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Eat, Pray, Eat (Parshah Ki Tavo)

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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.

The best part of Shacharit is breakfast (let’s be totally honest here). I just chugged the best cappuccino on the planet and had a nectarine so delicious that it would make Gordon Ramsey cry like a little girl. Now THAT’S the first fruit!

Rabbi Patrick is the executive director of PunkTorah and OneShul. His passion for food may be inappropriate at times. When he’s not waxing poetic on PunkTorah, Patrick enjoys collecting vinyl records, modern art and goofing off on Facebook.

Creating Meaning: Parashat Bechukotai

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At times, our Torah may appear alienating. After all, what resonance in our modern lives has a G-d of furious vengeance threatening to destroy us? Religious observance continues to shift as we evolve both as a Jewish people, and as one larger human family. Issues of equality, personal fulfillment, and obligation challenge us individually and collectively. A dedicated faith emerges as almost counter-culture and the tone of our Torah can seem far removed from our everyday lives.

Such may be the case with this week’s parsha, Bechukotai. In this final portion of Vayikra (Leviticus), we learn that should the Israelites “faithfully observe” the commandments, they will be blessed with abundance and peace. However, they are warned, “…if you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments, if you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break my covenant, I in turn will do this to you: I will wreak misery upon you – consumption and fever, which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish; you shall sow your seed to no purpose, for your enemies shall eat it. I will set my face against you…” (Leviticus 26:14 – 17).

What follows is an exhaustive list of terrors, each more ghastly than the one before, that will be visited upon those that fail in their commitment to the mitzvot. As 21st century Jewish women, we know such rhetoric has no literal application. Our lives move forward uninterrupted by our neglect of Shabbat, or our omission of proscribed prayers. We may enjoy challah from the grocery store, with little concern of its kashrut status. Today, affixing a mezuzah is optional.

We are inherently generative creatures. Our capacity for love and creation is nearly limitless. Artistic expression arises from within and is manifested in all manner of mediums – poetry, dance, digging in the earth, quilts under which to cuddle and lullabies for skies seared with lightning. We are architects of skyscrapers and builders of bridges. We mold meaning from our days and forge paths of enlightenment, for ourselves and others. We know blessings of peace and abundance when our hearts are open and our imaginations unleashed.

We also know what it is to feel our internal landscapes cursed. The detritus of depression suffocates our creative potential. Fear and anxiety shrink our capacity to love unconditionally. Anger disconnects us from community, and grief imprisons joy. We know what is to feel adrift, beset by our enemies, the shining face of providence no longer visible. Indeed, we have all felt misery wrecked upon and within us.

Emerging whole through such a dark sojourn can prove daunting. We cannot see our way clearly and we have no guideposts by which to measure progress. Perhaps what parsha Bechukotai can give us is a lamp to illuminate the shadows of our experience. Our mitzvot are always available for engagement. They are gateways to learning, personal growth, and connection with something greater than ourselves. The divine commandments of our Torah exist as opportunities, jewels to enrich our journey, and experiments in understanding. In those moments when we feel most alone, rudderless, without sight or heart-centered breath, perhaps we might begin to play with these elements of faith. What can the light of the Shabbos candles kindle within you? Awakening to confront another day, what solace may be found by thanking the divine for preservation of your soul? What may the binding of tefillin unwind within your own heart? Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart.” We may view the mitzvot as steps along such a road. The curses and blessings of this week’s parsha, so vibrantly conveyed, may be understood as metaphors for passages on our individual voyages – the depth, breadth, and substance of which is entirely up to us to discover.

Akiva Yael is an enthusiastic participant in all that is holy, including Torah study, powerlifting, and the beauty of our world.

Holiness Is Apparently Not A Gay Buddhist In Blue Jeans (Parshah Kedoshim)

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Many of my friends struggle with this week’s Torah portion because of one line:

And a man who lies with a male as one would with a woman both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon themselves (Lev. 20:13).

It’s interesting to note that none of my friends are having theological problems with wearing blue jeans (Lev. 19:19), falsifying weights and measures (Lev. 19:35) or cussing out their mothers and fathers (Lev. 20:9).

I support gay rights. I have tattoos. I’m not on an epic quest to vandalize my local Buddhist monastery a la Abraham’s idol smashing and I’m freaked out by any attempt to create a new Sanhedrin in Israel (or anywhere for that matter). That puts me in a certain camp of Jewish thinking that, at times, is referred to as Cafeteria Religion: someone who shamelessly picks-and-chooses what they want out of religion.

The tricky thing is that it is just so easy to pick and choose, when the Torah gives us so many options.

For example,holiness is not just a matter of following rules. It’s also a matter of having a pure heart, as the Torah tells us in this same portion:

Thou shalt not oppress thy neighbour…Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling-block before the blind…Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart…thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself…if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not do him wrong…thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt (Lev 19:13-34).

It begs the questions: why do we struggle with one line of Torah about a sexual act, but don’t seem to be freaked out at all by the idea that we have to be one hundred percent selfless, loving all people as we love ourselves, treating everyone equally and never doing any harm to anyone, ever?

I think the answer is pretty  clear. The texts in Kedoshim which admonish what we think of as “homosexual” are texts to us, about the other. Those texts are about how others should live, and what our response to that should be. The loving texts of this same Torah portion speak to how we should treat others regardless of who they are. That’s a text that is completely about us.

It is easier to rally around an ideology that turns people into “its”, rather than an ideology that forces us to turn “its” into people. 

So what are you rallying around?

Parshah Tazria & Itchy Skin Diseases

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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.

Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Ten Commandments (Parshat Yitro)

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Editors note: with MLK day coming soon and the recent “freedom to twerk” controversy, we’re reposting this MLK-inspired dvar on Parshah Yitro from 2011.

OK we’ve been there…Moses carried Joseph’s bones… while the rest of the folks in Israel were collecting weapons, gold and silver. Moses didn’t care. He carried the bones in his arms. Then, God goes and sends them the long route.

Fast forward to Martin Luther King. He carried the bones of his ancestry, while others carried cars and homes, jewelry and focused on oppression of others. MLK could have ignored it all and done his thing in his hometown.

He could have not had as much stress in his life, but he chose a different route.  A much harder road to travel. He put himself at risk and was armed more with his beliefs rather than weapons or grandiose items.

Now, fast forward to you right now. What do you carry with you in your heart and spirit? What helps you understand what to keep with you and what to throw out? The Ten Commandments.

Sometimes we are forced to take the long route, and it doesn’t mean it is wrong or bad for us, sometimes we need to circle the goal to see what the purpose really is. We are a lot like Moses and Martin Luther King; both men didn’t want to carry the “baggage” per se, but did so because it was a part of them, and a part of something they valued.

If you look at the ten commandments, where Moses is trying to get people to listen, he is setting up ethical laws… and so was Martin Luther King. If you really look at the bigger picture, the commandments, when followed by differing groups of people, serve as an alliance of sort. They are laws but laws that bring people together rather than tear them apart. In what ways do the ethics of the Ten Commandments bring you together with others or, tear you from others? Have you had peers or friendships that have been weighted by the knowledge that something in a commandment was being attacked, even if at the time you didn’t think of the commandments but instead, the behaviors? Being stolen from, lied to or someone being disrespectful to your parents or to you as a parent could be just some of the reasons you felt a friendship was being tested.

In whole, the ten commandments are often intertwined with our spirits even when we don’t see them; bringing back last week with the bones carried, and MLK with his ancestry and desires; we see that there are things we carry with us that are a part of us. The Ten Commandments are most certainly with us; just recognizing them instead of being oblivious to them, is the key.

This week’s d’var is written by Michele Paiva, wellness expert, publisher and syndicated radio host.

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