Meet Me Halfway – Parshat Beha’alotcha 5776

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Meet Me Halfway

Life is often about making compromises. Sometimes we compromise because it’s the easiest solution. I work on one side of town, you work on the other, and we pick a place in the middle for coffee. Other times compromise means one person bends a little bit further than the other to make the situation work. The key is for each party to know what they want and how far they’re willing to bend, as well as recognize that pleasing only yourself won’t lead to a workable solution.

This week we read parshat Beha’alotcha, a turning point in our narrative. This section of text begins with instruction 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 celebrate Passover if we miss it the first time around. Then the text turns to the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, and teaches us that God’s presence hovers over it in a cloud. Finally, Moshe’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. It is in the return of his family to the camp that we learn about what unrealistic expectations have been levied against Moshe.

As God is conversing with the Moshe, God tries to understand both the mood of the people and the situation at hand. In chapter 11, verse 17 God says, “I will come down and speak with you there, and I will draw upon the spirit that is on you and put it upon them; they shall share the burden of the people with you, and you shall not bear it alone.” The people are angry about their food situation and generally about being in the desert, and they take it out on Moshe. God realizes that in these circumstances and with this state of mind, it is unrealistic to ask the people to elevate themselves. And so, God will “come down.”

Samson Raphael Hirsch, a 19th century German commentator on the Torah, reads this verse as God predicting that given the mood of the people, they shouldn’t be expected to rise toward God. Instead, God will come down to shorten the distance between them. In other words, well before we started talking about things like relational Judaism and the outreach potential of social media, God understood the need to address the people where they were and help elevate them by meeting them halfway.

Too often we demand compromise as if it’s one-sided. We expect others to “rise to the occasion.” But parshat Beha’alotcha reminds us that sometimes we have to meet in the middle in order to move forward together. This is the blessing this week, the blessing of walking with each other, of accepting each other where we are at in every circumstance and working to move forward together.

[Watercolor by Frits Ahlefeldt]

Should You #PrayForSomething – Parshat Naso 5776

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Pray For Something

Does prayer for healing after a tragedy actually work? I’m not sure the answer is black and white, but I’m sure it’s a question worth asking.

As you can imagine, it’s difficult to write a d’var Torah this week without the tragic loss of life in Orlando influencing my thoughts. Every day this week news outlets have tried to put more pieces of this devastating puzzle together, and every other post I see as I scroll through my social media feeds is a commentary on gun rights (and wrongs). Obviously no two events like this are exactly alike, but one thing that always seems to surface in the wake of tragedy is the plea for prayer. You may have even seen the #PrayForOrlando hashtag, similar to the #PrayForParis hashtag shared following the Paris terror attacks last year.

What is the goal of this sentiment, and if the goal is some form of healing to those most deeply connected, is it successful?

While we may not have a definitive answer, our Torah portion offers some insight. As we read parshat Naso this week, we read about the Israelite society trying to move forward after leaving Egypt and the establishment of a successful community. The narrative picks up with a second counting of the people, laws about how to treat one another and our property, the blessing of the priests to the people, and the laws of the Nazir, detailing how we might dedicate ourselves directly to God.

This week’s parshah also contains an iconic section of Torah, the priestly blessing. This section of text is invoked every Friday night as the blessing over the children, it’s used to bless a bar or bat mitzvah, and it’s bestowed upon a couple under the wedding canopy.

May God bless you and keep you.

May God smile at you and be gracious to you.

God lift God’s face upon you and place upon you peace.

Each line is itself a noble, yet modest blessing. However, what is noteworthy is that God is invoked in each one. Why is it necessary to recall in each line that we are praying to God? Perhaps with the transition from slavery to freedom still relatively fresh for the Israelites, we need to be reminded that it was only with God’s help that we were able to establish ourselves as a free people. That would certainly be an argument for prayer as an agent of change, or at least a viable form of gratitude.

Or perhaps it’s the opposite. Perhaps it’s what is not included in these three lines that speaks to how our partnership with God works. In the priestly blessing, we are given abstract concepts like graciousness and peace, but these are simply wishes we would like fulfilled. It’s the rest of the Torah that acts as a blueprint for action. As we learn throughout the Torah, our relationship with God is one of give and take, and it’s only balanced if prayer and action work hand in hand.

On Monday night while Congress held a moment of silence for the victims of the Orlando shooting, Representative Jim Himes of Connecticut walked out of the House, a gesture meant to decry “silence” without action. The Dalai Lama shared a similar sentiment the same night at the U.S. Institute of Peace. Although he asked for a moment of silence before his talk, he followed it by warning that prayer without action is empty.

Our prayers should not be empty words, just as our partnership with God should not be one-sided. By no means am I saying we shouldn’t pray for the victims and loved ones involved in a tragedy. The message I take away from the priestly blessing is that regardless of what you’re praying for or what policy you support, peace and healing depend on more than prayers and hashtags alone.

Parenting by the Parshah – Naso

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The contrast between joyous Shavuot (when we receive, along with the rest of the Torah, the commandment “Thou shall not kill”) and the horrific events in Orlando and Tel Aviv is jarring and nauseating. Today I offer a departure from my usual lighthearted parenting lessons as I grapple with what it means to give and receive blessing in this world my daughter will inherit. But perhaps this struggle too is Torah.

Israelites and Window Seats – Parshat Bamidbar 5776

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Window Seats

I prefer the window seat on airplanes. If I have to be stuck in an insanely small place for a long period of time, at least I can see the outside world. For me, the window seat is a compromise between the middle seat, where there’s very little room for movement, and the aisle seat, which tends to bleed into the chaos of the rest of the plane, like the unforgiving snack cart or the unobservant passenger. It may not be casebook claustrophobia, but it’s an irrational fear nonetheless.

On one end there’s the middle seat fear of having no control or way out, and it’s unsettling when it happens on the plane or anywhere else. Of course the opposite of total restriction isn’t necessarily ideal either. We learn very early on as small children that we do better with boundaries and set guidelines. Having too many options or choices causes chaos. A child will initially celebrate the expanse of options, only to have a meltdown caused by the overwhelming lack of structure. Parents, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

We see this same phenomenon with the Israelites. This week we begin reading the fourth book of the Torah, Sefer Bamidbar. This text brings us to the accounting of the people, showing us who each of the tribes are and what numbers they hold at this moment. Each tribe is denoted with a flag which marks their territory. This is the beginning of an organized society, a significant change from the free flow uncertainty they had after leaving Egypt and an even bigger change from the tight restrictions they had while enslaved.

This week the story takes another turn. Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt, means “from a narrow place.” Egypt was a metaphorically tight place for the Israelites, filled with strict rules and laws and very little freedom to move about or guide their own journeys. Imagine the stark contrast of moving straight from this pre-liberated society to a place called midbar, the Hebrew word for the desert. The desert is a vast open expanse filled with endless (and unknown) possibilities. It’s understandable that this new world without boundaries would cause chaos and uneasiness.

The struggle between too many restrictions and not enough restrictions plays out time and time again, everywhere from business regulations to government power to the running of our own households. In parshat Bamidbar we see further movement (literally and figuratively) toward what a budding nation needs in order to give its people freedom, while keeping safety and security as top priorities. As I said, I prefer the window seat.