Shabbat Shalom on the 8th day of the Omer

We are on the way to Sinai; Today is the 8th day of the Omer, which is one week and one day of the Omer. Another 41 days to go. It is an extraordinary journey. This song is a way of lightening the mood as we prepare to welcome Shabbat.

Shabbat Shalom

After nightfall, stand and say: Blessed are You, L‑rd our G‑d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.

Forging a Path Forward- Parshat Shemini

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you…(If, by Rudyard Kipling)

Sophie Mili, illustrated If by Rudyard Kipling

How do I handle competing demands? What do I require for myself, and what do my obligations to others require? This delicate balancing act requires profound self-knowledge based on the preparation that helps us reconcile the sometimes competing if not outright conflicting, needs. Aaron demonstrates how to navigate these tricky waters in Parshat Shemini.

We encounter this repeatedly in our life journey; the competing demands of work and family are familiar to all of us, and we often find we can do only one at the expense of the other. Which takes priority? Can they weave together? This is our dilemma.

The answer is grounded in self-understanding.

The Talmud often weaves its machloket (discussions) around understanding competing values, holding two things in tension, and understanding the core values under different circumstances. We study and learn about who we are, what grounds us, and what motivates us, sometimes creating a hierarchy placing specific values above others. Contemplating the question, “Who am I?” even in troubling circumstances, we maintain ourselves and do not get consumed by the events but move through them, as complicated as the test may be. That is Shemini.

The Eighth Day, Shemini, is momentous; Aaron is to be initiated as High Priest. But by singling out the eighth day, the Torah shows us that the seven days preceding it are also significant–they constitute the formative period that brings us to a critical moment and beyond.

Aaron and his sons underwent thorough planning to assume the priesthood. Moses remained High Priest until he was assured that the training was complete and Aaron and his sons were fully ready. And then, catastrophe.

Nadav and Abihu approached God with “alien fire” and were themselves consumed. We ask ourselves why, and we wrestle trying to understand. If the crime was drunkenness, as our texts and commentators suggest, the punishment of death seems extreme. Perhaps we are trying to explain the unexplainable.

The deaths of Nadav and Abihu may have been just that; a catastrophic event that seems capricious and arbitrary. Such things happen all the time. Therefore, the question is not why this happened but how we respond when disaster comes.

We cannot imagine the overwhelming shock and pain Aaron experienced, but we can conjure ideas of how we might respond. Break down in overwhelming grief, rail against God, fall on his face and rend his clothes, publicly grieve the loss of his sons, go off to be with them and bury them, and turn his back on the priesthood. The list goes on. But that is not what Aaron did.

Aaron remained silent,  although shaken to his core at the brutal death of his two sons. The commentators struggle with this silence. As a father, his initial instinct would be to mourn his two sons’ loss immediately. Nachmanides, the 13th C. Sephardic commentator, suggests the silence came after he stopped crying. Rashbam, the 12th C. commentator from Northern France and Rashi’s grandson, explains that Moses intercedes, reminding Aaron he must continue the sacred service already underway, as Aaron was just invested as High Priest and charged with the well-being of the entire people.

Wisdom is usually considered the province of the elder. The hoary head of age is a badge indicating a lived life and the experiences of that life. But experiences are merely knowledge. Once we acquire knowledge, we must embrace it as a life lesson and part of our value system and then judiciously offer it to circumstances in the future; only then can we claim to possess wisdom. Aaron arguably attains wisdom. It is borne from a horrific experience and will guide him throughout the rest of his journey.

Our commentators focus on the verse that explains drunkenness. Rashi sees this as God speaking directly to Aaron, a reward for maintaining his comportment. I suggest it is Aaron comprehending the wisdom of priesthood and the particular responsibilities of that responsibility. This wisdom is for him and the others of the priestly class and as a model for the rest of us.

The people look to Aaron as an exemplar and intercessor with God. This unique stature required Aaron to maintain his composure and dignity, continuing his work in the face of this loss. However, Aaron does not participate in the offering and, in this separation, remains connected to his sons as a mourner.

We have all encountered the moment of decision. There are two paths forward, forcing us to choose the most critical. Although many of us could not comprehend how Aaron could continue his priestly duties, many of us understand there was no other way forward for him. Regardless, we must understand ourselves well enough to determine what we would do when faced with such a test.

Only through preparation or self-awareness can we know how to respond to crises, calamities, or even the everyday things that require tradeoffs. These are not the choices of good versus evil. They are the more nuanced choices, often of good versus good, that are more complex and difficult. How do we maintain who we are and uphold the values we hold dear if we have yet to explore either concept? Only through knowing one’s self can one authentically move forward.

Ironically, the verse from Deuteronomy (30.19) resonates in such complex space, “I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life, that both you and your descendants may live.” Therefore, we need to understand the meaning of choosing life. Indeed, even the unspeakable horror of losing a child still requires us to find a way forward in our lives and for others.

This is dynamic and constantly changing, yet, we continue to live and grow broadly from our experiences on this journey. Our self-understanding evolves, and wisdom permits us the opportunity to navigate a path forward.

The Ark in the Noah story is a craft beholden to wind, rain, and sea currents. It bobs on the water until it finally hits land. A sailboat, on the other hand, is different. Although it, too, is subject to the currents and constantly being pushed off course, it has rudder, keel, and sails. With these tools, the skilled and prepared pilot keeps the ship following the stars toward the intended destination. So too, can we as we grow older and wiser. We’ve prepared for the journey and its eventualities and can respond with that wisdom. This is the message of Shemini.

 

 

 

In these particularly turbulent times, this pensive song from the incomparable Rabbi Debra Sacks Mintz is a soulful prayer to help us enter Shabbat.

May peace and wholeness come to all.

Shabbat Shalom

‎הֱיֵה נָא קָרוֹב לְשַׁוְעָתֵנוּ
‎יְהִי־נָא חַסְדְּךָ לְנַחֲמֵנוּ
‎כִּי אַתָּה יְהֹוָה הָעוֹנֶה בְּעֵת צָרָה
‎פּוֹדֶה וּמַצִּיל בְּכָל־עֵת צָרָה וְצוּקָה
Please be near to our cry
Let Your loving kindness console us
For You, God, are the One who answers in time of trouble
Who redeems and rescues in all times of trouble and distress

Conspicuous in Zurich

Feeling Conspicuous

Wandering the streets of old Zurich, I felt conspicuous.  As usual, I wore my Ukrainian Sunflower Kippah, which usually draws attention. But somehow, this time felt different.  The medieval alleys and streets were charming; gassen and the strassen wound around, up and down hilly terrain.  The cobblestones beneath our feet, the old-style buildings, and the lake uniquely charm Zurich.  And I was generally comfortable in my surroundings.  But I wondered if people were looking at the Kippah or the Jew.

Switzerland was neutral during the war, of course.  They tend to be neutral on most things except for commerce, where they have a very pro-business attitude.  Zurich was not a city that experienced Nazi occupation or Jewish deportations.  But the streets seemed strangely empty of Jews.

In a meeting with the liberal Rabbi of Zurich, he shared that it is a small Jewish community that gets along well.  The more orthodox denominations do not mix with the more liberal ones, and several synagogues exist.  Knowing this did not assuage my feelings as we wandered around a portion of the city where I was the identifiable Jew.  The rabbi wore the only other kippah I saw.

I have walked the streets of many cities in many countries, clearly identifying myself by my kippah, so I am unsure why this experience seemed heightened.  Perhaps the challenges in Israel, wherein orthodox political parties have pushed to define who is a Jew, have created a particular kind of angst.

In the United States, my kippah is a conversation starter.  People often comment on my kippah, on the streets, or even at the orchestra.  I use this kippah hoping to discuss supporting Ukraine war victims.   I only received furtive glances here, except for the man at passport control.  As I was leaving, he cheerfully commented on the kippah’s unique nature, giving me the opportunity to talk about Ukraine.

There is a saying that just because I am paranoid doesn’t make me wrong.  But for now, I will chalk it up to my paranoia and continue to publicly and proudly identify who I am.

Loving something flawed-Reflections on my trip to Israel

Love (with)… all your perfect imperfections

John Legend’s beautiful song All of me, inspired by his love for his wife, Chrissy, moved and inspired many of us with the romance. But what happens when reality falls so far short of the romantic vision, pushing the boundaries of acceptable, even tolerable? Unfortunately, divorce is often the result.

I am struggling with my relationship with Israel. The aspirations of our ancient homeland land and our history drew me to the miracle that was and, in many ways, continues to be this place. But the state is pressing on issues such as racism, tolerance for pluralism, and checks and balances in government. I was suckled in a mythic Israel but have learned to ween myself, given the practicalities of a nation-state that cannot live solely by the hopes and dreams of the Jewish people. However, as Ben Gurion understood, to be a nation like other nations. It was a pragmatic understanding of survival in the harsh real world. Today, the ideals of a homeland that is both Jewish and a democracy are threatened by raw political power and expediency.

We had come to accept Jewish and Democracy in tension. But, for the first time, we face the existential crisis of threatening both. The fractious rough and tumble nature of Israeli politics and the need to form a governing coalition in Knesset has brought us to a new place.

Over time, we developed complacency in our attitudes. Israel, as a Jewish Democratic state, was always considered a given. Laws and policies often were merely annoyances and opportunities for workarounds. “Religious” marriage meant a weekend in Cyprus. The orthodox church that has become the Kotel was not an issue for the secular. Israelis have enjoyed unprecedented prosperity and unrivaled military strength, making this a safe and secure place for most. Palestinian rights, west bank settlements, and civil rights were not on the radar screen of most and were relegated to the margins.

Then came Bibi 3.0. The assault on cherished rights, once considered unassailable, has awoken many from slumber. The protests in the streets by hundreds of thousands are sending a strong message that this is unacceptable. “Guns and butter” at any cost are not enough. The extensive unbridled settlement program is intolerable, and the Israeli terrorist response to terrorism is rightly called a pogrom. To use a familiar Jewish word, it is a Shanda.

I struggle to love the country as I continue to love the land that held a people charged to be a light unto the nations. This is my heritage. Last week during my trip to Israel with the CCAR, I was proud to be at two demonstrations in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I was deeply moved to see the sea of Israeli flags and patriotism on display. However, I was disgusted and deeply aggrieved to be spat on when attempting to bring our Torah for Rosh Chodesh and assaulted by yeshiva bochers as trying to stop my expression of Judaism in the Kotel space.

I cannot turn my back on this precocious and precarious experiment. But I am distraught. I support those who do the work, including the Israeli Religious Action Center and the brave Women of the Wall. I also proudly support NGOs who envision a place where people can live in a shared society, including the Yad b’Yad schools and the New Israel Fund, on whose regional board I serve. I am actively considering dual citizenship, not to lessen my devotion to the United States, but to achieve a voice in shaping the destiny of Israel as only a voting citizen can do. I urge everyone to evaluate where they stand and what they want to do at this critical juncture.

No one can sit on the sidelines any longer.