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.