A Note Between Friends

I'm sure you have noticed a gap in this effort. And I am sorry for it. I am sorry nobody else took up the torch. But family crisis intervened and that is what my G-d would want me to attend to. And so I did. At first I felt bad because I had failed in my committent to consistency in this effort. That, of course, is ridiculous. Tending to my father is more important. Being consistent in caring, love, work, helping my kid, feeding my family and all such things matters more than a blog, much as I love the blog. Shabbat will always come again and my absence here does not mean my absence from Shabbat. The wonderful news is that the eternal circle of the Torah will enable me always to pick up again because each Torah portion, like the seasons, comes around again. I so hope that some of you that have chosen to follow this blog (at least for its beginnings) will continue to do so. The joy is in the learning.

The Footwork Is Up To Us

This week's Torah portion is Eikev (Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25). Maybe I am just tired and maybe it is actually confusing, but I found myself unable to find a focal point other than the one I will get to in a moment. The theme that struck me seemed too simple in the midst of all the erudite commentary I read. This portion is the closing scene of the people's exile in the desert. They are about to cross the Jordan and enter the promised land; enter into war to claim it. Moses is giving what has been described as the rest of his closing speech to the people; we know he will not cross over Jordan but will die in the desert because it was his generation that rebelled against G-d and was exiled to 40 years in the desert. Moses recounts the history of all that the people have endured, the hardships and slavery. Moses exhorts the people not to forget that G-d has brought them to this moment and this place, about to finally have what was promised; a land of their own and the wealth it encompasses. It is Moses' fear that self-importance and arrogance will lead the people away from the commandments, the good deeds that make life worth living. So this portion is filled with crashing oratory, the story of the golden calf and the smashing of the tablets of the commandments. It is also filled with a recounting of all that G-d commands the people to do, how they are to live. And it is filled with the premonition of violence and the people being urged forward to war. It is a complicated portion and every single commentary I read focused on something different. What came through, in the end for me, is that this portion is simply about G-d's love for us and our love for G-d. G-d brings us to time and place and what we do with it is up to us. The people were protected through all their tribulations and travels, they were give the gift of the commandments (yes he let Moses write them down again) and rules (all 600 plus) so they could know how to live, know what was good and right. That is how G-d showing love for us. How we show our love in return is to do our best to use those rules to try to live in the good, in the right. G-d brings us to time and place, but how we live is up to us. G-d loves us just as we are, the footwork of living is up to us.

Peering into the Future - Va'etchanan

Va'etchanan (Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11) is the parsha this week, and a wonderful one. There are many themes in the various commentaries I read, most centered on the repetitions of the Sh'ma that are found here. Also featured is Moses' review of the history of the Jews up to this point. Moses also reviews his pleading with G-d to be permitted into the promised land. G-d was angry and said no; allows him only a peek at the land from the top of the mountain telling him you will not cross the Jordan. And of course we know that he dies with all the others of his generation in exile and only the next generation inherits the land as G-d promised. Tangentially, I may be a slow learner but I never realized that this is where the gospel verses about "going over Jordan, going over home" and "water is wide, can't cross over" and a million other gospel songs come from. Duh; those in exile yearning to be free. I love the book of Deuteronomy, there are so many things in this book that resonate and have become familiar in our cultural history. "Let justice roll down like water and righteousness like a might stream" (Martin Luther King) is one such example. But back to the point, as Moses is recounting he says to the people, in essence, G-d gave you the Torah, what are you complaining about. For it is in the commandments, which are repeated in the parsha, that we are bound to G-d. In doing G-d's will we find a connection to G-d. Life is a connection to G-d and when we use our life for good we are connected to G-d and to the gratitude we should have for the life we have been given. I have a friend who is very sick, waiting for a transplant, has cancer and lung disease and yet he is grateful almost all the time for the time and the gifts he has been given. Amazing, and so... as stressed and tired and sick as he is, he is serene, just waiting for the next thing. It is a beautiful thing. In this portion, connected to the commandments is the familiar V'ahavta prayer which centers, in its most fundamental, on the concept of l'dor v'dor, from generation to generation. G-d tells us that it is our most important mitzvah, good deed or commandment, to teach our children and our children's children. Of course reading this, I focused on my teenage son who seems to have no faith at all. He said his prayers as a child with perfect consistency, we lit the candles and attended temple and shared our life cycle events. He completed Hebrew, had a beautiful Bar Mitzvah, was confirmed and still seems to have no connection to G-d. I don't think I am alone in this, I think this happens to teenagers all the time. I wonder will he remember the beauty of those Shabbat candles, the familiar cadence of the prayers and how we were together in those moments when he leaves our home? Will he open his mind to faith as he makes his way; I have no idea. Will he seek out other Jews when he is on his own? I have written before about the comfort of ritual, but young adults spreading their wings don't always need or want it, or find it useful. I have followed the commandment, I have performed the mitsvah, I have taught him as well as I knew how, learning myself all along the way. My parents have no faith, so how I came by mine is hard to say. I know I am near to my bubbe when I practice my faith, and near to those who perished in pogroms whose blood I bear. And so l'dor v'dor, I have done the best I can to make being a Jew an honorable thing. As he stands on his mountain, peering into the promised land of his future, I know he is afraid. He is afraid to be different, to stand out. I hope when he is afraid the Sh'ma will come to him as it did when he was a tiny boy, and comfort him by its familiarity. I hope he will find self-esteem in the doing of mitsvot, good deeds for the sake of helping others and not for recognition. I hope he will find identity in the company of good Jews. Mostly, I hope he will find that connection to G-d so that he will never be alone, no matter which side of the river he finds himself on.

Marking the Way to Now

So... sometimes there is too much life and not enough time. Seems to be my constant refrain. My life gets in the way of my life. But I'm back. This week is Mattot - Ma'sei (Numbers 30:2 - 36:13)and one of the things contained in it is the law of vows and, in the spirit of Ecclesiastes, it is better not to vow than not to fulfill a vow. So I vow to do my best to do this every week but I do not vow to do it every week. There. I loved that in Elyse Friedman's D'var Torah this week on the URJ web site she talks about the Berkshire mountains in Lenox (and environs). This is where my mother has lived for over 35 years and I know precisely where she describing. it is a place very dear to me. She likens it to Shelach L'cha when the people believed the worst and were afraid to go forward; the fear or ugliness obscuring the way forward to beauty. That failure angered G-d and the people were set to wandering for forty years or, until the generation that perpetrated this provocation were gone. Mattot-Ma'sei begins with the tribes and goes on to tell us of the journey. There are many things in this portion, war, laws of annulment of vows including the annoying fact that men could annul the vows of women, the laws of various types of murder (tempting to talk about given my background). But I think what matters most is the journey. This parshah lists the 42 "stations" or places where the people lit in their Exodus from Egypt to their arrival at the promised land. But this journey is not just the physical journey from Egypt to Israel; it is the journey of the generation, the life of them, that had to pass for the people to be permitted to enter the promised land. This is the journey of a people who were cast out into freedom and had to learn what freedom meant for them. One commentary I read says that one of the lines translates to "travelling from the burial place of desires". I love this, the idea of travelling from what we want, to what we get. So in travelling to what G-d intends for us, how do we mark the story, the "stations". There are pivotal points in all our lives, things that mark our story, that help us make sense of the journey. Another commentary talked about the idea that Moses marked the waystations so we would know our story, so they would know their story, be reminded, remember their story, their journey. So in travelling to what we get, we need to know our own stories, to mark our way, to chronicle and revisit our own histories. My mother is writing her history now and she is being pretty brutally honest. She tells me my life is interesting and that I should write it; but that if I do I must include everything, good, bad, ugly or beautiful or it won't be honest and true. Maybe I just need to chronicle the pivotal points, they are likely to be all that I can remember. So that as I travel from the burial place of my desires to the here and now of what G-d has chosen for me, the beautiful moment that is my life, I have guideposts to remember my own story. I do know that memory is malleable, as contrary as the wind and really what I get is each moment. If I stay in the bubble of each moment, there is never too much life; just exactly enough. Shabbat Shalom

You Don't Know What You've Got Til Its Gone

This week's Torah portion is Korach (Numbers 16-18). In this portion there is rebellion, greed, envy, competition, bloodshed and spectacle. Sounds like a good movie! As I understand the preceeding portions, each of the tribes of Israel was given a function or job, and they lived in formation around the Mishkan, the sanctuary and ark. This was intended not only to create a civil society with rules and roles, but to place God and the Torah at the center not just figuratively, but literally as well. Korach was the of the tribe (Kohathites?) that had the special privilege of transporting the Mishkan-the Ark. Associated with this special privilege were many very specific and sometimes difficult instructions. Those who had this job had to focus entirely inward, toward the Torah, not outward toward where they were going or what was happening with them or around them. The other special privilege was given to the Aaron - the Levites - to be the priests and lead the rituals and ceremonies to do with the Mishkan. Moses was the leader of the people themselves. Korach apparently did not perceive his job as a privilege but, rather, as a burden or at least as not important enough to satisfy him. He wished to have Aaron's job as the high priest, the "big kehunah". (I never knew where that phrase came from before!). So he led a revolt, incidentally manned by 250 others who thought they were best for the same job! As a result of his envy, greed, self-righteousness and discontent not only did the 250 die but thousands of others as well. It is hard, in today's world, to find gratitude for one's "place". Often the place we are in is not where we wish to be. With jobs scarce and money scarcer, many are in a terrifically difficult and dissatisfied place. When we are dissatisfied, when we are envious of what others have, instead of happy for them, we are generally likely to act in destructive ways; as Korach did. When we are grateful for what we have, whatever that is, life is much easier to take and we are far less likely to behave in self-obsessed or destructive ways. When we see our lives as a privilege rather than a burden, it is so much easier to find the joy of life. I have the privilege of having a job today, much as many don't; I have the privilege of raising my child today (as trying as that may seem occasionally); I have the privilege of a relationship with my father for all its attendant difficulties; I have the privilege of a marriage that has lasted almost twenty years through good and bad; I have a home and food to eat. These simple things are to be cherished, they are things to be grateful for. Often you hear people speak only of how these things are not enough, not as good as someone else's, simply things to burden them. Each of us on Shabbat should take a moment to count our blessings, whatever they may be, because for all the hardship life has to offer, there are always blessings to be counted if we take the time. If only the blessing of the very breath we draw; you don't know what you've got til its gone. Shabbat Shalom.

Sh'lach L'cha - The Frailty of Faith

I am back on the grid and happy to be writing for this coming Shabbat; which can't come soon enough for me. In this wonderful Torah portion (Numbers 13-15 roughly) G-d gives the land of Israel to the people. There are so many wonderful commentaries on this portion that I got lost in reading them. I am sure that I will duplicate the ideas of other here because I can't see much that hasn't been written on this portion, it offers so much to think about. This portion is about gifts and about betrayal, weakness and, ultimately, faith. The literal happenstance is that spies are sent out to Israel to see if the gift is worth having. Of the twelve spies, ten come back saying it will be too hard, the people are too strong and too big and cannot be overcome; just two say that the land is worth the fight. As a result, although G-d forgives the people, the people are punished and exiled to wander the desert for 40 years before entering the land. So, there is the gift, and the relationship that comes with it; and there is the free will to reject the gift which is itself another gift. In this portion the people abuse both gifts. Think of all the miracles G-d has wrought in the Torah prior to this event; think of all the people have been through and survived! Yet they did not have the faith to believe that once again they would be alright. So fear, spiritual or emotional fear, lives in the place where faith should be. In one commentary I read it supposes that the spies wanted to stay in the desert for there they could simply depend on G-d for everything (so they had enought faith for this?) and not work at building the land or fulfilling the agricultural/work mitzvot that can only be accomplished in the land of Israel. Laziness? Or just fear? We too often fail to see our part, our "footwork" and where that diverges from the greater plan and therefore fail to give to G-d what we cannot do or understand. We humans have our part, and we have our free will, but without faith we are rootless. We are, like the Israelites of old, cut off from our relationship with G-d. Gifts create a relationship between the giver and the receiver; to give casually and without thought is to offend the receiver, and to scorn them is to insult the giver. We should give with sensitivity and receive with grace. We continue, like those Israelites, to struggle with the gift of faith. We often fail to receive the gift with grace, we are imperfect in our faith. Our faith is fragile and often transitory, needing to be revisited and rebuilt constantly. This is the wonder of Shabbat. The gift of faith is the gift of a meaningful life, much greater than the gift of life itself. On Shabbat we have the opportunity, weekly, to revisit and rebuild our faith, our relationship with G-d and the meaning in our lives. Shabbat Shalom.

Off the Grid

So...I have been off the grid in the wilds of the New England hills. The good news is that my mom is going to be fine and her sojourn in the eastern part of the state (Boston to be exact) meant a good diagnosis and they have determined that she has not been having strokes but some other non-life-threatening neurological incidents. We had a wonderful visit although not restful. Little tv, very little internet, not much phone. Reading, eating and taking care of everyone (as per usual). It rained the whole time but the cool air felt wonderful. Anyway this is a short note. As you all can see perfectly well I missed another shabbat. The good news is that I didn't really miss shabbat. It is always shabbat whether I write something or not, whether I go to temple or not, whether I light the candles or not. That is the beauty of shabbat, it happens in spite of me, or any of us. I am so happy to be that unimportant. At any rate, I am happy to be home and happy to be back on the grid. I hope to invite other authors to this blog. If you wish to be an author, rather than a "commenter". Please e-mail me or "comment" me or facebook me. I will send an "invite" to you via e-mail and you will be able to post your very own dvar torah here. Then it won't matter so much if I "miss" shabbat.

G-d Will Understand

Tonight my mom had a stroke in the vast wilderness of the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts. They are flying her to Boston tonight. She seems alright, but it is scary. At any rate, my upcoming vacation to visit her next week may move up fast to tomorrow. I had my Midrash for tomorrow about half done but its not all done and I pretty much can't focus so... Unless I get a guest writer for tomorrow, there may be no Midrash this week. I invite you all to send me a comment with your "author" name and your e-mail so I can give permission for your Midrash to be published here. What is most important about this week's portion, Naso 2 as it were, is that it contains the "priestly benediction". I am not a "priest" but I will leave you with it nevertheless. "May G-d bless and keep you; May G-d make his countenance to shine upon you; May G-d lift up his countenance upon you and give you the gift of Shalom, of peace." There are lots of translations, and there is a blessing that precedes it (we have to bless everything; orthodox children have Baruch Bees to learn all the blessings!) G-d will understand that I am not a priest and that there is no Midrash from me this week. I will take the Shalom and run!

Letting G-d In

I was so excited to have four followers I almost fell off my chair. I love writing Midrash and I felt that I did not do my best this Friday, but sometimes life intrudes. My dad, who is kind of losing it and lives with us now, decided to cook for me. It was a simple dinner, but it takes him a long time. I really wanted to go to Temple Friday, but I couldn't leave and dinner wasn't ready. And so we celebrated the Sabbath the way Jews always did before there was Friday Temple. Around our dinner table, candles lit, a little bread and wine; in our case Matzo and grape juice because I hadn't prepared for this. My son's very teenage friends sat in. They had started asking questions about Judaism. My son seemed a little embarrassed by this. When I explained the Shabbat rituals one of them piped up and said "can we light the candles" (he was a little upset when I told him he couldn't light them, that was my job as the woman and mother). I am sorry to say we have always been pretty faithful about the candles but as our son is home less and less and we are pulled every which way, we have slacked off. It was lovely to settle into the familiar ritual, I forget sometimes how much pleasure it gives me. Even the embarrassed teenaged son raised his glass and led us in the prayer for the wine, long his part. I am not the old fashioned Jewish mama. I am a career woman. On Fridays my home is not gleaming and there is no special dinner cooked. Often the best I can manage is a pizza. But in the sacred candlelight nobody can see the dust in the corners and nobody cares what we eat. For that brief hour, we invited G-d into our home to sit with us at the dinner table and share what we believe with children who have no spiritual life. Perhaps that will one day inspire them to invite G-d into their own lives. My son will be gone so soon, I hope he will remember the shabbat lights and all the Friday nights, I hope he will honor them in his own home, will seek and find them as he travels the road from our home to his.

Naso ~ Alone Together

In Naso, the jews are inaugurating the mishkan, the tent or temple that is created in the desert (which we talked about in B'midbar) . There are several really interesting ideas here. The first is the offerings, or silver platters. Each of the twelve tribes must bring one on each of twelve days. One each day. Some midrash asks why the Torah says there are 12 on the 12th day, shouldn't there be just the one? It seems that the Torah is referring to the totality of all the tribes offerings, making the first offering and the last offering of equal value. Or, viewed another way that the last is as important as the first since the mishkan, the sanctification, is incomplete without all the offerings. Thus is the entire nation of the Jews required for this holy task. There is another interesting idea in Naso that ultimately relates to the first. It is the idea of separation. The Jews are separated by who will transport, who will guard and who will leave the portable sanctuary, the mishkan. One commentary I read talks about the idea that you can see this two ways. First, because it is all related to the sanctification of the sanctuary, we are all "children of G-d", of the same nation of Jews. Conversely, it could be seen as "we each are separate, having our own job to do". I think both are true, we are all of the same nation, children of the same G-d. In this context we are all necessary to each other as each tribe was necessary to the completion of the mishkan. But we are also all separate. We are individuals, as G-d made us, with different talents, skills and stations. Not all stations in life are equal but they are all dependent on the others. No person is the proverbial island, able to survive on their own. In ancient times the Priest needed the waterbearer, etc. you get the idea. And so we are each our own selves, special, separate and individual. But we are made greater, stronger and more special by our unity as a nation of people, bound together by tradition, purpose and faith. In this way G-d has given us the best of both; our uniqueness and our interdependence, all wrapped up in one.

B'midbar ~ The Journey Into Faith

Okay, here goes. This week begins the book of Numbers, B'midbar, which means variously "in the wilderness" or "in the desert" which seems to get the most votes. It gets the most votes because the symbolism of the desert is critical at many junctures in the Torah. This portion begins, among other things, with the "counting" of every Jew; and this is not the first time, G-d counts the Jews all the time. One Chasidic commentary talks about the paradoxical truth contained in the counting. First, that it implies that each of us is individually important, special, and to be counted separately because we are individuals. Second, it implies the ultimate humility, that each of us is entirely equal, of exactly similar value. This is the same idea that underlies our fundamental democratic ideal, that each of us has an exactly equal voice, no more or less than any other. There are many ideas about why G-d chooses to put the Mishkan, the tent, the sacred space in the desert, and there to give the Torah. One idea is that it was given in the desert because it belongs to nobody and therefore no "place" can claim the Torah for its own, that each who seek it may find it. The one that appeals to me most today, is the idea of outside and inside. As we leave Leviticus, we leave the Mishkan, safety and plenty and begin the journey into the wilderness. The symbolism of the desert as the place to find spiritual completeness has had many commenters. I find it more interesting that the journey into the wilderness is the ultimate journey of faith. So as we leave the safer place, the tents of Jacob, the sacred spaces, what we are given to sustain us is not food, or water, or material things; it is the Torah, faith. From this grows the idea that when we do our part, whatever that is; when we do our best and can do no more, the rest is up to G-d and only faith remains. In the counting we are reminded that each of us is important, that G-d has concern for the welfare of each of us, not just the welfare of the whole. In the counting we are also reminded that G-d loves us as we are, as we were made, each of us unique and special, to be counted separately. In this way we are reminded of our relationship with the divine, our own special unique relationship. It is easy sometimes to feel the presence of the divine "inside the tent", in our services, among our families or our friends, in whatever group gives us solace and strength. It is much harder to find the divine "outside the tent". In this portion we know that when we are outside the tent, seemingly alone in the midst of life's struggles and sorrows, G-d is with us, faith can sustain us and our unique life is the greatest gift. In the end it is the journey into the desert, into our faith, that enables gratitude, compassion, joy. Shabbat Shalom.

Just To Be Clear ~ Everyone's Welcome

This is by way of clarification....I welcome everyone and anyone to comment, contribute or otherwise enrich this blog site. I hope to begin a robust interchange of insights by ordinary, or extraordinary, people. I know lots of them; most of them are women, I are one too. But many of those whose ideas about Torah I respect are men and I hope they will feel free to join the discussion. Girltalk is a euphemism for honest, open and relaxed conversation about ideas of mutual interest. So whatever you are, your midrash are welcome, that's the whole point. I will post my first humble effort for tomorrow's shabbat...B'midbar.

D'var Torah

We have this really cool idea in Judaism, that anyone can and should interpret the Torah. In our world it is not just the Rabbis that have the power, intellect, right, whatever to interpret scripture. In our world scripture is personal, to be understood and explicated by each of us. I love doing this. I particularly love writing the D'var Torah for a shabbat service (this is equivalent to the sermon, its a commentary). Finding a theme, particularly one that resonates in the modern world, is not always easy. Some Torah portions are filled with terrible things. This week was all about the punishing God, the torments to be inflicted if we don't observe all the rules. Its a difficult portion unless but the good news is that God loves us nevertheless. The last one I wrote on was all about skin sores (often interpreted as leprosy) and things unclean. I have been asked to write about this particular portion several times; not easy or attractive (its just a matter of dates). Each time the Rabbi says the teachers at the seminary say only the best get to write this portion because it is so difficult. I think he is just glad I did it, rather than leaving it to him! Nevertheless, it is interesting to do. It stretches my mind. And it makes me glad to be a Jew, because everyone's Midrash (commentary) is welcome and encouraged. I love that egalitarian approach to the bible, to religion. And while I know that in the more orthodox corners of our religion women's commentaries are not always welcome, I sit in a corner where my view is solicited, welcomed and praised. How cool is that?

Sisters ~ Tazria

Tazria…..okay. This is, of course, the Torah portion about the impurities of menstruation and childbirth, the illness of the skin sometimes associated with leprosy, and the rituals for purity that include social isolation. Lovely, no? This is my third Tazria d’var torah and I sometimes think, why do I keep getting the impurities parashah? I try not to take it personally.
As always, it is an honor to be here among my sisters, a good, safe place to be on a Shabbat morning. I always do lots of reading before I write midrash. I like to see what the really smart people have to say about the parshah and then “steal” their ideas. I really don’t steal ideas, they help to germinate (as in tazria for seeding) my own ideas. What the process really is, is that an idea develops kind of like the tazarat or affliction referred to in this portion. A little idea takes hold on the fringes of my mind and then spreads and develops until the D’var Torah is done. There are lots of scholarly and interesting discussions about the semantics in this portion, the parallels and conflicts between the ideas of “seeding” or rebirth and the development of affliction. I had to stop myself from reading because as fascinating as the semantics were, they were for me on this Shabbat a diversion. The parashah describes the Tzarat as a mysterious impurity that afflicts the walls of your home, your clothes and your body. Although there is a lot of focus on the reproductive in this, something a little different struck me about this portion this time. There were two resonant themes for me. The first is that the primary cause of this terrible and mysterious affliction is what most commentators translate as “evil speech”. The second is that it afflicts the least personal thing first, the walls of the home, progressing to the clothing and finally, lastly and intimately, to the person themselves. Evil speech….there is a concept. If you think hard on it the meaning is kind of elusive and yet when you hear it, and simply react to it, we all know and think the same thing about it; gossip or malice about another. Aha, so there is a golden rule moment embedded in this portion. Speak of others as you wish to be spoken of.
As a sisterhood, we are a widely varied group. In our ages, in our backgrounds, in our education and in our personal styles, politics and beliefs. We argue, we disagree, we hurt each others feelings and sometimes, just sometimes, we gossip, we back chat, we talk out of turn. You know what I mean. We all believe it is wrong, we all think we shouldn’t do it, we all try not to. But at some time or another, we all do it. And it causes disunity, difficulty and ultimately damages our Sisterhood, not to mention ourselves. I see it spreading just like tzarat, first it afflicts our walls and it progresses until it afflicts our persons, our selves and our spirits. Our purpose is to be a pillar of the Temple, a strong support, helping in times of trouble, providing leadership of culture and thought, supporting youth. Our purpose is to be a pillar for women, to help each other, to promote the values and beliefs that we do share, to build an organization that attracts new women to us. We don’t proselytize, we don’t “troll for souls”, we hope to attract by our spirit and purpose women who want a place to belong and to prosper spiritually and emotionally.
[This happened to be a "Sisterhood" Shabbat at our Temple.]