B"H

CPTB Split EP Vol. 2 (Parsha Tazria-Metzora)

This week’s Torah portion is a double portion and continuing in the format used for other double portions the Dvar for this week will follow the split 7 inch record format where each chapter gets its own track. So here you have it folks Circle Pit The Bimah Split EP Vol. 2.

Parsha Tazri (Leviticus 12:1 – 13:59)

1. Of Babies and Women.

This week’s double shot of Torah begins with what a girl has to do in order to be deemed ritually clean after giving birth and then quickly moves on to discuss, once again, the rite of circumcision. When all is said and done I think us guys made out like bandits, I can’t remember my circumcision but my mom definitely remembers carrying and giving birth to me.

2. Desert Zombies From You Know Where.

Towards the end of the twentieth century I was a lowly high school senior trying to learn a little espanol. One day in class I turn in my seat towards my friend who was sitting on the other side of the room and in a very matter of fact way pointed out that because he was not circumcised he was unclean. Not only did that statement earn me a one way ticket to the Vice Principle’s office I was also assigned a personal escort, she was a cute girl named Tara. After sitting in the teacher’s lounge for a couple periods the Vice Principle came out and read the teacher’s note describing my concerns for my gentile friends Biblical status of uncleanliness. He looked at me and I just looked back like I truly did not know making that proclamation was not appropriate for a Spanish class in a public high school. He totally bought my defense, apologized for keeping me for two full periods and sent me on my way. The I don’t know any better excuse does not work in the world of Judaism because we have all the does and do not’s laid out for us in Torah and Tazri is a perfect example of this.

Parsha Metzora (Leviticus 14:1 – 15:33)

1. Calling Doctor Aaron

If that skin crawling feeling is your thing then Metzora is the portion for you…literally. In Metzora Aaron and the priests are given an additional task. This task by today’s standards is akin to dermatology. It was the duty of the priests to examine skin conditions and then declare the afflicted clean or unclean. The unclean verdict resulted in the sufferer exiling themselves for one full week and on the seventh day a follow exam would take place and a new judgment would be given. As someone whose skin is extremely allergic to poison ivy exiling yourself actually eases some of the discomfort, go figure.

2. Dirty Words

Metzora finishes with a discussion about certain states of sexual dirtiness. For women the seven days concluding their monthly menstrual cycle are deemed unclean and women are told to refrain from sex and to withdraw from society until a new cycle begins. Since us men do not have periods our uncleanliness can happen at any time we are told to clean ourselves of any spilled seed. Some may say this is a good example of sexism in the Torah and I can kind of see where that point of view comes from on the other hand I am not a big fan of blood but I am a big fan of taking showers. I don’t know, what do you all think?

Jeremiah@punktorah.org Twitter: @circlepitbimah

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Should Jews Be Elitists?

For three years, I have been running PunkTorah. And in this time, I have come to realize that our issues as a greater community, not as PunkTorah, but as Klal Yisrael, have nothing to do with Reform, Orthodox, Hareidi, Reconstructionist, convert, born Jew, gay, straight, black, white or anything. It has to do with a fundamental question: who has the authority?

I am going to make a startling statement, but I believe it is true. I believe that for many in the Jewish community, the worship of God has been replaced with a worship of academia. And I have a sense that instead of directing our hearts at the Divine, we direct our hearts instead at substitutionary idols like Jewish continuity and education-for-the-sake-of-nothing.

I don’t blame any one group or person for this. Rabbis aren’t to blame. Institutions are to blame. But a system wide epidemic is to blame. I call this collective social disease Meritocracy.

Meritocracy, in its simplest explanation, is the belief that those who have achieved the greatest amount of merit are the ones who should lead. On the outside, this makes a lot of sense. Why would you want someone who doesn’t know anything and hasn’t accomplished anything to become a leader? It sounds like the antidote to all the things we hate: inherited leadership, financial oligarchy, etc.

The problem is this: how do we measure merit? Judaism has some interesting insights into this.

God chooses people to lead, and not because they are especially meritous. Noah was a “righteous man in his time” (Genesis 6:9). Rabbis of old thought this was a bit of a “stab” at Noah. Remember, the whole world is about to be destroyed for being evil. Noah wasn’t righteous. He was righteous for his time. He was good enough, given the world he lived in.

The same is true for Moses. Midrash Exodus Rabbah 2:2 says that God picked Moses to lead the Hebrews because he was a shepherd. He cared for his father in law Yitro’s animals and the kind of qualities that brings out in a person, such as love, patience and leadership, are the kinds of values that a hero needs. Moses was otherwise a murdering stutterer who often rebuked God and suffered from wild anger and bouts of depression.

There are many other examples of this. King David was such an unlikely candidate for leader that when the prophet Samuel asked Jesse to bring his sons so that God could decide through Samuel who should be the next king, David was not even included. When Samuel questioned Jesse how many sons he had (since God didn’t want any of his other songs), Jesse seemed confused. He says something to the effect of “well, I do have one other son, the youngest one. But seriously? He’s out in the field somewhere with the sheep. Why would you want that son?” (1 Samuel 6). I could continue on, but there are many more issues to discuss.

While Judaism teaches that we should find a teacher and a friend (Avot 1:6), in practical terms, most of the knowledge we gain is not from time spent at a desk, learning what we need to know before we act. Most learning, the learning that makes us who we are, comes from experiencing the moments when everything we know fails us! This is why, I believe, the Torah says that we should “do” and then “learn” (Exodus 24:6-7) as opposed to learning, then doing, which seems to make more sense.

Or does it? If we sat around all day learning how to act, we would never have the time to actually do something and learn from our mistakes. This is part of the reason why converts to Judaism are not supposed to be overwhelmed with learning before conversion (see Babylonian Talmud, Yevamot 47b). If we told people to learn, learn, and learn some more until they are Jewish enough, they could never convert, because learning is life long.

God, it seems, trusts this “do first, then learn” process, which is why God chose us to be a nation of priests (Exodus 19:6). Judaism does not say that we should be a nation of a few priests, with everyone else underneath. This is a distortion of the kohanim, who by the way, were not the intellectual elite: they were men who happened to be born into a family whose job it was to tend to sacrifices. While this would have been a point of honor, the honor of tending to the dead, to butchering meat, to teaching others, are all on an equal level. Bottom line: there is no one better in Judaism. We’re all the same, no matter what our job title.

Spiritual meritocracy is one thing. But there is another issue that may be more important, given the fact that fewer and fewer Jews are going to synagogue. What do we make of the people in “secular” Jewish institutions, which many of us feel removed from? Again, the same rule applies: there is no one greater or lesser in Judaism. It’s also important to look at the motivations of these organizations. I had one non-profit organizer tell me, “we don’t care what Jews do. We just want them to identify as Jewish. We want to know that fifty years from now, today’s Jewish children won’t be Catholics.” The idea of Jewish continuity, that Jews are an ethnocultural group devoid of anything else is more heretical than anything I have ever posted on PunkTorah. But for many, it is the operating mantra.

The Torah warns us many, many times about this kind of attitude. God does care what we do (the incident of the Golden Calf being a fairly straight forward example). And frankly, the belief that we are a closed off society that needs to be protected from itself is ahistorical. Midianites, Moabites, Canaanites and many others (including the mixed multitude of Egypt) became part of the Jewish people. Your ancestors at Mount Sinai were not just Hebrew slaves in Egypt, but all the other people who wanted to take part in the creation of a new civilization based on the One God. And our messiah comes from one of those people, Ruth the Moabite. While Jews are meant to be or l’goyim, the light to the other nations, it is a bizarre and frankly shocking idea that the way to achieve this is through a desperate pseudo-racial paranoia that removes Judaism from Jewish life and Jewish life from any context other than survivalism.

What does this have to do with meritocracy? Simple put, many wealthy organizations operate under this false, non-religious, ahistorical attitude. It creates a meritocracy where a wealthy elite are in charge of preventing the annihilation of the Jewish people that seems to always be lurking around the corner. Out of our deep seated fear of our own destruction, which blamelessly comes from the horror and shock of the Holocaust, we have put a lot of stock into this lowest-common-denominator way of maintaining Jewish community. But since it is not based on God, the Torah, the Jewish people as having anything to contribute to the world or anything else in Jewish principal, it is over time doomed to failure and frankly is transparent.

So if you agree with anything that I have stated, we are left with one question: what do we do to stop it? I have a few simple ideas:

Take Action – when you see a situation where elitism is being used to deny someone’s Judaism, stop it. Fight. Be a rebel. If you read PunkTorah, I assume this isn’t a problem for you. But fear, including the fear of being the lone voice of reason, can be intimidating. Don’t give up!

Use Love As the Litmus Test – when you consider putting your faith into someone or something, ask yourself what the motivation of that person or organization is. Are they interested in the kind of open, dynamic Jewish life that you believe in, or are they appealing to something else, like fear? When love, and not power, control, and anxiety becomes the pillar on which Jewish life is built, it will stand until Eternity.

Make Demands – Jewish leaders and organizations belong to the Jewish people. Rabbis don’t lead synagogues: they are contract workers, like the person who paves your driveway. You are in charge. So demand that elitism be taken out of your community

Support Goodness – there are hundreds of wonderful Jewish leaders who believe what we believe. The ones that live on the margins of Jewish life, the ones doing the grunt work to make Heaven on Earth, are the ones that we need to cling to. These are the outsiders, the freaks, the independent thinkers, the people that are not occupying the high seats of Jewish academia or prestige. Find these people, and love them.

Ditch the System – there is a belief that we can “work within the system”, building bridges, and trying to make the world better with the resources that others have. I am convinced this will not work. All radical movements that work manage to do it because they offer something else, something unique, and people will awake from their collective slumber to the reality of its shining beauty. So ditch the system. Don’t repair something that, when fixed, still won’t work. Do something new. If you must work in the system, or you see something good about being in it, then don’t let it white wash you. I have seen this happen. There are; however, many resilient personalities that do buck that trend, and I am proud to see these people band together.

Radically Love – people are not to blame for the meritocracy, the system is. And once we ditch the system (and that can mean different things to different people), we need to radically love. Love always attracts others. Fear, hostility, exclusion, and a superiority complex are no way to gain friends or influence others long term. But intense, passionate love for humanity and for God always win.

Ken yehi ratzon. May it be HaShem’s will.

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That Darn Wicked Child

As we stand at the edge of what is arguably the biggest night in the Jewish calendar, I wanted to share one bit of learning I picked up this weekend from a local Rabbi.

We all have people in our lives who resemble the Rasha – the wicked child of those famous 4 children who make their appearance at this time of year. Heck, at one time or another (or many) in our lives we may even BE the wicked child: the one who is completely disaffected and disconnected; who stands apart – from the seder, from the family, from Judaism itself.

Reading through the four children, we GET this bad-boy of the seder.

So (asked the Rabbi), what is he DOING there? I mean, most people who don’t buy into Passover, or the seder, or Judaism don’t show up in the first place! But there he his, sitting with his sneer next to the Chocham (the wise child) and making snide remarks under his breath.

Methinks he doth protest too much.

I used to teach a parent-child class at my synagogue, to help kids prepare to write the d’var Torah for their Bar/Bat Mitzvah. There would always be one or two kids who would make all kinds of comments – to the embarrassment of the parent seated next to them. In response to the inevitable parental apologies, I would tell that parent it was more than OK – it was my pleasure. See, the kids could only make those comments if they were listening in the first place. As long as they were listening, I knew we were on the right track.

Ditto the wicket child. He’s there. He’s listening. He’s asking questions. What do his actions tell us, versus his words?

Another point the Rabbi brought up was that the Rabbis who structured the Haggadah put those kids in order of importance. Second only to the wise child, the wicket child is considered more favored than the simple child or the one who doesn’t know what to ask. I leave it to you to ponder why.

And my final item to share, in the hopes it sparks conversation around your table tonight: Those four children could easily represent the course of American immigration and assimilation. The wise child is our grandparents, who arrived here from Europe knowing all the traditions and rules they learned in the shtetle overseas. The wicked child is the first generation American, trying hard to distance themselves from all traces of “foreign-ness”. The next generation asks their (wicked) parent “What’s is that?” to which they are told “Be quiet. Bubbie’s crazy.”

And fourth generation (third generation American) is the child who doesn’t know how to ask. Far from a tragedy, this child is open to learn the fullness of our tradition fresh and new, if only we are willing to keep modeling these strange customs and weird holidays, providing experiences to learn and discover…

…until the moment when they start asking their own questions.

Chag Sameach Pesach

Originally posted here.

 

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Parsha Shemini: Daniel Balint or Living A Double Life (Lev. 9:1 – 11:47)

Leviticus can be a very daunting book, especially when you limit your Dvar to a very loose free association style discussion. In previous posts I mention for this Torah cycle I want to challenge myself by not relying on more scholarly Jew’s commentaries for my weekly Dvar but Leviticus is definitely a book where commentaries can become crucial. For me at least, this week’s portion Shemini is an exception. The life blood flowing from the beating heart of these chapters is separating the sacred from the profane.

Separation is something I have always naturally been good at. I have never lived a secret life I am just really good at compartmentalizing. As a child I had my religious friends and my secular friends, outside of birthday parties the two never mixed. Fast forward to my late teens and early twenties I was thought of as basically two completely different people, this was due primarily to working full time as a ravenous wild eyed prep cook with post shift partying requirements contrasted by my life as a hardcore kid running with a pack healthy eating and clean living punks. I never lived a lie I just didn’t spin hardcore records or eat steaks at work and drinking in back alleys before all ages shows was never my thing. Same guy just really good time management skills, but that doesn’t change the fact that co-workers thought I was joking about vegetarianism and some punks seemed surprised to occasionally witnessing me drinking out of a brown paper bag. This is exactly what Shemini is all about.

In chapter nine of Leviticus a sin offering is followed by a burnt offering which is then followed by a peace offering. The sequence of these offerings is not a coincidence they symbolize the separation of wickedness, atonement, and forgiveness. If we are unable to differentiate right from wrong and why we are right or wrong then we will be forced to remain in the proverbial wilderness. The wilderness is emotional instability, mental anguish, and physical pain only by identifying our faults and actively working to correct them will we be able to leave those burdens behind and move on to something so much greater.

To illustrate the criticality of this concept is the tragic story of Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu. These sons and brothers presented a “strange” fire which Hashem deemed profane and as punishment were consumed by sacred fire erupting from the Holy of Holies. The lesson here is Nadab and Abihu were unable to completely separate their former secular lives from their current sacred lives of Priests. If they had been able to separate who knows they may have played a much more important and positive role within Judaism.

Shemini concludes with a list of Kosher versus Non-Kosher animals. What is so important about this concept of Kosher is not the permission to kill and eat certain animals but demonstrating how important things you consume figuratively and literally are. The easiest way to remember which animals are Kosher is to look at their diets and determine if they are scavengers eating what has been left by others as waste. The lesson here is do not fill yourself with wasteful things because it will only hold you down.

Shemini teaches us how not to live in the wilderness but we have to choose to make that break and enter into a promised life.

Jeremiah@punktorah.org Twitter: @circlepitbimah

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Clueless: An Insight Into Doing Jewish “Wrong”

I arrived at the kollel, the house of study (literally – this was a house that had been emptied of everything, including interior walls, and re-purposed as a space for married men to come and study Talmud, Torah and other texts throughout the day) at 7:45pm, the usual time. I found one of the few English-Hebrew siddurs and opened it to the section for afternoon prayers and waited expectantly for the rest of the crowd to arrive.

It was all part of my routine since arriving in this neighborhood 4 months earlier. Thursday nights at the kollel: davening (praying) a quick mincha (afternoon) service and then sitting for an hour to study with my “learning partner” (a euphamism for “the incredibly patient young Rabbi who graciously volunteered to shepherd me through the painful first steps of rudimentary Talmud study”).

7:55, the normal start time for Mincha, came and went but the room was still suspiciously empty. Another 5 minutes and 2 other men arrived, but didn’t have that rushed “I’m late to pray” look I would have expected. I began to suspect I had missed something. Screwing up my courage, I approached one of the guys, a solidly-built man wearing the standard white-shirt-black-suite uniform of the frum Jew, with a thick black beard and a kind face.

“Is Mincha downstairs today?” I asked, hoping I had made the easiest of all possible gaffes.

He paused, and I could see him working hard to understand the context of my question. Which caused my heart to sink further, since this was another clue that I had missed something bigger than just being on the wrong floor.

“Mincha?” he finally answered carefully. “We davened mincha this afternoon.”

I tried to make my voice sound both unperturbed and curious, hoping it wouldn’t betray the embarrassment and frustration that crushed down on me. “Oh really? What time was that?”

“1:30. Mincha is always 1:30 after the High Holidays.” while he spoke with nothing but kindness, my insecurity mentally overlaid a patronizing tone laced with derision.

I thanked the man for the information, choosing not to mention (to yet another person, for what seemed like the hundredth time) that it’s hard to know what “always” is when everything seems to be a “first” for me.

I went back to the place where I had carefully laid out my siddur.
Closed it up.
Placed it back on the shelf.
Fought the urge to just ditch it all and leave.
Sat with myself and came to grips with the fact that I was going to miss mincha prayers entirely.
Waited patiently for my partner to arrive

What frustrates me most in these moments (and this was not the only example that led to my writing this post. Nor was it even the first. Nor, I’m afraid, will it be the last.) is not the mistake. What’s really hard for me to swallow is the feeling that there are instructions for these things, but I’m somehow not seeing them, or understanding them. I feel like an illiterate foreigner, sitting at a bus stop on a national holiday when service has been cancelled. Making matters worse, there’s a large sign next to me stating that fact but, being a stranger in a strange land, I can’t read the sign. I don’t even know the sign has anything to do with the bus service. So I wait, and wait, and wait. Until someone takes pity and tells me what’s going on.

The condition of being both uneducated and inexperienced, of having to figure out what’s going on based on “sideways clues” (the guy next to me turned a page. I better turn mine too.), of always having to put on the self-effacing humor and “oh golly shucks I messed up again” smile because pounding the table in frustration (which is what I feel like doing) will only make the situation more awkward, the effort of swimming upstream against my own ignorance is exhausting in a way I find hard to even describe.

*******************

This essay has sat on my computer for some time, and I come back to it each time there is a new embarrassment, a new gaffe that leaves me feeling demoralized. I would work at the words like one might pull at the strings in a knot, solving nothing and, in fact, only making the entire thing tighter and harder to unravel. But I kept thinking that if I could get this post just right, it would help me find a way out of the cycle.

In the end, my solution came from someone much more experienced in these matters. Not a Rabbi, not a Jewish studies professor, not a Hebrew tutor and not even a been-orthodox-my-whole-life friend. It came from someone who knows a great deal about living with, and even embracing, this state of not-knowing.

As we were standing together one Shabbat morning, I looked up from my prayerbook where I had been painstakingly sounding out yet another prayer I didn’t know, to find my 8-year-old son looking up at me. “Are you done reading that already?” I whispered.

“Nope.” he answered nonchalantly. Then he confided, “I haven’t learned this one. So I pray by watching everyone else.”

There were so many things wrapped up in his small, simple answer. Faith that he would, one day, learn “this one”. Confidence that even if he didn’t learn how to say the words, he still had options. Trust that he could still connect to God in a way that was authentic and valid.

But above all, he was unconcerned about not measuring up. To extend a famous quote by Abraham Lincoln, he intuitively knew that his legs were long enough to reach the ground, and that his soul was tall enough to reach heaven.

I began to study how he experienced the world, and discovered a seemingly endless series of things he didn’t know, which he dealt with daily. I saw the way faith and trust and a sublime acceptance of the each moment -asking it to be nothing more or less than what it was – how all of that was a natural part of his responses. I realized that, in growing up and getting all sorts of amazing skills and tricks and knowledge, I lost the very thing that allowed me to acquire all those things in the first place.

That disconnect, more than anything, was my actual problem. I’m now working to fix this deficiency.

The other day, I found myself in that situation again. Asked to open the ark (twice – once when the Torah came out and again when it was being returned) I found that I had no idea about the mechanics of the job.

I didn’t know when to go up. I didn’t know when to open the doors. The leader waited (it seemed to me) until the last possible second to come up and actually get the Torah, and I stood in pure terror wondering if I was supposed to bring it to him. Instead of escorting the Torah around the entire sanctuary, I (practically) ran back to my seat and stayed there (only to be immediately informed by a well-meaning elder of the congregation of my gaff). Later, when the Torah was put back, I closed the ark too early.

But you know what?

A friend told me when to go up. The president of the congregation (who sits up front) clued me when open the ark. The gabbai, seeing my panicked expression, gave me the “it’s ok” sign so I knew to sit tight and wait for the leader. And when I started to close the ark at the end, the leader was up there and explained I was too early. I re-opened it, and we kept going.

We all make mistakes, and as much as my lack of functional knowledge frustrates me, it’s also to be expected. It is understandable for someone in my position. It is forgiven by everyone in this community, many of whom have stood where I stand. If we are brave enough to start at all, we will all have to start somewhere, and some-when for that matter. And after that moment of beginning, it’s a sure thing that there will be mistakes. The scientific term for this, I believe, is “learning”.

I got back to my seat after closing the ark (this time at the correct point in the service). My son was waiting to shake my hand. It was clear that, as far as he was concerned, it had all gone off without a hitch.

And he was right.

Leon Adato is the blogger/director of EdibleTorah.com. For more of PunkTorah’s “Jewish Fails”, check out our YouTube series…Jewish Fails!

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Parsha Tzav: Seriously Dude! Another Way Too Short Dvar or Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? (Lev. 6:1 – 8:36)

Parsha Tzav is the continuation of Torah’s listing of which offerings require this or that and how those offerings should be ceremoniously carried out. Oh and once the list of offerings is complete Moses clothes Aaron and anoints him and his sons as Judaic Priests.

Tzav does not teach us anything new what it does do is reiterate important lessons. Making amends and how we present our outward selves are lessons already touched upon within Torah. So why the repeat and why not combine Vayikra and Tzav into one portion? The answer is simple, only people study Torah and its no secret that everyone likes to be reminded of things. This week as you meditate on and study Tzav look through your spiritual spy glass as you would in search of positive reinforcement. Its like being told by someone special that they love you over and over again.

What verbal and non-verbal reinforcement helps you to be a better Jew? Share in the comments below or send me a message: Jeremiah@punktorah.org Twitter: @circlepitbimah

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Nisan and Chametz

Let’s talk chametz.

Chametz (חמץ) is one of two reasons we don’t eat bread during Passover.  There’s a couple of reasons for eating unleavened bread given in the Torah, but beyond eating Matzah there is also this thing called chametz  If it were just bread there wouldn’t be all these other prohibitions on food during Passover.

I’m not going to go all technical about the laws of Pesach or chametz — there’s plenty of other sites you can find that on. Personally, what I love is how Passover practices so closely align the spiritual and the physical.  So let’s do a little more thinking about the symbolism of chametz and why it’s so important.

The simplest definition of chametz is food made from five different grains that has been allow to ferment.  Generally these grains are defined as wheat, barley, oat, spelt or rye. I have found a couple of articles that point out that spelt, rye and oats didn’t grow in biblical Israel — so they really can’t be what the Torah intended.  But we are a people who build and build on tradition, so these grains may have been substituted for Middle Eastern grains during the Diaspora.  But I digress….

What I find interesting here is the correlation between chametz and the “hamotzei” prayer over bread. Two food types have special blessings, wine and bread. With wine we say, “the fruit of the vine,” but there are lots of foods that grow on vines that we don’t use that prayer for: only grape wine and sometimes juice.  The other special food is leavened bread.

What do these two things have in common?  Divine Intervention.

Both foods are created through a partnership between G!d(dess) and humanity that goes way beyond basic cooking. If you’ve ever tried to bake bread or make wine, you totally know this to be true.  There is magick — Divine Essence made manifest — in the act of fermentation.  Why Jews picked these two types of fermentation to acknowledge — who knows?

Even the letters that make up the word chametz are a clue: חמץ.  The letter Chet (ח) is the first letter of the word Chaya — life!  The form of the letter chet, according to Inner.org,  means: “The union of God’s immanence, transcendence, and the Jewish People.”  So let’s look at the second letter, the Mem (מ). Here we have the letter that begins “mayim” — water.  Inner.org puts it very poetically by saying, it “symbolizes the fountain of the Divine Wisdom.”  Lastly we have the Tsadi Sofit (ץ).  Inner.org mostly deals with the Tzadik in its regular, not final form — I found this to be quite revelant, “the consciousness of Atzilut uniting with the source of wisdom and descending to teach Creation.”  Chametz is a substance that transforms and creates new life (ח) through contact to water (מ) and connects G!d(dess) and humanity.

This brings me to chametz and why we don’t eat it during Passover.  During Passover we fast.  Not like the fast of Yom Kippur or other fasting holidays.  We fast, we refrain from creating or ingesting food that can only be created through this incredible partnership.  We remove all traces of the Divine catalyst from our homes so we are sure it is not infected from the twelve plagues as we relive them each year.  We break the final chains from slavery by insisting on self-reliance for a week and eating only foods that can be crafted without this Divine catalyst.

So this Passover, look at that Matzah differently.  Look at the rules around clearing out the chametz differently.  When Pesach ends and you take the first bite of delicious bread — or first sip of beer — think about it.  Say the blessing.  Know that this is evidence of G!d(dess) working in our world.

————

Ketzirah is a Kohenet, Celebrant, and Artist.  She works with individuals and groups to explore, discover, and create meaningful rituals and ritual artwork to mark moments in life.

 

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Parsha Vayikra: Crucial Barbecue (Lev. 1:1 – 5:26)

This week we embark upon Leviticus book three of the Torah. In a lot of ways Leviticus is what one should expect from a middle book and Vayikra (that’s holy tongue for Leviticus in case you were wondering) starts things off without any surprise twists. This week’s portion is five chapters devoted to the how, when, why, and where of sacrificial offerings.

Animal sacrifices today are just not practical. This is not because sacrificing an animal is frowned upon (lets face it most people’s diets include killed animals and sacrificing them is not that weird) it is because we display our prosperity in other ways. The ritual and reasons for sacrificial offerings are laid out in Vayikra to strengthen the relationship between Hashem and mankind. Animals or no animals it makes perfect sense Hashem created everything and by default everything is His regardless of what we may think.

In more modern times each of us has our own way of showing just how sorry and remorseful we are. My process is a heartfelt apology acknowledging my scum bagginess followed by a gift of some sort, on the other hand a close friend of mind likes to show remorse with a nice dinner and drinks at a classy restaurant. Both are far cries from sacrificing the choicest of cows but the intent is the same. Making amends is something we have to initiate first in our hearts and then through our actions, this is exactly what Vayikra is about.

Wait there’s more! Sacrificial offerings also add closure. Done with sincerity showing your remorse to those you have hurt helps all involved, both sides are then able to close and lock a door that opens into a painful part of life. Closure is a crucial tool in spiritual growth dwelling on past mistakes will only strangle you like a vine.

What are your sacrificial offerings? Share in the comments below or send me a message: Jeremiah@punktorah.org Twitter: @circlepitbimah

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Seder Plate Sets Available at PunkTorah.org

We are now sold out of seder plates. Thank you so much for your support! To continue supporting PunkTorah, please click on this link to donate.

We have two unique seder plates with free shipping available at PunkTorah for our Passover Fundraiser. Click the image above to zoom in!

Each seder plate is made up of a gorgeous chocolate brown main plate and six small, robin’s egg blue dishes. Included in the set is a haggadah (haggadot type will vary) and a black, hand knitted kippah! The plate is obviously for your Passover seder, but can be separated into multiple dishes for chip/dip, tapas or other serving dish year round.

Shipping is free and 100% of the proceeds go to benefit PunkTorah.org. The seder plate set with haggadah and hand crochet kippah is only $56.99.


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Free Haggadot From PunkTorah and OneShul

Need haggadot for Passover? At PunkTorah’s office, we have TONS of random haggadot (Passover booklets) including Maxwell House and 30 Minute Seder that we want you to have for your Passover celebration!

We are now completely out of haggadot. We are so thrilled that we could help so many people.

Still need haggadot? You can download the haggadah from the OneShul siddur, Ahavah Rabbah, free by clicking here. The service starts on page 92.

Want to do a mitzvah? Please click on the link below to donate $6.99 to PunkTorah to help pay for the cost of shipping all the haggadah orders we received.

TZEDAKAH HAGGADOT

Have a wonderful Passover!

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