Together Forever – Parshat Pekudei 5782

“We go together, like . . .” If you’re a fan of the movie Grease, I’m sure you’re able to finish that phrase, and now I have to apologize for getting the song stuck in your head. In the last few years I’ve been doing some “extracurricular” work learning about my strengths and weaknesses as a human being and a leader. This process isn’t really anything new for me; my father used to make me take the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator yearly to find out how to best parent me (he was a social worker, if that wasn’t obvious). As long as I can remember, I’ve been an I/ENFJ. That means, among other things, that there are certain personality types with whom I will naturally either find affinity or clash. This has been helpful as I’ve navigated a path figuring out how best to get along with someone with opposite traits, because in my experience, opposites don’t always attract (no disrespect to Paula Abdul).

Sometimes things pair well together, not because they’re similar and not because they’re opposite, but because the whole is greater than the sum of its two parts. How did peanut butter and jelly get together? Or cream cheese and lox? Think about it – fish and cream cheese? 

This week we read Parshat Pikudei, which details the building of the Mishkan, the artistry involved, the outpouring of gifts the Israelite people bring, and the artists who fashion the piece together. For the construction of this precious piece, God has singled out Be’tzalel to be the builder. We learn about the gathering of the Israelite nation and the cloud that will henceforth guide them as they make their way through the desert.

As the priestly garments are being finalized, we learn of two pieces that are forever together, the breastpiece and the ephod (a linen apron). In chapter 39, verse 21 we read that the breastpiece, as commanded by God, was held in place by a cord of blue from its rings to the rings of the ephod, so that they did not come loose from one another. But what was so critical that connected those two pieces? Why did they need to be together? 

The breastpiece is referred to as the “breastpiece of judgment” in Exodus. It’s a symbol of the ways in which people should act with one another. The ephod was a symbol of worship, the way in which people are to interact with God. This seems to indicate that these two pieces are bound together because justice and worship, even though they are two separate concepts, must go hand in hand as well.

Parshat Pekudei reminds us of the connection between our faith and the pursuit of justice, and, more importantly, that religion does not supersede justice. Only when these ideas are hand in hand can we expect to walk hand in hand with each other.

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall – Parshat Vayakhel 5782

For better or worse, we’re constantly examining ourselves. Everyone carries around 4K cameras in their pockets, and just about everything we do is documented somewhere on social media or on Zoom. Sometimes I find physical self-reflection useful, other times not so much. A quick check in the mirror to make sure I don’t have makeup or food in my teeth is helpful, but staring at myself on Zoom all day only feeds into body image issues.  

I have a love-hate relationship with seeing myself reflected, especially since taking a look in the mirror can be both helpful and harmful depending on your frame of mind. The 10 Commandments actually begins by telling us not to make engraved images of God, that there is no likeness of God. Perhaps this is a warning to step away from focusing on what we ourselves look like. But as we reach the penultimate parshah of the Book of Exodus, we notice that mirrors actually do play a key role.

We read Parshat Vayakhel this week, where the narrative continues with the requirement to observe Shabbat, and then includes the request to bring gifts to build the Mishkan. After that, Betzalel and Ohilav are appointed as the taskmasters of the construction project, and we hear about the abundance of gifts the Israelites brought to the Tabernacle. But within the construction details are very specific instructions of how everything should fit together.

As the long list of materials is listed, we read that there were mirrors to be placed at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. Why? If we’re not supposed to have an image of God, why have this reminder in the sacred space of what we ourselves look like while coming and going from where we interact with God?

This could be because mirrors don’t lie. The most honest we can be with ourselves is when we look in the mirror and check the reflection that’s looking back. When you look at it this way, having a mirror isn’t about vanity, it’s about looking ourselves in the eyes and truly discovering who we are and who we want to be.

A Hug of Confidence – Parshat Ki Tissa 5782

I’ve been a rabbi for well over a decade, but I still get nervous before I lead almost any service or lifecycle event. Yes, even after all these years. On the one hand, it helps me stay present, it keeps me focused, and it keeps me fresh and on top of my game. To help offset the nerves, I have what I call my “pregame ritual.” Before I lead, I get a hug from my kiddos and do a run-through with Duncan. That touchpoint of confidence and support can clear my head and give me the little love boost I need. 

Everyone has their own rituals to manage nerves, from athletes on the field to office employees preparing a presentation. However, these little moments are helpful anytime, not only before a “performance.” A quick touchpoint of love and connection can turn around even the worst day.

This human need to be embraced in the spirit of belief is exhibited even by Moses, the leader of the Israelite nation. This week we read Parshat Ki Tissa from the story of the Exodus. The Israelites are in the desert, they have received the 10 Commandments, and they are now set to continue on their journey, with Moshe and God leading the way. Moshe is on top of the mountain, and he’s delayed in coming down. The Israelites are worried, scared, and unsure of this God that they have yet to trust, so they gather their gold, make an idol, and turn their attention to something tangible.

How will Moshe return to his people after this rebellion has angered both himself and God? How will he continue to lead with this mistrust hanging over them? Moshe needs some kind of reassurance, not only that he can lead, but that God will be with him. God understands this need and instructs Moses to return to the mountaintop for a private meeting. In this meeting, Moshe and God, in a sense, create art together. They rewrite the tablets in a moment of intimacy, connection, promise, and reset. 

Who serves this role in your life? Is it a partner or other family member? Is it the neighbor or friend you can call anytime? As humans, we’re at our absolute best when we hold each other up and create together. Parshat Ki Tissa is an extra reminder, especially while we’re still trying to navigate life in a pandemic, that even the simplest of connections can make the biggest difference.

Announce Yourself – Parshat Tetzaveh 5782

My husband Duncan has adopted the considerate habit of making a subtle noise, like snapping, when he walks into whatever room I’m in. It’s because he knows I startle easily in one very specific way. Spiders don’t usually scare me, and loud noises are more annoying than frightening, but for some reason I never hear Duncan approaching from the hallway to our bedroom, and when he suddenly appears or starts talking, I’ll scream and jump as though he was a stranger. My “mom ears” are so attuned to the noises our children make that it doesn’t happen with them. And at work, I can always hear the sound of shoes in the hallway at Neveh Shalom outside my office to know when people are approaching. However, after too many times of my own husband startling me, he has started snapping his fingers when he’s coming into a room when I’m alone so that I’ll know he’s coming. It’s a subtle, but incredibly helpful gesture. It’s all the little things we do that make a marriage work, right?

Believe it or not, this tactic is also taught in our Torah portion this week. Our Torah reading this week comes from Parshat Tetzaveh, which details the specific clothing items that a priest and those close to him are to wear. This is special attire that distinguishes them from others in their service to God. These clothes are meant to add an aura of holiness to the priests as they complete their sacred duties. Since these vestments and garments are to be used for such a unique purpose, God also gives a special instruction regarding who is to make them. After we receive these specifics, we learn about the details of what is on each garment.

As Aaron is given directions for the clothing to wear when he enters the Holy of Holies, we learn that he needs to attach bells to his outfit. While it seems clear that the bells serve an auditory function, why would that be necessary? If we believe in an all-knowing God, is it not strange that God wouldn’t know where Aaron was at all times? And if God is everywhere, how could Aaron be coming from a room where God wasn’t already present?

The common interpretation is that the bells are a general act of both courtesy and respect. First, no one, not even God, should be startled when “walking” into a space. Second, announcing ourselves is a way of respecting others by expressing kindness through greeting. And finally, by requiring that Aaron does this for God’s benefit, it’s the Torah’s way of modeling that it should be done for all people, as we are beings made in the image of God. 

Yes, marriages are built on honoring the other individual through all the little things we do, but so are entire communities. The reassurance of even a wordless greeting is just one way we show we’re in partnership with each other.

Finding Sanctuary – Parshat Terumah 5782

One of the hardest parts of living through the “stay safe at home” orders was the ability to find a sacred space to call my own. Throughout the pandemic, whether it’s just our immediate family of four, or our extended pod “family” of seven, we’ve been constantly in each other’s space. This means that finding a space for privacy, a space to work, a space of peace is exceptionally difficult for all of us.

We each have found little sanctuaries where we can find cozy comfort. For our crate-trained dog Stanley, his crate is actually his safe space, and it’s perched at the top of the stairs in a location that lets him see everything going on, while protecting himself from the often overwhelming energy of the kids.

For Matan, our five-year-old, his new “big kid” bed gives him just enough space underneath to make it a perfect hideout. Our daughter will sometimes create her own fort, hiding under an end table draped with a blanket and stuffed with pillows underneath. Having everyone home more of the time hasn’t been ideal, but having at least one spot we can each call our own has made all the difference in the world.

Where is my holy space? When I’m not in the office for an in-person meeting, whenever I can, I take my sacred space to the road, using my phone and headphones to Zoom while I walk in the outdoors, taking in the sun or rain, and moving my body. When that doesn’t work, I end up in my makeshift office, an ironing board set up in a corner of my bedroom, or at the end of the dining room table. I wouldn’t call either of them sacred, but they’re functional and practical.

Even without a pandemic, having a sacred space to focus, contemplate, and engage with our thoughts is important. It’s so important, in fact, that the Torah teaches us about it in this week’s Torah portion. 

This week we read Parshat Terumah, which reminds us of the importance of giving gifts just because we want to. The parshah focuses mainly on the building of the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, including what the ark and decorative pieces will look like. The instructions are specific, including what materials should be used, exactly how big each piece should be, and how the floor plan should look when the building is completed.

Chapter 25, verse 8 comes after we receive an initial list of gifts required to make a dwelling place for God. Notably, the text tells us that it is both the material items needed to set up the space and the notion of others respecting the space that are necessary for God to dwell among the people. In other words, the building of sacred space requires not just the right materials, but also everyone’s acknowledgement that it is indeed sacred.

While I might not love having pillow forts all around my house, respecting the needs of my children has allowed them to feel safe and find comfort in a troubling time. While Duncan didn’t love me turning our bedroom into my office, we both understood the need for a private space for me to write, connect with our team, and lead our community. Parshat Terumah reminds us to respect the space we set aside, and I hope you’ve been able to both create and appreciate the spaces you need.