Author: Eve Posen

Announce Yourself – Parshat Tetzaveh 5782

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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

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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. 

Truth Be Told – Parshat Mishpatim 5782

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How can you tell if the information you’re presented with on a daily basis is true? I don’t mean “true” as in “your truth,” I mean “true” as in factual. In the past half-decade, one of the things that continues to divide us more and more is mistrust, which is only encouraged by social media and the popularization of the claim of “fake news.” We’re living in a strange time, when science is subjective and statistics can be manipulated and interpreted in whichever way makes our side appear to be right.

Instead of having productive debates over the merit of various ideas, we’re fed misinformation at such a rapid pace that even social media channels have had to fact check tweets and place warnings on posts that haven’t been proven or substantiated. What’s worse, when we hear false information about anyone or anything, we’re now forced to ask ourselves if the repercussions of speaking up are even worth the time and energy. 

Speaking out to correct falsehoods and stop the spread of misinformation takes courage, and the obligation to do so goes back to the Torah in this week’s portion. This week we read Parshat Mishpatim, the middle section of text in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Parshat Mishpatim focuses on interpersonal laws with regard to business. The main idea of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and in relationships as complete, equal human beings.

As we learn in the laws we read in chapter 23, verse 1: “You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness.” There’s no ambiguity there. The language itself is almost as heavy as the burden of carrying falsehoods and lies. The Torah is clear in the instruction that when we hear something that is false, we have an obligation to correct, and bring the truth to light. 

However, before you go around correcting everyone, which might make you right, but likely won’t win you any friends, the Torah also tells us that we are to fulfill this obligation with grace and compassion. 

Lies only weigh us down. They weigh on our conscience, and their propagation can have weighty consequences. Parshat Mishpatim reminds us that the mitzvah of lightening someone’s load isn’t just about a physical burden. To be truly courageous and compassionate human beings, our job is to lift up the truth, and by doing so, lessen everyone’s burden just a little bit. 

I Swear, I Promise – Parshat Yitro 5782

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How many chances are too many chances for someone to learn a lesson or make a change? On the one hand, I want to believe a person when they say, “I swear, I’ll never do that again.” On the other hand, experience tells me that for some people, keeping these types of promises is a struggle that’s deep and not easily overcome. 

It’s harder for children to grasp the concept of lasting behavioral change, but we hope and anticipate that it comes with maturity. How many times do parents hear the plea, “I promise I’ll listen this time,” only to have the promise broken again? 

Promises, and the consequences of breaking them, are outlined in the Torah. As early as Abraham’s time, promises were made between nations. These promises were usually sworn upon a man’s thigh, the direct link to his future. Abraham didn’t “swear on his mother’s grave,” but he did make promises based on the future of his progeny. This is likely why our Torah portion this week, Parshat Yitro, includes promises and swearing on God’s name in the ten central commandments of our nation. 

The giving of the 10 Commandments by God to Moshe and the people Israel means we now have a set of laws to live by, a guide to being a free people outside of slavery. Specifically in chapter 20, verse 7, we read in the fourth commandment, “You shall not swear falsely by the name of the Lord your God; for the Lord will not clear one who swears falsely by His name.” Another translation suggests that you shouldn’t resort to using God’s name to make your lies more plausible. Either way, the commandment is clear that using God’s name as proof that you’re telling the truth is not something we’re supposed to do.

I can almost imagine the Israelite nation at the mountain, receiving the commandments, knowing that God, their God, was stronger than all the others and formulating plans to use that to their advantage when other nations threatened them. God understood this human instinct and so put this commandment in place for us.

This particular commandment reminds us of both the power of our words and the strength of our convictions. Is it worth swearing or promising if there’s a chance you can’t keep that promise? And is there a better chance of keeping the promise if you know that you, and you alone, are responsible? Perhaps the reason that changes in behavior are so challenging is because when we swear to or on God, we remove the burden from ourselves to keep the promise. Parshat Yitro, among its many famous lessons, teaches that there is only one person responsible for making the changes we want to see in ourselves.

Hold Your Peace – Parshat Beshalach 5782

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As some of you may know, hiding my feelings on any topic doesn’t come naturally. When I’m passionate about a cause, a belief, a topic, I tend to go all in. It’s been a life-long process learning how to hold back the fire, while allowing the passion to come through and be heard. So far, the benefits are clear. I get so much closer to my end goals when I’m able to keep the big emotions in check and channel my energy into calm, well reasoned arguments, while keeping my listening ears open.  Maybe you’ve found this to be true too, that simply stepping back and allowing others voices to be heard often gets you further than impassioned pleas ever will.

The Israelites also had to learn this lesson on their life-changing journey out of Egypt. Parshat Beshalach, which we read this week, is notable for showing the power of song. We find the children of Israel on their journey out of Egypt into the wilderness. The Egyptians go after them, but God intervenes and saves them. The Israelites continue through moments of bliss and wonder at the new, free world around them, as well as moments marking the occasional “temper tantrum” at God because the journey through the desert isn’t perfect. God provides manna, and the people want more. God provides water, and the people complain that it doesn’t meet their standards.

As the Israelites are leaving Egypt and approaching the sea, they find themselves in a panic. The Egyptian army is behind them, water in front of them, and they’ve never been in this situation before. They scream and complain and channel all their anger at Moses, pleading with him to just stop the journey and let them go back and do their own thing. While they rage, Moses remains calm and says to the entire stressed out nation, “Have no fear! Stand by, and witness the deliverance which the Lord will work for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again. The Lord will battle for you; you hold your peace!”

Can you hear the powerful reassurance in that final verse? Moses is explaining, “God has got you, take a breath.” The Israelites, who had never heard FDR say the only thing they had to fear was fear itself, needed to learn that their reaction to the stressful situation was actually going to cause more harm. Moses imploring them to take a breath and let God do the fighting was his way of reminding them that quiet action is usually more powerful than noisy reaction.

Parshat Beshalach is a lesson that still carries merit today. Staying cool in the face of any situation is made that much harder when things are out of your control, and there’s nothing you can really do to change it. The pandemic has given us plenty of examples of this, when we needed to make plans to move forward but every obstacle was being put in the way. When we’re too emotionally charged, sometimes taking a breath and trusting in the process gets you across the gaping sea and onto safe, dry land much faster.