Behar Bechukotai

This week’s Parsha, the double portion Behar-Bechukotai, begins with the laws of Shemitah.  “…the land shall observe a Sabbath of the lord.  Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield.  But in the seventh year the land shall have a Sabbath of complete rest... (Leviticus 25:2-4).
This idea of of working for 6 years in order to take care of our needs, but resting on the seventh is a direct parallel to the idea of Sabbath.  With the weekly Sabbath, we are told that for six days you may work, but the seventh day of the week we must cease to work.
In regards to Sabbath, in order to have a pleasant/restful day, a lot of work has to be done in preparation.  We have to prepare our food before the seventh day begins, prepare the house, prepare ourselves; all this work needs to be done in order for a positive Shabbat experience to occur.  Once the seventh day begins, we are no longer permitted to do any work.  Similarly, with the shemittah laws, in order for the people to survive the sabbatical year, they had to have been preparing for it the six previous years.
The notion of working for a designated amount of time in order to be prepared for something later becomes a very important idea in Jewish mysticism and how the mystics understand the idea of the relationship between this world and the world to come.  Some Jewish mystical traditions understand the duration of the world to be 7000 years long.  For 6000 years the world is preparing itself, and during the 7000th year, the world will reap the benefits of the work done in the previous 6000 years.  Whether we understand these years to be literal or not, the idea is a direct parallel to the Sabbath of the week and the Sabbath of the land.
Our job in this world is not to be primarily focused on the short-term, instant benefit of our work.  Everything we do should be viewed as an investment for the long-term benefit of the world, and ourselves as inhabitants of that world.  As you reap, so shall you sow.  The way in which we view the purpose and benefit of the work we do in our lives should always reflect the idea that we need to prepare the future, and not just be motivated by our own selfish short term benefit.  This idea is integral to the Jewish experience of space and time, as reflected in the laws of how treat the land (the shemittah – agricultural sabbatical), and how we treat the working week (the weeky Sabbath).  Judaism teaches us to think about preparing ourselves and our world for long term sustenance.   

Parshat Acharei Mot - Kedoshim

This week, since this year is not a leap year, we read two torah portions, Acharei-Mot and Kedoshim.  In the second portion, Kedoshim, God directs the Jewish people to be holy, and the rest of the Parsha is a list of the laws which make us holy.  One verse that I would like to discuss (19:11-12) reads, “You shall not steal, and you shall not deny falsely, and you shall not lie to one another.  And you shall not swear falsely by My Name, thereby desecrating the Name of your God – I am the Lord.”  Rashi, the medieval commentator suggests: “If you have stolen, your end will be to deny falsely; and then your end will be to lie; and then your end will be to swear falsely.”
This idea that one negative action will lead to another negative action is prevalent in Jewish thought and moral literature, not just in reference to the effects of stealing.  The idea being, that once you do something that is wrong, you have become desensitized to the inherent negativity of that act.  Initially, one’s ability to sense the wrongness of the behavior acts as a deterrent, but when that deterrent is no longer effective, the boundaries of acceptable behavior have moved for that person. When we habituate ourselves to negative acts, we no longer see them as being negative.  And, when we are habituated to doing negative acts, the human psyche needs to justify that behavior.  Eventually, we start to see the negative act as something positive, thereby negating the possibility of change.  This verse is teaching us the important impact our actions have on ourselves.  We are defined by what we do, therefore we should be careful that we are comfortable with the statement that our actions make about us.  There is a relevant rabbinic statement from Pirkei Avot (4:2), “A mitzvah leads to another mitzvah, and a sin leads to another sin.”  Nothing that we do happens in a vacuum.  This is true with regard to the way in which our actions affect others as well as ourselves.  
It is for this reason why the verse ends with the words, “I am the Lord.”  This phrase repeats itself throughout this week’s Parsha.  Its purpose in almost every case is to remind us that even when no one else sees what we will do, we still need to be honest with ourselves about our actions and their consequences.  In this case, it is often hard to see where we have convinced ourselves (and sometimes others) that what we are doing is right, simply in order to justify the behavior for our own conscience.  Nevertheless, no matter how many other people we fool with those justifications, when we fool ourselves, we end up the loser.    

Weekly Torah Portion: Tazria-Metzorah

In this week’s Parsha, Parshat Tazria/Metzorah, we are taught about tzara’at, a spiritual sickness which had physical symptoms.  If a person would get a certain type of blemish, they would be taken to the priest for a diagnosis.  The verse (13:2) makes a point of saying that they were taken, and the Ibn Ezra (Medieval Torah commentator) points out that the person was taken to the Priest even against his or her own will. 

The afflicted person was taken to the Priest and not to a doctor, because the cause of the disease was spiritual in nature, not physical.  The diagnosis therefore needed to reflect the spiritual fault, rather than physical manifestation of the disease.  Our tradition teaches us that this disease was usually a punishment for interpersonal misconduct, and speaking negatively about other people.
This type of behavior is one of the most difficult to avoid, it is hard to refrain from speaking about people in general, and it is even harder to resist listening to gossip when it is being spoken around us.  We are often tempted to believe that just speaking about someone is not harmful at all.  We tell ourselves, that we’re not actually doing anything wrong because the action is done through speech, there is nothing tangible, we don’t see how it is harmful.
The laws of tzara’at teach us that everything we do has an effect, even if we don’t see it.  Furthermore, sometimes the way in which we treat others is offensive to the people around us.  No one trusts a person who is known to be a gossip.  The way in which gossiping affects our relationships is reflected in the laws of tzara’at as well.  We may be oblivious to how the way in which we treat others is reflected in our personalities, but other people are not.  Therefore, even if the person who had been afflicted with tzara’at would not go to the priest for a diagnosis on their own, other people had the right to force them to go against their will.
No one likes being around such extreme negativity, but unfortunately the people who are being the negative force in the community are not always aware of what they are doing, so it becomes a communal obligation to fix the problem.  It is difficult to correct a person’s behavior without offending them, but if we are at least aware that there is a problem and that it shouldn’t just be ignored, then we can think of ways to make the situation better.  For instance, we can use this teaching to reflect on how we are being a negative influence on others and fix the problem ourselves, without having to be told by someone else.  Or we can try to gently move conversations in a more positive and productive direction when a social interaction devolves into gossiping.  But one thing we should not do is delude ourselves into thinking that this type of negative behavior is not going to have a negative effect on us and on our community.  

Weekly Torah Portion: Shemini

This week’s Parsha, Shemini, begins by describing the 8^th and final day of the consecration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) for use in the desert.  For the first 7 days, Moses did all of the services himself, and on the 8^th day his brother Aaron took over from him, bringing the sacrifices and blessing the people.

This was an extremely joyous event.  The people had not felt as close to God as they did at this point in time since receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai.  But the happiness of the moment was spoiled by death of Aaron’s two eldest sons.  After Moses and Aaron finished the service commanded to them by God, Aaron’s two eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu, decided on their own to enter in the Holy of Holies and bring an incense offering.  This unsanctioned act of worship led to their deaths. 

The Midrash quotes a verse from Psalms (75:5), “say to the boastful, don’t boast,” and then gives a list of examples of different characters in the bible of people who had a lot to be happy about, but who also experienced sadness in the lives.  The sentiment conveyed in this midrash is that even when things in your life are working out, don’t boast about it.  Even some of our greatest heroes have had moments of great happiness, but they also all have had sorrow too.  Having ups and downs is a part of life; everyone has their good moments, and everyone has bad moments.   The first example that the midrash uses to make its point is God.  God, the Midrash tells us, was incredibly happy when he created the world and mankind, yet he was very distressed when man brought the world down by sinning.  Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob all had immense blessings and so much happiness in their lives, and yet there was sadness and grief in their lives as well.  Skipping a few examples, we get to the example which makes this Midrash relevant to our Parsha. 

“Elisheva, the daughter of Aminadav was the wife of Aaron the high priest.  See how much happiness she had in her hands; her husband was the high priest; her brother in law, Moses was a king and a prophet; her sons were the assistant priests;  her brother, Nachshon, was the leader of the tribe of Judah.  Nevertheless, she had unbelievable sadness in her life when her sons went to bring their offering and were devoured by the flames of God.   Therefore the wise one says, ‘tell the boastful not to boast’.”

The message about not boasting impresses upon us the sobering reality of life.  We are given the feeling that when we are happy at the way things are going in our lives, we should not brag, because it’s just a part of life.  Especially when looked at in comparison of the greatness and blessing experienced by the heroes in the midrash, our reasons to boast are far less in comparison.  Additionally, if we think that we’re so great because things, thank God, are currently working out for us, the Midrash reminds us not to get too carried away;  There is no life that doesn’t have some sadness. 
But, in addition to this sobering lesson, if you look between the lines of what this Midrash is saying, there is an important, hopeful, message here as well.  It can be depressing to see other people’s lives and assume that they are more happy than we are because they have so much more to be happy about.  The Midrash is reminding us that all happiness is relative, no one is going to have only good things happen to them, and similarly no one in the world will only have bad things happen to them.  With this depiction of the way the world works, we can take comfort in the fact that we are never completely alone alone. 

Sometimes when we are going through things in our lives that make us feel depressed, we also might feel that no one can understand what we’re going through; that we’re alone.  This Midrash is pointing out that everyone in life, even our greatest heroes, have great moments but also have dark moments as well.  Experiencing ups and downs in life is universal. 

When we seclude ourselves, and cut ourselves off from other people, we limit our ability to see the complexity of other people’s lives.  On the surface, most people seem pretty happy most of the time.  So for the person who is struggling, if they cannot see beyond a surface judgement of the lives of the people around them, they will feel very alienated.  But when you get deeper glimpse into other people’s lives, you start to see the full spectrum of their experiences, both good and bad.  For the person who is struggling, the lesson is, push yourself to reach out for support.  Hopefully you will learn through the process of being supported that people care about you and that you’re never totally alone.  But doing this is a serious challenge to the person who is already struggling and is already feeling alienated.  Therefore the lesson for everyone is that we don’t always know what is going in the inner lives of the people around us; we don’t always know who is suffering.  With that realization we can train ourselves to be more sensitive to the people around us and more accessible as a means of support to someone in our community.   

Pesach Dvar Torah

In the Haggadah we read about the 4 sons.  The Haggadah discusses the types of questions that each son will ask, and instructs us on how to respond to each of them.  One of the striking things in this section is that the questions of the wise and wicked sons are not all that dissimilar.  Nevertheless, one is considered wise and the other wicked, and the way in which the Haggadah instructs us to respond to each of them is extremely different.
The wise son’s question is: “What are the testimonies and the statutes and the laws that Hashem, our God, has commanded you?”
The wicked son’s question is: “What is this service to you?”
You’ll notice that both sons say, “to you,” and both are asking about what is going on.  In response to the wise son, the Haggadah tells us to reply to his question by teaching him the laws of Pesach and how nothing should be eaten after eating the Paschal offering (or the afikoman which takes its place in the absence of the temple).
But in response to the wicked son the Haggadah tells us to be very harsh. Saying, “when he says “to you,” he is implying “to you,” but not “to him”! because he excludes himself from the rest of the community he has denied a fundamental principle.  You, in turn, should set his teeth on edge and tell him, ‘Because of this Hashem did for me when I left Egypt’ – implying ‘for me,’ but not ‘for him’!  If he had been there he would not have been redeemed.”
Why does the Haggadah tell us to respond so harshly to the wicked son’s use of the phrase, “for you,” and ignore the fact that wise son said the same thing?  What is there to learn about the entire for Seder experience from the vastly different responses for these two sons?
One possible explanation is that the difference between the two sons is in the tone of what they say rather than the content.  The wise son really wants to know and he wants to learn.  He points out that he notices that there are details, “testimonies, statutes, and laws…” and he is willing to go through the trouble and invest the time so that he can know and understand.  The wicked son, however, just says, “this service.”  He’s not interested in learning about the details, he dismisses the nuances, his tone is cynical.  He isn’t interested in learning.  He sees all the same things that the wise son sees, yet he clumps it all together in a dismissing way and is really asking a rhetorical question.  It’s like he’s saying, “why do bother with all of this stuff?”  He isn’t really looking for an answer, because his feelings are that “this service” is really meaningless, it’s a lot of irrelevant ancient practices.
Once we understand the difference in their questions we can understand the way that we are supposed to respond to them.  Since the wise son wants to learn, we respond by teaching him Torah.  The experience of teaching him Torah should leave a lingering taste and love of Torah in his mouth.  This is hinted to in the last line of the response to the wise son which says that we teach him that nothing should be eaten after the Paschal lamb.  Just as the taste of the Paschal lamb should linger in one’s mouth after eating it, the Torah should linger in the mouths of those who love Torah.  When a Jew has this type of love for Torah, this connection helps him through any of the troubles that he or she might experience in life.
By contrast, the wicked son is not interested in learning, he has already rejected the tradition in his mind.  There is no point in engaging him intellectually because he is looking to reject rather than to learn.  The wicked son does not have the Torah to hold on to when things are tough.  He can’t rely on the Torah to give him hope in times of trouble.  
The goal of the seder is to tell the story of Passover- to make sure every Jew knows that we were once slaves who had no hope of salvation, but God saved us.  From this experience, we learn that in every generation the Jewish people face trials and tribulations, but God will always save us.  The seder teaches us that ever since being freed from bondage in Egypt, the heritage of the Jewish people is to always have hope regardless of the situation.  The experience of Jewish history teaches us to have hope, teaching this perspective to our children is the goal of the Seder.  This is why we tell the wicked son, “if you don’t change your attitude about learning then you would not have been saved from Egypt.”  What we’re really saying is that your attitude will not give you the hope that you, as a Jew, will need to survive.  Without hope, you’ll despair and never be able to feel free.  

Weekly Parsha - Tzav

This week’s Parsha details how the daily sacrificial service was done daily in the Mishkan (tabernacle-while the Jews were in the desert), and later in the Beit HaMikdash.  One of the details that the Torah describes is the process of cleaning off the ashes on the mizbeach (the altar) in order to maintain the fire which was supposed to be constantly burning.  The verse says (Leviticus 6:5-6), “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out…a perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar, not to go out.”

Often we use fire as a symbol for passion, excitement and enthusiasm.  If we look at this part of the service allegorically, we are given good advice on how to lead a consistently meaningful religious life.  Many of us find inspiration and excitement at times of the year, during a specific religious event, or even when learning some torah.  In the heat of the moment,  we might promise ourselves to try harder or do more, only to forget about those plans shortly after.

The lesson from the Parsha is that it takes work to keep that “flame” burning.  If we don’t do anything to take care of it, nurture it, and maintain it  then it will extinguish.  With regard to our own religious lives, when we feel a passion and excitement about something, it isn’t enough to simply list plans in our minds .  When we are feeling the burning excitement, we should take a step back to establish realistic goals, and maybe even write them down so that we can look back over time and make sure that we are still on track.  As the saying goes, “Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration”.  We have to do the work to reach our potential.

Weekly Parsha - Vayikra

Many kids who grow up in the Modern Orthodox world spend what is called, “a gap year,” studying in Yeshivas or seminaries in Israel before going off to college.  So the summer after I finished high school, I packed up and headed to study in Israel.  During that year, for various reason, I ended up switching to a small yeshiva in Tsfat for the second half of my gap year.  This experience truly lived up to the gap part of the phrase gap year.  Living in Tsfat was a truly unique experience, not like anything I had ever done before, or like anything I have done since.  

I can vividly remember sitting and studying in the Yeshiva one day towards the end of the year when out of the blue the head of my school, the rosh yeshiva, came up behind me, clopped me on the back and said דניאל you might leave tsfat, but tsfat is never going to leave you.  When I think back to how different life was when I lived in tsfat, sometimes I wonder about what he could’ve meant.  After tsfat I went to college, I struggled with my beliefs and have evolved in my religious  perspective, I’m a very different Jew today than I was back then.  But there was something about that experience that I can look back on fondly and has influenced the way I feel about Judaism and my connection to God.  That feeling of closeness which I was able to experience somewhat naively back then, and have seldom experienced since, has been monumental in influencing the decisions and beliefs which have led me down the path I have chosen.

The necessity of developing memories which connect us to God is something I see reflected in this week’s Parsha.  This week, we begin reading from the book of ויקרא, Leviticus.  The parsha consists mostly of a list of all the different types of sacrifices which were to be brought in the tabernacle, and later in the temple in Jerusalem.

It’s no secret that the sacrifices are an aspect of Judaism that many if not most of us have a really difficult time connecting with.  In today’s day and age many of us find it hard to relate to animal sacrifice.  Some of us might even be turned off by its seemingly primitive and animalistic nature.  But despite our moral or esthetic discomfort with the idea of sacrifices, we can’t ignore the fact that these sacrifices are important in Judaism.  We mourn the destruction of the temple and the loss of our ability to bring sacrifices, our prayer services are modeled after the temple sacrifices, a hope for a time when we can once again bring sacrifices in the temple is incorporated into our daily prayers.

In the beginning of this week’s Parsha there are a number of strange things which have prompted many commentaries over the ages.  The Parsha opens with God calling out to Moses telling him to speak to the Jewish people and instruct them on how to offer sacrifices.  

If this section of the torah is supposed to be a practical guide for bringing sacrifices then why is God speaking to Moses, why not deliver the instructions through Aaron, the high priest?  After all it is primarily his responsibility to make certain they are done right. Yet any commands to Aaron are not mentioned at this point.

Furthermore, the introduction of sacrifices into Jewish ritual life would seem to be more appropriate if it had begun with פרשת צו where the technical details for the priests of how to do sacrifices is outlined.  So why does God give the list of the types of sacrifices before teaching the priests anything about their role in making sure the sacrifices were done right?

But the biggest question is in the first verse which says, “God called to Moses and said to him.”  It’s a redundancy which doesn’t have a parallel.  Usually the Torah either says that God called to Moses, or God spoke to Moses, so what is being added here by saying both?

All these problems can be resolved if we realize that the primary purpose of this week’s Parsha is not to teach us the practical laws of the sacrifices.  The torah is teaching us that first and foremost sacrifices are about giving human beings the opportunity to engage God in a relationship.  It’s not about a religious cult practice irrelevant to most except the chosen few, rather it is a model of the many ways to develop a relationship with God in a way that is open to and important to everyone. This is why the God is addressing Moshe in this week’s Parsha.  Who better to teach the Jewish people this lesson about engaging in a relationship with God than Moses, the man who spoke to God פנים אל פנים, face to face?  

Rashi gives us insight into why it was particularly important that Moses was the one to introduce sacrifices into Jewish life even though he would not be the one to perform the service.  Rashi comments on the word ויקרא, explaining that it is לשון חיבה.  The best way to translate this phrase is a type of loving or endearing statement.  

The word ויקרא is used in Isaiah to describe the way the angels glorify god’s name, which you might recognize from our prayer service in the קדושה prayer.  Before the angels proclaimed God’s glory, they would call out to each other, וקרא זה אל זה ואמר....  Rashi understands the angels calling out to each other as an act of love, they would call out to each other giving each other permission to be part of the group before they would glorify God’s name.  Just as they called out to each other in love, here in our Parsha God calls out to Moshe with love.

God and Moses have been engaged in a deep and complicated relationship.  Moses tries to say no to God when told to go to Egypt, Moses reprimands God when God wants to destroy the Jewish people for sin of the golden calf, and Moses also calls out to God in sadness and frustration when he needs to. But Moses is also the first one to sing praises of God אז ישיר משה… For Moses, God’s presence was real, it was a complicated relationship; it wasn’t just an abstract object of prayer.  God was to be constantly engaged in a relationship at different times, in different ways, and with different emotions.

Moses argues with God, he rationalizes with God, he praises God, he also obeys God and so much more, but most importantly he spoke to God פנים אל פנים face to face.  He engaged God in a deep personal relationship.  

This is why the sacrifices needed to be taught by Moses to all the people.  Moses’ message was that it is not only possible, but necessary to engage God.  We shouldn’t just observe and praise God;  Sometimes we should get angry or disagree; we should ask God for help with the same passion and realness that we fight with God; we need find ways to bring God into the entirety of our lives to highest degree possible.

The sacrifices are a model for engaging God in a variety of ways and times in order to build a deep and complicated relationship. The word itself קורבן, means to come close.  In what ways should we come close?  Most of us think of sacrifices as either something priests did on holidays with little to no connection to the average person, but really they are a symbol for the potential of the individual to have a personal relationship with God. There are many different ways to bring sacrifices and many different reasons to bring sacrifices.  The sacrificial practice given to us by god serves as a model of relationship building between man and God.  Just as there are so many different sacrifices, there are many different ways for a person to engage in a relationship with God.  For example some people experience God in acts of charity, others connect through studying, and for others through prayer.

All the details of the sacrifices can be seen as symbols to represent ways of bringing God into the vast sea of human experience.  There were sacrifices for guilt, gratitude, holidays, lifecycle events, atonement, sometimes by free will, sometimes they were commanded.  They all involved acts of moving, waving, pouring, throwing, sprinkling, and confessing as symbols of things that people do being part and parcel of the sacrifice experience.  And there were different types of things which were sacrificed, bulls, lambs, goats, sheep, cows, birds, oil, flour, wheat, fruits, and produce.  These varieties can represent varieties of people and each person’s ways of connecting.  And the way in which the same person connects differently at different times of the year or different times of their lives.

This idea is very important to me when I reflect on my experience in Tsfat.  The feeling and culture in Tsfat made it possible for me to engage in a relationship with God in a way that we usually don’t ever have the time or inclination to do. There aren’t a lot of distractions in Tsfat.  Sometimes at night I would find the time to sit alone in corner of the old city and talk to God.  It gave me an opportunity to talk about what was on my mind, express ideas, concerns, doubts, desires and to do it in a way that was directed at God.  While I have not been able to replicate this experience, and to be honest I’m not sure I’d still want to, nevertheless I look back on that experience with a longing for the closeness that I felt back then, and more than 10 years later those experiences still  help me focus and connect when I pray today.

And so the lesson of Parshat Vayikra is, whether we can bring sacrifices today like they did in the temple or just find the time to imagine and meditate, or something else, the message of finding ways to personally connect to God still resounds.  We may not be Moshe, but we are his descendants and we need to find a way to engage God as a real presence in our lives like hedid.  If you’re not sure how to do this talk about it with a loved one, a friend, a Rabbinical figure, but try.  ויקרא ה' אל מושה was just the beginning, God is calling out to all of us begging us to call him back.  

When you reach out to God, you may be surprised to find God reaching back.