Tempting – Parshat Tzav 5777

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It doesn’t take much to convince me to take a taste of anything chocolate, even if I’ve made a promise to myself to eat healthier. The same goes for French fries and ice cream. Basically, anything that isn’t healthy for me, but is extremely delicious, leaves me powerless. Too often I end up caving to the craving.

Sadly, I got stuck in a spiral of poor eating choices years ago. This behavior left me with an unhealthy weight, clothes that didn’t fit, and a genuine fear of my genetic predisposition of diabetes. I had tasted the joy of giving in to temptation and then faced the consequences. That’s when I began a plan of attack at getting healthy. Over the course of two years, I lost 50 pounds and learned about moderation and exercise in the process.

As with so much in our lives, balance and moderation are key. The Torah is full of stories of leaning too far to one end of the spectrum or the other. What if Cain had tempered the anger and rage against his brother Abel? What if the Israelites exhibited patience and trust in the wilderness rather than building the golden calf? Of course you could argue that perhaps then we wouldn’t have these great moral lessons to teach.

This week we read Parshat Tzav, which reviews the instructions for the priests with regard to the various sacrifices. We learn about offerings of thanks, offerings of well-being, offerings of guilt, and offerings of free will. This is also the parshah in which we receive the commandment against mixing milk and meat and learn about the gifts that the priests receive from the well-being offerings made.

In chapter 6, verse 10 we learn about the purification offerings and the reparation offerings. They are specifically referred to as “most holy.” It is interesting that the offerings that are meant to remedy a mistake, to heal an overindulgence, or to make amends for a wrongdoing are considered the most holy. The commentary teaches that a greater degree of holiness is ascribed to the person who has struggled with sin and overcome it than to the person who has never been tempted.

Is an occasional sweet treat ok? By all means. Are mistakes allowed? Of course. We’re not perfect, we make mistakes, we cave to temptation, we misstep. As far back as the Torah we learn that temptation is not only natural, but expected. We are expected to slip because how we learn from the slip determines how we move forward.

Catch a Whiff – Parshat Vayikra 5777

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Have you ever had the sensation of breezing past a department store perfume counter and suddenly conjuring a vivid memory of a grandparent? Or walking into someone’s home and having the smell of dinner carry you away to your childhood? It is widely accepted scientifically that brain anatomy is responsible for this strong connection between smells and memory. The olfactory bulb, which starts in the nose and runs along the bottom of the brain, is directly connected to two of the brain’s emotion and memory centers: the amygdala and hippocampus.

I don’t need to understand the anatomy to know there are certain scents that just make me happy in an instant. The smell of Olga bread from my favorite restaurant in Detroit can make my mouth water. The smell of good Texas barbecue is enough to make me ravenous no matter how full I am. The smell of the challah on Friday or Havdalah spices on Saturday bring me to a place of instant peace.

Of course it’s not just food. The sweet smell of Shiri’s head as she rests it against me when she cuddles makes my heart melt. I have one particular sweater that belonged to my father; if I hold it close, I’m embraced with the faint smell of his cologne. More than sight, sound, or touch, our sense of smell has a unique way of tying into our taste buds and our memories so that we are instantly moved by the various odors around us.

This week we begin reading the book of Vayikra (Leviticus), the third book in the Torah. This book contains many practical laws to guide our communities as well as the original laws of sacrifice, and it’s filled with rules and laws about gifts we should be making to God: gifts of well-being, gifts of thanks, gifts of apology. It also has within its chapters the text known as the “holiness code,” which directs us in how our relationships with others should be created and managed. But the first portion of the book, which we read this week, focuses mostly on the types of offerings we will make to God as both individuals and as a community.

As God in the Torah starts to outline the different sacrifices that the Israelites are expected to make for various reasons, we begin to see God’s reaction to these sacrifices. Chapter 1, verse 9 evokes “a gift of pleasing odor to the Lord.” We know that it’s our physical makeup that makes smells pleasing to us, but how is this possible for God, with no physical makeup? Does God have the same human reaction that I have? The commentators emphatically reject the notion that God is actually smelling the sacrifices. Instead, what is described as pleasing to God is that the Israelites are doing what is asked of them.

I see a direct parallel to how we interpret memories and behaviors. It’s not the chemicals in the odors, but the feelings associated with them that matter. Traditional sacrifice has long been abandoned in favor of more modern interpretations of how we offer praise to God. It’s not the sacrifice itself, but the intent behind the sacrifice that is “pleasing to the Lord.” Obviously it was because my dad was who he was that the memory is so special; the cologne is simply a reminder of that. These emotional triggers are superficially enjoyable, but it’s up to us to create those memories in the first place.

You Done Good – Parshat Vayakhel-Pekudei 5777

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As a student I took great pride in my work. I always wanted to make sure everything looked right, felt right, and was presented professionally to my teachers. And nothing made me prouder than to get a paper or project back from a teacher with the words “Well done” or “Great Job” or “Excellent” scrawled across the paper in the teacher’s grading pen. Now when I’m teaching, I try to pass on that sense of pride with my purple grading pen and make it a point to encourage and cheer on students for a job well done. I do the same thing as a parent when we take the time on Friday night to bless our children and let them know how proud we are of something they’ve accomplished that week (even if it’s just sleeping through the night). This is common from teacher to student and parent to child, but for some reason we’re more hesitant to offer praise adult to adult, although it can certainly make a difference when we do.

The double portion we read this week, Vayakhel-Pekudei (the final portions in Sefer Shemot), teaches about the work of building the Tabernacle. Moshe, the great leader of the Israelite people in their journey from Egypt, is given enormous responsibility. He is asked not only to lead the people and be the emissary between the people and God, but also to oversee the accounting of the materials needed to build the Tabernacle and all that goes with it.

As the Israelites work on the building of the Tabernacle, there’s a noticeable contrast between this construction for the greater good and the self-serving construction of the Golden Calf. They’re still in the desert and living through this transient time in history, yet they learn to give of themselves freely to create something with a higher purpose. As they build, Moshe takes note according to God’s command.

Chapter 39, verse 43 reveals, “And when Moses saw that they had performed all the tasks – as the Lord had commanded, so they had done – Moses blessed them.” In this moment when the Israelites had followed the directions, putting their hearts and souls into the creation of this magnificent project, Moshe rewards them with proper praise. The midrash teaches that perhaps Moshe shared, “May it be God’s will that the divine presence rest upon the work of your hands.” What a beautiful blessing.

The lesson in this small section of the parshah isn’t just that we should go around congratulating each other. The lesson is that people make mistakes, and they can learn from them. It’s ok to let people know when they’ve mistreated you or crossed a line as long as you recognize that they can change.

Mirror, Mirror – Parshat Ki Tissa 5777

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I have a love/hate relationship with the mirrors in my house. On the one hand, they serve a helpful purpose, making sure I leave the house looking presentable. No food in my teeth? Check! On the other hand, sometimes all they do is mock me, inviting me to nitpick at my self-perceived imperfections. As a mom of two, I have become extra aware of my obsession with my image, and I work desperately to only model positive self-reflection. However, occasionally I simply can’t help allowing that reflection to be a source of sadness and frustration when the image looking back at me isn’t what I imagined or hoped.

When I think of mirrors, I think of fashion and modern living, but mirrors actually played an essential role not only in the Torah, but in the very existence of Judaism today. This week we read Parshat Ki Tissa, a turning point in the narrative of the Israelite people. We read of the initial census taken after leaving Egypt and of Moshe on top of Mount Sinai. The text contrasts the failures of the Israelites (building the Golden Calf) and the creativity and craftsmanship of the building of the Mishkan by Betzalel and Ohilev. This section of the narrative ends with Moshe descending the mountain as rays of light radiate off of him. Central to the narrative are the materials used to build the Mishkan.

In chapter 30, verse 18 of the Book of Exodus we read, “Make a basin of copper and a stand of copper for it, for washing, and place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar.” The introduction of copper into the list of construction materials certainly raises the question where did this copper in the middle of the desert come from? According to tradition, these items were fashioned from the bronze mirrors used by the Israelite women in Egypt to make themselves attractive to their husbands. Maybe this comes as no surprise, but it’s interesting to realize that even in the Torah physical attractiveness was essential to intimate relationships.

At first Moshe was upset at the notion of symbols of vanity being used for this purpose; after all, holy spaces should be built on inner strength and dedication instead of a superficial understanding of beauty. But God reminds him that without this “vanity” the Israelite nation never would have flourished.

Parshat Ki Tissa suggests we can achieve a healthy balance in our self-obsession. Inner beauty is our true nature, yet outer beauty in the eyes of a soul mate or even a lifelong friend is often what first attracts us to one another. Even in the midst of Pharaoh’s oppression, the Israelites were able to find the beauty in themselves as a way to persevere. We might not see what we consider perfection every time we look in the mirror, but perhaps we can learn, as Moshe learned from God, to see beyond what is immediately in front of us and look to the future ahead.

Dog Only Knows – Parshat Tetzaveh 5777

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Is God easily startled? It sounds like an odd question until you examine this week’s Torah portion. In describing the clothes the priests are to wear, the Torah says, “Aaron shall wear it while officiating, so that the sound of it is heard when he comes into the sanctuary before the Lord and when he goes out, that he may not die.” Is Aaron supposed to tie a bell or some sort of collar around himself to announce his presence? Certainly there is great value in knowing what’s coming, who’s coming, and when they’re coming.

If in fact God wishes not to be startled, I can sympathize. I startle very easily. I tend to zone out extraneous noises, usually because I end up so focused on whatever I’m doing. However, that means that I could be so intently working on a project that I miss the sound of someone walking into the room, and suddenly I jump because there’s someone behind me. At these jumpy moments, my heart startles and races, my adrenaline is pumping, and it takes me a good few minutes to calm back down. And no matter how often this happens (or how often I remind the rest of my family I startle easily) someone or something still manages to get me at least once a week. The only one in our house that doesn’t need to announce himself is our dog Stanley. The tags on his collar jingle so loudly that I can hear him coming from the other end of the house.

In Parshat Tetzaveh, the Torah portion we read this week, God gives the commandments for what clothing the priests will wear, how they should be fashioned, and the materials that should be used in their fashioning. The priests are designated to wear special clothing that distinguishes them from others in the service of God. These clothes are meant to add an aura of holiness to the priests as they complete their work. 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. Aside from these verses on apparel, the remainder of the parshah is mostly centered around the role of the priest.

But of course to me the most interesting thing we learn from this section is that it’s forbidden to enter a room without first announcing your presence. Sometimes we suggest, in a variety of circumstances, that “half the battle is showing up.” Well in this case, along with the notion of respect that comes from announcing yourself, the Torah teaches us that showing up is pretty darn important. Both you and the person you are meeting should be equally aware of the encounter about to happen, and each “meeting” we have is also an opportunity to encounter the divine. Affording our interactions this extra level of formality is another way the Torah lifts up the mundane and helps us find meaning in everything we do.