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When I did my chaplaincy training years ago, one of the most striking differences I encountered between myself and my Christian colleagues was the ease and frequency with which they uttered "spontaneous" prayers and blessings.
My sense is that as more rabbis go through chaplaincy training, this skill is gaining in popularity. In my own work, I have found that there are situations where it is both appropriate and powerful.
Still, I continue to ponder the relative merits of spontaneous versus established blessings.
In the biblical Book of Numbers, set in the wilderness, we encounter instructions for the Israelite priests on what to say when blessing the people. The words of this brief blessing, considered by scholars to be extremely ancient, are beloved in both Jewish and Christian contexts to this day:
May God bless you and guard you.
May God shine God's face upon you and be gracious to you.
May God lift up God's face toward you and grant you peace.
Rabbinic commentators teach that this "priestly blessing" must be recited slowly and carefully, whole-heartedly and with intention. It is also necessary that the people being blessed actually hear the words.
Barech/bless has three basic meanings in Torah: 1) fruitfulness, material abundance; 2) to greet, welcome, acknowledge; and 3) bestowed privilege from a father (in which one offspring receives more). Most commentaries assume that the first line of the priestly blessing can be understood to mean something like: "May God bless you with abundance (of possessions, family, etc.), and guard you from the challenges that having those possessions will create in your life (theft, envy, greed, pride, etc.)."
The next two verses of the blessing refer to God's face. A "shining" or "illuminated" face suggests smiling, even laughing, or beaming. The sense of the expression is clearly a positive one. Here we see the second meaning of barech - the sense of God acknowledging you, smiling at you - thus responding to the deep (I would say the deepest) human need to be known.
As distinct from prayer, only in blessing are two people explicitly in relation to one another. To speak in modern terms, one could say that this blessing "works" interpersonally, regardless of the individuals' perceptions of God's role in the interaction. From this perspective, it may be the whole-heartedness and intention that are the essence of the encounter.
So yes, there is a place in our lives for spontaneous blessings. Yet sometimes I wonder if it is presumptuous of me to imagine that I can do better than a blessing with 3000 years of staying power and accumulated layers of meaning and emotional resonance.
June 30, 2009
June 10, 2009
The Consequences of Envy
When I was about eight or nine years old, I wrote a letter to the President of the United States. My older brother was not keeping his fish tank clean, I told the president, and I was distraught at the possibility that the fish might die.
My mother apparently intercepted that letter before it reached the mailbox. I don't remember any other details of the incident, but I do have a pretty good sense of how I felt... because it is a familiar feeling even decades later.
What was I feeling? Outrage, righteous indignation - and a sense of unfairness - because he got the fish tank when I was the one who wanted it (and was, of course, the one more worthy of having it). My concern for the fish may have been genuine, but I imagine that my distress was primarily due to my sibling envy and sense of unfairness.
The Torah is full of expressions of envy, particularly (although not always) between siblings. In the book of Genesis alone, there are many famous examples: Cain and Abel, Sarah and Hagar, Jacob and Esau. This week's Torah reading comes from the book of Numbers, much later in the Torah, and here the sibling situation is more mature and complex.
The scene is in the wilderness, after the Exodus from Egypt. Moses is busy dealing with some serious kvetching from the people, when his sister Miriam and brother Aaron suddenly do a bit of their own kvetching. Here is what the Torah tells us (in Numbers 12): "Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married, saying 'He married a Cushite woman!' And they said, "Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has he not spoken through us as well?' And the Lord heard it."
Can you picture the situation? Here is Moses getting all the attention as the miracle-working leader of an entire nation. His siblings, perhaps only whispering to one another, say "What makes him so great? He's hardly Mr. Perfect. For God's sake, look at his marriage! It's not fair that he gets all the glory."
God responds, calling Miriam and Aaron out and angrily reminding them who's Boss. Miriam is then stricken with a skin disease, and is shut out of the camp for seven days. (Why just Miriam and not Aaron? Story for another day....)
The traditional way of understanding this story in the Torah is to say that Miriam is punished for gossiping about Moses. I prefer to read Torah differently. To me, a story like this is about consequences. Do this, and this happens. When we get righteously indignant about someone else having what we want... we suffer. We're the ones who get a headache, or a stomach ache, or whatever. And if in our indignation we speak negatively of that person to someone else, then we really suffer - creating distance between ourselves and other people, symbolized by the way Miriam ends up outside the camp for seven days.
So that's what happens when we act on an internal sense of unfairness or wanting. And what happens when we are the object of someone else's feeling of unfairness? That's the other teaching in this story. Going back to the passage I quoted, listen to the very next line: "Now Moses was a very humble man, more so than any other man on earth."
The Torah goes on to tell us that God responds to Miriam and Aaron with anger - but Moses in his humility doesn't respond at all! The God portrayed in the Torah often seems to have what nowadays we would call an "anger management issue," but Moses - at least in this situation - does not. What does Moses do? At first nothing; but then he does something very striking - he prays for Miriam's healing. A beautiful prayer - the shortest prayer recorded in the Torah - "God, please, heal her please." He's not gloating, he's not arrogantly saying "you see, God is on my side." He's simply expressing his compassionate wish for Miriam's well-being in that moment.
In those inevitable moments in our own lives when feelings of envy and dissatisfaction arise, may we choose to respond to those feelings with compassion - both for ourselves and for others.
My mother apparently intercepted that letter before it reached the mailbox. I don't remember any other details of the incident, but I do have a pretty good sense of how I felt... because it is a familiar feeling even decades later.
What was I feeling? Outrage, righteous indignation - and a sense of unfairness - because he got the fish tank when I was the one who wanted it (and was, of course, the one more worthy of having it). My concern for the fish may have been genuine, but I imagine that my distress was primarily due to my sibling envy and sense of unfairness.
The Torah is full of expressions of envy, particularly (although not always) between siblings. In the book of Genesis alone, there are many famous examples: Cain and Abel, Sarah and Hagar, Jacob and Esau. This week's Torah reading comes from the book of Numbers, much later in the Torah, and here the sibling situation is more mature and complex.
The scene is in the wilderness, after the Exodus from Egypt. Moses is busy dealing with some serious kvetching from the people, when his sister Miriam and brother Aaron suddenly do a bit of their own kvetching. Here is what the Torah tells us (in Numbers 12): "Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married, saying 'He married a Cushite woman!' And they said, "Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has he not spoken through us as well?' And the Lord heard it."
Can you picture the situation? Here is Moses getting all the attention as the miracle-working leader of an entire nation. His siblings, perhaps only whispering to one another, say "What makes him so great? He's hardly Mr. Perfect. For God's sake, look at his marriage! It's not fair that he gets all the glory."
God responds, calling Miriam and Aaron out and angrily reminding them who's Boss. Miriam is then stricken with a skin disease, and is shut out of the camp for seven days. (Why just Miriam and not Aaron? Story for another day....)
The traditional way of understanding this story in the Torah is to say that Miriam is punished for gossiping about Moses. I prefer to read Torah differently. To me, a story like this is about consequences. Do this, and this happens. When we get righteously indignant about someone else having what we want... we suffer. We're the ones who get a headache, or a stomach ache, or whatever. And if in our indignation we speak negatively of that person to someone else, then we really suffer - creating distance between ourselves and other people, symbolized by the way Miriam ends up outside the camp for seven days.
So that's what happens when we act on an internal sense of unfairness or wanting. And what happens when we are the object of someone else's feeling of unfairness? That's the other teaching in this story. Going back to the passage I quoted, listen to the very next line: "Now Moses was a very humble man, more so than any other man on earth."
The Torah goes on to tell us that God responds to Miriam and Aaron with anger - but Moses in his humility doesn't respond at all! The God portrayed in the Torah often seems to have what nowadays we would call an "anger management issue," but Moses - at least in this situation - does not. What does Moses do? At first nothing; but then he does something very striking - he prays for Miriam's healing. A beautiful prayer - the shortest prayer recorded in the Torah - "God, please, heal her please." He's not gloating, he's not arrogantly saying "you see, God is on my side." He's simply expressing his compassionate wish for Miriam's well-being in that moment.
In those inevitable moments in our own lives when feelings of envy and dissatisfaction arise, may we choose to respond to those feelings with compassion - both for ourselves and for others.
June 3, 2009
Stepping into the Unknown
One summer evening, my friend Leah and her daughter took me and Alan and Jacob away from the bustling, tourist-filled streets of Bar Harbor Village to the end of a side street. It was low tide, and a sand bar leading to a nearby island had emerged. It was dark, about 9:00pm, and a fog hung over the water. With only the faint glow from distant lights, we set out to cross the sand bar.
No one spoke. We were all concentrating on feeling our way forward in the dark. The salty air was so moist that our hair was wet.
As I took one step at a time, unable to see my feet, I had an "aha" moment. Here was a window into the mythic experience of the Israelites crossing the Sea of Reeds out of slavery! The water is "parted" - temporarily - and passage across the sand bar is possible. But for how long? And how far is it, and how long will it take us? Who can see where we're headed? How do we move forward when we can't even see two steps in front of us? How to trust that this will be for the good?
Stepping into the unknown is scary. It is easier to stay in the world we know, even if we are enslaved by it.
Our ancient ancestors bequeathed to us a story of faith and trust in the midst of oppressive fear. How does an Exodus happen? One step at a time.
May this summer bring you the opportunity to take at least a few steps out into the unknown - and may you be transformed by the experience and come back to tell us all the story!
No one spoke. We were all concentrating on feeling our way forward in the dark. The salty air was so moist that our hair was wet.
As I took one step at a time, unable to see my feet, I had an "aha" moment. Here was a window into the mythic experience of the Israelites crossing the Sea of Reeds out of slavery! The water is "parted" - temporarily - and passage across the sand bar is possible. But for how long? And how far is it, and how long will it take us? Who can see where we're headed? How do we move forward when we can't even see two steps in front of us? How to trust that this will be for the good?
Stepping into the unknown is scary. It is easier to stay in the world we know, even if we are enslaved by it.
Our ancient ancestors bequeathed to us a story of faith and trust in the midst of oppressive fear. How does an Exodus happen? One step at a time.
May this summer bring you the opportunity to take at least a few steps out into the unknown - and may you be transformed by the experience and come back to tell us all the story!
May 2009 - Every Person Counts
How many times have we heard the expression, or said it ourselves: "I don't just want to be a number"?
Jews traditionally have a complex attitude regarding the notion of counting people. In fact, we have a very ancient tradition of avoiding counting people directly. With roots tracing back to the Bible itself (and likely earlier), counting people directly has been considered taboo.
When counting was necessary, as for a military census, it was supposed to be done indirectly - for example by having all the eligible men contribute a half-shekel coin and then counting the coins instead of the men.
When we need to know if there are ten Jews present to make a minyan, a quorum for public prayer, it is traditionally forbidden to simply count - rather we are taught to count indirectly by reciting a biblical verse (such as from Psalms) containing exactly ten words.
Is all of this merely superstition?
In this week's Torah reading from the beginning of the Book of Numbers, the Israelites are in the wilderness and God instructs Moses to take a head count: "Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the clans of its ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head..."
The medieval rabbinic commentator Rashi tells us that God's desire to count the Israelites was an expression of love. The people were dear to God, not only as a nation but also as individuals.
But wait - We're taught that counting people is forbidden. So how could this counting be an expression of God's love?
Perhaps the answer lies in the detail that Moses is instructed to list the names of each person, not merely to count them. Each person is more than just a number.
Every person is of value, no matter how large the group. We are each of us more than just a number. Every person counts.
So our traditional avoidance of counting people may not be about superstitiously avoiding the "evil eye" - instead, we could say that it is about being aware of and honoring the preciousness of each and every human being.
May we all be awake to the uniqueness and value of each person who we encounter in our lives.
Jews traditionally have a complex attitude regarding the notion of counting people. In fact, we have a very ancient tradition of avoiding counting people directly. With roots tracing back to the Bible itself (and likely earlier), counting people directly has been considered taboo.
When counting was necessary, as for a military census, it was supposed to be done indirectly - for example by having all the eligible men contribute a half-shekel coin and then counting the coins instead of the men.
When we need to know if there are ten Jews present to make a minyan, a quorum for public prayer, it is traditionally forbidden to simply count - rather we are taught to count indirectly by reciting a biblical verse (such as from Psalms) containing exactly ten words.
Is all of this merely superstition?
In this week's Torah reading from the beginning of the Book of Numbers, the Israelites are in the wilderness and God instructs Moses to take a head count: "Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the clans of its ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head..."
The medieval rabbinic commentator Rashi tells us that God's desire to count the Israelites was an expression of love. The people were dear to God, not only as a nation but also as individuals.
But wait - We're taught that counting people is forbidden. So how could this counting be an expression of God's love?
Perhaps the answer lies in the detail that Moses is instructed to list the names of each person, not merely to count them. Each person is more than just a number.
Every person is of value, no matter how large the group. We are each of us more than just a number. Every person counts.
So our traditional avoidance of counting people may not be about superstitiously avoiding the "evil eye" - instead, we could say that it is about being aware of and honoring the preciousness of each and every human being.
May we all be awake to the uniqueness and value of each person who we encounter in our lives.
May 2009 - Creating Holy Space
The ancient impulse to hold back chaos is something we can relate to. The world feels very chaotic and frightening sometimes (perhaps often). Disasters strike. Innocent people suffer. It could happen to us - it does happen to us. So it becomes a very real question - How do we create space in our physical world that will provide some spiritual structure for holding back chaos?
In the ancient realm of the book of Genesis, holy space is found - it is encountered. For example, when Jacob dreams of a stairway/ladder with angelic messengers ascending and descending, he wakes up and expresses awe at having happened upon a holy place.
By contrast, in the equally valid worldview of the book of Leviticus, holy space is created. You want God's presence in your life? In the life of your community? It's up to you to create the space, to set up boundaries to hold back the chaos of the world.
So what is this book of Leviticus? If you think of the Torah - the Five Books of Moses - as a story with a plot, then the book of Leviticus is a big problem.
Right in the middle of the yearly cycle of weekly Torah readings (where we are right now), we suddenly stop the story - for many weeks - to recite the details of the sacrificial system of the ancient Israelites. Except for chapter 19 - a stunning list of profound ethical instructions sometimes known as the "Holiness code" - the rest of Leviticus can feel like a huge, dense roadblock in the otherwise grand sweep of the Torah's narrative.
To the kohanim, the ancient Israelite priestly class, the temple's sacrificial system was literally the center of the universe, so it makes sense that they would place Leviticus as the jewel in the center of the Torah.
But does that mean anything to us? Can we find some meaning, some relevance, in the book of Leviticus?
My teacher Rabbi Nehemia Polen taught me to understand Leviticus as analogous to an engineer's technical manual for an airplane. If you get lost in the manual, you forget that the purpose of the airplane is to take you to Hawaii!
In other words, there is a delicious goal - and the words in the manual are just the technical instructions for getting the machine to work in order to get you to your goal.
So what is the goal of the Leviticus "machine"? Creating holy space in the midst of chaos in order to experience God's presence.
Ah, now that is something we can relate to.
In the ancient realm of the book of Genesis, holy space is found - it is encountered. For example, when Jacob dreams of a stairway/ladder with angelic messengers ascending and descending, he wakes up and expresses awe at having happened upon a holy place.
By contrast, in the equally valid worldview of the book of Leviticus, holy space is created. You want God's presence in your life? In the life of your community? It's up to you to create the space, to set up boundaries to hold back the chaos of the world.
So what is this book of Leviticus? If you think of the Torah - the Five Books of Moses - as a story with a plot, then the book of Leviticus is a big problem.
Right in the middle of the yearly cycle of weekly Torah readings (where we are right now), we suddenly stop the story - for many weeks - to recite the details of the sacrificial system of the ancient Israelites. Except for chapter 19 - a stunning list of profound ethical instructions sometimes known as the "Holiness code" - the rest of Leviticus can feel like a huge, dense roadblock in the otherwise grand sweep of the Torah's narrative.
To the kohanim, the ancient Israelite priestly class, the temple's sacrificial system was literally the center of the universe, so it makes sense that they would place Leviticus as the jewel in the center of the Torah.
But does that mean anything to us? Can we find some meaning, some relevance, in the book of Leviticus?
My teacher Rabbi Nehemia Polen taught me to understand Leviticus as analogous to an engineer's technical manual for an airplane. If you get lost in the manual, you forget that the purpose of the airplane is to take you to Hawaii!
In other words, there is a delicious goal - and the words in the manual are just the technical instructions for getting the machine to work in order to get you to your goal.
So what is the goal of the Leviticus "machine"? Creating holy space in the midst of chaos in order to experience God's presence.
Ah, now that is something we can relate to.
May 2009 - Generosity
Remember when I wrote back in September about re-learning how to swim? Well, I'm still at it! Turns out that there are several distinct pieces of the process that I am having to unlearn and re-learn - and that takes time. I haven't yet gotten to the point of being ready to put all the pieces together. So in addition to practicing breathing, stroking, kicking, etc, I find that I am practicing patience.
Turns out that change at Temple Israel is kind of like that, too. We are moving forward in a variety of ways, and putting all the pieces together is going to take patience.
Along the way, I would like to urge everyone to practice not only patience but also generosity. There are many ways to practice generosity, right? - giving of your time, energy, patience, creativity, attention, talent, and yes - your money, too. The more you give of yourself, the better you feel and the deeper the connections you create in the community. Remember what Mother Teresa said: "In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love."
Here is one way that we can develop a culture of generosity among ourselves and our wider circle of family and friends: We now have a DONATE button on the temple website, through which donations of any amount can be made easily with a credit card or PayPal account. I encourage you to remember - and point other people towards - that button whenever there is a simchah/joyous occasion. Birthdays, going from a tricycle to a bicycle, good report cards, b'nai mitzvahs, graduations, new jobs, anniversaries, other milestones - these are all times when people's hearts move them to share the joy, and a tax-deductible donation to the temple is a time-honored way to do that. Let's get everyone in the habit - it's a common practice in many, many congregations, and yet another way to do small things with great love.
Turns out that change at Temple Israel is kind of like that, too. We are moving forward in a variety of ways, and putting all the pieces together is going to take patience.
Along the way, I would like to urge everyone to practice not only patience but also generosity. There are many ways to practice generosity, right? - giving of your time, energy, patience, creativity, attention, talent, and yes - your money, too. The more you give of yourself, the better you feel and the deeper the connections you create in the community. Remember what Mother Teresa said: "In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love."
Here is one way that we can develop a culture of generosity among ourselves and our wider circle of family and friends: We now have a DONATE button on the temple website, through which donations of any amount can be made easily with a credit card or PayPal account. I encourage you to remember - and point other people towards - that button whenever there is a simchah/joyous occasion. Birthdays, going from a tricycle to a bicycle, good report cards, b'nai mitzvahs, graduations, new jobs, anniversaries, other milestones - these are all times when people's hearts move them to share the joy, and a tax-deductible donation to the temple is a time-honored way to do that. Let's get everyone in the habit - it's a common practice in many, many congregations, and yet another way to do small things with great love.
April 2009 - Thinking Outside-of-the-Box About Religious Education
Religious education is a puzzle and a challenge. Jewish religious education is perhaps even more of a puzzle and a challenge, because Judaism is a culture overlapping with a religion. How are cultural and religious values best transmitted from one generation to the next?
Rivers of ink have been spilled about the merits and pitfalls of various types of Jewish education, and about the "watering-down" of Jewish knowledge with each generation, etc; I can't begin to address all of that here. I just want to speak from the heart:
We need to have the courage to leave behind the post-WWII model of religious education that no longer serves our purposes today. In fact, it hasn't served our purposes for several decades! - but somehow we keep re-creating it, perhaps simply because it feels familiar.
But the lesson of the past several decades is clear: Sending the children off to religious school and hoping in some vague way that someone else will "make them Jewish" - when Jewish activity in the home is minimal or non-existent - just doesn't work. Critics have dubbed this old model "pediatric Judaism" - and its weaknesses are manifold. Yet somehow the ghost of this approach is still alive several generations later.
We care about our children and want them to be engaged in Jewish education. So how do children in the 21st century learn to love Judaism (when parents may not feel like they know enough to spark that love)? How do children learn to feel good about their identity as Jews (when parents might feel conflicted)? There is one finding from researchers over the past several decades which I find incredibly inspiring: Our children develop positive identities as Jews to the extent that they witness their parents and other adults exploring and enjoying Judaism themselves.
Notice that I said "exploring and enjoying" - that's not the same thing as "knowing a lot." You can transmit a love of Judaism to your children by modeling that it is something to be explored and enjoyed for a lifetime, even if you yourself don't know much about it. (You may even be the non-Jewish parent!)
This simple yet profound finding provides the underlying principle for the Community Learning program we are creating at Temple Israel in Easton. "Community" means everyone -- parents and non-parents, Jews and non-Jews, children and teens. Community Learning sessions are theme-based, with some themes extending over more than one week. We talk, we sing, we do artwork, acting, etc. It's about being engaged - together - in an exploration of the richness of Judaism.
Life-long learning is a fundamental Jewish value. Make it happen in your life, and watch the influence it will have on the children.
Rivers of ink have been spilled about the merits and pitfalls of various types of Jewish education, and about the "watering-down" of Jewish knowledge with each generation, etc; I can't begin to address all of that here. I just want to speak from the heart:
We need to have the courage to leave behind the post-WWII model of religious education that no longer serves our purposes today. In fact, it hasn't served our purposes for several decades! - but somehow we keep re-creating it, perhaps simply because it feels familiar.
But the lesson of the past several decades is clear: Sending the children off to religious school and hoping in some vague way that someone else will "make them Jewish" - when Jewish activity in the home is minimal or non-existent - just doesn't work. Critics have dubbed this old model "pediatric Judaism" - and its weaknesses are manifold. Yet somehow the ghost of this approach is still alive several generations later.
We care about our children and want them to be engaged in Jewish education. So how do children in the 21st century learn to love Judaism (when parents may not feel like they know enough to spark that love)? How do children learn to feel good about their identity as Jews (when parents might feel conflicted)? There is one finding from researchers over the past several decades which I find incredibly inspiring: Our children develop positive identities as Jews to the extent that they witness their parents and other adults exploring and enjoying Judaism themselves.
Notice that I said "exploring and enjoying" - that's not the same thing as "knowing a lot." You can transmit a love of Judaism to your children by modeling that it is something to be explored and enjoyed for a lifetime, even if you yourself don't know much about it. (You may even be the non-Jewish parent!)
This simple yet profound finding provides the underlying principle for the Community Learning program we are creating at Temple Israel in Easton. "Community" means everyone -- parents and non-parents, Jews and non-Jews, children and teens. Community Learning sessions are theme-based, with some themes extending over more than one week. We talk, we sing, we do artwork, acting, etc. It's about being engaged - together - in an exploration of the richness of Judaism.
Life-long learning is a fundamental Jewish value. Make it happen in your life, and watch the influence it will have on the children.
April 2009 - A Passover Teaching on Humility
In the Torah scroll, there are a handful of scribal oddities - letters that are too big or too small, or upside down or backwards, or with dots over them - and for whatever reason they were originally written that way, the tradition demands that those oddities be preserved. As a result, a rich tradition of interpretation has developed to find meaning in these oddities, because it is believed that every aspect of the Torah is precious and has something to teach us.
One of those scribal oddities appears at the beginning of the book of Leviticus. The first word of the first chapter of the book of Leviticus is va-yikra. The first verse says: Va-yikra el Moshe/God called to Moses. In the word va-yikra, the final letter - the letter aleph - is smaller than the rest of the letters. So what meaning could there be in one tiny letter?
There is a Hasidic teaching that this tiny aleph is a symbolic hint of the humility of Moses, who is traditionally said to have been the most humble man in history.
With that teaching in mind, we can hear the verse this way: When God called to Moses - the tiny aleph, that makes no sound of its own - there was no Ego in Moses standing in the way of God's message. God called and spoke and the message went right through Moses to the people.
There's another mystical interpretation that I love. For this one, you need to know two things: First, according to the kabbalists, creation happened when God contracted God's self to make room for the material world, and in the process God-stuff (for lack of a better term) got sprinkled everywhere and is flickering within and animating everything.
And second, you need to know that the Hebrew word aleph has the same root as the word aluf, which means Lord and chief, as well as intimate companion. So - in this interpretation, the tiny aleph represents the tiny spark of God the intimate companion within every person. Now we hear the verse in another way: God called to Moses from the tiny aleph God-spark within Moses, or even better: the God-spark within Moses called to him from within himself.
Two creative teachings based on one little letter, both pointing us toward a sense of humility - towards seeing through the Ego which imagines that it is running the show of our lives.
Before the holiday of Passover we make a point of cleaning out all leavened foods from our home. There is a tradition of understanding this process as a sweeping out of whatever thoughts and ideas are puffing us up with pride and arrogance.
May we use these days of Passover - and Easter as well - to take a look inside at what might be puffing us up a bit too much, and to sweep it out - to make space for that tiny aleph, that tiny God-spark that is calling each of us into a direct encounter with the Reality of our lives.
One of those scribal oddities appears at the beginning of the book of Leviticus. The first word of the first chapter of the book of Leviticus is va-yikra. The first verse says: Va-yikra el Moshe/God called to Moses. In the word va-yikra, the final letter - the letter aleph - is smaller than the rest of the letters. So what meaning could there be in one tiny letter?
There is a Hasidic teaching that this tiny aleph is a symbolic hint of the humility of Moses, who is traditionally said to have been the most humble man in history.
With that teaching in mind, we can hear the verse this way: When God called to Moses - the tiny aleph, that makes no sound of its own - there was no Ego in Moses standing in the way of God's message. God called and spoke and the message went right through Moses to the people.
There's another mystical interpretation that I love. For this one, you need to know two things: First, according to the kabbalists, creation happened when God contracted God's self to make room for the material world, and in the process God-stuff (for lack of a better term) got sprinkled everywhere and is flickering within and animating everything.
And second, you need to know that the Hebrew word aleph has the same root as the word aluf, which means Lord and chief, as well as intimate companion. So - in this interpretation, the tiny aleph represents the tiny spark of God the intimate companion within every person. Now we hear the verse in another way: God called to Moses from the tiny aleph God-spark within Moses, or even better: the God-spark within Moses called to him from within himself.
Two creative teachings based on one little letter, both pointing us toward a sense of humility - towards seeing through the Ego which imagines that it is running the show of our lives.
Before the holiday of Passover we make a point of cleaning out all leavened foods from our home. There is a tradition of understanding this process as a sweeping out of whatever thoughts and ideas are puffing us up with pride and arrogance.
May we use these days of Passover - and Easter as well - to take a look inside at what might be puffing us up a bit too much, and to sweep it out - to make space for that tiny aleph, that tiny God-spark that is calling each of us into a direct encounter with the Reality of our lives.
March 2009 - Purim
How often do we reveal our "alter-ego" publicly? Jewish tradition provides a safe space for doing precisely that once a year - on Purim, the topsy-turvy holiday in which nothing is quite what it appears to be, when silliness and irreverence are commanded, and our usual attempts at being "proper" and "mature" are turned on their heads. [Speaking of which: The Dean of my rabbinical school has a custom of doing headstands daily, in public, during the weeks leading up to Purim!] So don't be fooled into thinking that Purim is a holiday for children - it is much more than merely an opportunity for kids to dress in costumes and make noise in the sanctuary. (And by the way, if you read the text carefully, you'll discover that the Book of Esther is definitely R-rated.)
The holiday of Purim is about hiding and revealing, on many levels. For example:
* Esther hides her Jewish identity from the king until she chooses to reveal it in order to save herself and her people.
* Our sages teach that God is hiding in the Purim story. (Did you know that there is no mention of God in the entire megillah?!) The very name Esther in Hebrew can be read as "I will be hidden," which the ancient rabbis saw as a hint of God's presence "behind the scenes."
* We dress in costumes and masks that both hide our identity and at times reveal some hidden aspect of ourselves.
It is said that "when the month of Adar arrives, joy increases." This is primarily because of the celebration of Purim, which occurs on the 14th of Adar; but there are other reasons to be joyous this month - please invite a friend and plan to join us for the various celebrations happening in the coming weeks.
The holiday of Purim is about hiding and revealing, on many levels. For example:
* Esther hides her Jewish identity from the king until she chooses to reveal it in order to save herself and her people.
* Our sages teach that God is hiding in the Purim story. (Did you know that there is no mention of God in the entire megillah?!) The very name Esther in Hebrew can be read as "I will be hidden," which the ancient rabbis saw as a hint of God's presence "behind the scenes."
* We dress in costumes and masks that both hide our identity and at times reveal some hidden aspect of ourselves.
It is said that "when the month of Adar arrives, joy increases." This is primarily because of the celebration of Purim, which occurs on the 14th of Adar; but there are other reasons to be joyous this month - please invite a friend and plan to join us for the various celebrations happening in the coming weeks.
February 2009 - Inspired by Obama
Mother Teresa once said, "In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love." I believe that implicit in her message is that together, combining our "small things" over time, we can indeed do great things. I believe that this is the message of Yes we can.
In his inauguration speech, President Obama said: "What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition on the part of every American that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept, but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task."
I am inspired by our new president in a way I have not been inspired by a political leader in my adult life - inspired to renew my intention to do "small things with great love," and to see those small things as part of a greater whole.
I am also inspired to take seriously this notion of responsibility at the local level, and use it to transform and grow this congregation. With all that needs fixing in this broken world, I believe that we have a real opportunity to create something unique and powerful right here. Why? Because this congregation can be a focal point for doing small things with great love. Because more than ever we need one another. Because more than ever in this society there is a need for meaningful connection and spiritual support. And because Jews have an obligation to keep learning and growing their whole lives, in community.
Obama is right-on when he says "there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task." There is much work to be done to transform this congregation, and I have faith that we are up to the task, and that the task will transform us in the process in ways that we cannot imagine. Yes we can. Kein y'hi ratson, so may it be.
In his inauguration speech, President Obama said: "What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition on the part of every American that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept, but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task."
I am inspired by our new president in a way I have not been inspired by a political leader in my adult life - inspired to renew my intention to do "small things with great love," and to see those small things as part of a greater whole.
I am also inspired to take seriously this notion of responsibility at the local level, and use it to transform and grow this congregation. With all that needs fixing in this broken world, I believe that we have a real opportunity to create something unique and powerful right here. Why? Because this congregation can be a focal point for doing small things with great love. Because more than ever we need one another. Because more than ever in this society there is a need for meaningful connection and spiritual support. And because Jews have an obligation to keep learning and growing their whole lives, in community.
Obama is right-on when he says "there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task." There is much work to be done to transform this congregation, and I have faith that we are up to the task, and that the task will transform us in the process in ways that we cannot imagine. Yes we can. Kein y'hi ratson, so may it be.
December 2008 - Brachot
There is a traditional Jewish practice of saying 100 brachot/blessings each day. Not long ago, two teams of students on Sunday morning came up with lists of things in their lives for which they would say a bracha/blessing. Between the two teams they came up with a long list. I would like to share a sampling from this list with everyone, because it is good to be reminded often of all the blessings in our lives: Waking up, brushing teeth, getting dressed, school, shelter, food, life, physical ability, brain, birds, hearing, talking, feeling, beauty, our heritage, democracy, freedom, stuffed animals, companions, technology, clothes, health, cars, plants, friends, parents, Shabbat, money, guidance from God, Torah, tools, doctors and dentists, hospitals, Jewish holidays, warmth, family, education, love, teachers, peace, trust, weather, the Jewish people, comfort, Israel, beautiful things, ugly things, water, toys, books, nature, pets, the Earth. Truly we all have much to be grateful for every day.
December 2008 - The Paradox of Winter
This is the time of year when I begin to think that hibernating animals have the right idea! We plan so many events in winter here in New England, only to have them canceled at the last minute due to weather. Perhaps it would be wiser to admit that we have no control, loosen up on the planning, and slow our pace down.
That said, it is also true that one thing that we humans can do that hibernating animals probably cannot do is imagine a different reality. Our Jewish tradition is all about living within that paradox: on the one hand, accepting reality however it presents itself in each moment; and on the other hand, imagining a better world and working to bring it into being. Of course, there is a third option, manifested by our fortunate Snow Birds - denying reality and temporarily moving to Florida!
And then there is a fourth option, which I would encourage for our community: gathering together as often as possible to share in the warmth of fellowship. Wherever you are this month, may you be blessed with love and friendship. And I hope to see many of you at our Beach Party Shabbat on January 9th at 7:00pm - weather permitting! - when we will gather to celebrate the paradox of acceptance and imagination.
That said, it is also true that one thing that we humans can do that hibernating animals probably cannot do is imagine a different reality. Our Jewish tradition is all about living within that paradox: on the one hand, accepting reality however it presents itself in each moment; and on the other hand, imagining a better world and working to bring it into being. Of course, there is a third option, manifested by our fortunate Snow Birds - denying reality and temporarily moving to Florida!
And then there is a fourth option, which I would encourage for our community: gathering together as often as possible to share in the warmth of fellowship. Wherever you are this month, may you be blessed with love and friendship. And I hope to see many of you at our Beach Party Shabbat on January 9th at 7:00pm - weather permitting! - when we will gather to celebrate the paradox of acceptance and imagination.
September 2008 - Learning to Swim
I've been thinking a lot about swimming lately. Not because of the Olympics, but because a friend of mine is teaching me to swim all over again from the beginning! She is trained in Total Immersion swimming, which is light-years from the swim instruction I suffered through as a child.
You may be surprised to hear that our ancient sages thought about swimming, too. The Talmud - an amazing repository of teachings, stories, and folk wisdom - tells us: The rabbis used to say that it is every parent's obligation to teach their children Torah, a trade, and some say how to swim too.
I am curious what you think of this list. Of all the possible things in life that could have been included, how is it that these three things are the ones mentioned?
Here is what I think: By saying "Torah," the ancient rabbis meant that if you learn how to access the wisdom of Torah, you will be able to handle whatever comes your way in life. (I believe this.) Then the rabbis said "a trade" to emphasize their down-to-earth, practical perspective as well. There are numerous teachings in our tradition about the importance of earning a livelihood. (I believe this too.)
And then there is swimming. At the peshat (basic) level, the sages were probably advocating physical preparedness for life's dangers. But here is what I have learned so far from my friend: Swimming can be about relaxing, breathing deeply, keeping your eyes open, being mindful, trusting, and letting go.
As we enter this holiday season of introspection, learning to swim could be a useful metaphor for the spiritual work we need to do. May we all learn to float a bit more gracefully through life in the coming year. Blessings to you all for a joyful New Year. L'Shanah tovah.
You may be surprised to hear that our ancient sages thought about swimming, too. The Talmud - an amazing repository of teachings, stories, and folk wisdom - tells us: The rabbis used to say that it is every parent's obligation to teach their children Torah, a trade, and some say how to swim too.
I am curious what you think of this list. Of all the possible things in life that could have been included, how is it that these three things are the ones mentioned?
Here is what I think: By saying "Torah," the ancient rabbis meant that if you learn how to access the wisdom of Torah, you will be able to handle whatever comes your way in life. (I believe this.) Then the rabbis said "a trade" to emphasize their down-to-earth, practical perspective as well. There are numerous teachings in our tradition about the importance of earning a livelihood. (I believe this too.)
And then there is swimming. At the peshat (basic) level, the sages were probably advocating physical preparedness for life's dangers. But here is what I have learned so far from my friend: Swimming can be about relaxing, breathing deeply, keeping your eyes open, being mindful, trusting, and letting go.
As we enter this holiday season of introspection, learning to swim could be a useful metaphor for the spiritual work we need to do. May we all learn to float a bit more gracefully through life in the coming year. Blessings to you all for a joyful New Year. L'Shanah tovah.
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