B"H

G-d Is A Bloodthirsty Thirteen Year Old Boy With ADD (Parshat Matot)

Sometimes reading the Torah is like reading a book written by a blood thirsty thirteen year old with attention deficit disorder. This week’s portion jumps, not so elegantly, from women taking vows, to killing the Midianites and stealing their stuff, then all of a sudden we’re diving up a bunch of land. The end, next chapter please.

And you wonder why more people don’t take the Torah seriously? It’s like cut-and-paste poetry. Once the story gets really good, G-d interrupts everything with a census or some obscure set of rules that makes no sense. Or it starts off really boring, and you give up half way, only to find out the really good stuff is toward the end.

The Torah doesn’t have a good beginning, middle and end. And it’s really not meant to, either. I think there’s three basic reasons for that.

First, the Torah is a reflection of life. And life doesn’t have a real beginning, middle and end. Sure, individual lives start and finish, but the legacy of humanity lasts forever (or at least until SkyNet and the Terminators finish us off). At any rate, Torah reflects life, and life is filled with low points, high points, boring, pointless interruptions, scandals, intrigue, and everything else…and sometimes the order of those things doesn’t make any sense.

Second, the Torah is a reflection of Creation. There’s a midrash that says that G-d looked into the Torah before creating the world. I like that. The Torah is flawed at times, and frankly, so is the world. Now, I’m not calling HaShem a crummy writer or a bad creator, but the world isn’t perfect, and if you read the Torah enough, you’ll find out that the Torah isn’t perfect all the time either.

Finally, the Torah is the reflection of the human soul…sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse. This week, we’re dealing with the souls of women and warriors, liars and hinderers, revenge-seekers and oppressors. Next week, the soul may change, and go in a new direction. But the Torah does us a huge favor and lets us see all sides of the soul. Hopefully, the soul doesn’t end either.

So what’s the bottom line? Don’t let the strange ups-and-downs of the Torah, the weird jumping back and forth from women-and-their-dads-to-blood-and-guts keep you from learning. Life, Creation, and the human spirit has its ups-and-downs, and its weird moments, too.

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Is This All Made Up? (Parshat Chukat-Balak)

Chukat-Balak is the kind of parshah that makes you think the ancient Hebrews were dropping acid while codifying the Torah.

The parshah in a nutshell, thanks to our bearded brethren at Chabad…with jokes and off-color commentary by Patrick Aleph:

After 40 years of journeying through the desert, the people of Israel arrive in the wilderness of Zin. Miriam dies and the people thirst for water. G-d tells Moses to speak to a rock and command it to give water. Moses gets angry at the rebellious Israelites and strikes the stone. Water issues forth, but Moses is told by G-d that neither he nor Aaron will enter the Promised Land.

The moral of the story is that even the greatest of leaders have a bad day. I love the fact that God puts up with every whiney complaint that the Hebrews through His/Her way, but the second that Moses gets angry, God punishes him. Totally. Unfair.

Venomous snakes attack the Israelite camp after yet another eruption of discontent in which the people “speak against G-d and Moses”; G-d tells Moses to place a brass serpent upon a high pole, and all who will gaze heavenward will be healed. The people sing a song in honor of the miraculous well that provided the water in the desert.

Here’s some insane Hebrew logic:

Idolatry is bad. God is the only God. However, if venomous snakes are attacking you, feel free to make an idol to them and you’ll be healed, Vatican Miracle-style. I think this might be the wrong religion?

Balak, the King of Moab, summons the prophet Balaam to curse the people of Israel.

Wow. Someone hates the Jews. Shocking.

On the way, Balaam is berated by his ass,

Hahaha…you said “ass”.

…who sees the angel that G-d sends to block their way before Balaam does. Three times, from three different vantage points, Balaam attempts to pronounce his curses; each time, blessings issue instead.

Balaam and I apparently have the same problem: we try to say one thing and the opposite comes out.

The people fall prey to the charms of the daughters of Moab and are enticed to worship the idol Peor. When a high-ranking Israelite official publicly takes a Midianite princess into a tent, Pinchas kills them both, stopping the plague raging among the people.

Murder is justified if it keeps people from gettin’ busy behind a tent. Unless of course you’re David, who had 400 wives and concubines. In that case, you’re a tzadik.

So you get the drift. All of the different elements of this Torah portion have a weirdly made up, hypocritical feel to them. And that’s totally OK with me. I can handle the fact that I am supposed to learn holiness from murderers, talking donkeys, and a God who has messed up priorities. None of this makes any sense. And guess what? Life doesn’t make sense most of the time.

Sometimes, you just have to follow the white rabbit down the hole and see where you end up. So turn on, tune in and drop out…you have my utterly non-rabbinic permission.

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D’var Tazria & Itchy Skin Diseases

D’var Tazria (Vayikra/Leviticus 12:1 – 13:59)
Submitted by Neal Ross Attinson

Icky skin diseases consume most of our attention in this week’s Torah portion, but the cause and effect probably aren’t what you think.

Our parsha goes into great detail about a handful of different skin afflictions, collectively called “tzaraat,” all subject to inspection by the priests. (The theme is expanded in next week’s parsha to include similar afflictions in clothing and houses.) But while tzaraat is usually defined as “leprosy,” the details aren’t hygenic – in fact, the main consequence of tzaraat is “tumah,” being unable to bring sacrifices to the Mishkan — and this only when the tzaraat is in a state of flux (no pun intended). If you’re completely covered in it, the priest judges you “tahor” (pure/clean/) and that’s that, at least until the tzaraat begins to recede.

(When I teach this to 12-year-olds, I describe tzaraat as “spiritual cooties.” My teacher Rabbi Jack Gabriel tells me that expresses it nicely.)

Homiletically, our rabbis and sage have interpreted tzaraat as the consequence of lashon hara – otherly known as snark, gossip, trash talk – in that it makes us unfit to draw close to G?d. In light of the beginning of Genesis, when G?d created everything out of words, we see the importance our tradition places on speech (not to mention writing!).

These days, what with texting and pop-ups and the interwebs, words are a cheap commodity. It’s not always easy to see their sacredness; certainly not in the way of our Torah ancestors, for whom “closeness to God” was a spatial, rather than spiritual, concern. When words lose their sacredness, however, so do we. Snark is easy when sarcasm and creative character assassination are the coin of the media realm. But Jews don’t do things the easy way — we do them the meaningful way. For example: PunkTorah” can be re-rendered into funky Yiddish as “punkt orah” – a point of light. So let light flow from our mouths, and kindness from our words; and may these small actions help bring our banged-up world into holy and peaceful shalom.

Neal Ross Attinson teaches b’nei mitzvah students in Sonoma, California (AKA “Anatevka-among-the-vines”) and blogs at http://metaphorager.net. He feels uncomfortable without a pad and pencil.

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Tablets (Parshat Ki Tisa)

Ki Tisa:

Let’s put this in a more here and now frame of reference, complete with today’s slang. This week, we learn that Moses has a meltdown. He looks around, and the people are worshiping a Golden Calf? What the heck. Hello? Did anyone hear what Moses is saying?

He is trying to be a spokesperson for G_d, and people are just being blind. They have a contract with G_d. So, Moses is like “Oh no you din’t” and is trying to figure out how to get their attention. It does not matter what era it is, we will always find “our time” to be noisy with distractions, temptations and information that may or may not be wrong. Anyway, Moses is furious and needs to keep his job as spokesperson, and he breaks the tablets. OK finally, that gets the crowds attention. But what does this really mean? What symbols can we see here?

I see a few. First, the tablets are like a contract. The contract literally is broken, but the contract spirit is not. We are like the tablets. We may have hard times, and break, and like Moses, even with the best intentions we may fly off the handle, but our spirit is intact, and as long as we look inward, we can heal.

Also, we learn here about having dedication and passion. One really doesn’t get mad unless they have a vested interest or passion. Think about it. If you really don’t care about a job and don’t need the money, do you care if you get fired? No. You probably are not putting your full self into the job either. But if you love a job and feel wrongfully fired or laid off, you probably have emotion brewing, because you felt you put your all into it and you felt it was a part of you. So, when you see Moses with this action, it teaches that a little passion can go a long way. If you love what you do, if you love who you are, if you even try to stand by your beliefs, you’ll probably fare well in life, because your emotion is a result of your inner work, your passion.

Having a passion for Torah and the lessons within is the same. It may or may not always bring emotions upon first read, but if you start to look for the lessons, and how they represent your life you start to feel emotion; the Torah lives within you, it is a part of you. Like the tablets, there may be areas that are broken, but the spirit, the passion, lives.

A question to ask yourself: When is the tablet of your life, beyond the commandments but how you live your entire life, sometimes broken but still very much alive and intact? What keeps it intact?

By Michele Paiva

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Jewish Snuggies and Footie Pajama Fashion Show Parshat Tetzavah

Jewish Snuggies and Footie Pajama Fashion Show (Parshat Tetzavah)

In the 28 years that I have lived on this planet, I have not seen anything as ridiculous as grown men and women wearing footie pajamas. Even worse are the alluring footie pajamas that are supposed to take the reminder of one’s childhood and put it into a romantic context. See the photo below:

Really, though, I can forgive the footie PJs phenomenon. I remember fondly a time when adults didn’t wear cute pajamas, until a certain Ally McBeal came along and stole the heart of the nation with her assorted adult bedroom wear. The American people never recovered.

What I cannot get past, however, is this scum bag scam-of-a-fashion-trend called the Snuggie.

I know, for sure, that there is evil in this world because people actually buy the Snuggie without thinking, “gee, I can accomplish this with a terry cloth robe, worn backwards!”

Parshat Tetzaveh is about fashion, specifically the fashion of the priests. They say that the clothes don’t make the man, but if that man is wearing Daffy Duck jammies and curling up on the couch with anything described as “comfy”, then there is serious cause for concern.

The priests had an interesting outfit: a tunic, a sash, a robe, a breastplate and a Swedish-chef looking hat:

A few cool things about this outfit…

First, the costume has the same materials as the Mishkan. In a way, the priests were like drag queens…only instead of having men dressing like women, you have men dressing like buildings. This is a neat idea, though: the priest had to dress like the Tent of Meeting because he was a part of the tent. He wasn’t just the agent for sacrifices, but a piece of a much larger puzzle. This goes back to last week’s portion, Terumah, where all the individual pieces that made up the tent all became one, echad, as G-d is echad.

And what about individuality? Well…the brightly colored yarn of the cloth and the breastplate stones and all the gold that made up the uniform came from those of a wise heart. They were contributions from the ancient Hebrews, like a clothing drive for G-d’s sake. You could imagine someone staring at Aaron and thinking, “Wow, he’s wearing my golden bells that I gave!” The idea is that all people who have a wise, willing heart give to G-d and G-d uses it in the way that best supports the Jewish people.

This outfit is not some cheap piece of junk from China. It’s a community effort. What a great message there: if you are going to do something that’s important, it needs to be something that everyone can take part in. I think that’s the true lesson of Parshat Tetzaveh: community working together, Snuggie and Footed PJs be damned!

Images courtesy of Snuggie.com, Pajamacity.com and TempleInstitute.org

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Parshat Sh’mot Slideshow Extravaganza!

A little something different this week. Enjoy!

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The Smell of Despair: Parsha Vayeshev

By Jessica Moore

At first glance, Parsha Vayeshev seems like a pretty harsh and destructive time for G-d. Jacob is desperately praying that the generations of family woes will finally be over yet we see intense turmoil with Joseph and his brothers. The brothers eventually rough him up a bit and throw him in a pit. The Torah states that, “And they sat down to eat bread, and they lifted up their eyes and looked, and behold, a company of Yishme’alim came from Gilad with their camels carrying aromatic gum, balm, and ladanum, going to carry it down to Egypt” (Genesis 37:25). This is the caravan the brothers will sell Joseph into slavery. Let’s put this in perspective: your brothers hate you, they just beat you up, threw you into a pit for who knows how long, took your awesome coat, and sold you into slavery. Why do you care that the caravan you’re gonna be stuck on for your not-so-happy ride down to Egypt smells nice?

Simply put, while we’re rejoicing in our happiness or mourning our destruction, G-d is simply creating. All of the good and bad moments of our lives are simply moments in time of G-d constantly creating the world so that we can all reach our potential. We often don’t see the meaning behind our suffering until days, months, years or even generations later. However, G-d will never allow us to suffer an iota more than is necessary. Joseph’s suffering was necessary so that the humiliation would humble him. Also, this event would bring his family to Egypt, where they would escape the famine. Even further than that, it would bring the rest of Israel down to Egypt where they would eventually have to endure the pain of slavery as a nation; the path in which the Nation of Israel is redeemed, given the torah and brought to Eretz Yisroel. However, despite all that, Joseph was spared the discomfort of the normally pungent smells that would accompany a caravan. This was a small reminder from G-d that all was not lost and that Joseph would not have to suffer any more than absolutely necessary, even if just a small discomfort.

Often when we are struggling through a particularly difficult time we don’t even notice the seemingly small discomforts, or lack thereof. Yet, it is in these details that we might recognize G-d’s hints to us that every moment of mourning or rejoicing in our lives is just a fleeing moment of creation leading us to our full potential. This reminds me of one of my favorite King Solomon stories. The king wanted to humble one of his most trusted wise men, Benaiah. He asked Benaiah to find him a magic ring that would make a happy man sad, and a sad man happy. He knew that no such ring existed but wanted to bring a sense of humility to Benaiah since he was known to brag amongst the other advisors. After months of searching with no luck, Benaiah happened upon an old merchant in one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. He asked the old man if he knew of such a ring. The man took a ring from his wares and engraved some words. When Benaiah saw the engraving he knew he had found the ring. That night when the king asked him to produce the magic ring, everyone was surprise when Benaiah actually pulled out a ring. King Solmon saw engraved “Gam Ze Ya’avor” – “This too shall pass.” At that moment the king knew that all his wisdom, wealth and power were just fleeting things, and he was saddened by the thought. But our sufferings will pass as well, a thought that should always keep us happy and comforted.

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Parshah Nitzavim-Vayelech

In keeping with the fact that it’s Labor Day Weekend and everyone is ditching shul to go to the beach, let’s keep this week’s d’var brief and to-the-point.

A double portion of Torah lovin’…

Nitzavim: do good stuff and G-d will reward you. Do bad stuff, and G-d will curse you. The end.

Vayelech: Moses is about to die. He gives the keys to the Jewish people to Joshua and they bro down in a tent with G-d who tells them that the Israelites are going to stray from the Torah.

This whole thing seems like a contradiction. G-d is the King of the Universe. You think he’d have the brains to not waste His time telling the Hebrews to worship Him in Parshat Nitzavim when he knows they’re just gonna go worship idols and eat ham sandwiches over in Parshat Vayelech.

But that’s the horrible thing about being a parent. You look into your newborn’s eyes and you feel this rapture that you’ve brought this life into the world. And you don’t think to yourself, “gee, one day you’re going to be stealing my car, get busted for smoking in the school bathroom and flunk out of college because you were more interested in X-Box than Chemistry 101.”
G-d, in this week’s double portion, is like any other parent, struggling to deal with the fact that His children will, in fact, give him the middle finger…and frankly, already have.

But G-d can’t help it. When G-d looks at Creation, it’s like we’re newborns in His hands. And he can’t help but say, “don’t worry I still love you kid, I’ll give you another chance. Just be good this time, OK?” And yeah, we’re pretty lucky like that.

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Parshat Shoftim: Quit Being a Power Nazi

“Justice, justice, you shall seek.” Parshat Shoftim is the Torah portion where we get to feel like Tikkun Olam-aholics and Social Justice Champions. The environmental crowd uses Shoftim to make the case for Al Gore’s livelihood and the LGBT crowd will surely use Shoftim to talk about the overturning of Prop 8, while the other side of the aisle will be screaming Fair Tax and War on Islamo-fascism at the top of their lungs. But let’s talk about something more interesting than politics.

Why is justice repeated twice in “justice, justice, you shall seek”? Isn’t it good enough to say, “seek justice” without the clever poetics?

The Jewish tradition is big on numbers and the number two has its own significance. Two, the Kabbalists believe, is the number for fellowship…and that seems to make sense. There are two parts to the Torah, oral and written, that are in fellowship with each other. One Torah isn’t “more right” than the other. They compliment each other. “Two people shall become one flesh”…how that’s fellowship. How about the two angels in Sodom and Gamorrah? Or the fact that we light two candles on Shabbat and that when a man studies in yeshiva, he studies with a partner?

This week’s Torah portion talks justice, but justice can’t be administered by one person. From the beginning, we learn what justice should be in fellowship. No one person, no matter how smart they are or just they are has all the right answers. Great things come from partnership.

Short and sweet, that’s the lesson of the week. Go with G-d and bring a friend!

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Parshah Re’eh

Deuteronomy 11:26-16:17

Monotheism in a nutshell, all laid out. Make the change you want to see!

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