The Holiness Around Us

THIS WEEK’S TORAH PORTION IS VAYETZE, GENESIS: 28:10-32:3.

In this parsha we meet Jacob as he is on the run from his brother Esau. One would assume that he is afraid, lonely, missing his mom and unsure of what is to come. He falls asleep in a place that is holy but he doesn’t sense the holiness until after he has that amazing dream of the ladder and the angels. Upon awakening he says, “Surely God is present in this place, and I did not know it.” (28:16)

I love this story because it shows what Judaism is all about — taking the ordinary and elevating it to holiness. We all have moments like this in our lives, perhaps the birth of a child or seeing a rainbow. Jacob falls asleep in what he assumes is this regular piece of land, but upon arising realizes that the place is steeped in holiness. He marks the place to commemorate the holiness. We can do that in our everyday life in many different ways.

 It’s what happens next that has always bothered me.

After Jacob marks the location, instead of thinking about how to incorporate this into his life, he strikes a bargain with God disguised in the form of a vow: “If God stays with me, if God protects me, if God provides for me, if I return safely, then I will believe in You, then “the Lord shall be my God.” (Genesis 28:20-22) Midrash has various explanations that try to prove that this is indeed a vow and not a bargain, including the idea that the Torah actually flips the order in which these events occurred such that Jacob’s vow actually came before the revelation in the dream. Thus, the dream is a response from God to Jacob’s vow/bargain. The second is that Jacob is pledging himself to specific behaviors in gratitude to God for the promise made to his ancestors and that will be fulfilled.

I am choosing to follow the order of the events in the Torah and interpret them accordingly. Jacob goes to sleep along the road and experiences a dream that includes a visible manifestation of God. He wakes up full of awe and appreciation of how the ordinary in one’s life can become extraordinary and holy. But instead of running with that feeling, he acts in a very human way and decides to take advantage of the moment. He thinks “OK, God, now that I know firsthand that you are with me, I am going to ask you to alleviate my deepest concerns. And if you do that, then I will believe in and follow you always.”

Not everyone will agree with my reading. It’s distressing when we see one of our patriarchs do something that lessens him in our eyes. Jacob, however, is one of our ancestors who revels in his humanity with all its frailties. In this reading, Jacob is every person. He has parents who love him but they too are flawed and their flaws impact Jacob’s every action. He does wonderful things, but makes some colossal mistakes. Jacob receives proof of God’s presence, and instead of integrating that into is his life, he proceeds to bargain with the Holy One in his if-then scenario.

Jacob is all of us. We forget that there is everyday holiness. When we notice it, we are awed — and then lapse back into our everyday lives, sometimes denying the very holiness we’ve just experienced. But when we are troubled or afraid, we know what to do. We turn to God and pray. We bargain bargains that are sometimes outrageous in scope but are designed to get us through the bad times. Later, after the crisis has passed, we forget the terms of our bargains and relapse into our everyday lives. We do this because we are human.

My dream for all of us is that we are able to recognize the holy in the world in both the good and the bad times. I pray that the bargains we strike, because we will strike bargains, are of a type that can be kept and that infuse our ordinary world with the holy and the extraordinary that is Judaism.

Rabbah Arlene Berger is the rabbi of the Olney Kehila in Olney, MD.

Published originally in Washington Jewish Week  11/18/15 

Ha'azinu: The Strength of Our Stature

            The Parasha Ha’azinu is the second to last chapter of the Torah and is written as a Shir, a poem or song. One definition of a song in the Torah is a parasha that is written in a certain pattern.  There are 5 such songs in the Tanach– and each marks a passage or critical event. It just so happens that we read two this Shabbat - Shirat Haazinu, our Torah portion, which takes place as the children of Israel are in the desert and are readying to enter Canaan; and Shirat David, our Haftarah (II Samuel 22:1- 51), which takes place at the establishment of the Monarchy (through King David's line). (The Hebrew word "shirat" means "the song of...") Shirat David is only read as Haazinu’s Haftarah when Shabbat Haazinu falls after Yom Kippur, as it does this year.

            The written structure of the Shirim is different than the rest of the Torah. Shirat Haazinu is written in two narrow columns reminiscent of two stacks of bricks, a somewhat shaky or unstable pattern.  Shirat David, its haftarah, is written in one wide column designed to look like one stack of interlocking bricks. It is said that a pattern of interlocking bricks is much stronger than a stack in which each brick lies directly above the one below it.  Rabbenu Nissim (Commentary to Megillah 16a) explains that because Ha'azinu speaks of the downfall of evil, it appears in the Torah like flimsy stacks of bricks, symbolic of evil's inability to stand for long. [The same is true of the list of the ten sons of Haman in Megillat Esther.]

            Shirat David, on the other hand, represents a time when the Monarchy was established and things look promising for the future and is therefore "constructed" in a strong way so that it can stand and even be added to.   If one looks at the end of parashat Ha’azinu, we see that the Torah returns to its regular, wide-column format, thus appearing to give Ha'azinu a solid footing to stand on.  And just as Ha’azinu ends on a solid footing, so does the parasha tell us that G-d will be there to intervene on behalf of the Children of Israel, no matter how far the people fall.

            One interpretation of Haazinu and Shirat David that always inspires me is the representation of the importance of the individual.  The proof that one person can make a difference.  Where would we be today without Moshe Rabbeinu, King David, Joshua, Deborah (the only female Judge) and others?  These individuals lived a long time ago and we still feel the impact of their actions today.

             In the present we have a different set of individuals to look up to and reflect on the impact of their actions. The many firefighters, policemen, EMTS and others on 9/11 who went above and beyond in saving the lives of so many during of the horrific events of that day. Malala Yousafzai, a young Pakastani woman, who became a human rights advocate for education and for women in her country after surviving an attack that would have turned others inward and toward hate. And just this week we have a visit in DC from Pope Francis, leader of the Roman Catholic Church, here to spread faith and optimism for a brighter future and a better world.

            If this season of Teshuvah, Tefilah and Tzedakah (repentance, prayer and acts of charity/justice), teaches us anything, it’s that the actions of one person can make a difference.  We may feel we are standing on shaky ground like Ha’azinu – but then find the courage within to remember that there is a firm base underneath us. Or we may have a more unstable set up like our haftarah, in which case we have to ask for the help of others to get back to firmer ground. May we all find our place and our individual ways to make a difference in this new year.

Also published in Washington Jewish Week, September 25, 2015    

Eikev: The Song Unsung

The Song Unsung

Parsha Eikev Deuteronomy 7:12 - 11:25

Shabbat Saturday 11, 2015

These past weeks we entered into the month of Av and observed two very different yet related holidays. The first, Tisha B’Av (the 9^th of Av) is a solemn fast day that represents for us all the evil that has befallen our people. The primary representation centers around the destruction of the Temples, particularly the second Temple that the Rabbis teach was destroyed for the sin of sinat chinam or baseless hatred. 

Six days later is the second holiday, Tu B’Av (the 15^th of Av), also a post-biblical holiday, but this day is a day of love. Some even call it the Jewish Valentine’s Day! But look what we do – we take a full day to mourn and remember what baseless hatred can do, not only to us but to the entire world, and then less than a week later, we devote a day to love, unconditional love. What a balanced way to live a life!

This summer I have been working as a Pastoral Care Intern at the Hebrew Home of Greater Washington. I’ve been privileged to spend my summer around our elders who have graciously shared with me their life stories – their sorrows and joys;  their hopes, dreams, fears and regrets; their wisdom and yes, even their pettiness. From each encounter I come away enriched, having learned something about how to live, or not live, a life. All valuable lessons freely shared. These are their life stories. These are their legacies.

In this week’s parsha we find the verse, “man does not live on bread alone, but that man may live on anything that God decrees.” (8:3) This summer this verse spoke to me more strongly than it ever has before, loudly affirming that we all have souls as well as bodies.  And if we neglect these souls, our spiritual sides, these sparks of life and uniqueness within each of us, then we do so at our own peril. 

For it is not only bread – food and other material things that nourish and keep us alive – it is our inner selves that sustain us even when we get to the point when the outer world and all its trappings no longer seem as important. We cannot control where our bodies will take us. As individuals, we cannot control the economic condition of the world or the ecological state of the planet. We can, however, control our inner lives, our faith and our spirituality.

I recently learned a beautiful piece of poetry by Rabindranath Tagore, the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.

"I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument

While the song I came to sing remains unsung"

Most of us spend our lives rushing and doing and planning – stringing and unstringing our instruments. It is only when we take the time and listen to the words of Torah, when we remember that there is a power greater than ourselves out there, when we admit that we cannot control everything, that we will remember to take time to sing our own individual songs and truly live our lives. Then we will reach the Promised Land.

Food for Thought:

1.     How would you interpret the verse Deut 8:3 quoted above?

2.     The poem by Rabindranath Tagore mentions the song unsung. What is the song that you want to sing? How can you live a life to make sure that you will be able to sing it?

(Appeared in Washington Jewish Week Newspaper)

Baseless Love

Sinat Chinam. Baseless Hatred. Time to change to love. Now!

"If we were destroyed, and the world with us, due to baseless hatred - sinat chinam, then we shall rebuild ourselves, and the world with us, with baseless love - ahavat chinam."

Rav Kook, Orot HaKodesh, vol III, p. 324

#CPEexperiences - Heavy Week, Shabbos is Coming!

Some weeks you need Shabbat more than others. This is one of those weeks for me and it's only Tuesday night.

Working at CPE takes it's toll, no more so than when it's a week when one escorts a person as she meets her death. It's a holy honor and an awesome burden. I feel privileged to be there with the dying one and their family as they go through whatever it is that they need to do.  I am happy that I can help any way that I can, even if it is just by being present.

I was not there last night when a woman I've gotten to know passed away but I did spend most of yesterday afternoon with her and her husband. And I spend much of today with her husband in the first of his days without her.

It's what we do as rabbis, as pastors, as chaplains. Sometimes it's easier than others. Sometimes it's lighter. It's a wonderful thing knowing that I made a difference in someone's life at an important time. It will just take a day or two before I am truly able to appreciate just what that means.

Baruch Dayan HaEmet. May her memory always be for a blessing.

In the meantime, I did what I often do when I'm feeling ... well, when I'm feeling anything more than usual. I turn to food. This time I baked instead of ate (thank goodness). I made Challah for the Shabbat that I'm looking forward to.  I'll be spending erev Shabbat with most of my lovely family and many of my wonderful fellow CPE interns.  A holy assembly.
#CPEexperiences

Chukat: Differing Reactions to Loss

Chukat  Numbers 19:1-22:1

Differing Reactions to Loss

         In Genesis 50:10-11, Joseph observed a seven-day mourning period for his father Jacob, mourning bitterly and loudly.  When the Caaanites witnessed this, they observed that the people were holding “a solemn ceremony of mourning.” From this we derive the practice of shiva where we observe a specific period of mourning for those close to us. After the mourning period was over, Joseph and the mourners returned to Egypt to resume their daily lives.

         In this week’s parsha, Chukkat, Aaron dies and “all the house of Israel bewailed Aaron thirty days.” (20:29) Eleazar, Aaron’s son, becomes the High Priest and the journey continues. Later, when Moses dies “... the children of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days. So the days of weeping and mourning for Moses ended.” (Deuteronomy 34:8) We are taught that the time for mourning has a definite ending, 30 days.  Joshua, Moses’ successor, then takes on the task of entering and conquering the Promised Land. From these deaths we learn the practice of shloshim,  the thirty day period when we continue our mourning, still with restrictions but less so than during shiva.

         There is one more death to note. We also learn this week that the People arrived in Kadesh and “Miriam died there and was buried there.” (20:1) There is no ceremony, no mourning; and there is no person stepping up to take Miriam’s unofficial function. How do the People react? By doing what they usually do when faced with hardship, they kvetch about something that may or may not be related to Miriam, the lack of clean water.   

         So what do we learn from Miriam’s death? Were the People at this time hard-hearted fools, unable to experience the pain and loss of Miriam? I don’t think so. I believe the message here is that that life goes on. That people will react differently to the same circumstances at different times. Even circumstances as familiar to us as the loss of an important person in our lives.

         For some people, the loss of a loved one causes life to stand still, creating a sort of paralysis that precludes engaging in our normal daily activities for a period of time. For others, a similar loss causes internal feelings and reactions that we don’t understand and are not comfortable with. So we resort to a behavior that we engage in when we are not content, when there is something bothering us that we don’t know how to cope with. In this case, the complaining and whining that characterized B’nei Israel’s years in the desert.

         What lesson do we derive from all this? We are fortunate to belong to a tradition that gives us a framework for coping with loss. It recognizes the different stages people go through after losing someone close and, like a protective cloak, gives us the extra security to gradually reemerge into the reality of living our now changed daily lives. But our religion is also a practical one. It recognizes that we are human and fallible and therefore quirky. We might lose someone important and because of our fallibility we cannot mourn “properly.” Perhaps we are afraid, perhaps the loss is too large to comprehend straight away or ever. So, as in the case of Miriam’s death, we revert to behaviors that are not noble but are certainly human. And then, once the  reaction has subsided, life continues on.

1.    Think back to times when you experienced the loss of a loved one. Did the traditions of mourning work for you or did you find yourself in need of something else?

2.    Given the different reactions to the deaths of characters in the Torah, do you think the Torah is providing commentary on the importance or place of that person in the lives of our people?

One generation praises Your works to another...

This week's line from Ashrei:

דּוֹר לְדוֹר יְשַׁבַּח מַעֲשֶֽׂיךָ, וּגְבוּרֹתֶֽיךָ יַגִּֽידוּ.

One generation praises Your works to another, acclaiming Your mighty deeds. 

Working at a Nursing Home/Rehab each day has been a little bit like entering an alternate universe. Time runs differently here (as proof: we daven mincha and maariv at 3:30pm!). Time is not marked as much by the hands on a clock as by when different events take place - services (it's a Jewish facility), rehab or personal care appts for the residents and of course, meals! Life seems to revolve around the meals - it feels like as a professional (or at least as a chaplain) there are hours each day when visiting is not efficacious, particularly before, during and sometimes right after meals.  

Yet, there is magic that happens here as well. Each time I talk to a resident I learn something new. I might get a glimpse into an era almost forgotten, be gifted with a piece of wisdom I'd never heard before, or be given a beautiful smile by one who no longer speaks much if at all. I am able to offer a comforting presence, a listening ear, a hug and of course, a smile. Together we find God's presence, whether or not we are able to recognize it each time. 

A fine intergenerational exchange if ever there was one.