Author: Eve Posen

Be Yourself and Have Fun – Parshat Devarim 5784

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When I used to go to camp, or on a big trip, my father would put notes throughout my duffle bags or backpacks for me to discover throughout the trip. They were sticky notes and letters hidden with messages of encouragement, love, and, very often, reminders. It wasn’t that he and my mother didn’t tell me these things all the time before I left, it was more like him wanting to make sure that even when we were not in direct contact, in the days before email and texting, that the important life lessons they wanted me to carry with me were always there. I’ve adopted this habit as well, and when I send Shiri off to camp each summer, I have so much fun writing little notes to discover during that time away. “Don’t forget to change your underwear.” “Be kind and smile.” “You’re wonderful.” “I love you!”Even when I leave for a trip, I often leave notes for my kids or Duncan to find. Except for the one about the underwear – I don’t have to remind Duncan to do that.

It turns out my father was not alone in his need to pass on those last-minute reminders and messages. In fact, this very action of cramming final words into those remaining few minutes before a departure either in person or in written form comes from the Torah. 

Parshat Devarim begins the final book of the Torah, which shows the Israelites totally unmoored by the change in leadership and location ahead of them. Devarim stresses the covenant between God and Israel and looks toward Israel’s future in a new land as they build a society that pursues justice and righteousness. The central theme of this section of text is monotheism, the belief in one God, and building a society around the laws we’ve been given over the course of the four previous books.

The book of Devarim is called Deuteronomy in English, originally from Greek, meaning literally the “second telling” because it is comprised of a repetition of the laws and rules shared earlier in the Torah. Interestingly though, 70 of the 100 laws that are given in this book are brand new to the Israelite nation. It almost reads as though God is getting ready to send them off on an adventure and has a list of 70 last-minute reminders on how to be human before they can officially start this next phase of their lives.

However, I don’t see this as procrastination. I don’t think God waited until the last minute, God was setting an example for the kind of leadership we need in our world, the kind that guides and encourages. True leaders want others to succeed, and so they pass along every piece of advice they can think of. What advice would you share? 

Thorn in Your Side – Parshat Matot-Masei 5784

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My paternal grandparents (a.k.a. Nana and Papa) were expert gardeners; they certainly had a green thumb that I sadly did not inherit. Papa always planted a beautiful flower garden in the backyard of their house every year and would invite me to help. Then Nana would plant the vegetable garden, and I’d tend the plants with her. We’d put up a fence to keep the deer and bunnies away from the bounty. While at the time I may have gone out of my way to avoid eating anything resembling a vegetable, I do remember planting and then watching them grow. The inside of their house was filled with plants too. They kept most of them on a beautiful window seat behind their dining room table, one of which was a potted cactus. One Rosh Hashanah lunch after services, my younger sister tried to squeeze between the edge of the seat where the cactus was and my Papa’s seat and ended up falling into the cactus. Ouch! 

After calling poison control, my dad and uncle wrapped their hands in duct tape to extract the cactus needles from my sister’s arms and face. Unfortunately, the little spines were so tiny and thin that we were finding them for days. And that’s when I truly understood the meaning of “a thorn in your side.” We moved the cactus to a different spot, but our family never forgot the trauma of the incident, a lesson which is described symbolically in our Torah portion this week. 

In our parshah this week we read the final sections of text from the fourth book of the Torah, Bamidbar. Parshiyot Matot and Masei begin with a discussion of the different vows Israelites might make, and then they detail the requests of the various tribes as they get ready to enter the Promised Land. The chapters end with the final placements of all the tribes as they prepare to divide their land inheritance. Along with this information are warnings about what it might be like to live within an area with a variety of customs and cultures. Not since leaving Egypt have the Israelites lived in a place long enough for God to worry about them acculturating and assimilating. 

In chapter 33, verse 55 we read: “Those whom you allow to remain shall be stings in your eyes and thorns in your sides.” This warning is meant to illuminate for the Israelites that sometimes their adversaries will be in plain sight (a sting in your eye,) and sometimes they will walk beside you, with a false sense of camaraderie until they dig in their barbs (a thorn in your side). 

Like avoiding the cactus with her unseeable needles, the Torah reminds us to use precaution as we journey through life. It’s easy to get caught up in the literal interpretation that we need to rid the land of certain people who might be against us, but the real lesson is to recognize and rid ourselves of the more insidious metaphorical needles of intolerance and ignorance. Those are the needles that do the most damage. 

Checking In – Parshat Pinchas 5784

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One of my favorite parts of teaching is the check-in that precedes the work of the day. When I was in the classroom daily, I would start with a brief check-in question to see where students were at, what was going on, and what support they might need. When I shifted to the pulpit, I started using this technique differently, but still find it equally important. 

Whatever group you’re addressing, whether it’s a class, a congregation, or a team meeting, ask how everyone is. It shows you care as a teacher and leader. If someone is having a bad day, I want to know. That might change the way they participate in the session. At the same time, if someone is in a phenomenal mood, that has an effect on the learning as well. You never really know until you ask, and this I learned from the Torah. 

This week we read Parshat Pinchas, which begins with the story of Pinchas (identified as Aaron’s grandson) and the extreme action he took toward those who defied the prohibition against idolatry. Then we move to the daughters of Zelophechad (Joseph’s great-great-great-grandson), who want to inherit land after their father’s death because he had no sons. Then Joshua is appointed Moshe’s successor, and we end with the sacrifices we are to make for Rosh Chodesh and the holidays. 

What struck me in reading the text this week is that we once again begin with a census. Didn’t the book of Bamidbar (Numbers) begin with a census? Why do we need another one? The answer is simple: it’s a check-in. Each time we read about a census, that’s our clue that time has moved on, that people have changed, and that a check-in, or a check-on, is in order. Specifically at this point in the narrative, we know that all the Israelites who left Egypt were to die before they made it to Israel, and that requires a pretty significant status check. 

The repeated check-in might seem frivolous, but as the parshah teaches us, we receive lists for every holiday and for each month. The purpose is to connect us to the moment. In this case, the census is to remind us of who we are, where we’ve been, and how we’ve grown and changed. Small talk can make a big impact, and sometimes it’s these exact types of questions that remind us to pay attention to those around us. 

Location Location Location – Parshat Balak 5784

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When we moved to Portland and needed to figure out where to live, Duncan and I had a lot of decisions to make. What was our price range? How walkable did we want the area to be? What was our ideal proximity to the synagogue? Would it be wise to buy a house that needed a lot of work done, or should we purchase a home that was move-in ready? What it came down to was building a community in which we could immerse ourselves, and that meant finding the balance between living as close to the synagogue as we could afford and having to do a minimal amount of work on our home (at least when we moved in). Here we are, 10 years later, and we certainly made the right choice for us. 

Specifically, we’ve found that living in the location we chose has meant that we’re able to be physically present with so many people with relative ease, and in moments of hectic chaos, we’re also able to have people easily jump in to help with carpool, dinners, or a quick hug. 

This week we read Parshat Balak, a narrative filled with opportunities for taking the right or wrong action and saying the right or wrong words. You know this parshah – it’s of course the one with the talking donkey. Parshat Balak is the story of Balak, son of Tzipur and king of Moav, who solicits Balam the “prophet” to curse the children of Israel. God allows Balam to go to the land of Moav, but only if he will speak what God tells him to say. On the way there, Balam becomes frustrated with his donkey, who refuses to move. As it turns out, the donkey sees an angel of God in the road. Balam cannot see the angel, only the donkey can, so Balam gets angry at his stubborn animal and beats the donkey.

A verse from this portion is perhaps one of the most famous verses in the Torah. Put to any number of melodies, you probably know it simply as “Mah Tovu.” It’s the curse-turned-to-blessing “How wonderful are the tents of Jacob, the dwellings of Israel,” which praises the Israelites for creating tight-knit and close neighborhoods. What Balam is really seeing (and commenting on) is how the Israelites are “set apart,” which he considers a bad way to live. However, the Torah reframes this to say that their intentional community building is actually how they preserved tradition and their identity, not unlike our close-knit communities today.

This could quickly turn into a drash on the pros and cons of assimilation and acculturation. We often focus on how this comes out sounding like a blessing, but just like in our Torah portion, there’s a version that can feel like a curse too, depending on how you view the benefits of “closeness.” Instead, I think the fundamental lesson is the power of community. By living in proximity to others who share our values and traditions, we’re able to connect more deeply and support more vibrantly. I’m grateful every day to live in community with you. 

Hydration Station – Parshat Chukat 5784

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“Don’t forget your water bottle!” “Three big gulps right now!” These were the often-repeated sayings that were shouted almost every time we got on and off the bus on my first trip to Israel. It became a joke among us because it seemed that no matter what we were doing, our group leaders were always fixated on our fluid intake. To their credit, they didn’t want us to pass out from heat stroke or dehydration, but the amount of time spent talking about water on that trip felt like overkill. Fast forward a bit, and now I feel like I spend a quarter of my day tracking water consumption, whether drinking or just locating my water bottle or my children’s water bottles. If someone has a headache, the response is “Did you drink enough water?” If someone has a tummy ache, the answer is “Try some water.” My how the water tables have turned.

Water isn’t just a resource we need to live; it plays an important role in Jewish tradition beyond ensuring that living things can thrive. From the water used in ritual hand washing to the mikveh to tahara, the ritual washing of a body after death, water can transform from the inside out and the outside in. And this is no more evident than in our Torah portion for this week. 

Our parshah this week, Parshat Chukat, is full of plot twists and new experiences for the Israelites. The lands of Sichon and Og are conquered, both Miriam and Aaron die, and we learn that Moshe will not be allowed to enter into the land of Israel. When Miriam dies, we’re given one more water miracle on her behalf, with water flowing from the rock. We also learn that the reason Moshe and Aaron are not allowed to enter the land of Israel is because of the incident in which they struck the rock out of frustration instead of speaking to it as God had commanded. The text concludes with praise and thanks being sung to God for the water of the well. 

In chapter 20, verse 11 we read “and the people and their beasts drank.” This follows a passage that details Miriam’s death and then their lack of water to drink. This isn’t the first time the Israelites have been cranky about water. Immediately following the Exodus from Egypt they complained about water, then again a few chapters later. Throughout these passages, Miriam is associated with water because she seems to always show up when the people need it. Thus, it is fitting that after her death, they are dehydrated.

It’s interesting, however, that the “beasts” are included in this phrase. The beasts weren’t complaining, the people were. Why would this suddenly be a time to call out the hydration status of the animals? Perhaps it was because the people drank like beasts, each concerned only with their own thirst. Moses and Aaron are trying to grieve and process the death of their sister, and everyone around them is focused on their personal survival, and maybe rightly so. I don’t think the biggest lesson in this Torah portion is a reminder to get enough water or a warning about complaining to get what we want. The biggest lesson is that hydrating is an act of self-preservation, and we can’t care for the community if we don’t first see to our own needs.