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There’s No Such Thing As Judaism (Parshah Acharei)

This week’s Torah portion goes into details about the Yom Kippur service, which frankly was a lot bloodier than the hunger-and-white-clothing event which we have today. Acharei also talks about the casting of lots onto goats for sacrifice to G-d and to Azazel.

Wait…Azazel? Who is this guy?

 

Azazel can be a who, but it can also be a what. Ask Chabad and they will tell you that Azazel is the cliff that the goat was pushed off. That makes sense, as Azaz is rough or strong, and El is the root of Elohim. But Azazel can also be the name of a shadowy supernatural demon related to warfare. Perhaps it’s both, or a little more of one component or the other, depending on who you are and what time in history it is.

There’s no denying anymore that the religion practiced by the ancient Israelities was bordering on paganism. While I love the modern cultural midrash that the people of the past were closer to “Bible Times” and therefore closer to the true teachings of the Jewish faith, science is teaching us that truly, the ancient Hebrews weren’t really better Jews than we are today. Their idols were clay statues. Our idols are TV stars and fast food restaurants. As the old joke goes, “same stuff, different day.”

 

I don’t think Judaism really exists as an ongoing practice that we need to adhere to. Judaism, like many other -isms, can be idolatrous. Really, the Torah doesn’t teach us how to be religious. I think instead it teaches us, in a very long winded way, that we are in a covenant. Strip everything away and you’ll find only one sentence that remains true through all the ups and downs of the Torah: I am the Lord your G-d.

 

I am the Lord your G-d inspired the Temple and the sacrifice. When the Temple was gone, it inspired the shul and the rabbis of the Diaspora. After the Holocaust, it inspired social justice and political action. And in today’s global world, it inspires those of us who are taking the message of HaShem “to the streets” (or should I say, Facebook) to shout out loud that G-d in Heaven is G-d alone and there is no other.

So what is more important to you, G-d or Judaism?

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Parshah Shemini

By Michael Sabani

A lot happens in this week’s Torah portion, Shemini, and there is a lot to try to understand. According to my understanding, the ONE thing that is easy to learn about the Torah is that you will always learn something new! No matter how many times you read the Torah you will always come across something new, something that you didn’t notice before, and this one little thing can change the focus of the whole portion for you. And just like life, it is often the smallest things that can make the biggest impression.

 

In Shemini we see Aaron and his sons officially take over as Kohanim, as priests. A fire bursts forth from G-d and consumes the offerings on the Altar, and the Shekhinah comes to dwell in the Sanctuary.

 

Now coming into this portion, I thought the big story was what happens next: Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu offer a “strange fire” and they die before G-d. They die. This is a big deal! The eldest sones of the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest, are consumed by Hashem at the time of their inauguration. There is much debate as to what actually happened, if they died because they offered an unauthorized sacrifice, or to put a positive spin on it, some interpretations are that they were so holy that G-d just snapped them up right there as a gift. Really, we don’t know why. Sometimes we don’t have a clear answer as to why things happen,. The Torah, like life, is sometimes mysterious.

So then we get to the laws of kashrus, the kosher laws. Surely, if the story of Nadav and Avihu doesn’t grab me, the laws telling us what we can and can’t eat will make a big impression. And it does, to a point. I mean, we learn in this portion about how even what we eat can be used to serve G-d, to create holiness that can sanctify our lives.

But the whole time I read this portion I kept thinking about what happens right at the beginning. Moses and Aaron are standing at the Altar, and Moses has to tell Aaron, “Come near to the Altar…”.

“Come near.”

You see, Aaron was afraid to come near to Hashem. He still felt guilty for his part in the debacle of the golden calf. He didn’t feel worthy enough to serves as the High Priest; he knew his weaknesses and recognized where he had gone wrong and felt ashamed of his mistake.

And it’s at this point Moses tells Aaron the thing that, for me, became the new focus of the portion.

“It is precisely because you possess the attribute of shame that you have been chosen” (Degel Machneh Efraim). I had never noticed this commentary before, but it makes sense to me. I can feel that shame, that sense of not measuring up to the task G-d has put before me. It is only when we know, deeply, in the root of our being, when we have done wrong, that we can truly move beyond it. This is Aaron being forgiven, and learning how to grow.  And this is what G-d wants, for us to be abel to forgive ourselves and to move forward.

How often do we feel confronted with something that we don’t think we are up to? And how often are our skills, which are not recognized by ourselves, pointed out by our brothers and sisters? Sometimes it takes another who is close to us to point out what we are truly capable of, in spite of what we may have done in the past.

I invite you to be a Moses for your brothers and sisters. Lift them up and point out to them the areas in which they are strong. They might be int he midst of a struggle you are not aware of.

On the flip side, I also invite you to be like Aaron. Listen to those who care about you, and trust that they are right when they tell you that with G-d’s help, you are strong enough for the tasks you are faced with, and learn how to grow, and move forward.

 

 

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Parsha Vayakhel

Parsha Vayakhel is one of those parshot that is easy to just gloss over. It seems, at first glance like one of the “listing” parshot.  You know the ones, lists of begats or lists of things that just seem endless.  I’m sure a true Torah sage can find great depth in them, but to me they are like certain passages in Jane Austen novels that you can read a few lines and then just skip on. There presence in no way diminishes the overall experience, but seem best glossed over.

But Vayakhel, is actually a parshat that my experience in Kohenet has helped me to find great depth in, but we’ll get to that part in a second.  In studying Vayakhel to prepare to write this drash, I found something new.  It may have been obvious to others but it was a new treasure for me.  The passage starts out with a reminder of the prohibition against working on the Sabbath.  The first time through this time, I glossed over that, but about half way through the passage I thought, ” hold on a minute!”

The majority of this passage is about the tribe’s excitement in the building of the tabernacle.  Who wouldn’t be excited?  Just think about how great it is just to build a community Sukkah.  Now imagine you’ve just escaped slavery and persecution — oh and the G!d(dess) who rescued you has said to help build the sanctuary!  AWESOME!

You would might get so excited that you think, “this isn’t work!”  That reiteration that we aren’t to work on the Sabbath was a reminder to the Israelites that even building the Mishkan counted as work.  For me it was a moment to rethink some choices I’ve been making about things I do and do not do on the Sabbath. I look at halakah as a reference point, not law, so halakah offers me a perspective what I should and should’t do, but then it’s up to me to do soul searching and set my direction.  This passage made me rethink things I had classified as “avodah,” or work of my heart, which I didn’t consider as “work.”  If the Israelites were supposed to cease work on the Mishkan on the Sabbath, then maybe I needed to refocus on the Sabbath being a liminal-space day of just being.  Especially in this day and age when so many of us feel that we don’t have enough hours in day to begin with, the Sabbath and the cessation from work is even more precious.

But how do I do this? I guess the answer is, “just stop.”   But is the kind of thing tzitzit and tefillin were supposed to help us with: And you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be for frontlets between your eyes.” Pretty much every Jew knows the words to the “v’ahavta,” which is really a part of the Shema prayer.  It was the first Hebrew prayer I remember learning to chant in Hebrew School. Fewer may be familiar with the “vayomer” section that includes this phrase: “And they shall be tzitzit for you, and when you look at them you will remember all of the Lord’s commandments and do them and not follow after your heart and after your eyes which lead you astray.” We tie these words around our hands and make signs between our eyes to keep us from just following our hearts or eyes. They help us from making bad choices in moments of spiritual weakness.

I have a brass cuff bracelet I wear every day inspired by this idea.  The choice of material was inspired by another section of Vayakhel, one that we studied in the Kohenet program.  Exodus 38:8 is one of those lines that you’d think there would be a TON of commentary about, but there doesn’t seem to be.  We studied it in Kohenet because part of what we do in the training is dive into the overlooked and buried parts of the women’s stories.  The Tzovah, the priestess path of Shekhinah of Kohenet spiritual framework appears in Exodus 38:8.  Generally, Tzovot, plural for Tzovah, has been translated as “working women” or “serving women.” Much of the traditional commentary that does exists seems to want to explain these women’s appearance away.

38:8. Mirrors of the serving women that did service at the door of the tent of meeting (JPS, 1917)

Modern translations and commentaries seem to acknowledge that these women, who gave their brass or copper mirrors to the cause of the Mishkan, probably had some ritual function.  In an incredibly thought-provoking book by Christian theologian Wilda Gafney, it is proposed that they were a core of women whose job it was to guard the entry to the Mishkan.  She also posits that the mirrors they sacrificed for the Mishkah were their signaling tools.  Wow, did that put this offering in a whole new perspective.   It even made me alter a line of a prayer in the Kohenet prayerbook, which is a regular part of my morning prayers to say, “I call to mind the Tzovah, at the threshold’s door — guarding the holy of holies forevermore.

More important to me though, than this line of a prayer, is my bracelet.  My brass cuff, which I bought for $5 at a festival, is a daily reminder of who I am, a Kohenet. Regardless of the situation I am in, when I see the cuff I think of the Tzovah and remember that one of my jobs in this world is to guard the thresholds of the sacred, and welcome people as the come, and help them as they exit.  Now, because of Vayakhel, I am exploring having special one made for Shabbat. So no matter else is going on in my life, I will have special reminder that the Sabbath is for ceasing.  It is a liminal time, where we are to just “be.”  What an incredible gift and challenge all at once.

 

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Vayakhel and the Tabernacle of the Heart

At the beginning of this portion this week, Vayakhel, Moses reiterates the commandment to observe Shabbat, and then goes on to explain, in more excruciating detail, the construction of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, that is to be Hashem’s dwelling place with the Israelites as they travel. The question in this portion is what, in all of these details regarding the kind of blue, purple and red dyed wool, goat hair, animal skins, gold, silver, and copper, what can we learn from this, this craziness?

This is the questions I asked myself:
What does this have to do with me?

At the beginning of the portion, Moses asks the Israelites to donate these rich and precious materials to build G_d’s house, His Tabernacle, and to work to build the Sanctuary.
And what do the Jews do?
They give.
And give.
And give some more.
The Torah says:
“Every man and woman whose heart motivated them to bring for any of the work that Hashem had commanded to make, through Moses – the Children of Israel brought a free-willed offering to Hashem.”
They came and gave freely. Not only did they give, they worked, they sewed and built and labored.
In fact, they gave so much of their possessions and of themselves that Moses had to say, “Man and woman shall not do more work toward the gift for the Sanctuary”!
Moses told them to stop!

The building of the tabernacle raised another question in studying this portion: what is the Mishkan that we should be building today? One answer is the tabernacle of our hearts. And more than this, we are told that all who desired came to build, together, to build the Mishkan. Can you imagine that? This saying that not only are we to build the sanctuaries of our own hearts, our own spaces for Hashem to dwell within us, more importantly we are called to help build up the sanctuaries of others, to empower them to a higher connection with G-d.

What can we take away from this?
We are called to give, not as charity and not just money. Jews are called to give tzedakah, which means “righteousness” or “justice”. We are called to do right with ourselves and our resources. We are called to work not only for our own personal spiritual benefit, but for those in the world with us as well.

So give. Give of your time, your money, your selves. Give until Moses himself says “No more!”.

But more than that, give of your skills, your love, your soul, and help your fellow human beings dedicate the tabernacle of their hearts to the unity and Oneness that is the reality of G-d.

(Thanks to everyone at Torah Together on Monday nights at OneShul.org for the help!)

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Reclaim The Name: A Statement of Revolutionary Judaism

This is a brief statement of revolutionary Judaism. In it we try to address some of the possible failings and potential answers to issues plaguing Judaism today. It is not an official statement of belief, but it is close. It is more like a letter written by two people who love Judaism, love their fellow Jews, and want to make the future a better place for all of us.

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The Angel of The Other (Parshat Vayishlach)

This week’s Torah portion comes from our friend Matthew Zachary Gindin. If you’d like to submit your own d’var Torah, email patrick@punktorah.org

All real living is meeting.- Martin Buber

In last week’s parsha, Vayeitze Ya’akov left Be’er Sheva in the Holy Land and went north to Haran. The Sfas Emes points out that this symbolizes the soul leaving behind the well (be’er) of Shabbat (sheva) to go into the materiality of the world- from the place of p’nimiyut (internal spirit) to the place of gashmiyut (mundane concern). Now he is returning to the Holy Land and therefore to the place of p’nimiyut, which besides internality can also paradoxically mean the Face (panim). As we shall see Ya’akov will be tested on the way with a meeting with the face of the Other, the face of his brother Esav.

Ya’akov has sent messengers and gifts along before him to his estranged brother and sent his family along ahead of him. He has prepared for possible battle with him and the men that accompany him. Ya’akov will stay alone for the night.

“Vayivater Ya’akov levado- And Ya’akov was left alone (levado)”(Bereishit 32:25). The Midrash says, “Ya’akov was left alone (levado)”- this is like the aloneness of the Holy One who pervades all the universe (Bereishit Rabbah, 77:1)”. How is Ya’akov’s aloneness like the aloneness of Hashem?

The Holy One’s aloneness is described as ein od milvado -there is nothing besides Him alone (Devarim 4:35). On one level Ya’akov is in a place of great aloneness where he must rely on his own resources only (R’ Tzvi Elimelech of Dynov, Igre de-Kala, quoted by Rav Itamar Eldar). This is one way in which his aloneness is like the Holy One’s- it is an aloneness of self-sufficiency.

Further R’ Tzvi Elimelech and others connect this verse to another one from Yeshaya: “And human haughtiness will be humbled and people’s pride be brought low, YHWH alone ( levado) will be exalted on that day (Yashaya 2:17)” Here Ya’akov lets go of pride and self and thus attains to an “aloneness with the alone”. Ya’akov’s aloneness is one where he comes into an unmediated meeting with the Divine presence, as taught by the Shem Mi-Shmuel (see Shem Mi-Shmuel Vayishlach 1878). This last type of aloneness is a segregation- a hitbodedut- even from ideas of self and other, past and future. Ya’akov enters into a deep stillness where he transcends stories about himself and his brother. Ya’akov is alone, but not in the sense of isolation.

We see here that Ya’akov attains an aloneness of self-reliance, humility, divine presence, and seclusion from his usual way of looking at things, even to the extent of transcending ideas of himself and his brother. Lastly in this aloneness his consciousness becomes unrestricted, and it is in this sense that his awareness “pervades all the universe like the Holy One”.

It is from this ultimate place that the Other can be met completely, free from the cage of concepts based on the past. Here transformation of our attitude to the other can really occur, even if we only glimpse this state briefly. Without it, change tends to be more superficial.

V’ya’vak ish imo ad alot hashachar. The next thing that happens is that Ya’akov is met by a “man” (ish)- in my reading, his own personification of the Other, with which he wrestles ad alot hashachar- until the dawn (Bereishit 32:25). Ya’akov’s journey is not complete and he must integrate his experience. Ya’akov wrestles with the man triumphantly and the next day when he meets Esav he is greeted by Esav with a kiss. However first he bows to Esav sheva pa’amim- seven times (Bereishit 33:3). Seven symbolizes completion- Ya’akov bows completely.

Esav embraces Ya’akov and tells him Esav bears him no enmity any longer- a result the Rabbis explicitly connect to Ya’akov’s wrestling the night before with Esav’s guardian angel, or in our reading, with Ya’akov’s projection of Esav as threatening Other. And how telling in this respect is Ya’akov’s reponse to Esav “I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of God”. Ya’akov’s statement reveals that in his aloneness his vision has been reborn, remade, and now he recognizes that the unmediated face of reality, the unmediated face of his brother Esav, is the face of God.

The meeting of Ya’akov and Esav has been understood as having been potentially messianic. If Esav had been ready for union with Ya’akov, the messianic age would have dawned. But Esav was not ready, and so Ya’akov does not go with him but sends him on ahead, promising to catch up with him in Se’ir. The lesson here is spiritual and ethical.

Ya’akov, after his healing glimpse of Esav beyond objectification, falls again into self protection. He does not go with Esav out of fear. He has not emerged from his wrestling with his personification of the Other completely whole after all- rather he walks with a limp. Jews do not eat the gid hanasheh, the sciatic nerve, of an animal in remembrance of Ya’akov’s injured hip. The mitzvah not to eat the gid hanasheh is a remembrance of the hope of reconciliation between self and other. One day we hope Ya’akov will be completely reconciled to Esav, beyond fear, guilt, and anger, and thus a space will open for Esav to be reconciled to Ya’akov. The pyche will be beyond “what I have done to him or her, what I am doing to him or her, what I might do to him or her” and of course “what he or she has done to me, what he or she are doing to me, what he or she might do to me”. Ya’akov and Esav will embrace each other and travel together without fear. Until then perhaps Ya’akov is right to not travel with Esav- he senses not that Esav is not ready but that he himself is not ready.

By the end of the parsha we read “Ya’akov arrived whole – and he encamped before the city (of Shechem) (Bereishit 33:18).” And Esav? “And Esav took his wives, and his sons, and his daughters, and all the persons of his house, and his cattle, and all his beasts, and all his substance, which he had acquired in the land of Canaan; and went into another country away from his brother Yaakov (Bereishit 36:6).” The parsha then calls him “Esav, who is Edom (Bereishit 36:1).” He is now no longer identified with Avraham and his family; he is from now on identified as Edom. He has left the family and mission of Avraham. Even more ominously, Esav’s son Elifaz takes Timna, sister of a Horite chieftain, as a wife. Their son is Amalek, the archetypal anti-semite, ancestor of Haman of the Purim story (Bereishit 36:12)!

What would have happened if Ya’akov had gone with Esav and positively united their destinies? Yitzhak, certainly, did not desire Esav’s banishment from the family but rather favoured him. Traditional Jewish commentary has argued for Esav’s bad intentions at great length: Esav was feining forgiveness, or his forgiveness was short-lived; Esav did not really kiss Ya’akov- he bit him. Is this protesting too much? Are we straining to cover for our own lack of love?

Chazal have said that reconciliation between Ya’akov and Esav will happen in the messianic future. Whoever is Israel, awake and struggling: let’s not wait for the future with whoever in our life is Esav. By letting go of our pride and our attempts to rely on others, and going into a place of aloneness, segregated even from our concepts of self and other, us and them, we can renew our eyes and see again the face of God in the face of the other. Everytime the face of the Other appears to us- by an act of grace beyond our imagining or conception- then the messianic age may dawn in that moment.

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Veiling My Wife (Parshat Vayetzei)

This week’s Torah portion comes from our friend Joshua Kuritzky. Want to post a d’var Torah on PunkTorah? Email patrick@punktorah.org

At the outset of Parashat Vayetzei, Yaakov, weary from traveling, lies down to rest, using a rock as a pillow. Let’s let him sleep for now—he’s tired and has earned his rest—and talk about another Yaakov: Yaakov ben Pesach Kuritzky, otherwise known as Joshua Kuritzky. (Yes, yes, I know: Why isn’t my Hebrew name Yehoshua? Just as valid and strong a biblical namesake, but, alas, not the name my parents chose.)

On the 14th of Elul, 5768, I married my sweetheart, Bayla Rivkah (English name: Beth). We had a traditional Jewish wedding service, which included the Badeken ceremony, in which the groom veils his bride. It is said that this custom originated because of events in this Parasha. Because of Laban’s deception, Yaakov inadvertently married Leah instead of Rachel. (We’ll leave all conniving in-law-related exegesis for a later date.) So now, as part of the Jewish wedding ceremony, the groom is given the opportunity to verify that his bride is indeed the woman he wants to marry. But in an age where we’ve already modified the wedding ceremony to fit modern culture and custom—the modern Jewish wedding ceremony condenses the official engagement and wedding into one ceremony, whereas historically these two separate events occurred months apart—why keep a custom that seems, at least on its surface, to be superfluous? Given all the trappings of a modern wedding, it would be difficult, if not impossible, for a devious father-in-law to swap out daughters without a photographer, videographer, wedding planner, dress fitter, hair and/or makeup stylist, etc. noticing that something isn’t, well, kosher.

If the purpose of the Badeken today is not exclusively a means for bridal inspection, what other purpose does it serve? For me, the Badeken remains the first thing I think about when recalling my wedding day. As is tradition, I fasted the entire day and have little recollection of the Kabbalat Panim (the separate pre-wedding receptions for bride and groom) besides a feeling of lightheadedness, anxiety, and an intense desire to see my best friend, partner, and confidant: my bride. As the singing turned into dancing and I was escorted to the Badeken, all I wanted to do was to see her. We’d been separated for a week, each left to deal with our separate versions of wedding stress and jitters. But this was it! A day months in planning and years in dreaming—it was finally here. In the next room, surrounded by the women in her life, sat my bride upon her bridal throne, waiting for me to be danced in, to see her and to veil her. What I remember most is that before veiling her, time slowed and what takes barely a minute in our wedding video felt almost dreamlike: I stared into Beth’s eyes and knew that I was glimpsing my past, present, and future all at once. I was no longer alone. I had someone to travel through life with. As I veiled her, the “deal” was unspoken: we would walk together—where she would walk, I would walk; where I would walk, she would walk. As we noted under our Chuppah, the letters in the word Elul match a line from the Song of Songs: Ani L’Dodi V’Dodi Li—“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” This line has always defined us as a couple.

What followed, from the Chuppah to the reception, all felt like a confirmation of what happened in the Badeken. We may not have been married until later in the day, but for me, that ritual—the verification not just that this was whom I wanted to marry and spend my life with, but that this was the life I wanted to share—made it final and made it real.

Now let’s return to Yaakov our forefather, who is sleeping fitfully and dreaming the most biblical of dreams. What does he dream? He sees, depending on the translation, a stairway or ladder that reaches to the heavens with angels moving back and forth. Whatever it is, it is a conveyance—a connection to the divine. As a dream it is beautiful—symbolic and spiritual, fraught with meaning. And then, in the dream, Hashems peaks to Yaakov, promising him and his descendants, who will be like the “dust of the earth”, the land on which he lies. Hashem promises to protect Yaakov. Where Yaakov goes, so will Hashem. And Yaakov awakens convinced of the dream’s meaning, recognizing the importance of his journey and what his life will bring. And in a strange, surprisingly confident, voice, Yaakov makes a promise in return: If Hashem watches over and protects Yaakov, then Hashem will be G-d to Yaakov.

What can we make of this dream in light of what comes later in the Parasha? Perhaps we can see Yaakov’s dream as a Badeken in its own right. The veil has been lifted, however briefly, to show Yaakov and, by extension, us, that we are connected not just to each other through our friendships and marriages, but to the divine, each and every day. The twin promises between Yaakov and Hashem are echoed when we marry: We promise to protect each other, support each other, and journey through life together. As Yaakov’s story becomes our story, we see, again and again, our connection to Hashem, who can also be seen as the subject of the Song of Songs. We are Hashem’s and Hashem is ours.

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Lech Lecha (By Young, Broke & Kosher)

(This week’s Torah portion comes from our friend Reina Kutner at Young, Broke & Kosher. Interested in writing/taping a d’var? Email Michael@PunkTorah.org).

We have gotten through two portions of Torah, both of which are iconic. You had the creation of the world, where everything was GOOD or VERY GOOD. Then you have the story of Noah, where there was a great flood – a standard tale in most cultures.

But Lech Lecha, the Torah portion for this week, is probably the most important Torah portion thus far. It’s the one that fascinates me the most. For me, this story is beyond a portion of Torah; it’s actually a part of my very soul. And that’s not just because there’s a song by Debbie Freidman about it that still makes me cry.

Lech and Lecha actually translate to the same word: “Go.” It’s so important, the word “go” had to be said twice. When G-d wants something done, I guess emphasis is required.

Although there are many parts of the portion that we can talk about – whether it’s the ritual snipping all you lovely men get to have, the birth of Ishmael, or Abram looking at the stars and seeing how many descendents he will have. But the fact is that in order to get to all of this, G-d had to command Abram and Sarai (who are renamed later in the portion to Abraham and Sarah) to leave the land and people they had always known, including Abram’s father, to the land of Canaan.

And what do they get? Promises of blessings that they don’t really know will happen. There was no certainty, but they did it. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the first recorded leap of faith. Could you imagine if Abram and Sarai lived in this modern world and told these people about their plans? I figure it would go something like this:

What are you, nuts? Why would you travel to the land of Canaan? Do you know what goes on there? And in Egypt, the Pharaoh is going to marry your wife! You have no job, no nothing out there. And what about your nephew, Lot? What do you expect is
going to happen to him? On top of it, all you’re going for are some freakin’ blessings! And not only that, it’s from some mysterious god that we don’t know! He’s a stranger, how do you know if you can trust him/her/it? What kind of life are you heading to?

I have noticed, in the modern world, that people don’t respond well when people try to rock the boat in such a manner. It is deemed as foolish, irrational and unnecessary. But it is in our deepest nature to move on – to grow, to mature, to discover and to head out in the world, not knowing what life is going to throw at us.

Think about what this portion of the Torah taught us as Members of the Tribe: To not be afraid about the prospect of leaving things behind; to be fearless and to trust in ourselves and in G-d, for we will always find the right path. It has been essential to our survival, from escaping the Inquisition of Spain to the Pogroms of Russia, right down to heading into the Middle East after one of the world’s greatest tragedies and creating our own Promised Land. In many of these cases, there weren’t a lot of promises and no guarantees about what would happen to us. Sometimes some crazy things happened along the way. But it was worth it in the end.

Unlike the first two portions, this portion is the clue of what has allowed the Jewish people to survive – not a flood and an ark with animals, and not the story of how we came to be standing where we were; it was a matter of what we did with the time given to us. We became fearless and understood the need to GO, GO. It proved that sometimes to do something drastic was the best thing that you could have ever done for yourself.

As I have lived my life, venturing to new territories and places that I may not be as familiar with, I held Lech Lecha as my inspiration. It was my talisman, providing me comfort when I was heartbroken and strength when I was afraid. It’s perhaps because it is so integral to who we are as the Jewish people. It’s in our very DNA.

As you go forth and find your place in the world, I encourage you to find that Torah portion that speaks to you, that allows you to find the strength to do what you think you could have never done. Lech Lecha gave me courage and determination that I never thought I had to do what needed to be done. Sure, there were some wild bumps in the road, and I’m still ironing out some of them.

But the adventure of life is worth it.

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Simchat Torah (Dance! Dance!)

Michael gave a great d’var Torah. Then he had to pick up his daughter from school. He asked Patrick to edit the video and post it up. Little did he know, Patrick had a special musical guest in store for Simchat Torah…

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Post Your D’Var Torah On PunkTorah!

Do you have a favorite Torah portion? Or an opinion you’d like to share?
Do you like to write, make videos, record songs, create art?

Contribute a d’var Torah for 5771 at PunkTorah.org! A d’var doesn’t have to be something scholarly. It can be a poem, a photograph, a piece of music…anything that expresses your view of a portion of the Torah.

Below is a list of the weekly Torah portions that are coming up. We would need your portion the week before it “drops”. We’ve already filled up the spots for the first book of the Torah (Bereshit), so if you’re interested in being a part of this community-wide, Jewish social-spiritual experiment, act now!

Leviticus

Parashat Vayikra – 12 March 2011

Parashat Tzav – 19 March 2011 Shaun Sarvis

Parashat Shmini – 26 March 2011

Parashat Tazria – 02 April 2011

Parashat Metzora – 09 April 2011 Shaun Sarvis

Parashat Achrei Mot – 16 April 2011

Parashat Kedoshim – 30 April 2011

Parashat Emor – 07 May 2011

Parashat Behar – 14 May 2011

Parashat Bechukotai – 21 May 2011

Exodus

Parashat Shemot – 25 December 2010 Patrick Aleph/Michael Sabani
Parshat Vaera – 01 January 2011 Elchanan Ben Avraham
Parashat Bo – 08 January 2011 Michele Paiva
Parashat Beshalach – 15 January 2011 Michael Croland
Parashat Yitro – 22 January 2011 Michele Paiva
Parashat Mishpatim – 29 January 2011 Michael Sabani
Parashat Terumah – 05 February 2011 Michael Sabani
Parashat Tetzaveh – 12 February 2011 Patrick Aleph
Parashat Ki Tisa – 19 February 2011 Michele Paiva
Parashat Vayakhel – 26 February 2011 Ketzirah
Parashat Pekudei – 05 March 2011 Ketzirah

Genesis (Full)

Parashat Bereshit - 02 October 2010 Michael Sabani

Parashat Noach - 09 October 2010 Patrick Aleph

Parashat Lech-Lecha - 16 October 2010 Reina Kutner

Parashat Vayera - 23 October 2010 Patrick Aleph/Michael Sabani

Parashat Chayei Sara - 30 October 2010 Kristin the Jewbie

Parashat Toldot - 06 November 2010 Alison Laichter

Parashat Vayetzei - 13 November 2010 Joshua Kuritzky

Parashat Vayishlach - 20 November 2010 Matthew Gindin

Parashat Vayeshev - 27 November 2010 Jessica Moore

Parashat Miketz - 04 December 2010 Patrick Aleph/Michael Sabani

Parashat Vayigash - 11 December 2010 Gordon Haber

Parashat Vayechi - 18 December 2010 Nitzchiya

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