B"H

Freedom and Relationships (Parshat Bo)

A time that signifies slavery to freedom and nation, this year it also falls into a secular New Year, which can be freeing or, slave encased also.

For all of us, this is a time where we can also think about freeing ourselves; from old and toxic habits, relationships that are negative, and self-destruction. We often as a society, focus so much on what others do to us or how we react to others, we fail to see how we treat ourselves and our responses to self-inflicted wounds.

How can Parashat Bo teach us to free ourselves?

Do we need to be as Moses and point our fingers at the moon and declare a new start, regardless of where the moon sits within the sky? Probably. Even the most free-spirited of us, is an animal of structure; we are creatures of habit. We tend to only embrace change when it is forced or, when it seems easily attainable. However, the goals can be to free ourselves: to understand that though structure guides us, be it tradition or the moon in the sky, we are in fact, free.

We need to understand that sometimes things can be painful.

It wasn’t easy for Jews to go from slaves to a nation; so we shouldn’t assume that change of any kind is going to be easy for us either – though, it will be well worth the dedication to the cause.

We had a new relationship with G_d, and now, when we make changes to our spirit, body and mind; we are essentially giving thanks and honoring that very relationship that others strived for and gained, not only for themselves but for us. When you make positive changes for yourself, you are also helping others- be it heirs, peers or society.

Freedom and relationships… that’s how I see Parashat Bo…

This week’s d’var was written by Michele Paiva, PunkTorah community member and author.

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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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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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Cycle of Violence (Parshat Bereshit)

Is Bereshit really the beginning of the Torah? Why does G-d use violence to punish humanity? Is there a Kabbalistic way of understanding all this? Alterna-Rebbe Michael says yes…

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Life Is Unfair (A Rosh Hashanah D’Var)

A simple math equation:

A banished surrogate mother and child + child sacrifice + a great leader dying for no good reason = totally messed up.

But life is messed up. And G-d, in this week’s Torah portions, represents life. What’s the solution to a moral crisis when you live in an amoral (non-moral) universe?

GET MORAL!

G-d is limited. G-d cannot do the great work that we can of making the world a holy and moral place. That’s why we have mitzvot: this is our ability to “play G-d” and make the world what it should be…the world that G-d wants it to be, through our actions, thoughts and feelings.

Happy 5771!

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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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Eat, Pray, Fight…With Your Wife (Parshat Ki Tavo)

What Do Apples, Prayer and Fighting With Your Girlfriend Have In Common? (Ki Tavo)

I’m psyched about Rosh Hashanah. I’m supposed to say that for spiritual reasons. But really, I like apples and honey.

This week’s Torah portion is about fruit. The first fruit, in fact. We’re supposed to give that up as a sacrifice to G-d. And, surprise, G-d will bless us. Kinda anti-climactic, but not every part of the Torah makes for good TV.

We’re always giving sacrifices to G-d. Animals, plants…heck, one time there was child sacrifice (luckily that worked out OK). It made sense back then to sacrifice animals and plants because we lived in a farm-based economy. Our whole lives were what we had to eat (and for most Jews, it still is!)

I don’t own a farm. I’m not sure I know what “threshing” means and half the Shabbat prohibitions don’t apply to me because I’m not into skinning animals and preparing hide. But I still have to give sacrifices.

The solution: prayer. Our economy now is Time and People Centered. Time, because time is money. And people centered, because our talent, our energy, our ideas, our creativity are the fuel for the economy…not vineyards and pastures. Prayer is a sacrifice because it takes away our time and it also takes away our ability to think about ourselves and all the things that we want at that moment. We’re giving it up for the Lord. And what are the “first fruits” of prayer? Well you guessed it: the Shacharit service! The morning prayer is the first fruit of the day; the first chance that we get to think about ourselves. Instead, we get to think about G-d.

Speaking of this morning, my girlfriend woke me up at 6AM after I had only slept for a few hours last night. She bought some clothes for me at Target and wanted to see how they fit…but I was tired and grumpy and told her to leave me alone. But finally I relented and tried the clothes on. I could have been a total jerk, but the first fruit of the day was having a happy spouse, and even though at the time I was mad and wanted to go back to sleep, I’m glad I tried the clothes on because my girlfriend has more control over my life than anyone else does (sorry HaShem, but you know it’s true) so I’m glad I could give her the first fruit of my day…because she blesses me all the time! And I got a new pair of pants.

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