Lying to Yourself – Parshat Vayikra 5784

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How often have you committed to yourself to doing something or making a change, only to lose your resolve a while later? Saying “I’m not going to check my phone after 7 p.m.” or “I’m going to get some physical activity in every day” doesn’t do much good unless there’s someone else around to hold you accountable. At the same time, if I ask someone to hold me accountable, but I’m not really committed to doing the work myself, that’s no good either. However, in both cases the person ultimately responsible is yourself. 

Is the question one of action and follow-through? Or is it one of honesty? If you’re not honest with yourself about what you can and cannot accomplish, the goals you set don’t stand a chance. This is one of the hardest parts of making any change. It’s not easy to admit when something isn’t working, especially when you’ve failed at something you promised yourself. 

This week we read Parshat Vayikra, which begins the third book of the Torah and details the many sacrifices and daily, active mitzvot of living as an Israelite. After an explanation of the frequency of the sacrifices, 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.

If you examine that list of the different sacrifices to be offered for different occasions, you’ll learn about the burnt offering and the requirement that for offerings of “broken oaths,” a confession is required. This is called hitvadah in Hebrew. This Hebrew verb is reflexive, implying that our responsibility is to confess to ourselves, to admit to our hearts our own wrongdoing. 

In this moment of Vayikra, of “calling out,” we are reminded both to listen to what others are asking of us and to listen to ourselves. When you break an oath you’ve made to another person, you apologize, plain and simple, and the other person decides whether or not to forgive. But what do you do when you break an oath to yourself? In those cases, the apology and the forgiveness are both up to you, and the first step to making progress of any kind is being honest with yourself.

Ordinary and Extraordinary – Parshat Pekudei 5784

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As much as I’m completely over Daylight Saving Time and ready to just stick with one time and be done with it, the twice-yearly shift does serve one valuable purpose for me. As a creature of habit, I thrive on routine, and this jarring, sudden change is enough to short-circuit my autopilot, at least temporarily. Otherwise, I don’t tend to notice certain changes until they knock me over the head.

For example, I often walk the loop of my neighborhood. It’s a path I know so well that I don’t have to think about it. I’m aware of my surroundings, so I see other people and cars, but my feet know the route intimately enough that I don’t always watch where I’m going because my body just goes. Zoning out can be helpful, but it also means I can miss the little things like buds appearing on the trees in spring or leaves disappearing on the trees in fall. At some point, it will hit me (not literally the tree) and all of a sudden I’m in awe of this beautiful place.

This is the difference between being merely present and having an encounter. You can be present as you experience the natural, ongoing, slowly changing world, but it’s the encounters that wow you and grab your attention. As our Torah reading this week teaches us, both are necessary and holy. 

Parshat Pekudei brings to a close the book of Exodus. During this book, we’ve read about the encounters the Israelites had with God at Mount Sinai and in the desert, as well as about the sacred spaces they were asked to create for God. The parshah itself deals with the final judgments about who will work on the Tabernacle (the Mishkan) and what the priests are supposed to wear. Finally, the text takes up the building and establishment of the Mishkan.

As we end the book of Exodus we find that the Israelites have created two embodiments of holiness in the Israelite camp: the Tent of Meeting (Ohel Moed) and the Mishkan. The Ohel Moed is a place to be present. On the other hand, the Mishkan, the sacred space where God will dwell among the Israelites, travels with the Israelites and is often at the center of moments of awe and wonder. In other words, God has asked the Israelites to create routine reminders of God’s presence but not to become oblivious to the extraordinary moments when they happen. 

If I Built a Mishkan – Parshat Vayakhel 5784

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If you asked me what I would do if I wasn’t a rabbi, I’d probably say something along the lines of an experience designer or exhibit curator. I love thinking about the user experience of a place, whether that’s a museum, a park, or Costco. A favorite mental exercise of mine is to imagine how I might build something if those decisions were up to me.

There’s a wonderful series of picture books by Chris Van Dusen that imagines what a school, a car, or a house would be like if built by a very creative kid. It’s fun to read these with my children and then ask them, “If you could build a synagogue, what would you make sure to include?” My synagogue would probably include quiet treadmills and bounce pads in the back of the prayer space and multiple types of seating and standing options, as well as multiple rooms for different sensory needs. Of course, their answers are different from mine, and I’m sure all of your answers would be vastly different too. The point is that everyone’s ideal environment is going to be unique, including God’s. 

We read Parshat Vayakhel this week, and we are inundated with facts about the Mishkan. The Torah teaches that we are to collect special gifts to build this sacred space and that these gifts are to be given because the giver wants to give them, not because they are being asked to give them. The text then continues to explain that because of this “giving what your heart tells you” mentality, they end up with an abundance of materials to build this sacred space. The reason the Mishkan is a magnificent construction project is because of the generosity of spirit the Israelites were moved to exhibit.

The entire text is full of directions for building a breathtaking holy space for God in which the community will gather. We’re talking gold, bronze, and silver, along with garments of majestic embroidery and so much glitz and glam. We’re led to believe that God clearly has a taste for the ornate. 

However, this begs the question, is this space for God to feel at home or for the Israelites to feel safe and present? The text doesn’t provide an obvious answer, but in reading the descriptive details, it appears that the grandeur of the Mishkan is partly because God wanted as many people as possible to contribute to its creation. That way they’d feel connected to the space and proud to be there. While our use of holy spaces has changed, the idea of having everyone contribute remains the same. When you volunteer your time and other resources to Neveh Shalom, that’s how you create a space that’s built for you, one you’re proud to be in. And if that happens to include trampolines in the vestry, you know how to contact me.

See For Yourself – Parshat Ki Tissa 5784

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In a world with surveillance video, body cams, and 4K-capable mobile phones, it has become commonplace for news stories to be accompanied by video footage of every type of event, aired for the entire public to see. Before we had cameras everywhere, the only way to truly know what happened in a specific incident was through eyewitness accounts. We had to rely on people telling the story. That often left room for conjecture, embellishment, hiding facts, and other roadblocks in the way of the “whole truth.” The only way to have a complete story is to be fully (or at least virtually) present when something happens, and now that we have Ring doorbells and security cameras, it’s impossible to go back to a time of having to remember or guess what may have happened. 

Despite the creative imaginations that have conjured up artistically rendered selfies of biblical characters (you may have seen these passed around social media), we don’t have the benefit of video footage of anything that occurred in the Torah. As we read the narrative of the Israelite nation, there are many times when we read about events that seem to only be possible outside the scope of rationality. If certain events in the Torah seem improbable, maybe that calls into question the entire document. Faith usually means believing without seeing. However, our Torah portion this week includes a commandment from God about the obligation to see things for ourselves. 

Parshat Ki Tissa greets us in the desert, where the Israelites have received the Ten Commandments, and they are now set to continue on their journey, with Moshe and God leading the way. But Moshe is delayed in coming down from the mountain, and the people are scared, unsure of this God that they have yet to trust. So they gather their gold, make an idol, and turn their attention to something tangible.

While he’s on top of the mountain in his session with the Divine, Moshe hears from God about the Golden Calf and how the Israelites have already broken the laws they only recently received. Even though furious at their actions, God implores Moshe not to condemn them from afar, but to hurry down the mountain to see for himself. 

Why doesn’t Moshe reflect God’s anger until he returns to the people? It’s because here we receive the legal and communal precedent to actually see for ourselves the entirety of the situation before rushing to condemnation. It’s human (and even Godly) nature to form an opinion based on the biases that we carry, but it is our duty to recognize those biases and fight against them rather than act without all the information.

Instructions (Sometimes) Required – Parshat Tetzaveh 5784

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A memory popped up in our photostream the other day of a time when I was working late and Duncan needed to entertain Shiri. Since the kids like baking together, he prepped a baking activity, but instead of following the recipe exactly, he simply put out all the ingredients (in reasonable quantities) like sugar, flour, eggs, oil, salt, chocolate chips, etc., and invited Shiri to create something. Even though Shiri decided the amount of each ingredient and what to do with it, they actually ended up making chocolate chip cookies that were fairly palatable. 

While baking is a precise science, Duncan can usually use this method himself when it comes to non-baked dinner combinations. He can take a mix of leftovers and whatever else we might have lying around and craft something fairly yummy. By contrast, I’m not a whiz in the kitchen, but I am exceptional at following a recipe to a 90% success rate, meaning what I make is edible and generally meets expectations. I’m not great at experimenting too far outside of my kitchen comfort zone, so I leave that to Duncan, who can put out ingredients and riff on some basic knowledge.

There are times when each of these methods is not only appropriate but also necessary. On the one hand, putting out supplies with no directions can encourage creativity and imagination and can allow people to have a unique and different experience with each interaction. On the other hand, it often makes it impossible to recreate the product, which, outside of the culinary world, might be more problematic than we think. 

Our Torah reading this week invites us into the possibility that both options (following directions or improvising) can be beneficial. Parshat Tetzaveh 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.

In the Torah reading two weeks ago in chapter 24, the Israelites answer God with na’aseh v’nishma. “We will do it, and then we’ll understand it.” Commentators often refer to this text as the notion that to understand something, one must explore it, be active in it, and test it out. This week, however, as God is giving the instructions on how to install the priests, the opposite is described. First, God lists the materials that will be needed and then gives concrete, careful, exact directions on what to do and how to do it. To mess around with this order is to desecrate holy objects. When you read both portions, what’s clear is the Torah doesn’t just have one way of doing everything. In certain moments, it is imperative to explore, create, and experiment, and in others, there’s a precise formula to ensure safety, continuity, and balance.