B"H

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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Parshah Pekudei

This week’s parshah, Pekudei, sees the completion of the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle that serves as G-d’s dwelling place amongst the Israelites as they travel. Moses does a little accounting (hey, he’s the executive director of a non-profit organization, it’s in the job description!), and all of the pieces are brought together to be erected.

Here’s where we see two things that are pretty special.

First, Moses gets a special honor. Moshe hadn’t been involved with the actual construction of the Tabernacle. While he had relayed instructions to Bezalel, the “General Contractor” appointed by G-d, Moses didn’t actually get a chance to physically get in there and get his hands dirty like all of the other Israelites. Knowing this, Hashem gives Moses a special opportunity. According to Rashi, the workmen brought the pieces to Moses.

When Moses saw how heavy all the pieces were, he exclaimed, “How am I going to lift his whole thing up?”

G-d told him, “Don’t worry! You just do your best, I will do the rest.”

So Moses moved to lift the Tabernacle, and the it raised up by itself!

What does this mean? Hashem is telling us that when there is work to be done in G-d’s honor, what really matters is that we try. As long as we make an attempt, we win. Especially when it comes to creating a holy space for G-d to dwell, there is no failing in the service of Hashem.

Secondly, Pekudei speaks about the anointing and blessing of Aaron and his sons as priests. The Torah says, “and so shall it be that their anointment shall be for them for eternal priesthood for their generations” (Shemos/Exodus 40:15). Haamek Dvar (a commentary on the Torah by Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin of Voloshin), tells us that before this time the blessing given to the priests had only been for them, and was not passed on to their children, but now the blessings extends to them and the generations that follow.

Inherited holiness? What does that even mean?

I understand this to mean that the capacity for holiness is inherent in all creation. We all have the potential to be holy and create holiness in others. What gets passed on is the key to unlock this potential. Jewish tradition is one that passes on the secrets of unlocking this holiness, so we have an obligation to those around us and the generations that follow to be an example of that holiness, and show the world that we all have the capacity to be holy, and we all hold the key. The real secret is that we don’t have the key for our own potential! Our key can only unlock the heart of another! Just as the Israelites couldn’t build the Tabernacle one by one, they had to help each other, so do we have to help each other realize their potential for holiness. It is only in helping others that we can truly help ourselves.

 

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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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Why I Am PunkTorah

Tzitzit, used by Creative Commons permission. Photo by 'AngerBoy'

You’ve probably read Patrick’s Jewcy blog post called, “You Might Be PunkTorah If…”. If not, here’s a link.
Read it.
It’s good.
It’s funny and it’s true.
It’s funny because it’s true.

It also made me think about why I helped co-found with PunkTorah. I think it stems from a sense of outsider-ness.

My wife and I go to Tot Shabbat services. We have a two year old. We stand around talking to other parents and we realize:

WE ARE NOT THESE PEOPLE

They seem like they are so much older, but they’re not.

They talk about their mortgages.
We stand there nodding our heads, trying to interject and talk about the concert we went to the night before, the religious ecstasy of watching another human being bare their soul in front of other people.
They wear khakis and polo shirts.
I wear my tzizits, a t-shirt and jeans.
They like pastels.
I have tattoos.
They’ve got paintings on the walls of their homes.
We have a giant pirate flag on ours.
They watch “Grey’s Anatomy”.
We watch South Park and our friends bands.
They read Tom Clancy and John Grisham.
We read Neil Gaiman and Michael Chabon.

This is not to look down on responsible adults. This is only to ask:
Where do they come from? What happened to the promise of grown-up suburbia? Did my wife and I miss an exit somewhere?
I mean, we are responsible. We pay our bills. We take great care of our daughter. We go to work and pay our taxes. I guess it’s just that we don’t fit in the Dockers and loafers lifestyle.
So we temple shop. We go to services everywhere we can. We stand around with the other “adults” and wait for the opportunity to name drop some underground bands. We mention Matthue Roth or Y-Love, G_dcast, the religious orientation of Benjamin Grimm*, looking for a glimmer of recognition, a slight nod from another weirdo like us, hoping against hope that someone will hear us, someone will recognize the passwords to this secret club that we didn’t even know we belong to and show us the clubhouse we didn’t even know existed.

Well, if you’re looking for it, relax.

We’re here.

And you are welcome.

*If you said “Thing!” and “Jewish”, you are awesome.

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In Defense of the Online Minyan

(By Michael Sabani)
michael@punktorah.org


So.

We’ve gotten some flack from those who call themselves “more observant” wanting to know, quite frankly, “what the heck is an online minyan?” and “how can you justify it?” On the other hand, we’ve gotten messages from people who are scared. They need there to be barriers and some sort of mystical, pseudo-Talmudic, Torah based objection so they won’t be challenged!

Well, if you want to know how we can “defend” getting a bunch of people to pray together online, this is how:

We can see the advancements of the internet and the ability to stream a service live as a benefit of these modern times. This use of technology isn’t really as big an innovation as you’d think. In fact, “the gemara in Sukkah 51b relates that the synagogue of Alexandria, Egypt was so large that they had to wave flags so that the people in the back knew when to answer ‘amen’” (Friedman). How about that! The online service is essentially the same thing; we are sending out “electronic flags” to all those participating.

According to Rav Soloveitchik, “even if one is in another room, he may still have the advantage of tefillah betzibbur, just as he may respond to devarim shebekedushah” (Mipninei HaRav [2001], p.41). So we are told that even those in another room may participate in a service and be included, while being in a different room from the leader of the service.

The Rambam tells us, in the Mishneh Torah (Tefillah viii) that if a minyan is distributed between 2 adjoining rooms and the shaliach tzibbur is standing in a doorway between the two, or even within earshot of both rooms, all involved can be counted for the minyan. So, in the 21st century, the live, streaming video really is the doorway into the rooms of the participants. As long as everyone can hear the leader and participate, there really is no reason why all who are watching and participating can’t be counted.

In summary, Rav Friedman says that “all stimuli that are not from a natural origin, are not in their natural form, or do not originate from a natural process are invalid for the fulfillment of almost any halakhic obligation.” So it seems that if the prayer leaders are actively, naturally speaking and leading, the service would be valid.

But more importantly, Friedman says that essentially each mitzvah needs to be examined on it’s own merit.

Right on.

So guess what? You can support the conception and implementation of an online minyan utilizing traditional Talmudic sources.

And to that we say: Big deal.

Look, it’s great that we can come up with Talmudic sources to support he fact that we are trying to get more people to pray and connect with G-d. That is an important part of the tradition, being able to say “This is what we’re doing and this is why we believe we are in the right.” But the fact of the matter is, we live in a world where live, streaming services, Skype, and IMing are a reality. We live in the 21st century, and pretending it’s the 3rd, 10th, or 17th isn’t helping anybody. Getting people to come together and pray is.

If you think what we’re doing is wrong, or not halachically acceptable, fine! That’s your right! The Talmud is basically a bunch of rabbis arguing with each other, and in most cases there is no clear “Rabbi A is right, Rabbi B is wrong”.

So when I have to stand in front of my Creator (which I believe I will) and say that I encouraged people to pray together, to get to know one another, and to encourage each other in performing mitzvot, but it was wrong to do it online (!?) I will gladly accept my punishment. Better one person does a mitzvah out of my mistake than if none do, even though I live a righteous life.

Works Cited

Friedman, Mordechai. “HALAKHIC CHALLENGES OF ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTIONS.” Torah on the Web – Virtual Beit Midrash. Web. 28 Oct. 2010. <http://vbm-torah.org/archive/halak61/12virtual.htm>.

(Many thanks to my friend Alan Sufrin of Stereo Sinai for the excellent help and research!)

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D’var Torah For Sukkot: Let My People Camp!

A retro repost from last year.

Yea! It’s time for Sukkot, or “The Feast Of Booths” or “Tabernacles”.

What the heck does that mean? It means “Go Camping!”

Seriously though, Sukkot is the holiday where we remember when we were traveling in the desert after fleeing Mitzrayim (Egypt), and we had to live in portable, fragile huts, or booths. In the time of the Temple it was one of the biggest pilgrimage holidays where Jews would come from all over to celebrate together as a people.

So why huts? What do they symbolize?

The sukkah, or booth, is a reminder of the booths that our ancestors lived in. We take this time to remember that we left Egypt with almost nothing and with nowhere to live, and we depended on G-d to provide and protect us.

They are also a symbol of the protective clouds, the Clouds of Glory, that hovered over our ancestors after we left Egypt and protected them through the wanderings. The Sages tell us about how the Clouds of Glory disappeared after the first Yom Kippur, and one of the things we celebrate is that the clouds returned on the 15th of Tishrei, symbolizing that G-d had truly forgiven us.

Observing Sukkot is usually done by building a sukkah following some specific Halachic rules, and spending the night and eating your meals there. Here is a fantastic link from a great resource for building a sukkah. While this is a great thing to do, and a really great experience for families, it may not be practical. So I would suggest some alternatives that, while maybe not Halachically “correct”, will allow you to explore and appreciate this wonderful Holy time:

  • Take a walk outside with your family.
  • Look at nature.
  • Reflect on your connection to the Earth and to G-d.
  • Go camping.
  • Get out of the house and feel the reality of the world around you.

Sukkot is a time when we take a look at what usually makes us happy. We’ve just asked for and (presumably) been forgiven for our transgressions from the past year. Sukkot is one of the agricultural holidays; it takes place during the reaping time where the Israelites would fill their storehouses with their produce grown during the summer. So we sit, forgiven and happy that we have so much. But what is the real source of happiness? Our connection to the Infinite. On Sukkot we take the opportunity to celebrate what was only days before a somber event. We now move outside and leave behind those things that may make us happy on the materialistic level, and bask in the connection to the Essence that was formed over the High Holidays. Seeing how fragile the physical world is, spending time out of doors in nature, and appreciating the basis of our reality is a gift that we are given as Jews, and one that I invite you to partake in.

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The Importance of Fringes

Tzitzit, used by Creative Commons permission. Photo by 'AngerBoy'

(Originally posted here by our friend Ketzirah)

In the  traditional morning prayer service, it is a common practice to gather the fringes (tzitzit) of the prayer shawl into your left hand while saying the  Shema — the central statement of faith.  This practice came to mind after I read what I felt to be a poorly informed, fear-based blog post about Kohenet on Jewschool.  If you read this site, you know that Kohenet is my one of my spiritual homes and I spent 3.5 years in that program  earning the right to call myself a Kohenet.  Actually, if you read this site you probably know a lot more about the program than the author of that blog post.  But, I honestly don’ t wish to put any more energy there.

What I want to do is remind everyone that  fringes are sacred in Judaism.

“Speak to the children of Israel and say to them that they should make fringes on the wings of their garments throughout their generations, and they should put upon the fringe of the wing a thread of blue.  They will be fringes for you, and you will look at them and remember the desires of the Eternal your God, and you will not turn aside after your hearts or your eyes that you seek to feed.  Thus shall your remember my desires and be holy to the Infinite.  I, Adonai, am the Infinite who led you out of Egypt to be infinite to you. I, the Infinite, am your God.” (Num 15:38-41, as found in the Kohenet Siddur)

Fringes remind us of what is important in life.  What is the fringe also depends on your perspective.  To me, someone who is Orthodox is on the fringe.  The majority of Jews are not Orthodox.  When I see someone who is Orthodox, I feel as though they are my tzitzit.  I felt the same when I once attended Yom Kippur services at a Secular Humanist synagogue.  They are fringes on the other side.  There, I just wanted to feel a little more G!d(dess) in the experience and I was reminded of how much I treasure my own sense of spiritual connection.

Every religion has its fringes.  Every movement has its fringes. Every  art form has its fringes. Jews don’t, or shouldn’t, cut of their fringes.  They are sacred.  We gather them in with our left hand (the receptive hand) while we recite our most sacred statement of faith.  We gather them in with love because they are us, and they are there to teach us something.  They are there to offer us an opportunity. They are there to remind us what is sacred in life.

As we enter the  Days of Awe, I invite you to look more kindly on the fringes you encounter.  See them as the “thread of blue.”  Bless them for being the tzitzit of life and helping you connect more fully to the Infinite — however you experience it.

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OneShul: The First Completely Online Synagogue

PunkTorah is proud to announce the fund-raising launch for OneShul.org, the world’s first web-based, community run synagogue.

OneShul was inspired by group of PunkTorah volunteers who began meeting online to daven with one another, using PunkTorah’s recently released Indie Yeshiva Pocket Siddur (available online and through ModernTribe.com). With the popularity of this “DIY Prayer Service” came the idea for a virtual synagogue without borders, based on collective Jewish values and spiritual independence.

“Synagogues are shutting down for the same reason that brick-and-mortar business are closing,” says Executive Director Patrick Aleph. “People live online and if you believe in being where people are, then you need to be there, too.”

Says PunkTorah Creative Director and “Alterna-Rebbe” Michael Sabani, “OneShul is an open synagogue for all of us to congregate, learn, lead, and empower each other. Traditional Jewish organizations and leaders have said that real community can’t be achieved online, or as they see it, synthetically. We challenge that notion. We say that yes, real community means communicating with each other in a meaningful way and that can be done online. We are proving it right now.”

OneShul is “independent” meaning that it does not tow a party line to any of the established Jewish movements. Instead, by being community ran, participants get to decide what kind of minyanim to make, the style of worship, etc. PunkTorah hopes that OneShul will be a diverse place, where all Jewish opinions are appreciated.

OneShul has already seen major success with its live, interactive Afternoon Prayer Services and Jewish classes, led by different members of the PunkTorah community via UStream. PunkTorah hopes to expand OneShul into something much larger, providing Kabbalat Shabbat, more holiday services, an “indie yeshiva” of Jewish books and blogs that are written collaboratively by volunteers, spiritual counseling via skype, a mobile davening app for the iPhone/iPad, tzedakah and tikkun olam programs, OneShul outreach houses across the country, volunteering and internship opportunities for students interested in Jewish communal service, and a launching pad for the spiritual future of the New Jew community. “Everything that a physical synagogue has, but better,” says Aleph.

To make this happen, PunkTorah has launched a fundraising drive through IndieGoGo.com and plans to raise $5,000 to create the “synagogue of the future”.

With OneShul, PunkTorah is challenging the notion that community only exists in neighborhoods. Says Michael Sabani, “Which community is more real? The one where I show up once a week and sit next to what is essentially a stranger, say ‘Shabbat shalom’ and then leave? Or the one I am in constant contact with through Facebook and Skype, who I know I can turn to in a time of need?”

To learn more about PunkTorah’s OneShul project, visit www.indiegogo.com/oneshul

PunkTorah is a non-profit (501c3-pending) organization dedicated to independent Jewish spirituality, culture, learning and debate.

Press Contact: Patrick Aleph

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Tisha B’Av: We Messed Up!

PunkTorah will be holding an interactive online Lamentation. Together we will mourn and lament.

Right here! At 9:15 PM Central. Participate in the “build-a-lamentation” where we will work together to create a work to be featured on PunkTorah.org!

Tonight starts the fast of Tisha B’Av, the ninth of Av.

What does that mean? There are some things we are told not to do:
Prohibitions:

1.     No eating or drinking

2.     No washing or bathing

3.     No application of creams or oils

4.     No wearing of leather shoes

5.     No marital relations

6.     No Torah study

Why Tisha B’Av?
The Talmud tells us that there are five things that happened to the Jews on Tisha B’Av:
1. The twelve spies sent by Moses to observe the land of Canaan returned from their mission. Only two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, brought a positive report, while the others spoke disparagingly about the land. The majority report caused the Children of Israel to cry, panic and despair of ever entering the “Promised Land”. For this, they were punished by G-d that their generation would not enter the land. Because of the Israelites’ lack of faith, G-d decreed that for all generations this date would become one of crying and misfortune for their descendants, the Jewish people. (See Numbers Ch. 13–14)

2. The First Temple built by King Solomon and the Kingdom of Judah was destroyed by the Babylonians led by Nebuchadnezzar in 586 BCE and the Judeans were sent into the Babylonian exile.

3. The Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, scattering the people of Judea and commencing the Jewish exile from the Holy Land. According to the Talmud in tractate Ta’anit, the destruction of the Second Temple began on the Ninth of Av and the Temple continued to burn throughout the Tenth of Av.

4. The Romans crushed Bar Kokhba’s revolt and destroyed the city of Betar, killing over 100,000 Jews, in 132 CE.

5. Following the Roman siege of Jerusalem, Roman commander Turnus Rufus plowed the site of the Temple and the surrounding area, in 133 CE.

What can we learn from this now? How can we bring this into our lives today?
Well, we see that as a people we have a responsibility to mourn our collective losses. National tragedies tie a people together, just as national celebrations can. So mourning together as a people is an important part of being a Jew. Not only this, but we are told that Moshiach will be born on Tisha B’Av. The pain and mourning are akin to birth pangs.
If we look more closely at the first occurrence, the spies who were scared, the Israelites cried for no reason. G-d told them they would invade and be victorious, but they despaired of even trying. Because of this, because they cried empty tears, G-d told them that this day would be forever a day of mourning. It’s basically a parent saying, “Why are you crying over nothing! You’ve wasted all this time and energy crying over nothing, now you’ll really have something to cry about.”
The real sin of the Israelites is that they didn’t believe in themselves. They saw the inhabitants of Canaan and were scared, even after G-d told them not to worry. They didn’t have faith that they could do what G-d said they could. So this year let’s mourn for what we could have done, and resolve to do what we can. Recognize that Judaism doesn’t shy away from pain, it is a reality of life that needs to be acknowledged, but we have to allow our pain to give birth to a better world.

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