Don’t Be Mean – Parshat Kedoshim 5784

Have you seen the new Mean Girls? The 2024 movie is based on the stage musical version of the story, which is based on the 2004 movie of the same name. I love Mean Girls. I love it because of the social commentary about how we’ve trained ourselves to judge people (particularly women and girls) and objectify their bodies.

To clarify, I don’t love that “mean girls” exist. The constant picking apart of superficial traits is at best unhelpful and at worst destructive. But I do love the conversation starter this movie can become. In a classic scene, the “mean girls” are looking in the mirror and each one is talking about what they hate the most about their bodies. The character played by Linsday Lohan is new to this kind of behavior and just sort of looks at the other girls wondering why they would pick themselves apart. 

To me, the inherent question is if this is what negative body talk looks like, what would positive body talk look like? What does it look like to examine yourself in the mirror and appreciate what you see? What does it look like to love yourself? This question is central to our Torah portion this week. Parshat Kedoshim is referred to as the “holiness code” because of the rules included within it. The laws in this section of text are centrally focused on the ways in which we are to treat one another. Don’t charge undue interest, don’t put a stumbling block before the blind. Generally speaking, these laws are all about creating a community built on recognizing the holiness in each and every human being.

The most well-known of these laws is “love your fellow as you love yourself.” I struggle with this mitzvah, not because I don’t love other people, but because of what it really means to love ourselves. What if you don’t love yourself as much as you should? If you’re hardest on yourself, does this mean that you should be hard on your neighbors? Furthermore, does loving your neighbor as yourself mean that love overrules the rebuke that might come if the neighbor were to make you uncomfortable?

If you occasionally struggle to love yourself, you might find comfort in another verse, which begins, “Do not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your countrymen.” Perhaps we can infer that if you should love your neighbors (countrymen) as you love yourself, then likewise you should not bear a grudge against yourself either. In other words, if love is challenging (when is it not), you can at least start from a place that’s free from vengeance and grudges. We can’t be expected to go from being mean girls straight to being caring and accepting. There’s a process, a transformation. And sometimes the path to love of others and ourselves includes a critical middle step: don’t be mean.

After Death, There Is Life – Parshat Acharei Mot 5784

I’ve written before about when my Zayde (my grandfather on my mother’s side) died when I was 11 years old, in a strange way it cemented my love of Judaism. Why? Because the rituals of Jewish grief and mourning were comforting and gave me something to do when I felt unmoored. Through the subsequent deaths of my grandmothers, my other grandfather, and even my father, I have been eternally grateful that there was something prescribed for me to do when I wanted to do nothing. The path from seven days of sheltering in grief to 30 days of slowly re-entering the world, and then a year of saying a prayer allowed each stage of grief, and then some, to be acknowledged. The process pushed me to move forward, even when I wanted to hide from the world in bed.

This feels particularly relevant in this week’s Torah portion. This week we read Parshat Acharei Mot, the portion that details the laws and rules for healthy relationships. It begins with the clean-up after the loss of Aaron’s sons because of their out-of-body experience breaking the rules and continues with the laws about how we’re supposed to atone for our sins on Yom Kippur. The final chapter of the text deals with appropriate and inappropriate relationships between family members. 

In the time between the death of his two sons and where we pick up the story, Aaron has learned about ritual but was likely given the space he needed in order to experience his grief. And then, after the loss, Aaron returns to his community and is deeply entrenched in the rituals of Yom Kippur, of forgiveness and sin, and of the work he is responsible for as a leader in the community. 

Could Aaron have needed and taken more time to grieve privately before coming back to the public spotlight? Yes, and that probably would have been understood. Was it also important for Aaron as a leader to show that our grief can ebb and flow and that perhaps being back in community with others can also be helpful? Probably also yes. 

Parshat Acharei Mot reminds us of the power of this beautiful religion. Especially after the long week of keeping kosher for Passover, it’s easy to think of certain Jewish rituals as burdensome. Sometimes you can only eat certain foods. Sometimes you can’t eat anything at all. Sometimes you don’t turn on your computer until the sky is dark. But so much of what we practice is about what we need as humans to survive and thrive, and as odd as it may sound, that includes how we understand and deal with death.

Vital Signs – Parshat Metzora 5784

A few months ago I woke up feeling not so great. I was nauseous, my back hurt, and I felt generally yucky. But it was Monday morning and I had to get dressed, wake up the kids, drop them off at school, and get to work. I got myself ready, all while feeling really not like myself, and just as I was getting ready to head out the door, my pain and discomfort level shot up, and I gave in. Duncan took the kids to school, and I went to lie down. Two hours later, after resting, hydrating, and listening to my body’s signs, I was able to get up and move on with my day. I don’t believe that my temporary ailment was a punishment for something (or someone) I had done wrong. However, it’s very possible that it was the result of me not listening carefully enough to my own body.

This week’s Torah portion, Metzora, continues the discussion of the laws of ritual impurity and purification that were introduced in Parshat Tazria. Looking beyond this, there seems to be a deeper message in this portion to explore, one that deals with the various causes of sickness. Tzara’at, the skin disease that is the focus of this portion, was understood to be a punishment for sins such as gossip, slander, and arrogance. In other words, it was seen as a physical manifestation of spiritual impurity resulting from harmful speech and behavior. The Torah is teaching us that our words and actions have a powerful impact on others. We must be careful to avoid engaging in harmful speech and behavior, and if we do err, we must take responsibility for our actions and make amends.

As we reflect on this message, it’s important to remember that it’s not just our outward words and actions that can cause harm, but our inner thoughts as well. Just as our actions can have a significant impact on others, the way we treat ourselves – physically and emotionally – can take a toll. We must strive to act with kindness and compassion towards others and ourselves, recognizing that it’s not just the wellbeing of others that’s at stake, but also our own.

Furthermore, the purification process for someone afflicted with tzara’at emphasizes the importance of teshuvah (repentance) and the potential for spiritual growth and renewal. Through acknowledging our mistakes, making amends, and seeking to improve ourselves, we can overcome our flaws and become better people.

Let us strive to be mindful of the impact of our words and actions on ourselves and others, and let us embrace the potential for growth and renewal that comes with repentance and self-improvement. Let us listen to the signs our body is giving us about our own limits, and may we take this message to heart as we move forward into the coming week.

Pure Connection – Parshat Tazria 5784

Parshat Tazria is known for its discussion of childbirth and related rituals. There’s talk of bodily fluids, circumcision, and prescribed “purification.” And like many Torah portions, there’s an inherent contrast in the text we read this week. If the time following childbirth requires a certain period of purification, that implies that giving birth is an impure act in some way. Yet could there be a more God-like experience than childbirth? Many mothers point to that moment as a time when they felt God’s presence. However, as usual, I think there’s a deeper meaning to what the Torah offers.

One of the central themes of Parshat Tazria is the importance of awareness of our words and actions. In the context of the laws we receive about “impurity,” this means being mindful of the ways in which we can unintentionally cause harm to others. For example, if someone were to spread rumors or gossip about a person with a skin disease, they would be contributing to that person’s isolation and stigmatization. Similarly, if we fail to support and care for women after they give birth, we risk contributing to their feelings of vulnerability.

But the lesson of Parshat Tazria goes beyond just awareness. It also calls on us to actively seek out opportunities to bring healing and connection into the world. This is reflected in the detailed rituals of purification that are described in the Torah portion. These rituals require not only the participation of the person who is “impure,” but also the active involvement of others in the community. For example, in the case of someone who has given birth, it is the community’s responsibility to provide support and care to help them regain their strength and return to a state of purity.

This message is particularly relevant today. Though most of what we consider normal activity has resumed following the pandemic, we continue to grapple with the effects of the isolation we experienced. We’re finding that we have to rededicate and recommit ourselves to the values of community and what it looks like to care for one another, whether it’s through acts of everyday kindness or simply taking the time to listen and connect with others.

As we reflect on the lessons of Parshat Tazria, let us remember that our words and actions have the power to either cause harm or bring healing into the world. May we strive to be agents of healing, and may we continue to work towards building a world that is characterized by kindness, compassion, and connection. Shabbat shalom.

Artificial Torah – Parshat Shemini 5784

From deep fakes to instant school research papers, new advances and discoveries in AI are just as controversial as they are useful. Artificial intelligence has been around for decades, if not longer, but the recent surge has led me to think about the ways in which it might relate to modern Jewish practice. AI can summarize and regurgitate information, but its accuracy depends on the reliability of the source and the program’s competency in synthesizing details in a meaningful way.

The first example that came to mind was the transmission of rules and what happens when the information we have might not be fully accurate or may be filtered through another source. Our Torah portion this week, Parshat Shemini, digs into this question as Aaron’s two sons offer up strange fire to God and are themselves burned as a result. The question is did they have exact instructions or, like a pre-telephone game of telephone, was something changed in the transmission of information from Moses to Aaron to them? 

As an experiment in message transmission, here’s an excerpt of what the chatbot ChatGPT came up with when prompted: “Write a sermon on Parshat Shemini in the style of Rabbi Eve Posen.”

Shalom, my dear friends. As we gather here today, I want to talk to you about this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Shemini, and the powerful lessons that it has to teach us about the role of ritual and tradition in our lives. In this portion, we read about the consecration of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that the Israelites carried with them throughout their journey in the wilderness. We learn about the intricate details of the sacrifices that were offered, and the precise rituals that were performed, all in service of creating a sacred space where the presence of the Divine could be felt.

But what does all of this mean for us today? How can we, living in a modern world that is so vastly different from that of the ancient Israelites, find meaning and relevance in these ancient rituals and traditions? One answer lies in the power of ritual to connect us to something greater than ourselves. Whether we are lighting the candles on Shabbat, reciting the prayers of the seder, or fasting on Yom Kippur, these acts of tradition and ritual have the power to transport us beyond our individual lives, and to connect us to a larger community, a larger history, and a larger sense of purpose.

But ritual is not enough on its own. We must also strive to live our lives in accordance with the values and principles that underpin our traditions. We must be kind and compassionate to one another, and work to build a world that is more just and equitable. We must strive to live with integrity and humility, and to always remember that we are part of something much greater than ourselves.

As fun and fascinating as this experiment is, it’s also a reminder of the humanity that’s inherent in human creations and what gets lost when that piece is missing. And when we get so much of our information from social media and online “news” sources it’s more important than ever to verify and validate before we take what we read as fact, or we risk “strange fire” by spreading misinformation. In case you were curious, yes, the image on this post was created with AI.