Posts
What does it mean to be generous? We find a subtle teaching about generosity hidden in an unlikely spot in the Torah.
Near the end of the biblical book of Exodus, there are a series of detailed instructions for the creation of the portable sanctuary - the mishkan - that the Israelites will carry with them in the wilderness. Many readers skim over this section because it looks like an artisan's technical manual rather than the dramatic stories we are accustomed to reading in the Torah thus far. But look more closely....
The very first instruction for the sanctuary: "God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel, that they may take me a gift; from every person whose heart moves them, you are to take my gift. And these are the gifts: gold, silver, copper, different color yarns, linen, goats hair, animal skins, wood, oil, incense.... And let them make me a holy sanctuary and I will dwell among them."
Two surprises in the language: First, notice that the original Hebrew text of the Torah doesn't say "Speak to the children of Israel, that they may BRING me a gift" - it says "Speak to the children of Israel, that they may TAKE me a gift." Why the odd language?
Here's one interpretation. This language reminds us that all these things already "belong" to God! The Israelites are taking to God that which is already God's. In other words, human ownership is ultimately illusory.
Our sages therefore suggest that what the people are really bringing is not the material goods themselves, but rather their hearts - their generosity, their willingness to work for a common cause.
The Torah wants us to get it that we are the vessels or conduits through which the bounty of the world gets shared. When we are generous, when we give something towards a common purpose, ideally it's not about us - the Ego - but it's actually about letting go of the Ego. The things we tend to think of as "ours" are ultimately just on loan to us.
Second surprise in the language: The Torah doesn't say that the goal of building the sanctuary is so that God will then dwell in the sanctuary, but it says "let them make me a holy sanctuary and I will dwell AMONG THEM." Why the odd language? God doesn't need a house to sit in! The point of having the holy sanctuary is not for God to be in the sanctuary, but rather for God to be among the people.
When we are generous in building community, we are connecting to other people and to something bigger than ourselves, and it is in this sense of connection that God's presence may be felt. In acting generously - acting as conduits - we benefit both in the "taking" and in the "bringing."
March 8, 2010
March 4, 2010
Mitzrayim
In the Passover haggadah we read: “In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they went out from Egypt.” In other words, we are instructed by the ancient rabbis to relate to the Exodus story as if it were our own personal story.
Now the biblical word used to refer to Egypt is mitzrayim, which can be translated as “narrow places.” So you could understand the haggadah’s instruction in this way: We are each obligated to consider our own lives as a journey out of the narrow places.
Every year, my preparation for Passover (besides house cleaning!) includes some pondering about what my own particular mitzrayim is right now. I invite you to experiment with this practice, too. Where are you feeling stuck? What experience(s) are feeling difficult and perhaps painful, but which you also sense are propelling you towards freedom?
It is no coincidence that Passover occurs in the spring. Spring is a time of birthing, of blossoming, of hope and new possibilities. There are many symbolic parallels between the biblical Exodus story and the experience of childbirth. Think about it.
May your Pesach experience this year be one of liberation from mitzrayim.
Now the biblical word used to refer to Egypt is mitzrayim, which can be translated as “narrow places.” So you could understand the haggadah’s instruction in this way: We are each obligated to consider our own lives as a journey out of the narrow places.
Every year, my preparation for Passover (besides house cleaning!) includes some pondering about what my own particular mitzrayim is right now. I invite you to experiment with this practice, too. Where are you feeling stuck? What experience(s) are feeling difficult and perhaps painful, but which you also sense are propelling you towards freedom?
It is no coincidence that Passover occurs in the spring. Spring is a time of birthing, of blossoming, of hope and new possibilities. There are many symbolic parallels between the biblical Exodus story and the experience of childbirth. Think about it.
May your Pesach experience this year be one of liberation from mitzrayim.
March 2, 2010
Uprooting Hatred and Cowardice
Has anyone ever been mean to you?
This week we celebrate a special Shabbat called Shabbat Zachor, the Sabbath of Remembering. On this Shabbat we are required to remember the biggest bully in the Torah.
In the lengthy list of instructions to the Israelite people towards the end of the Torah, it says: "Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt - how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in the rear. Therefore... you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!"
It's a strange, paradoxical instruction - blot out the memory of Amalek, AND do not forget. You would think that if you could blot out a memory, you would no longer need to (or want to) remember. But the Israelites are instructed to somehow do both, and every year we are invited to ponder what this might mean to us.
We are reminded about Amalek on this Shabbat before the holiday of Purim, because the wicked Haman in the Purim story is supposedly a distant descendant of Amalek. For some Jews, Amalek thus became symbolic of all haters of Jews throughout our history.
But it is important to go back to the text of the Torah and notice what it is in particular that is so despicable about Amalek: He and his army are not just nasty, they are cowardly. They come up from behind and attack the Israelites who are unarmed and helpless - the women and children and old people in the back. The Torah considers this behavior much worse than, for example, how the Egyptians treated the Israelites in all their years in slavery.
So we are commanded in the Torah to blot out the memory of Amalek, and to not forget. Here is a powerful, psychological interpretation of this puzzling instruction:
Rabbi Simcha Bunim, a 19th century Chasidic master, points out that in the Hebrew text of the Torah, the instruction to blot out the memory of Amalek is written in the singular, not the plural. Simcha Bunim says, it is thus not a command to the Israelites to destroy the Amalekites, but rather a command to each individual to search out and destroy the Amalek tendencies within themselves.
This makes sense of the paradoxical instruction to blot out the memory and also to not forget - because the inner work of uprooting hatred and cowardice from our own hearts is an on-going effort. We need to return to it over and over every year, for our whole lives.
There will always be real bullies, in our personal lives and in the world at large. We will always need to protect ourselves and those we love, AND, as Simcha Bunim teaches us, there is always spiritual work to be done to look inside ourselves - to blot out the tendencies within our own hearts and minds to be cowardly, mean, and cruel. This kind of inner work can - and does - change the world.
This week we celebrate a special Shabbat called Shabbat Zachor, the Sabbath of Remembering. On this Shabbat we are required to remember the biggest bully in the Torah.
In the lengthy list of instructions to the Israelite people towards the end of the Torah, it says: "Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt - how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in the rear. Therefore... you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!"
It's a strange, paradoxical instruction - blot out the memory of Amalek, AND do not forget. You would think that if you could blot out a memory, you would no longer need to (or want to) remember. But the Israelites are instructed to somehow do both, and every year we are invited to ponder what this might mean to us.
We are reminded about Amalek on this Shabbat before the holiday of Purim, because the wicked Haman in the Purim story is supposedly a distant descendant of Amalek. For some Jews, Amalek thus became symbolic of all haters of Jews throughout our history.
But it is important to go back to the text of the Torah and notice what it is in particular that is so despicable about Amalek: He and his army are not just nasty, they are cowardly. They come up from behind and attack the Israelites who are unarmed and helpless - the women and children and old people in the back. The Torah considers this behavior much worse than, for example, how the Egyptians treated the Israelites in all their years in slavery.
So we are commanded in the Torah to blot out the memory of Amalek, and to not forget. Here is a powerful, psychological interpretation of this puzzling instruction:
Rabbi Simcha Bunim, a 19th century Chasidic master, points out that in the Hebrew text of the Torah, the instruction to blot out the memory of Amalek is written in the singular, not the plural. Simcha Bunim says, it is thus not a command to the Israelites to destroy the Amalekites, but rather a command to each individual to search out and destroy the Amalek tendencies within themselves.
This makes sense of the paradoxical instruction to blot out the memory and also to not forget - because the inner work of uprooting hatred and cowardice from our own hearts is an on-going effort. We need to return to it over and over every year, for our whole lives.
There will always be real bullies, in our personal lives and in the world at large. We will always need to protect ourselves and those we love, AND, as Simcha Bunim teaches us, there is always spiritual work to be done to look inside ourselves - to blot out the tendencies within our own hearts and minds to be cowardly, mean, and cruel. This kind of inner work can - and does - change the world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)