Bamidbar: Following a standard

This is a rare week.  The weekly Torah portion lined up exactly with the portion we were studying in my wondrous,  weekly Torah class, “Kaftor v’ferach.”  (We named ourselves, of course!)  We started Bamidbar actually a couple of weeks ago, but there’s a lot in there, and we tend to take our time.

And this is the week we all gather (again) at Sinai, to remember and relive the moment we got our “marching orders”, our “Consititution”, our “community blueprint”, our “marriage contract with God”, our “pathway” of life….the Torah.  It is Shavuot and Memorial Day, too…both moments of the power of memory.

This was a rare week for Chicago, too, because as the whole world knows, NATO met recently.  The preparation (at least the ones we mere citizens witnessed) started a couple of weeks ago too ,what with the road closings, changes in train schedules and the drum beat of media coverage, the signs and banners, marchers and influx of people who had things to say.

Which brings me back to these first few chapters of the book of Bamidbar, which is often translated as “Numbers” (because of the census taken right away), but what really means “wilderness.”

If you look at some of the photos from this last weekend,  there are lots of people carrying signs.  Regardless of whether or not you agree with them, people spent the better part of several days coming to a place, organizing themselves, identifying themselves with signs and banners, and marching behind them to make themselves heard.

And now to Bamidbar, and the work of Kaftor v’ferach, my class.  In the first chapters of the book, we read in great detail of the way the Israelite camp is set up.  Remember, there were twelve sub-groups of the Israelites, largely based on the sons of Joseph.  They are all assigned specific places in the camp.  The encampment forms a protective barrier around the Mishkan, the Tabernacle.  The Mishkan itself is surrounded by those on the “inner circle”, literally:  the priests and the Levites, whose job it is to take care of the Mishkan, and they are the only ones who can get close to it without getting in trouble (like, dying.)    The rest of the tribes were assigned places on the north, south, east and west ends of the camp.  The encampment is more than a tent layout.  When they marched, they moved as a community, leaving behind the Mt. Sinai experience, and heading out into the vast, unknown wilderness.  The group moved this way as a fighting force, protecting the most precious item in the middle (the Tabernacle).  And they all had banners and flags.  “Ish al diglo” “Every man had his standard” – his flag, banner, like a tribal logo. (Num: 2:2)

As you can imagine, many commentators have explored the camp layout to find explanations, metaphors, insight, etc.  Rashi (11^th c France) says, “These signs were indeed ensigns. Each standard had a colored flag hanging from it, and the colors were all different….this way, everyone could recognize his own standard.”  Other commentators used the layout as metaphor for forces of nature, the body (with the Mishkan, the heart, in the middle), or Kabbalistic emanations of God, a military formation, and more.

The flags were something the people could get behind…literally.  They were community-builders, because people identified with what was on the flag.  So, too, did the marchers and protesters in Chicago last week.

They put their thoughts on a piece of posterboard and marched out to show the world what they believed in.  And it wasn’t just the protesters.  The police marched out with badges and insignias, too.  So did the NAtO guests.  “Ish al diglo”  - everyone had their standard.  They believed in what they were doing, what they were following, what was guiding them, just as the flag of the Israelite tribes guided the people in the wilderness.

What would be on a flag that you would follow? What standard identifies your community?   What image guides you through the wilderness, ready to fight to protect what is at the core of your community?

Behar: Jubilee!

Thou shalt re-boot your economy every fifty years.

Ok, it doesn’t really say that at the end of Leviticus, but that’s sort of what’s going on.  In Behar,  we encounter the Jubilee year.  “You shall count off seven weeks of years – seven times seven – so that the period of seven weeks of years gives you a total of forty-nine years.  Then you shall sound the horn loud….and you shall hallow the fiftieth year…Jubilee!” (Lev. 25:8-12)

The rules of the Jubilee year are such that, frankly, it probably wasn’t ever followed literally, and certainly not for the last couple of thousand years.  It’s not just that the crops grown on the land can’t be harvested, but all the land that has been sold in the last 49 years reverts back to its original owner.  Presumably, in a tribal economy as the Torah describes, the main reason to sell one’s land would be because of hard times.  If you have to sell, ok, but pricing will depend on how soon that Jubilee year is coming up (the closer you are,the lower the price, and vice versa; it’s about how many harvests are left on that land that the owner can benefit from.)

What’s interesting though, is the Torah isn’t content to set forth realtor relations.  The rest of the laws surrounding Jubilee have to do with “what-ifs”:   what if your neighbor is on hard times and has to sell land to pay his bills?  Then, if no one from the community comes forward to help him out, then  what do you do?  What do you do if your neighbor is basically so poor that s/he’s in indentured servitude – can’t ever get out of debt in the foreseeable future.  Lend money to help, but not at unreasonable rates of repayment.  And that servitude will end at the Jubilee year.  Done. You can’t keep someone in debt forever.  …Jubilee year: reboot.

In other words, be fair. Be just in your dealings.  Don’t mess around with prices, or take advantage of timing in the market, to the point where your neighbor is even more irreparably harmed.  “Holy living” is in business practices, too.

What I see here is a guiding principle that at least every couple of generations, we are charged with taking a good look at ourselves, our economy, and the status of our neighbors, whether “kinsman or alien.”  Who is in need?  Who needs to be “redeemed”, helped out, given a hand?  “If your kinsman, being in hard straits, comes under your authority (indentured servant), and you hold him as though a resident alien, let him live by your side” (v. 35)  Rashi’s comment on that verse is:  “Do not let him fall any further to a state where it will be difficult to set him back up on his feet. “  Even back in the 12^th century, Rashi knew that was always the more expensive route.

Gee. What can we learn from this?  I just got back from Washington DC and saw the Roosevelt memorial.  Carved into stone there is this quote:   “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much. It’s whether we provide enough for those who have too little.”    There’s another Rashi comment that would go along with Franklin; the text posits, “If a man has no redeemer for him…” and Rashi pointedly asks, “Is there any such thing as a Jew who has no one to redeem for him?”  Granted, Rashi was asking the question in a Jewish-centric community, but expanding on that leads us to ask what kind of a society do we have when a person in need  would be that alone?  How can we reflect these kinds of values in our economic system?

It’s time to bring a Jubilee-feeling into our economy,  not in an unfeasible way, but with some of the same guiding principles:  awareness for those in need, honest and fair ways of helping, and never forgetting the dignity of our neighbors.

Emor: Bones

“These are My set times.”  (Lev. 23:3)  This phrase  shows up during this week’s Torah portion, Emor, as we read of God’s favorite holidays, Shabbat, Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot, Yom Kippur.  On each of them, we are told to rest, take a complete rest, do no work, on the day, on that very day, …..doesn’t all of this say the same thing?

Sometimes the Torah says “etzem hayom” , (that very day, or that same day) sometimes it says, “shabbaton” (like a Sabbath of Sabbaths?) and sometimes it  just says,  kol malachta lo ta’asu  - “don’t do your work.”    What does any of that mean?  What does it mean to do work, or rather, not do work?  What’s the difference between rest and a complete rest?  What’s the difference between resting and doing no work?

Lucky for you, others have asked those very questions.  Torah commentators pretty much agree there’s no unnecessary word in the text, which means if you can’t figure out what a word means or why it’s there, it’s an  opportunity for creativity – an invitation to delve deep and develop midrash (commentary).  Biblical commentators pull in all sorts of other examples where a word  is used to establish proof-texts,  sort of like using the whole set of Biblical and post Biblical writings as a hypertext.  So, strap on your language-packs for a minute, and follow me.

Both Ramban (Nachmanides, 13^th c Spain) and my own Torah class (Kaftora v’ferach, 21^st c Northbrook) looked at these questions.   Here are some of the ideas we discussed (Ramban and my class….we’re tight.)

There is a difference between rest and not working.  The text is designating compartments in time, determining what can be done, or not done, in each compartment.  Just as certain behavior is appropriate for certain places, like the Tabernacle or your great-aunt’s  dinner table,  certain behavior is appropriate for certain designated time slots.  God’s saying, “These holidays are designated time slots; behave accordingly.”  Ramban comments on Lev 23:24 “You shall observe a complete rest….shabbaton.”  It’s not enough to  refrain from anything that looks like it might have been done to build the Tabernacle (the guideline of what constitutes work),because there’s plenty you could be doing that would technically not be called “work” but looks like work, i.e. “one could toil all day at weighing produce, filling barrels with wine, moving things from place to place, buying and selling, even loading one’s animals…if there’s a wall around the city, all these things would be (legally) permissible” (JPS Miqraot Gedolot – Vayikra)  Doesn’t sound like a day of rest to me, does it?  That’s why, Ramban says, the word is shabbaton…complete rest.  Rest and relaxation, true rest.

Letter of the law vs spirit of the law?  I think so. I think we take Ramban’s commentary to heart each time we look beyond the legalese, and get to the intention of the matter.  How is this holiday to be acknowledged?  How is my “rest” to be acknowledged?  Have I observed and guarded the designated compartment of time that the Torah identifies?  Have I then, made it “holy” – separate, unique, special? Or have I blurred the distinctions between any day and that day?

Later on in this section, we saw the word “etzem” referring to Yom Kippur –not to do work on etzem hayom – that very day.  Why this extra word?   Another meaning of the word etzem is “bone”, like a skeletal structure.  Kaftor v’ferach, my Tuesday Torah group, expanded upon that idea.  Bones give the body a framework; without a skeletal structure, the body would collapse.  It’s not just the holiday itself that has a structure and framework to it , although that’s true.   We need structure, individually and as a community.  These holidays , Shabbat, Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot, Yom Kippur are each etzem, bones, the framework upon which our time is compartmentalized, and the community’s time as well.  We fill in around the skeleton with the lifeblood of our history and passion, our muscles are strengthened each time we stretch to find new meaning in ritual or teachings, and our lungs are filled with fresh air each time we breathe in new understanding.

The stronger the bones, the stronger the body.  These won’t be the “bones” of an ancient, non-existent people, but the very real, very now core of individuals and a community that is living and thriving. 

Acharei Mot: Finding a new scapegoat

I can’t be the only person to have seen the connection between this week’s parasha, Acharei Mot, and last week’s historic decision by Israel’s Schechter Rabbinical Assembly  (which corresponds to the Conservative Movement here in America), to finally accept gay and lesbian individuals into the seminary.    In this week’s parasha, we read the infamous Leviticus 18:22 text, which has long been read as a prohibition, indeed, an “aveira” (abomination) against male homosexuality.

I know I’m not the only person whose first thoughts were, “It’s about time.”  The US Conservative Movement has been encouraging this ruling for years, as have many non-Orthodox Israeli Jews who, along with Conservative and other Progressive Jews around the world.

You can read about the Masorti Seminary decision here  (http://bit.ly/IaFswd), and I’m sure you can search for much more written on the topic.  Right now, I’d like to focus on another connection between this text, this action, and another piece of text from the Torah portion.   Earlier in the portion, we read of Aaron’s offerings on behalf of himself and the community.  Basically, Aaron is to take a bull, offer it up on his own family’s behalf, and shpritz some of the blood on the Sanctuary itself, thereby purging it of the community’s transgressions.  Then Aaron has to take the two goats, and let fate decide which one is for God, (read: slaughtered) and which one is for Azalzel, to be sent out to die in the wilderness. But first,  Aaron has to put his hands on the wilderness-goat so he can  lay all the Israelites’ transgressions on it. It was the original scapegoat.

In the Jewish community, it has taken a long time to begin purging the homophobic actions of many of our leaders.  There is so much more to be done.  The continued mis-treatment, alienation, marginalization and degradation of gay and lesbian Jews still goes on, particularly in the Orthodox traditions.  I’m certainly not saying all Orthodox Jews are homophobic.   Indeed, the modern Orthodox movement is to be acknowledged for recognizing the issue (http://bit.ly/v0w4jW) and trying to reconcile difficult, uncomfortable Halachic quandries.   But to the extent that Aaron, in a leadership position as High Priest, caretaker of the communal “soul”, was responsible for purging transgressions from within the community,  so are our leaders responsible.   The Schechter Rabbinical Assembly in Israel has taken a big step towards that end.

Aaron’s offering of expiation is in two parts:  his household, and then his community.  Our atonement for how the gay and lesbian community has been treated must be offered the same way: look at our own household’s actions, and then offer up atonement for how the rest of the community has behaved towardin a way that will begin to remove the transgression of hatred from our midst.   Acharei Mot means “after death.”  Aaron picks up after the deaths of his two sons who apparently did something drastically wrong in the Sanctuary.  Much rabbinic ink is used to try and explain what it was, and for many, it’s hard to imagine what they could have done that was worth being killed for.  We too, must pick up after too many deaths of (mostly) our sons and daughters, for whom it is even less clear what they have done “wrong”.  We can begin to heal after those deaths by halting the hate that caused them.

It’s interesting that both of the goats Aaron uses in the Sanctuary die; one by his own action, the other in a passive way.  The same can be said for the effects of homophobia in our society. Some people act out their hatred, and actively slaughter a soul.  Others remain passive, but still “allow” the goat to die.

As Aaron did, let’s lay our hands on an offering, transferring our intolerance,  lightening our community’s load by purging it from our midst, following the example of leaders who are opening their arms to include and welcome.  The Seminary has made a bold decision. Perhaps it’s belated, perhaps it’s just the right time, but either way, our community is uplifted by it.

Tazria/Metzora – Walking the Line

Jewish ritual purity….sin….Facebook

One of these things is not like the other…..and  no, it’s not Facebook.  My friend Miriam Brousseau , Social Media Queen and singer in Stereo Sinai, posted something the other day that got me thinking, as she so often does.  She was giving a talk about  Social Media and Jewish life, and was trying to think of a way to relate some Jewish text to the topic.  This week, the Torah portion is actually a double portion, Tazria/Metzora,  and it’s all about skin diseases and states of impurity.  Perfect!

So what’s the connection to social media?  First of all, let’s just dispel the notion right now that this section has anything to do with black magic and needing to be exorcised, to get “the devil” out of one’s body.  A person with the kinds of skin diseases mentioned in the text  is not touched by demons, it’s not about being contagious in that sense, or about  internalizing or evidencing the presence of evil spirits.  That’s just not Jewish thinking.

What’s going on in Tazria/Metzora is a ritual issue, not a health issue.  People, like houses (that’s in Metzora…trust me, it’s a little out there, but I digress) can be in a state of tamei (impurity), as compared to a state of tahor (purity).   All of us dance between the two , between tamei and tahor, throughout our lives, and when we are in that state of tamei, there are always things that can be done to change our status. (It usually involves some water, doing laundry, and living outside the camp for awhile.)  No one lives in one or the other status exclusively, because no one is inherently and continuously  “sinful” or “impure” or “bad” , or “perfect” or “good” or “holy”….again, not a Jewish thought.  Rather, there are things you do, or things/people with whom you come into contact that will change your status.

It all boils down to discernment.  Leviticus, and especially these chapters, is a book about making distinctions between the tahor (pure, as in close to God) and the tamei (impure, as in further away from God.)  Leviticus asks us to pay close attention to the details of our lives.  We must discern, distinguish, delineate.

Which brings us to Social Media.

Social media in and of itself, like the human body, is not an impure thing.  It is not evil.  It is not inherently bad.  But it can be disorganized and chaotic.  God brought order to the universe through Creation, by separating, ordering, and organizing the elements of Creation.  Leviticus brings order to our daily lives through discernment between what is tamei  and tahor.  We are taught to make boundaries, distinguish and choose.  My friend Sherrie added some insight:  Another aspect of your state of ritual purity involves who you “give yourself” to…who gets access to your body, and when.  Some things are meant to be private, yet we know how often people are swept up in the technology, losing sight of those particular boundaries.

Boundaries – a good guide for bringing order to the chaos that is the Internet.  Social media  can be used for good or for ill, and it takes almost constant discernment to tell which is which.

Facebook can bring you good wishes for your birthday, or tell you about an important article to read, or it can bring lashon harah (slanderous speech), destruction,  and  pain.   Twitter can take up space in the universe with inane comments about waiting for coffee, or with sharing information  causes, speakers, editorials, etc.  Sure, sometimes it’s just fun to watch toddlers eat spaghetti, or play virtual scrabble.  And I’m the last person to dismiss the importance of keeping in touch with friends, sharing pictures of our babies or prom-goers, or giving virtual hugs to those in need of support.    But, it wouldn’t hurt to adopt a Leviticus-like filter  when it comes to the endless streams of images and data that come at us through social media.  If Tazria/Metzora can teach us anything about our social media – what we post, share, divulge… perhaps it is that we need to be aware of what side of the tamei/tahor line we are on.

Number our days….number those whom we remember

For so many of us, the number “Six Million” is burned into our heads from our earliest days.  It’s an unfathomable number, though projects like the Paper Clip Project tries to make it concrete for us.

But the number of unfathomable deaths, the number of those who died because they were different, marginalized by propaganda and hatred, is much bigger:  11 million.  Eleven million people died in the blackness of that period:  artists, political activists, gay men and women, those with physical and mental “imperfections”….the blackness tried to build a world in which everyone was the same, where differences were dangerous.

Think of all the people you know.  Is your personal world filled with all the same kind of people? I can’t imagine a world where everyone is the same.  Differences make my personal world vibrant, alive, interesting….and frustrating, too.  But never boring.

God didn’t create boring.  God loves diversity – just look around!  It is we humans who can be uncomfortable with what’s new and different.

In honor of the eleven million, cultivate diversity in your life.  In honor of the eleven million, be vigilant against marginalization of those who are different.  Putting people on the margins, on the “outside” makes sets up “them” and “us”, and then we can so easily become blind to the “them.”  When you can’t see someone, it’s so easy to forget how to care about them.

Eyes open, hearts open, in honor of the eleven million. Never again. For anyone. Anywhere. Ever again.

Shemini: Foolish decisions

My son got his driver’s permit this week.  Naturally, he’s very excited and nervous; so am I.  I’m also thinking about another couple of sons, Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron the High Priest.   This week’s parasha is Shemini, one of the few narratives in the how-to manual that is Leviticus.  Aaron, Moses’ older brother, has been ordained as High Priest of the Israelites, along with his four sons.  It was a fairly ornate ceremony, involving all sorts of sacrificial offerings and new clothes.  There is a new dynamic unfolding here, one that sets up the relationship between God, the Priests, and the rest of the Israelites.  There is definitely a palpable change in the air around the Israelite camps.

It was the eighth day, the culminating event, installing the newly-established High Priests into the newly-built Tabernacle.  It was a big deal. In fact, after Aaron performed all the required sacrifices, God even showed up in full glory to appear before all the people, after which, all the people shouted and fell on their faces.

What happened next is clearly stated; why it happened is up for interpretation.  The facts are these:  Aaron’s sons, “Nadav and Avihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Adonai alien (strange) fire, which God had not instructed them to do.  And fire came forth from Adonai and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of Adonai.” (Lev. 10:1-2)

What?  The sons were incinerated because they brought an offering of their own?  What was the “strange fire?”  So what if they did?    Did they deserve death?

Some commentators say it was because they were drunk in the holiest spot.  Some say it was because they weren’t dressed right, as was described in the instructions.  Some say it was because they weren’t married and had no children, because they thought they were so caught up in themselves, no woman was good enough for them.  Some say they were just trying to be spontaneous, trying to recreate the glorious moment of God’s presence in the Tabernacle, and they went too far, even though their intentions were good.  All of these commentaries come down to the young men were just being foolish.  They made a really bad decision.  And they died in a horrible, tragic fire-flash.

And this is what leads me back to my own son, the almost-new driver.  Young people do incredibly foolish things.  And all too often, their foolishness leads to catastrophe.  It may seem like Nadav and Avihu’s punishment didn’t fit their crime, but they died nevertheless.  Young drivers everywhere make foolish decisions on what to do behind the wheel, whom and how many to have in their cars, bad planning, etc.  And the punishment of a catastrophe certainly doesn’t fit the crime of foolishness, but so many die nevertheless.

Maybe Aaron didn’t have the talk with his sons.  Maybe he didn’t say, “Look, sons, this is all very new and exciting.  But there’s a lot of responsibility that comes with this privilege.  Especially at the beginning, as we learn to become comfortable with our roles and our jobs, we have to do things by the book.  Be careful. Be thoughtful. Stay within the lines.”

And maybe Aaron did say those things to his sons, but they didn’t get it.  That happens,too.  Sometimes, no matter what we do as parents, we can’t get through to our kids.  And even if we convey our hard-earned wisdom, things happen that don’t make sense.

I still find it hard to accept that what Nadav and Avihu did that was so bad that they needed to die for it.  That’s the parent in me speaking.  But I can also see a lesson, if not comfort, here:  if they were drunk, if they were puffed up with their own importance, if they were being spontaneous – those things may not, in and of themselves, be punishable by death.  But any of them can bring you too close to someplace you shouldn’t be, too close to Source of Life and Death, too close to leave safely, too close to be able to walk away.

Now, dear son, let’s get into the car.  Here’s what you always need to do. It may seem like a little thing, but it’s important, so first…..