little bit satisfying but for now I have to be content with having questions. I don’t pretend to understand everything and I am fine admitting that I don’t have all the answers which is precisely where I am at right now. Sometimes this is how life is. And by sometimes I mean pretty much all the time. No one has the answer to everything and even collectively we don’t have even 1% of the answers yet we must continue to live our lives. Next week we will move on to the next parsha and we’ll come back to Pinchas next year.

If you have any cool insight into the parsha it would be very welcome!

Balak

It has been a very sad week for the Jewish people. I really didn’t feel like writing a blog post; I just couldn’t think about anything besides the deaths of Eyal, Gil-ad and Naftali. Typically I don’t show emotions but the last couple of days I have felt upset, angry, confused…and reading the mindless chatter online doesn’t help either. Grieving is personal. When three teenagers die for no other reason than their Jewish blood, it hurts and I feel it. I feel it more than I know how to articulate. These boys were murdered for being Jewish, on their way home from yeshiva, so it only seems fair to continue my own Jewish journey with them in mind.  

The parsha is Balak in which Balak seeks the help from the gentile prophet Balaam in cursing the Jewish people. After some back and forth with Hashem, Balaam sets out and once he sees Am Yisrael the only words that come out of his mouth are not curses but some of the most beautiful blessings seen in all of the Torah. So beautiful, in fact, that we repeat Balaam’s words every time we enter a synagogue. “מַה טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ, יַעֲקֹב; מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ, יִשְׂרָאֵל” “How goodly are your tents, Jacob, your dwellings, Israel.” Eventually Balak gets his way in that Balaam gets the Moabite women to “distract” the Israelite men…but in the end Am Yisrael is in Eretz Yisrael and thriving. Balak and Balaam get a minor victory but, as usual, the Jewish people live on.

Some argue that Balaam fully intended on cursing the Israelites and Hashem literally put the blessings in his mouth by force. I don’t see it as such. These past two and a half weeks have been an emotional nightmare here in Eretz Yisrael. Yet through it all I have felt the utmost pride and respect for our people. When one of our own is in danger we stick together and we work hard to bring an end to the suffering. Today, thousands of people traveled to Modi’in to attend the funeral and everyone else watched from home. We all feel as though we knew these boys, as if members of our own family were taken. Where else do you see this? This will to survive, to protect each other? I argue that it is not to be found anywhere else in history. Do we always agree? Absolutely not. Is it always pretty? Of course not. When it comes down to survival and our love for each other, however, the connection and the atmosphere are indescribable. I truly believe that Balaam saw this with his own eyes and that’s why nothing but blessings came forth. Balaam saw what the world is seeing now; the incredible might of the Jewish people. 

Chukat

Parshat Chukat can be a little depressing if you think too hard about it. Moshe Rabbeinu strikes the rock in order to produce water and from this seemingly innocent act he is banished from Eretz Yisrael. Imagine you’ve led a bunch of irritating Israelites for years in the desert and because of striking a rock rather than just telling the rock to produce water, you cannot enter the promised land. Personally, I would’ve just lied down and died right there. I would’ve been done with the whole mission…but that’s just one of many reasons I will not be the leader of Am Yisrael anytime soon.

What exactly was wrong with striking the rock? Commentators have long said that Moshe disobeyed Hashem and made it seem as though HE was bringing forth the water (rather than the actual, divine source). I agree, that’s not cool to take credit for miracles. But Moshe clearly had no intention of doing that and he didn’t deliberately disobey Hashem either…

This brings me to my moral of the story: your intentions don’t always matter. If you say or do something hurtful it doesn’t matter if you meant to do it or not…you still hurt somebody. The end result is the same! That’s not to say intention plays NO role in our lives. Having good intentions often leads us to have good, positive behaviors. However, it isn’t enough to just not have ill will. We need to be aware of all of our actions and how they affect everyone around us. There are consequences for our actions even if our intentions were in the right place. Unlike Moshe Rabbeinu, I have the privilege of living in the holy land, but if I don’t think about my actions and how they affect and/or come across to other people then there will still be repercussions. Sorry…that sounded really menacing. I just meant to think before you act. Pretty sure that is what the parsha is telling us this week…but I’m no expert.  

Korach

*I should start by warning you all that I’ve had a bad week. My views on humanity should be taken with a grain of salt.*

People can be fairly terrible. Korach’s antics don’t exactly disprove my theory. Korach questioned Moses and Aaron’s right to lead. Okay, fine. That is fair enough, I guess. One should never settle for their lot in life. And that’s coming from someone with very little ambition. What makes Korach an enemy, in my book, is his jealousy. Korach didn’t just question the natural order…he wanted to usurp the leadership. He wanted the power for himself. AND he questioned Hashem (see entry last week…and pretty much every week for my ideas on punishment for questioning divine will). Basically there was no way this guy was coming out the story alive. He just messed up too much (sorry, spoiler alert).

Let’s get back to jealousy since we’ve been over the sin of not trusting in Hashem. Jealousy is a staunchly selfish emotion. There is no motive for jealousy other than wanting what you think is good for you with no consideration whatsoever for anyone else. Korach didn’t care about what was best for Am Yisrael; he just wanted the power and the glory that Moses and Aaron were given by Hashem. And for that he was swallowed by the Earth.

If I was swallowed by the Earth every time I got jealous…well, I suppose after one time I wouldn’t really have another opportunity. I think you know what I’m getting at, in any case. Unfortunately people are like this. We get jealous. There is just no way around it. I don’t generally like people. I don’t trust anyone (yes, that includes you whoever reads this). It is our universal selfish inclinations that causes us to hurt each other. And for what? To move up from the Levites to assume the position of leader?

99% of people will never get to be leader but we all have the ambition to move up at least one rung of the social ladder. Sometimes people want to move up in order to help their families but for the most part we lie to ourselves about this. Moving up is not always better. We just want to prove to ourselves that we are worth the same as those “above” us…that we deserve all the same glory even at the expense of our own family and friends. Maybe anytime someone attempted to selfishly usurp power they were sucked into the ground then jealousy would be obsolete. Probably not, though. Selfishness feels too innate to be re-learned through punishment and consequence. I don’t know.

For now I suppose we should just attempt to suppress our own selfish thoughts and actions even if is difficult since no one else is doing it. Life wouldn’t be fun (read: interesting) it if weren’t difficult. At least that is what I’m telling myself to retain my sanity. On that note, have a great Shabbat and if the moshiach doesn’t come then have a great week as well. 

Shlach

We all trust some people more than others. I, for one, trust nobody and you may trust 99% of the people around you. It’s normal, I think. Actually, I take that back. I tend to misjudge normal by a wide margin so if I think something is normal…it most likely isn’t. Humanity is hard to understand. Anyways, in parshat Shlach we are encountered with some major trust issues. The 12 spies come back and give conflicting reports about the land. 10 spies say there are giant enemies that will surely destroy them. Two spies disagree. The wandering Israelites FREAK OUT. They start wishing they were back in Egypt. “Why did Hashem bring us out of this land just to be killed here???” That’s not a direct quote. It’s my version of the story. Hashem dooms them to forty more years in the desert and tells them they will never enter the promised land.

Don’t the Israelites complaints seem justified? I wouldn’t want to end my desert wandering with a hopeless battle in which I will surely be killed. Plus, the Israelites (while constantly complaining) have had some trials and tribulations on the way. They seem to deserve a break, in my humble opinion.

The problem wasn’t with their logic. The problem was with their trust. When Hashem tells you that the land is yours to conquer…you should probably do it. And by probably, I mean definitely. Hashem has provided for them the entire time. They saw amazing miracles, received the Torah, had manna falling from heaven; what exactly does Hashem need to do for them to let go and just trust that it will be okay?? As mentioned above, trust is a concept I have a hard time with. I really have no idea how to let go and let someone else help out. I’m an independent person and I don’t believe that anyone else is capable of doing the right thing. And I have an amazing amount of stress and inability to sleep at night because of it. But…I’m working on it.

 Letting go and believing that God will take care of you is an important skill. One that the Israelites never learned and were punished severely for. We don’t have to live with all burdens on our shoulders all of the time and in this week’s parsha we learn just how unfortunate our future will be if we don’t just chill out. That’s right. The message of this week’s parsha, from my perspective, is to chill out. Hashem has got your back. 

Behaalotecha

I’m going to be upfront with you…I had some trouble with this parsha. It could be the lack of sleep from Shavuot and/or all the attention paid to the story of Ruth rather than thinking about the parsha. Or those could all just be excuses. The parsha this week has a lot going on. Not only does it have a whole lot happening but there isn’t an easily connected thematic connection to all of them. For example, ordering Aaron to light the menorah followed by whiny Israelites that want meat to eat, and ending with Miriam getting leprosy is not the most logical of plot lines. But, it’s Torah not a storybook. I guess we all will just have to deal with it.

Like me, the Israelites in the desert complain. A lot. They just can’t be satisfied with anything. For the sake of poetic justice I will say the first paragraph of this post was done simply to make a point and to show you all what a complaining Israelite looks like.  Well, Moshe finally seems to break down and tells Hashem that he just can’t take it anymore. Luckily for us, Hashem tells him to snap out of it and a compromise involving 70 elders is made. For a minute my ego got the best of me and I felt some supremacy over Moshe Rabbeinu. “He’s showing weakness!” I thought. Well, I would never go so far as to ask for death. Come on, Moshe Rabbeinu. Get your act together.  To be fair, it is a trait unique to Judaism that our major figures all have distinctly human moments and weaknesses. They don’t come across as perfect God-like beings, not relatable, and untouchable.

However, there is a line between us and them all the same. Miriam makes the mistake of crossing that line (the same mistake I made as I read the dialogue between Moshe and Hashem). She tells Aaron about her concerns regarding Moshe’s marital life. She feels he spends too much time talking to Hashem instead of taking care of his wife. For such chutzpa she gets inflicted with leprosy for seven days. To be totally honest, I still don’t understand why Aaron doesn’t get punished. He also takes part… I’ll let that go for now. Chabad commentator, Chaya Sarah Silberberg offers up the following answer for why exactly Miriam got such a harsh punishment for voicing real concerns; Miriam should’ve known better than to question Moshe. Moshe was the people’s intermediary with Hashem…did she really not think that he knew what he was doing?

Having heroes that seem like us is important; but there are boundaries. There should be boundaries in all our relationships. Not everyone is exactly the same, not all our relationships are the same. My relationship with my mother is different than my relationship with my teacher. My relationship with my teacher is different than my relationship with my friend. Relationships between men and women are different. This was Miriam’s crime and I know it is something I need to be more mindful of. So thanks Miriam. While I don’t suffer from leprosy confusing the status of others has gotten me into other kinds of trouble.

I have plenty more to say but I want to go eat ice cream now. So..until next week. 

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.