My Only Sunshine – Parshat Tzav 5775

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my-only-sunshine

As a newcomer to Portland, I was warned several times about the “gray days” and the feeling of gloom that accompanies them. I thought I was at an advantage going in because I do love the rain, and I was assured I’d still be able to go outside and walk nearly every day, even with the drizzle. While that has been mostly true, the usual lull that starts midwinter and precedes the spring is only made drearier by the frequently gray skies.

Interestingly, it is during this lull in the year that we read a section of Torah text that lacks in narrative drive and excitement. Sefer Vayikra, the third book of the Torah, is mostly filled with ritual sacrifices and laws pertaining to the priests. It can be difficult to relate to this book, as we no longer engage in sacrifices and the “high priest” no longer has this prominent role.

Parshat Tzav begins with the instructions for the priests with regard to the different sacrifices. After discussing the need for the eternal flame, the text continues by teaching the prohibition against eating milk and meat together and then offers up a final review of the sanctification ceremony of the priests and their roles.

In chapter 7, verse 37 of this parshah, we read the words “zot HaTorah.” Literally translated, this section of text tells us “this is the instruction,” specifically referring to the work of the priests and their obligations in the world. However, these words are more broadly interpreted by Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk to read, “this is the Torah.” The entire Torah can be summed up within the rules and laws of sacrifices.

Taking this understanding further, the Kotzker rebbe comments that each of the root words of the Hebrew offerings sheds light onto how these offerings are relevant today. “The Torah leads some people to olah (rising higher) and minchah (generosity), but leads other people to hattat and asham (feelings of guilt). The summary list concludes with shlamim, even as so many Jewish prayers, including the Amidah, the priestly benediction, and the Kaddish, conclude with shalom, peace, the ultimate blessing.”

The saying goes “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” Presumably this helps us cope with the lull we might be feeling in between a gray winter and a vibrant spring. As we read parshat Tzav and this list of sacrifices, we are encouraged to find the ways in which Torah can lift us up even in the drearier times and offer opportunities for healing, generosity, and love. On gray days we have prayers for sun; on sunny days, we remember the beauty of the rain. This is the Torah, the mundane and the extraordinary.

Don’t Speak – Parshat Vayikra 5775

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don't-speak

There are times in my life when I’ve used words inappropriately, whether it was in the heat of an argument with a loved one or a harsher-than-necessary reaction when disciplining a student. There are times when I’ve promised to do something, knowing full well that I would never have the time to do it. There are other times when I’ve opened my mouth, intending to say one thing, and instead said the complete opposite. We all know the rule “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Saying just the right thing at the right time is often difficult, but keeping quiet can be even harder.

Multiple laws in the Torah remind us of the power of our speech. The very beginning of the Torah is the creation of the world, which happens by God speaking about the light and darkness and it becoming so. Just as words from God can create and destroy the world, so too our words towards each other have the power to create and destroy. This lesson is driven home in parshat Vayikra, which we read this week.

When it comes to routine and ritual, the Torah has us covered. This week as we begin sefer Vayikra, the book of Leviticus, we find ourselves immersed in the listing of mitzvot (commandments) on how to live our lives. This begins with the explanation of the sacrifices that we are to give daily, weekly, and yearly. We learn that there can be a sacrifice made in times of joy and in times of sorrow. There is a special sacrifice for being guilty of a sin and others for complete thanksgiving. As sefer Vayikra continues, we learn about the laws of how to treat one another, how to engage in holy relationships, and how our calendar and meals should reflect our innermost values and desires.

Chapter 5, verse 4 of our text states, “Or when a person utters an oath to bad or good purpose – whatever a man may utter in an oath . . . if he realizes his guilt . . .” The Torah expects that uttering oaths will lead to guilt. In this section of text, the Torah is warning against saying you’ll do more than you can. “Say little, do much,” as we learn in Perkei Avot, was the original version of “Under promise, over deliver,” a lesson from which we can all learn.

Instead of letting words simply fall out of our mouths in the midst of an argument or in an attempt to have the last words in a conversation, we are reminded to think first about the impact our words will have. It’s like the adage that we ought to think twice before speaking once. If it isn’t necessary, if it isn’t positive, if it isn’t helpful, or if it isn’t attainable, then it isn’t worth saying.

Shabbat doesn’t have to be merely a time to refrain from work; you can take this opportunity to rest from the sarcasm, to rest from the unsolicited advice, and to rest from the circular conversations that leave us unfulfilled and unproductive. Say little, do much.

Positive Reinforcement – Parshat Vayakhel-Pekudei

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positive-reinforcement

Since we moved to Portland, our dog Stanley has required a little extra love and attention. We even brought in a trainer again to help us work on some of his behavior issues. In the last session with our trainer, it became clear that just as important as having consistent expectations for him is the positive reinforcement we give him. An enthusiastic “Good boy!” should be the words out of my mouth when he does the right thing. Animals – and people alike – appreciate a “Job well done!” at the end of a task.

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 from Egypt back to the land of Israel, 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 take care of the accounting of the materials needed to build the Tabernacle and all that goes with it.   These parshiyot end with the establishment of the sacred space, with God and the people taking a good look at what they have accomplished.

Over half of the narrative in the book of Exodus, which we complete this week, has to do with building the priestly vestments, the Ark, and the Tabernacle. The building of these holy spaces and articles is important; it is the continued work of creation performed by the community.

In Bereshit (Genesis) we get an accounting of each day of creation, and at the end of it, God has the positive reinforcement, “Ki tov” – “it was good.” Up until the seventh day, the reinforcement is “good,” but on the final day of creation, God offers a blessing to the world, the blessing of Shabbat and divine approval.

The book of Exodus has the same pattern and ends the same way. “So the Israelites had done all the work. And when Moses saw that they had performed all the tasks – as the Lord had commanded, so they had done – Moses blessed them.” The Israelites had done more than a good job creating this space, and Moses, God’s mouthpiece, blessed them. The midrash Tanchuma supplies the words “May it be God’s will that the divine Presence rest upon the work of your hands.”

May we enter this Shabbat with not only the positive reinforcement of a week well lived, but with the blessing of using what we’ve built in the future to come.

Not My Problem – Parshat Ki Tissa 5775

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not-my-problem

Once there was a kingdom referred to by its residents as Paradise. The kingdom had adopted this name not for the beauty of the land or for the natural bounty it provided, but for the way everyone loved and cared for one another. If anyone needed anything, a neighbor always stepped forward and cheerfully volunteered, often without ever being asked. Why were the king’s subjects eager to help each other? Because the king led by example. The wise king knew that the people would only treat each other as well as he treated them.

When the king was old, he knew he would soon need a successor, and he appointed his son to take over. But the prince was not wise or considerate like his father. When people approached him with an issue facing the community, the prince was blind to their needs because he couldn’t see how the problems of the common people affected the royal family. His response was always the same: “It’s not my problem.”

Years later, after the king was long gone, the prince’s attitude had infected the entire kingdom. Few people remembered the town Paradise once was because everyone had become self-centered, focused only on their own problems. The only person who remembered the former paradise of Paradise was the old fisherman, who had lived before the time of the previous king. The old fisherman was fed up with the place Paradise had become under the prince’s rule. So he took his oldest, biggest boat and invited the whole town to a party on the water. The whole kingdom came out to enjoy a party on the fisherman’s enormous boat. Even the prince came.

Everyone was having the time of their lives until the host of the party literally pulled the plug. The old fisherman uncapped a hole in the boat, and the boat began to sink. The people were terrified and outraged, but the fisherman didn’t seem to care. The prince begged him to plug the hole, saying “If you let this boat sink, we’ll all drown!” The fisherman calmly responded, “That’s not my problem. I have plenty of other boats.” The Prince was flabbergasted. “Don’t you understand?” he cried. “A sinking boat affects us all! You’ll drown too!”

Finally the old fisherman’s lesson clicked with the prince. In that moment, the prince understood that other people’s problems could be his own, and the town of Paradise couldn’t continue to thrive unless everyone took responsibility for their actions and for each other. The old fisherman plugged the hole and steered the boat back to shore, as everyone, including the prince, helped by bailing water.

Too often we feel disconnected from those whose job it is to lead us in a positive, forward direction. It can seem like politicians, appointed leaders, and office management don’t always have our best interests at heart. If you were one of the prince’s subjects, how would you have acted in this story? Would you have stepped up to address the problem as the old fisherman did, or would you have continued the downward spiral of ignoring problems because they didn’t directly affect you? This is the lesson seen in this week’s parshah, parshat Ki Tissa, which details the story of the golden calf and the ways in which Moshe, God, and the Israelite nation respond to the situation.

The Israelites are portrayed as children who act out because they feel ignored, scared and frustrated. God and Moshe are like the parents whose children have misbehaved. God calls Moshe up the mountain after He sees what has happened and yells out, “YOUR people that YOU brought out from Egypt are a disgrace.” Moshe responds later to God saying, “YOUR people that YOU brought out of Egypt did this.” Neither Moshe nor God wants to take responsibility for this misbehaving child. Each responds with a “not my problem” answer. God doesn’t want to admit that He has created a people that would behave so rashly, and Moshe doesn’t want to take responsibility for being the leader of a people so distrusting of leadership. We all have the power to realize, just as God, Moshe, and the story’s prince do, that the problems facing the people as individuals affect the entire nation as a whole, leaders and all.

Now Boarding – Parshat Tetzaveh 5775

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now-boarding

You may have noticed I like travel analogies. The reason is simple – I love flying. There is still something magical to me about getting on an airplane and being whisked away to a new place, even if that place is really cold or even if it’s for business instead of vacation. I get excited about travel.   When I was younger and I traveled with my father, I felt special because we had a “World Perks” card and could get into the secret club. That made travel even more special. Even the little things like having a lower group number so I could get on the plane earlier were huge in my eyes.

These days I don’t travel a ton or have a perks card, and therefore I have no special reward status. Everyone gets to board the plane before I do. I’m not “priority access,” and I don’t have platinum, gold, silver, bronze, or even aluminum status with any airline. I am simply a traveler. I can’t even board early because I’m traveling with a small child. The single reason I wanted children was to be able to board the plane early, and now the airlines have taken that away from me too. Ok, maybe not the single reason.

I am simply a passenger, coach class.

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 set 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 gives a special instruction regarding who is to make them. Aside from this section on apparel, the parshah is mostly centered around the role of the priest.

The Israelite nation stems from the twelve tribes of the twelve sons of Jacob. The ones who are considered to be Priests, Kohanim, come from Aaron, the Levites come from the tribe of Levi, and everyone else is an Israelite. The Kohanim are those that have the honor in our parshah. They wear special clothes, perform sacred rituals, and are leaders in a general sense. The Levites help the Kohanim. They too have special roles in order to make sure the ritual rites are performed. The Israelites are simply congregants, members. Even today, Kohanim traditionally receive the first aliyah to the Torah and Levites receive the second, and only after this do the Israelites have an honor.

This process might have felt exclusionary, especially if you consider that a hereditary priestly class could easily include any unworthy children of a Kohen and exclude those who would actually want to serve. At the same time, there are advantages. It meant that the priesthood was free of outsiders who might use it for personal advantage, and it allowed – and still allows – for a legacy of ritual to be passed on from birth. This hierarchy is one of the few ways in which we’ve held onto the traditions of our past and preserved them.

Not everyone can be a Kohen. Think about it. If everyone were a Kohen, then no one would be a Kohen, just as we can’t all have platinum status, because then we’d have to come up with an entirely new way to board the plane. But the fact is today your status as a Kohen, Levite, or Israelite doesn’t limit how much you can give of yourself as part of our Jewish community. We can all learn, lead, pray, and support; those are the true perks.