Author: Eve Posen

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.

Don’t Shoot the Messenger – Parshat Korach 5784

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Life as a public servant of sorts can be challenging when you try to please everyone all the time. It’s just not going to happen, and I’ve had to work to accept this over the years in order to manage my expectations. I am characteristically solution-oriented and a people pleaser. Hopefully, that doesn’t come as a surprise to those of you who know me well. But this also means I avoid confrontation at all costs. It sounds like hyperbole, but honestly, I really don’t like confrontation. Of course there are times in my role when I’m asked to enforce a rule or a decision. I’m not the be-all, end-all of Neveh Shalom; I work as part of a team and each team member works together.

Sometimes the team comes to a resolution that will please everyone, and other times, it just isn’t possible. And occasionally there are times when we miss the mark. Luckily those situations aren’t the majority, but that doesn’t necessarily prevent the shame that comes with thinking we got it all wrong. In those moments I’ve learned that part of being a leader is to know when to take a step back to reflect rather than to be immediately on the defensive. I have Moses to thank for setting this example in our Torah portion this week. 

This week we read Parshat Korach, the narrative detailing the revolt of Korach. Korach breaks apart the priesthood and prepares a revolt, while Datan and Aviram, two other troublemakers, begin a revolt of their own. Chaos breaks out in the camp, and those who don’t align themselves with the revolution pull away, which turns out to be solid decision-making as the earth opens up and swallows Korach and his followers.

Early on, as Korach and his followers berate Moses and question his authority, Moses can be seen as becoming increasingly agitated and frustrated with his role. The last number of Torah portions have had people complaining for various reasons, and it’s clear that Moses is done. In chapter 16, verses 28 through 30, Moses probably should have stepped back and taken a break. Instead, he lashes out and passes the buck, practically screaming “It’s not my job, I didn’t make the rules! If you’re upset, take it up with God. I’m out!” 

While it may have felt cathartic for Moses to release some tension, it was likely unhelpful for the angry mob to see their leader lose control. I can sympathize with both sides. Leaders often have heavy loads to bear, and every decision can’t be a perfect one. The lesson? Kindness and understanding is the winning combo, whether you’re in charge or not.

What Could’ve Been – Parshat Shlach Lecha 5784

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I am a reflective practitioner. I have a strong tendency to look back on experiences, services, programs, and moments and evaluate how they went, how I felt, what the outcomes were, or what I might do differently next time. I keep these notes in different forms: sometimes on a sticky note, sometimes I write up a report, and sometimes in ongoing conversations. Where this often backfires, however, is when I reflect too hard for too long and forget that I can’t change the past. When this happens I end up with a lot of should’ve/would’ve/could’ve moments that are largely unhelpful to dwell on unless I am going to run the program again, in which case I need to transform them into “I will.” 

Looking back can often be helpful; after all, we read the Torah every year, learning something new about ourselves or about what could’ve been done differently for the Israelite nation. However, there is also a point when the past becomes unrealistically rose-colored, and dwelling on “hindsight is 20/20” hinders us from moving forward in a healthy way. This also becomes a hindrance in our Torah portion this week. 

This week we read Parshat Shlach Lecha and the story of the spies. The parshah begins with Moshe sending 12 spies, one from each tribe, into the land of Cana’an to bring back an accounting of the land. The spies return with their report, and it’s pretty discouraging. Two spies report back with a positive message, but the negativity of the other ten reports instills so much fear into the nation that they decide they do not want to make the journey into the promised land after all. This infuriates God, who then decrees that anyone who went out from Egypt at age 20 or older will not be allowed to enter the land of Cana’an. This generation will purposefully die out so that a new generation, unfettered by the destructive mindset of their predecessors, can start anew.

The Israelites in chapter 14 break into a huge outcry in the camp after they hear about the supposed giants in the land of Israel. “We should’ve stayed in Egypt! We could’ve been eating what we wanted! We would’ve been better off enslaved than here with only the unknown ahead of us!” This “if only” thinking proves to be to their detriment as they are unable to see the reality that was slavery and unable to trust in God or the leadership guiding them through this transitional time. 

What we learn from this moment is that reflective practice is healthy when we’re looking back in order to find a stronger, more sustainable path forward. Nevertheless, this is a stern warning from God that “should-ing” on ourselves can be counterproductive. Instead, we must send ourselves, shlach lecha, into the future with the strength of experience, knowing what our past has taught us. 

Head in the Clouds – Parshat Beha’alotcha 5784

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Do you ever see shapes in the clouds? Despite the persistent gray for a significant portion of the year, the Pacific Northwest has an incredible variety of weather conditions, including cloud formations. We often see the vibrant colors of the trees against a gloomy (or my favorite, “doomy”) background. Some days there’s so much fog we can barely see ahead of us, but other days the clouds are moving quite quickly as though on a mission to get somewhere before we make it to our own destination. 

It’s easy to get lost in sky-gazing. Watching clouds puts me at peace. Finding shapes and watching their movements grounds me between the heavens and the earth. Having your “head in the clouds” is usually associated with the impractical or unimportant, but to me, it’s those contemplative moments of feeling at one with nature that are more important now than ever. This concept of cloud-watching, in a literal sense, is central to our Torah reading this week as well. 

Our parshah this week, Beha’alotcha, lands us with Aaron and Moses as they get into the daily requirements of their jobs. This section of the text begins with instructions for the purification of the Levites as they do their holy work in the Tabernacle. We read about the first Passover sacrifice in the wilderness and how to make up the celebration of Passover if we somehow miss the holiday. Finally, Moses’s family – his father-in-law, wife, and children – return to join him and the rest of the Israelite nation on their journey through the wilderness.

The magic in Beha’alotekha comes as the order to march is given. When the Torah talks of the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, it teaches us that God’s presence hovers over it in a cloud. The narrative suggests that the cloud symbolizes God ascending and descending upon the camp, and this cloud would determine the movement of the march as well as when and where to make and break camp. Cloud up, time to move; cloud down, time to rest. 

If it feels like a struggle to find God today, you’re not alone. However, I’d argue that even if we’re not necessarily on the move like the Israelites, couldn’t the clouds still serve the purpose they did in the Torah? Their ever-changing shapes remind us to look up and pay attention to the world and to nature. Their movement across the sky reminds us to be open to change. Their rain and fog and mist remind us of our water cycle and connect us to our past and future. These are perhaps a few ways we can still be aware of God’s presence.

A Fence Around a Fence – Parshat Naso 5784

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Back in 2014 when we moved to Portland from Dallas, we went from a single-story house to a house with stairs. We spent so much time trying to figure out how to babyproof for this new situation. How many gates did we need in order to keep our children and those who would play at our house safe? Did we need to lock the cabinets and have a gate blocking the bathroom, or would one or the other suffice? Were we going to be able to leave pieces of art out and at child level or did everything need to be up on a shelf so high even we couldn’t see it? My question is how much of this preparation was necessary for safety and how much was for our own peace of mind? At what point are we building baby gates around baby gates?

And, wouldn’t you know it? The Torah this week also shares some fences we might reconsider in our time as well. As we read Parshat Naso this week, we read about the Israelite society trying to move forward after leaving Egypt and about what it takes to establish a successful community. The narrative picks up with a second counting of the people, laws about how we are to treat one another and the property that we own, the blessing of the priests to the people, and the laws of the Nazir, those who took a voluntary vow to consecrate themselves to God.

Hearing the laws of the Nazirite, it’s clear how restrictive these restrictions were. No wine or vinegar of wine, and in fact nothing with any kind of grapes or even grapes near it at all. At first reading, the idea of avoiding “anything that is an intoxicant” makes sense. But then, the list of prohibitions gets longer and longer and seemingly farther and farther from the original intent of the rule against intoxication. In essence, a fence around a fence around a fence is built for the Nazirite in order to ensure that there’s not even the slightest risk of temptation. Just the mere idea of grapes might lead to wine. 

As farfetched as this sounds, we still use this notion today when it comes to Passover. Ashkenazi tradition prohibits eating kitniyot (legumes) not because it has anything to do with remembering our time in Egypt, but because there might have been, at some point, some kind of contamination of leaven, so therefore all legumes had to be banned. 

On the one hand, these limitations, these fences around fences, do offer a sense of protection when it comes to preserving our ancient rituals and more modern customs. They can even add an extra level of unique beautification, like the tradition of lighting candles 18 minutes before sundown so we make sure that we’re prepared without violating a law. On the other hand, a fence around a fence might offer fewer opportunities to learn self-control and restraint and leave less room for conscious engagement with our traditions if we’re so protected from mistakes. Perhaps the lesson we can take from Parshat Naso is that although providing a safety net is helpful, there’s much more to Jewish life than bubble-wrapping our bubble wrap if we want to act with intention.