I Accept! – Parshat Mishpatim 5771

With all of the electronic purchasing of music, books, and software, we are now accustomed to scrolling down a long page of tiny letters stating all of the legal ramifications and (lack of) liabilities that we are asked to read carefully before clicking the green “I accept” button or the red “I do not agree” button.  I wonder how many of us actually read all of the fine print each and every time we buy a song on iTunes or join a new mailing list.  How many of us read through an entire instruction manual before playing with a new toy or electronic device? 
If you read through the entire fine print or instruction manual it’s usually for one of two reasons.  Either you couldn’t figure out how to turn the piece of equipment on, or you were having trouble falling asleep.  As they say when adjusting to any new device, job or life project, there is a learning curve, and the best way to learn is through action. 
Our parshah, this week, parshat Mishpatim, falls at a momentous crossroads for the Israelites.  They have left Egypt, are on their journey, and have just received a full list of instructions on the basic ways in which they will live their lives.  Especially significant in leaving Egypt is the experience of freedom and choice, concepts which are completely new to them.   The Israelites, like children trying something for the first time, are impatient, eager to learn, and – to borrow a concept from childhood – eager to “wear their new shoes out of the store.”  They respond to all of God’s rules and requests by saying “Na’aseh V’nishma.”  We will do, and then we will understand. 
We find at the heart of this statement a long debate amongst educators over the benefits of learning and then doing or doing and then learning.  In the Mishneh Torah, Rambam writes: “Everywhere we find that learning precedes action, for learning brings about action, action does not bring about learning.”  Rambam holds that the statement should read “Nishma V’na’aseh,” we will first listen, learn, understand, and then put it into action.  John Dewey, in his masterpiece “Experience and Education,” wrote:  “Just as no man lives or dies to himself, so too no experience lives or dies to itself.  Wholly independently of desire or intent, every experience lives on in further experiences.  Hence the central problem of education based on experience is to select the kind of present experiences that live fruitfully and creatively in subsequent experiences.”  Dewey argues that “Na’aseh V’nishma” leads to more actions and deeper understanding.  In both cases, the scholars argue that experiences must be grounded in a strong foundation to bring forth meaning and understanding in our world.
The Israelites are experiential learners; they know that the only way they can grow and develop their society is by living in it, by engaging with the world, by doing.  They want to press every button on the cell phone to see how it works in order to understand how to use it.  We will do, and we will understand.  These two come side by side; we are constantly being asked to listen, to hear what is going on around us, and to experience the moment.
This section of text falls in the book of Shemot (Exodus) chapter 24, verse 7.  It is teaching us that 24 hours a day, 7 days a week we are obligated to explore our world and try new adventures, but we also must take the time to reflect, think back, and try to intuit reasoning and understanding of what is going on in the world around us. 
The work we are asked to do is to dive in and experience the world, to click (when appropriate) the green “I accept” button and move through the world with a keen sense of awareness every day that we will be able to act with goodness and with heart and to understand our world by listening to one another.
Family Discussion Questions: 
  1. Our “ethical covenant” emphasizes Shmiat HaOzen, being an attentive listener.  It is often difficult to stop “doing” and start “listening”.  How do you as a family maintain the balance of understanding one another and working together?
  2. When is it better to listen and then act?  What have you learned only through experiencing?

Love and Logic – Parshat Yitro 5771

“Because I said so.”  I remember growing up and asking the never ending question of “why?”  Why do I have to clean my room?  Why do I have to eat my vegetables?  Why? Why? Why?  And when all other answers had been exhausted, my question would be met with “Because I said so!”  Even now as a teacher, when the students begin to ask the same questions which have already been answered over and over and over again, I admit to seeking a little bit of a relief by saying “because I said so.”
It is in our nature to question why we must do what we have to do.  If we do something nice we have to know what we will get in return or what the consequence will be if we do something not so nice.  Educational philosophy encourages us to answer from a place of love and logic, and “because I said so” is neither of these two.  The “Love and Logic” reasoning teaches that we should embrace our students, show them compassion and empathy, and greet their questions (and even misbehaviors) not from a place of anger but from a place of understanding.  Most important in this system is that the consequence of an action must logically match the action.  For instance, when I slammed my bedroom door one too many times as a child, my father simply removed the door from its hinges.  I learned that lesson quickly.  A positive reinforcement for an action like helping to put away the groceries might be the opportunity to pick the next flavor of ice cream for the household.
The Torah also comes primarily from a place of love and logic.  This week’s parshah, Parshat Yitro, is laden with Mitzvot and in particular, those 10 golden rules we learn to live by.  The middle commandment serves as the transitional point from the first to the second group of declarations because it incorporates both religious and social dimensions.  This commandment also employs the “love and logic” reasoning.
Chapter 20, verse 12 teaches:  “Honor your father and your mother, so that your days on the land that God has given to you will be lengthened.”  Even though the text teaches doing this (honoring your father and mother) so that you will receive that (long life) our natural inclination to question forces us to ask why is long life is the appropriate reward for honoring one’s father and mother?  “Because I said so” does not not quite suffice here.
The commentary of Toldot Yitzchak from Rabbi Yitzchak Karo tackles this question.  Rabbi Karo teaches: “All of the laws in the Torah can be matched action for action.  But if this is true, then the text should have taught, ‘honor your father and your mother so you will be honored.’”  It would make sense to have similar reasoning between action and consequence.  What does living a long life have to do with honoring one’s parents, he asks.  The answer is that one who has lived for a long period of time will be honored.  In other words, the Torah teaches “honor your father and mother” with the reward of long life so that you will be old and honored as well.
The answer here is not “because I said so,” but rather another one of our golden rules:  do unto others as you would want others to do unto you.  We are obligated to treat one another with love and logic because it is only logical that we learn from what we see, from how we are treated and from how we live.  Long life comes as a reward for asking why, but also knowing when to stop; when to go with your gut and when to accept the answer of “because.”  Think about how our world would be if we all employed love and logic, if our long lives were filled with honoring one another, just because.
Family Discussion Questions:
  1. Our ‘ethical covenant’ speaks of holiness and truth.  A core principal with each of these is acting with Emunah, faith.  How can your family employ the faith of love and logic in your daily life?
  2. The Torah grants that long life is a reward, something good.  What will you do with your “long life”?

Are We There Yet? – Parshat BeShalach 5771

This past summer, my husband and I made the trek driving from Los Angeles to Dallas in preparation for my work here at Levine Academy.  We got in the car early Monday morning with our TripTik in hand, counting down the maps and miles.  The drive east out of California was beautiful:  the magnificent scenery of the desert, the grandeur of the mountains, until we reached . . . boredom.  Then I think back to the fifth grade trip I took earlier this school year to Sky Ranch.  In comparison, that drive was only about 2 hours, but 20 minutes in I heard the all-too-familiar question, “Are we there yet?” 
It is only natural when we’re on a journey, whether or not the destination is determined, to want to know when the next rest stop or the end point is coming.   This week’s Torah portion, parshat Beshalach, finds us at the beginning of a journey which will last 40 years for the Israelites as they travel away from Egypt.  Of course even when walking, the entire trip does not need 40 years, but God, as the driver, makes a few executive decisions.  After all, it is important on a road trip to carefully map out your rest stops, tourist attractions, and any construction along the way.  God knew the passengers well and how easily they were scared, so perhaps taking short cuts through the warring lands was not in their best interest.  Instead, God the navigator decides to take the long way.  While not as direct, God hoped this path would lead the Israelites to strengthen themselves individually and as a community along the way. 
But like all groups of travelers whose trips seem to drag on forever when the scenery is boring or when construction adds an hour or two, the Israelites complain over and over and over again.  The whiny, bored chant of “Are we there yet?” begins to weave its way through the Israelite nation.  The people left Egypt where they had food, water, shelter, and work to journey in the wilderness without any clue as to what would happen next.  They haven’t yet felt the freedom of the wilderness or experienced the manna, the dew-like, magical food from God.  The people are terrified and fragile, and they complain incessantly throughout this journey. 
Then suddenly in chapter 15, as the Israelites are in the throes of one of their kvetching rants and wishing to go back, God surprises them.  God parts the sea and the people move through to safety.  And for the first time in their existence since Egypt, the first time for them as a whole, they see the miracle of God, they see the sea split and their lives saved.  In this moment, the whining, the nervous frustration, and the fear seem to melt away as they sing “Ozi V’zimrat Ya, Vayehi Li Lishuah.”  Adonai is my strength and my song, He will be for me deliverance.
While this is only a momentary pause for celebration in the Israelites’ arduous journey, the change from “are we there yet” to a song of praise is rather refreshing.  Like the Israelites, we often get caught up in asking, “are we there yet.”  We’re easily pulled into the mentality of needing to know and not able to recognize the moments of strength, beauty, and good in our world.  When we go on our individual journeys, we may not see the sea split per se, but we have the ability and even the obligation to call out in song, and just for one moment allow the “are we there yet” to be “wow, I’m here.”
Family Discussion Questions:
  1. Our ‘ethical covenant’ reminds us that we have an obligation towards creating holiness in our world.  As a family, how can you remember to stop and say “I’m Here”?  what effect to you think this act might have on our society?
  2. The Israelites called out Ozi V’zimrat Ya, what is your song?

Tell Me More, Tell Me More – Parshat Bo 5771

One of the aspects of my job I love the most is telling and hearing stories.  Every morning and afternoon I am regaled with wonderful stories from our students about their day, what they did last night, where they are going this weekend, what their brother or sister said to them.  I hear stories all the time.  And, of course, come Thursday afternoon, the chit chat at BLS carpool is about which story I’ll tell this week.  I love trying to find the perfect story that matches the values and lessons I want to convey on a particular week. 
Our parshah this week, parshat Bo, brings us into the narrative of Moses and the Israelites as they prepare to leave Egypt.  We are told of the final three plagues, including the slaying of the first born Egyptian sons.  And, interestingly, we are given instructions on how to remember this story.  We learn of the laws of Passover and how to celebrate for years to come; we learn that we are to wear Tefillin on both our arm and our head to remember the exodus from Egypt; and we are commanded not only to remember this, but to retell the story of the Exodus, the story of Passover, to our children. 
The text teaches in chapter 13, verse 8:  “V’higadetah L’vincha:” and you shall tell your child.  We hear these words over and over again in the Passover haggadah, and of course we tell the story then, but what about the rest of the year?  The text teaches that we have an obligation to tell our children the story, to instill within them the joy of freedom, the gift of community, the blessing of life, and the belief in God.  The story we tell here is the story of memory and a narrative of questions. 
The brilliance of our text and heritage shines when reading about how God and Moses anticipate the nation’s reactions in future generations.  Verse 14 understands and expects the quest to know more and the need to ask.  The text states:  “And when your child says to you, what does this mean?…”  The question is not if, but when.  It is a given that questions will be asked.  Our Torahencourages us to ask questions and discuss the answers.  More than this, the Torah begs us to share our stories, our history and heritage with our children.  Parshat Bo, reminds us that if we don’t know from where we’ve come, we cannot know where we will go. 
We are all familiar with stories, whether they’re from Dr. Seuss or Shel Silverstein, the Bible, or, most importantly, our own lives and the history of our family.  In fact, much of what we learn and absorb comes from what is told to us through the narrative of a movie, song, play, book, or television show.  It is this culture of storytelling that gives us the opportunity to learn and grow with each retelling, and by sharing it, we encourage deeper understanding and internalization of the rich heritage that is our gift.
Family Discussion Questions:
  1. TELL YOUR STORY.  Spend some time this Shabbat sharing your family’s narrative history with your children.  
  2. Our ‘ethical covenant’ speaks about citizenship.  What lessons can you learn from your family’s story?  What can you teach from it to create a more fair and just society?