The Dirty Work – Parshat Shoftim 5777

The Dirty Work

When I was at summer camp as a kid, I had a love-hate relationship with the chore chart. Every cabin had a paper plate wheel that matched up your name with a task that was part of cleaning the cabin. The tasks included things like sweeping, laundry, garbage, and table server at mealtimes. They ranged from the most desired (easiest) chore of holding the dustpan, to the least desired (grossest) chore of cleaning the bathrooms.

However, everyone’s favorite spot on the wheel wasn’t a chore at all – it was a free spot, which gave one camper per day a break to sit back and relax while others did the work. I’d like to think that taking a turn on the free spot was rejuvenating and good for my soul, though I know it didn’t necessarily improve cabin morale, it just made the other campers yearn for their free day.

A benefit of having a chore chart is that the cabin stays clean, but the point of it all is to teach responsibility and the value of combining our efforts for a greater good. Each one of us has a role to play. The Torah makes this point as well. The Levites had certain defined responsibilities to the people, as did the Kohanim and the other tribes. Every person’s job throughout our journey in the desert was critical to the survival of the Israelites. But what framework did the Torah provide as we moved forward after our nomadic period? How did the responsibilities change once we were living in a firmly-rooted and established society?

We arrive at this week’s Torah portion, Shoftim. In Parshat Shoftim, a section of Torah that focuses entirely on the legal system, we read the commandment to establish judges and officers. We also cover a list of punishments for violating certain mitzvot, and we learn about laws regarding false witnesses and murder.

In chapter 19, verse 10 we read:

“Thus blood of the innocent will not be shed, bringing bloodguilt upon you in the land that the Lord your God is allotting you.”

This is the final line in a conversation about the communal responsibility to ensure public safety for society. The Talmud in tractate Makot uses this verse to infer that society is responsible for public safety in all regards, such as keeping the roads safe and drivable.

In the chore chart of life, having every position filled and accounted for is what keeps things running smoothly. But here’s the key: the responsibility for public safety does not fall solely on the law enforcers or the justice system. You don’t have to work in sanitation to do your part by composting and recycling, and you don’t have to work for ODOT to report dangerous road conditions. We are responsible for safety. We each have a role to play.

On a related note, any tips for convincing my kids that bathroom duty is in fact the best job on the chart?

Line of Sight

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The following is the d’var Torah I shared Friday night, August 18.


You can only look for blessings in curses for so long until you stop and think . . . is this the best use of my time? Should I be spinning my wheels trying to find some good in a bad situation or should I make my own good situation?

This phrase – the blessings in the curses – has a lot of different variations, but I come back to the same question each time. Here’s another version of the same theme. “It could always be worse.” That’s an interesting one. So basically, what you’re saying is you’re waiting for it to get worse. Why would you do that? “Every cloud has a silver lining.” So now in this statement, we’re trying to hide the sadness, trying to distract ourselves from it. Quick, look over here! Something happy! I’m not extolling the glorious virtues of sadness and despair. I’m not saying we should wish for it. What I’m saying is we shouldn’t automatically try to dilute it or write it off by pointing out that it’s not so bad after all. It’s dangerous when we don’t know the difference between what’s good and what’s actually bad.

Recently this bizarre moral ambiguity has been a topic in the news, specifically in political coverage, but let me be clear. This is not a partisan or political issue. It doesn’t matter who it’s coming from – the president, Congress, a teacher, your neighbor – when someone turns a deaf ear to speech that is meant to incite, or when someone confuses words that call for hate with words that call out hate, we have officially blurred the lines between right and wrong.

The difference between right and wrong is a primary theme in this week’s parshah, Parshat Re’eh. Not every issue is black and white of course, but God shows us there is usually a rigid dichotomy between curses and blessings. Parshat Re’eh begins with the line, “See, I set before you today blessings and curses. If you follow the commandments on how to be a good person, then blessings will be there, and if not, curses will follow.” There is a clear path to blessing, and it begins with following the mitzvot, the commandments for ethical and moral living that God sets forth.

And how do we know what’s good? The Torah has examples. The Torah teaches us that loving your neighbor as yourself, and not standing by the blood of your fellow, and restraint from unnecessary violence . . . these are the ways in which we create and uphold moral standards. This is blessing, this is good, and it stands to reason the opposite is bad.

Hillel teaches in Pirkei Avot (no surprise that I love this text):

In a place where there are no people, strive to be a person.

As another translation suggests, in a place where there is no leader, strive to be a leader. Basically, in a place where no one is acting with moral courage or conviction, strive to be that person. Don’t take the easy way out with this pseudo political correctness that likes to suggest that there’s good in everything. There’s not good in everything. Maybe it’s true when you get laid off, because a better opportunity comes your way. Or maybe it’s true when you’re snowed in in Portland, because you end up spending special family time together. It most certainly is not true in the form of moral equivalency, where good and evil must both be appeased. They must not. Not now, not ever.

Re’eh means see. Re’eh . . . it is reminding us to use our eyes to see two paths, blessings and curses, and the vision to know the difference.

Seeking Sadness – Parshat Re’eh 5777

seeking-sadness

Do you know anyone who’s only happy when they’re miserable? It’s a bit of a paradox; happy and miserable are opposites. “Happy” in this sense really means emotionally fulfilled. I went to a therapist when I was a teenager, and apparently she saw this tendency in me. It’s true – I used to look for the bad so I would have something to be complain about. In fact, this is something I struggled with until my early 20s when I was finally able to realize that seeking out the negative meant I was missing out on the positive. I was searching for something to be upset about instead of celebrating all the good that my life had to offer.

This week we read Parshat Re’eh. In this Torah portion we learn about the blessings and curses that come with observance (or lack thereof) of the mitzvot we’re given. We’re cautioned a final time about following the laws against idolatry, laws for keeping kosher, and the importance of treating each other as equals. Then the parshah provides some details about our three pilgrimage festivals. In general this section of text offers final guidance and laws designed to help the Israelites to be a longstanding and functioning society.

A part of this section has some interesting things to say about authority and how we solve problems. As God is trying to teach the Israelite leaders how to lead, God makes it known that when it comes to crime and punishment, it is not our responsibility to seek out illegal activity, but to simply investigate that which has come to light. Specifically in chapter 13, verse 13 we receive a prohibition from seeking out danger or criminal activity. The authorities are required to investigate only if the crime is reported to them by others. In other words, witch-hunts and entrapment are off limits. Instead, we are to give serious thought to all sides of an issue, use logic, and give benefit of the doubt.

If you’ve been reading or watching the news lately, as I’m sure you have, you’ve probably noticed that logic isn’t always part of the equation. Especially with the help of social media, we find it easier than ever to make accusations not based in fact. Instead, we jump to conclusions based on headlines meant to incite rather than inform. As with anything in life, it’s easy to find what you’re looking for if you look hard enough, and if you subscribe to the theory of confirmation bias, you don’t even have to look that hard.

This week as we read Parshat Re’eh, we’re reminded that looking at the glass as half full or half empty doesn’t just apply to individual circumstances. The mindset we choose affects everything from career trajectory to success in relationships. And yes, there will be bad in our lives and in the world. We’re not supposed to ignore the bad, we’re simply supposed to seek the good first.

 

Room to Grow – Parshat Eikev 5777

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As the older sister in my family, I was lucky to get the brand new kid clothes; the hand-me-downs went to my younger sister and younger cousin. This was the case pretty much up until I was in middle school. In fact, when my sister was a toddler, she actually thought that “going shopping” meant going into our basement to get the next size up box of clothes. We had a great system going until both my younger cousin and sister were suddenly taller than me. By high school I was the one who started to receive hand-me-ups, and to be honest, I was fine with how the tables had turned. This was a time when I relied on my babysitting money for things like car insurance and my own gas, so the free, gently-worn clothes were welcome in my closet.

At a certain point, a college student can no longer wear clothing meant for a middle schooler, even if it fits. It’s a shame, in a way, because to this day I still have some favorite outfits that I can’t bring myself to part with even though they are neither fashionably relevant nor appropriate for a rabbi to wear.  

This week we read Parshat Eikev, in which we learn of the blessing and reward for keeping the laws of the Torah and the consequences for those who don’t. The Torah then recaps the stories and lessons learned from the Golden Calf, the breaking of the first set of tablets, and Moshe’s prayer for the people. Finally we receive the second section of the Shema as well as a clear warning to guard the Torah and its commandments.  

In chapter 8, verse 4, God alludes to the fact that the clothes the Israelites took from Egypt did not wear out. After 40 years of wandering in the desert, these magic garments were still fashionable and practical, not to mention miraculously intact. The Midrashic commentary Deuteronomy Rabbah interprets this to mean:

The faith you practiced every day never wore out, nor did you outgrow it, while the faith you took out only on special occasions (like the Golden Calf) shrank and became too small for you. Similarly, your children’s religious outlook grew with them as they grew and matured.

Some aspects of our faith – of Judaism itself – change as we age just like our clothing sizes and clothing tastes. Our belief in God when we’re children doesn’t necessarily resemble our belief in God as adults. Our life experiences mold and shape us as we mature, so just as our size and style change as we age, so too our understanding of and relationship with our religion can and should change. However, when we outgrow clothes, we don’t give up and walk around naked. Therefore, we read Parshat Eikev as a reminder that if something in your Judaism doesn’t fit quite right, it’s a sign you should perhaps look through the “wardrobe” and decide what to donate and what to keep. In other words, it’s time to study, discuss, engage, and reevaluate your perspective. In Judaism and in attire, fresh eyes and an open outlook are always in style.

 

Sinai Moments – Parshat Vaetchanan 5777

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For me, all of my “Sinai moments” are tied in some way to family. If you’ve never considered your own Sinai moments before, the idea is fairly self-explanatory. These are events in your life which carry a certain power or splendor, akin to the feeling Moshe and the Israelites might have had upon receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. The Torah describes the scene as majestic, with thunder and lightning and grand theatrics. Clearly this was a moment that changed an entire people and connected them to one another and to future generations in a way they were not connected before.

We use the term now with some hyperbole, but nevertheless there are moments in our lives that affect us in monumental ways. My Sinai moments include my rabbinic ordination, my wedding day, and the days my children were born. Often these moments are joyous and uplifting, but they are undeniably powerful and life-changing. And for me, these moments were in some way, shape, or form tied back to my connection with my family, specifically those who came before me and those who might come after.

Parshat Vaetchanan, this week’s Torah portion, continues with the retelling of the laws here again in the book of D’varim. We’re also reminded of God denying Moshe’s entry into the Land of Israel. The Torah then reiterates that our mitzvot are the building blocks on which our society is formed. Finally, Moshe establishes three cities of refuge, and we receive the most well-known instruction in the Torah, the Shema.

Within the commandments about passing on our great tradition, God commands the following in chapter 4, verse 9:

And make them known to your children and to your children’s children: The day you stood before the Lord your God at Horeb . . .

The importance of passing on our tradition from generation to generation repeats throughout the Torah, but in this instance, the Torah includes grandparents. The Babylonian Talmud picks up on this notion in tractate Berachot, page 21b:

When a child is taught Torah by a grandparent, it is as if that child received it at Sinai.

Now you understand why our momentous, awe-inspiring occasions – the ones we call Sinai moments – often center on family. A Sinai moment by definition is one generation to another sharing tradition and wisdom. I take great joy in hearing my mom share with my children the stories from the Torah that she shared with me when I was a child because it tells me the preservation of our family culture and Jewish heritage are secured. Parshat Vaetchanan simply articulates one of the Torah’s primary imperatives, which is to educate our children and future generations on the beauty of our heritage.