To Give and To Give – Parshat Ki Tissa 5783

I have a few favorite teachings from the Torah, one of which is in the Torah portion this week, when we hear about the census of the Israelites. This week’s portion is Ki Tissa, and a word used in the beginning of the text is v’natnu, which means “and they gave.” In Hebrew, this word is a palindrome, and this fact is often used to explain that giving is cyclical; sometimes we give, sometimes we receive. The circle works because we’re equally committed to opening ourselves to both experiences. 

Here’s where we are in the story: the Israelites are in the desert, they have received the 10 Commandments, and they’re set to continue on their journey, with Moshe and God leading the way. But Moshe is delayed in coming down from the mountaintop. This makes the Israelites scared and 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.

Their journey is about more than just covering ground; it’s an emotional journey as well. On this journey they’re learning to accept help and to live in the unknown, neither of which is an easy task. They’ve put their trust in Moshe, the one who led them out and has kept them relatively safe. So, when Moshe doesn’t come back as quickly as they expected, that trust turns into fear, and the Israelites respond by doing one of the last things Moshe asked of them, by giving gold. Just a few chapters before, the Israelites were generous in giving gold and other materials so they could build the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, and start working on priestly garments. Now, they apparently turn to what they know, but this time for the wrong reasons. 

The Jerusalem Talmud in Shekalim 1:1 posits that this makes the Israelites a peculiar people. How could they honor the God they believe in, who just a few chapters before told them no idols, and then flip and donate with the same honor to an idol, the exact object that was forbidden? When I read this section it makes me wonder if perhaps the Israelites were just looking for any type of connection, no matter the cost. Giving can feel good, and creating can feel validating, but doing so without a purpose is as fruitless as idol worship. 

Our narrative reminds us that giving and receiving both have many benefits. However, we also learn that we must be discerning about how we use our precious resources so that they go towards good, towards building holiness rather than breaking it down. When we have in mind the results we’d like to achieve, that’s when the giving is truly beneficial.  

A Way of Life – Parshat Tetzaveh 5783

One of the most powerful experiences of living a Jewish life is the way in which tradition, values, and physical artifacts are passed down from generation to generation. To say a prayer and know that my great-great-grandparents also said that prayer, and know that generations that come after me will say it opens up an intense feeling of connectedness and peace in my heart and soul.

The connection of l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation, is one of the founding pillars of Judaism. There’s a reason that so many moments marked throughout the Torah and the rest of the Prophets and Writings use the phrase “As God promised Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” It is because our ethical, moral, and cultural behaviors are more than a story; they are a way of living that’s passed from one generation to the next.

We see some of the first elements of this in our Torah portion this week. Our Torah reading comes from Parshat Tetzaveh, which details the specific articles of clothing 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 special instructions regarding who is to make them. After we receive these specifics, we learn about the details of what is on each garment.

When Aaron and his sons are elevated into the priesthood, Aaron is tasked with passing down not just the priestly vestments, that physical reminder of their place in society, but also the ethical role the priest will play. In other words, what Aaron is to leave as a legacy to his children and all the generations that come after him is more than a tangible, touchable artifact. It’s also the way in which they should act in the world as leaders, upstanders, and moral exemplars for the nation. 

I have beautiful physical possessions handed down to me from relatives, and I cherish them and look forward to handing them down to my children. But I also take comfort and pride in the knowledge that I’ll be handing down the values, experiences, and life lessons that my parents passed to me.

Everything Has Its Purpose – Parshat Terumah 5783

This isn’t the first time I’ve written about the chaotic mess that is my house. And I know I’m not the first parent to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff we have at home. We organize, and we clean, and we recycle, but things still pile up. And while I appreciate the effort my children make to repurpose something rather than throw it out, our house feels like there are items everywhere largely because of their need and desire to take loose parts and found objects like shoe boxes, paper plates, coffee canisters, and countless other objects and create projects with them. These containers could be a train or a drum kit. These empty toilet paper rolls can be binoculars. My children believe that every item has a purpose for which it was originally intended, and a secondary or tertiary purpose only they can envision. I do love their creativity, but sometimes I just wish I could see my floor and countertops again.

Their ability to see potential in the world around them is one that is inherently Jewish and expressed in our Torah portion this week. This week we read Parshat Terumah, which reminds us of the importance of giving gifts just because we want to. The parshah focuses mainly on the building of the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, including what the ark and decorative pieces will look like. The instructions are specific, including what materials should be used, exactly how big each piece should be, and how the floor plan should look when the building is completed.

Specifically, the Israelites are asked to create a wooden surface overlaid with gold to place special breads on, an ark to place the tablets in, and a menorah to light. Each of these items serves a purpose for the rituals God is instructing. On their own, they are simply objects: a table, a closet, and a lamp. However, used for the reasons God describes, they become sacred.

The table, with its beautiful cover, is a sacred space for offering, and for connecting our physical and spiritual needs. The ark is a private space, representing the need for introspection. The menorah stands to remind us of the light we can share when we come together in community. This week’s Torah portion is a wonderful reminder that just because something may serve an ordinary function, doesn’t mean it can’t also have a holy (or artistic) purpose too.

To Have and to Clothe – Parshat Mishpatim 5783

Anyone who has spent time with me in a meeting (specifically a meeting during the colder months) knows that I am almost always freezing. For about nine months a year, I keep a space heater on in my office, and ten months a year I use one in my bedroom. I simply can’t get warm enough. This also means I always have a sweater or sweatshirt on me or with me, and sometimes even a blanket at the ready in case a meeting space is too cold for my comfort. Since I’m usually prepared with these items, I also often end up lending them out when needed. Of course, occasionally I forget to gather them back, which means sometimes I’m cold, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The ability for me to find warmth, however, is a huge blessing, and it makes me aware of how many people do not have that luxury. It’s a reminder of how much there is to do to support those who need warmth and shelter, especially in these cold and wet months in Portland. 

This week in the Torah we read Parshat Mishpatim, the middle section of text in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Mishpatim focuses on interpersonal laws with regard to business. The main theme of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and personal relationships as complete, equal human beings.

In these new laws, we learn, “If you take your neighbor’s garment in pledge, you must return it to them before the sun sets; it is his only clothing.” The notion that someone should have what they need by sunset, the time in which we are most vulnerable, is, according to the Torah, the essence of humanity. Sharing warmth and protection, especially during this time of year, is more than a nice gesture; it’s a commandment.  

If you’re cleaning out your home of items you no longer use, consider donating them instead of tossing them. KGW offers a non-exhaustive list of organizations that are taking donations

Asking for Help – Parshat Yitro 5783

I am terrible at asking for help. I almost always accept it when offered, but it takes me a really long time to actually ask for what I need. I’m sure part of it is my innate stubbornness, feeling like I can do it all on my own, and part of it is a desire to not inconvenience anyone. Neither of these are healthy habits, and over the years, I have had to learn how to accept help, and how to ask for what I need so that I won’t become so overwhelmed I can’t function. And I know that when I can’t function at my usual capacity, I’m not just letting myself down, I’m also letting down family, friends, and coworkers. 

The central piece of Parshat Yitro, this week’s Torah portion, is the giving of the Ten Commandments by God to Moshe and the people Israel. We now have a set of laws to live by, a guide to being a free people outside of slavery. But before the Torah shares these laws, it reminds us of the familial relationship Moshe has with his father-in-law and how he sets up a legal system. 

The end of the portion encapsulates the intensity of the experience at Sinai, but in an odd way. Moses is exhausted, and there’s an endless line of people needing his counsel and judgment. He’s alone as the leader; he doesn’t have an assistant or anyone else who is allowed to make those decisions. In walks his father-in-law, Yitro. Seeing the situation, Yitro, a “priest” (leader) in his own community, suggests a way to support Moses to lessen the burden and spread out responsibility for problem-solving. 

What’s odd is that throughout the parshah, it becomes almost comical the number of times Yitro is called “father-in-law.” The text goes to great lengths to emphasize that the person who Moses accepted help from was his partner’s father. Even in the best of family relationships, in-laws are not often the first people you might go to for advice. The Torah conveys this repeatedly because it’s important to know that even Moses, the leader of the Israelites chosen by God, needed and accepted help.

Perhaps there’s a lesson or two here for all of us. If Moses can ask for guidance, so can you and I. And I’m not just saying this because my own partner’s parents read these weekly writings, but maybe – just maybe – in-laws have good advice to offer too.