Listen To Me – Parshat Ha’azinu 5780

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I find that my least successful moments in life are when I’m too emotionally worked up to consider my words thoughtfully, and instead I scream, yell, cry, or just whine. I should actually heed the words I use with my children: “I can understand you much better when you’re calm.” Listening can’t be forced. Trying to force someone to listen to you is like trying to force someone to love you. It just doesn’t work that way.

Throughout the Torah, God is giving rules and asking the Israelites, or Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob, or Moses to listen as they navigate the nation through the journey of life. This week we read the penultimate Torah portion, Parshat Ha’azinu, which has the special honor of being the last section of Torah read on Shabbat morning. Parshat Ha’azinu is a poem which warns of the negative behavior of the Israelites and explains the blessings that will befall them with the good behavior they are capable of. The text ends with Moses ascending the mountain into the clouds as he takes his leave of the Israelite nation. The parshah is the link between generations, between new and old leadership, and between living on earth (in the land of Israel), and living with God (on top of the mountain in the heavens).  

The text begins, “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak.” If you imagine the scene, it’s Moses’s final moment with the people. He’s sharing his vision with them and his faith in God. The people, knowing how close they might be to entering the Promised Land, are likely boisterous, loud, dancing, screaming, excited for the moment. And there’s Moses at the top of the mountain, shouting “LISTEN, LISTEN!” Getting all those people to quiet down could not have been easy.

Ha’azinu begs of us not just to listen to ourselves and to others, but to listen even when we’re irrational. And what an appropriate message near the end of the Torah: this part of the story is over, so were you listening? Were you paying attention? And how will you be a better listener the next time around?

Hide and Seek – Parshat Ha’Azinu 5779

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I have a very vivid memory from when I was a teenager of my father questioning how I could be so kind one day and so moody or rude the next. I believe his exact words were, “How come everyone else is always telling us what a kind and polite young woman you are, but at home all you do is rant and act out?” It was like an adolescent game of hide and seek. I could turn on the charm for others, act gracefully and politely most of the time when in public, but at home, where I felt most comfortable, I often let down my guard and had my teenage angst in full flare-up mode. I got called out for the poor behavior, but the good behavior, which was merely the expectation, didn’t get praise. Of course now as a parent, it sounds like I’m describing Shiri’s behavior, so I guess what goes around comes around!

We often compare the relationship of God and the Israelite people to that of parent and child, so naturally this includes the teenage years. This week we read the Torah portion that is the final parshah of the year that is read on a Shabbat morning, Parshat Ha’Azinu. Parshat Ha’Azinu is a poem which warns of the consequences of the negative behavior of the Israelites and informs them of the blessings that will result from good behavior. The text ends with Moshe ascending the mountain into the clouds as he takes his leave of the Israelite nation. This parshah is the link between generations, between new and old leadership, and between living on earth (in the land of Israel), and living with God (on top of the mountain in the heavens).  

In the midst of this poetry, God sets up the ultimate game of hide and seek. Chapter 32, verse 20 reads, “And I will hide My countenance from them, and see how they fare in the end.” God is literally saying, “I am going to hide myself from the Israelites. I will not come out and be active or present in their world until I see how their behavior will be. Game on!”

If God is hiding from humankind until they show themselves as worthy, the question is what is worthy? At a basic level, we know it means following the mitzvot and being kind to one another. It means demonstrating the behavior that is encapsulated in the text of the Torah. That is what brings God back into a world in which God is hidden.

As we embrace a new year and a new cycle of Torah, the challenge is on once again. We can choose behavior that is self-centered and reckless, or we can seek to bring justice, mercy, compassion, joy, and love into the world. Then, perhaps only then, will parent and child be reunited.  

Meaning to the Mundane – Parshat Ha’azinu 5778

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Are certain moments objectively meaningful, or are we responsible for assigning all meaning? There are plenty of events we call “life changing,” the ones that rock you to your core. Moments like the birth a child, the loss of a loved one, a great success in life – these are typically the ones that leave us forever changed in some way. Moments like changing the sheets on your bed, picking a place to eat lunch, finishing a particularly good book – these moments aren’t typically thought of as meaningful, nor do they usually add depth or beauty to our lives. But are moments really meaningful or not meaningful? Black and white? Or do we place meaning ourselves? Consider moments that seem ordinary, ones you engage in every day, but still contain a moment of magic like tucking in your child at night, a quiet conversation with a loved one, or a beautiful walk on a gorgeous day. These are moments that can take you by surprise; suddenly their ordinary nature isn’t so ordinary at all.

As we come to the end of the Torah, we find ourselves reading about massive miracles and life changing experiences of the Israelites at the same time that we’re reading about the mundane experience of simply plodding through life. For the Israelites, seeing God’s miracles, which happened so often for them along their journey, became a bit meaningless. Miracles, as strange as it sounds, became mundane and something they expected to happen. For us reading about it now, without grand acts of God taking place regularly in our lives, “miracles” are anything but mundane.

This past week we read the penultimate Torah portion, Parshat Ha’azinu. It’s the last section of Torah read on Shabbat morning, and it’s actually structured as a poem explaining the pitfalls of negative behavior and the blessings of good behavior. The text ends with Moshe ascending the mountain and into the clouds as he takes his leave of the Israelite nation. This parshah serves as a link between generations, between new and old leadership, and between living on earth (in the land of Israel), and living with God (on top of the mountain in the heavens).

In one of the final lines of the text we read that the Torah is “not an empty thing from you.” In other words if the Torah appears to be meaningless, empty, or unclear, it is not the Torah’s fault, but your own inability to make meaning out of the text (or out of a moment). The final lines of the Torah remind us that it is our task to add meaning to our lives, and that is the purpose of Torah in a nutshell: adding meaning and purpose to what otherwise might be mundane.

My Rock – Parshat Ha’azinu 5777

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In times of trouble we often hear people talk about their “rock,” that person who stood by them as they weathered the storm that was upon them. It could have been any number of qualities that were helpful in that time of need. Your rock might have been someone who didn’t falter, was always positive, or always open-armed. It could have been someone who could simply listen to you vent about a crazy problem, or someone who was always at the other end of the phone no matter what time of day it was. A “rock” can vary from situation to situation, but ultimately it’s a phrase used to describe someone firm, strong, and solid.

We also refer to God as a rock throughout our liturgy. On Hanukkah we sing “Ma Oz Tzur” (“Rock of Ages”) and daily at the end of the Amidah we share in Yihiyu L’ratzon, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to You, God, my rock and redeemer.”

This week we read parshat Ha’azinu, Moshe’s final poem to the Israelite people. In it, he reminds the people of God’s grace, compassion, and loving leadership, while at the same time criticizing the Israelites for their lack of faith and understanding. In this poem we read, “Remember the days of old, Consider the years of ages past; Ask your father, he will inform you, Your elders, they will tell you.” As Moshe is moving toward his final farewell to the people, he implores them to ask their elders to clarify laws and to share their stories.

Specifically, there is this line: “For their rock is not like our rock, In our enemies’ own estimation.” The God of Israel is unfailingly supportive and reliable, while, according to this verse, the pagan gods are incapable of that type of solid, steadfast strength and dependability. Our God is responsive, caring, creating a world in which the good outweighs the evil. God is our rock.

The point of this sentiment, and in a certain way the entirety of the Torah, is that when all else fails, when there is no one to listen or to hold you up, there is God. When you find yourself struggling to move forward or needing something to hold onto, there is God. As we continue through the final days of this period of heightened joy and introspection, may we give acknowledgement and thanks to all the “rocks” in our lives. We are stronger because of them.