temple

Parsha Vayakhel

February 17, 2014 By punktorah

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.

Written by Kohenet Ketzirah. Ketzirah is a frequent service leader at OneShul and can be found on PeelAPom

Parshah Shemini

March 24, 2011 By punktorah

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.

Parshah Pekudei

March 3, 2011 By punktorah

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.

Vayakhel and the Tabernacle of the Heart

February 24, 2011 By punktorah

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!)

Why I Am PunkTorah

February 10, 2011 By punktorah

tzizit — 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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