Parashat Toldot - A Journey of Choice (5 min read)

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

     Torah has taught us so far some reoccurring themes (among others). First, mankind is a partner with God in maintaining and repairing the world.  Second, mankind is called into this role despite being flawed, thus being “righteous” means allowing the higher values and wisdom of Torah to be a guide as opposed to being better than one’s neighbor and/or without error.  We have seen this beginning with Adam and it continues this week.  In a world where we have been conditioned to excel, or conversely think we are not good enough, perhaps the theme of the normality of those who partner with God is a message that makes Torah more accessible in support of our spirituality?   This week we are in Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:18-28:9, where we further learn from the lives of these early men and women who were partners for tikkun in their world.

     Although there are different story lines in Toldot our concern will be the sons of Isaac and Rebekah: Jacob and Esau.  We are told that when they were born Jacob was grasping his brother’s ankle after “crushing” each other within their mother’s womb.  We are also told that Jacob and Esau would represent two “regimes,” two ways of being (Gen. 25:23-26). Upon their birth Rashi wants us to know that although Jacob and Esau had varied interests growing up, as brothers they were also indistinguishable until they were 13, but then their choices were nothing alike in terms of looks, personality and desires.  Rashi further explains that the word crushing (רצץ) is also read as running (רוץ), so the crushing/running that Rebekah experienced foretold of Jacobs’ role as opposed to Esau.  According to that same Midrash the crushing/running happened when Rebekah would walk by the Ark holding the Torah and Jacob would leap in response.  Likewise, when Rebekah walked past a place of iniquity Esau would leap in her womb.  So when we read that Esau was a large hairy man whose passions were hunting for game, and Jacob was a quiet homebody who “dwelt in tents,” our traditions on this text teach that we are learning something about their sense of spirituality.  This is why Rashi further says that Jacob and Esau after 13 took different paths, hence Jacob went to study Torah at Yeshiva, whereas Esau set out for a life of idolatry.

     Let’s not make any mistakes here, Jacob would take advantage of his brother and deceived his father, not good traits.  However, when given the choice, Jacob and Esau responded to life very differently.  We learn that when Abraham died Jacob grieved and mourned the loss of his grandfather by cooking a mourner’s stew (see. Gen. 26:29; also Bava Batra 16b and M. Tanachuma on Gen. 26:29).  Conversely, Esau’s concern was not his grandfather but his need to fill his stomach.  There is nothing wrong with being an outside person, it’s about Esau's choices not his profession or hobby.  Lastly, Rashi makes another interesting observation.  When Esau is born it says, “and they called him” (ויקראו) whereas when Jacob is named it says, “and he called him” (ויקרא).  Esau was red and hairy so all who saw him named him Esau.  Jacob was actually the first born son to be named by his father alone, so perhaps even after Jacob deceived his father, Isaac did not withdrawal his blessing from his younger son but knew what others did not.  Clearly our Rabbi’s believe that Jacob's negative actions did not take away that he was the better choice, because unlike Esau, Jacob cared about the ways of God and choose Torah (See Rashi on Gen. 27:33). 

     Our tradition has taken these two boys/men and has made them into conflicting standards of being.  This is taught in the Mystical tradition that says while Jacob and Esau are direct opposites they are also adjoining siblings, meaning that in order to win a battle one must know who they are fighting.  Still this battle is not one of external foes but internal conflicts and divisions. We can refer back to the Midrash that says Jacob and Esau had differing reasons why they leaped in Rebekah’s womb; one for Torah and the other for iniquity.  That teaching then illuminates why Jacob and Esau would represent two mighty nations that would battle each other, a battle that continues today (cf. Gen. 25:23).    Rabbi Berg uses the example of the ego for both good and bad to make his point.  On its own the good of the ego is required to regulate how we respond.  Hence Freud would teach that the id is the part of the mind that contains human drives and hidden memories and the super-ego controls our moral conscience; the job of the ego mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego.  When the ego is compromised (for whatever reason) feelings associated with anxiety are experienced and defense mechanisms are employed (think about how Esau responded to his need to be fed). The result can be selfish behavior that seeks too often the wrong solution, even if personally and/or publicly are bad and destructive. The Ego can be both bad and good based on how it is used. 

     Jacob is presented as a good man who first and foremost puts spiritual things before him, but with Esau his darkness was necessary to wage the battle within.  Simple ... maybe ... but I think we all can identify with the battle of good and bad within us?  The scary part of Esau sent his brother Jacob running away from home and therefore can symbolize the relationship, as well as the perceived fierceness, of the battle (or battles) before us or within us.  The thing is that people can spend a lifetime both accepting the fight and finding the means to overcome. We know later that when Jacob eventually meets up again with Esau he realizes that his fear was misplaced as his own battle within turned out better than he might have imagined.  Another take away from this parasha; we are asked to use our spiritual energies for the right things although they can also be hijacked for the wrong reasons.  Our journey within is one of choices. 

Parashat Chayei Sarah - What can be Expected (5 min read)

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

     This week we continue to read about a reoccurring theme that is setting up a pattern. The pattern is simple; the Torah is a full of stories about normal people who are celebrated for being righteous.  It was Rabbi Elie Muck who said being “righteous,” is not the same as being “perfect.” In the bible, and our tradition, the God of creation partners with everyday people to bring repair to the world.  With that, Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg in her commentary on Genesis writes, “The Life of Sarah … in a covert sense, Sarah’s life is germinal to the whole reading.  The problem of her life is manifest just at the moment of her leaving it.”  How does Sarah further the cause of tikkun?
     To be noted the last parasha, Vayeira, ends with the narrative about the Akedah (the binding of Isaac), whereas the last time Sarah is mentioned is when Isaac is born.  In this week’s parasha, Chayei Sarah – Genesis 23;1-25:18, there is no mention of Sarah at all except in the very beginning that tells us that Sarah lived for so many years on this earth before she died, thus we read; ויהיו חיי שרה, “and they would be Sarah’s life" (they being the many years of her life).  We need to read this more so as referring to the years that Sarah lived as opposed to the life she had.  Make no mistake though, she was a busy woman, following her husband to Canaan and their journey through Egypt, being an active partner with Abraham in the future promises for Israel, protecting her family, helping serve their guests and in the end being the mother to Issac and grandmother to Jacob.  But in general the Mikra (Bible) does not say much about her, which is why Zornberg writes that the opening passage about Sarah is “covert,” simply because there is more to Sarah’s life than meets the eye.

     Zornberg wants to look beyond the three Midrashim that Rashi calls upon, in particular to the Akedah of Vayeira, as she seeks the deeper meaning behind the person of Sarah.  In the Midrash, Perkei d’Rabbi Eliezer, Zornberg says that a theme of this Midrash is about the ongoing purpose of the Shofar blasts that we hear at Rosh Hashanah.  In this case the crying sound of the Shofar represents the crying of Sarah (three sobs) after hearing about Isaac, which itself is apart of our liturgy “as an atonement for her [Sarah] descendants.”  For Zornberg, Sarah’s crying for Isaac was not just connected to a loss, but it was the anguish of a nightmare, teaching us how we need to wrestle with the message of the Akedah ourselves.   Tradition teaches that Sarah died when Satan told her what Abraham did to Isaac, leaving out the ram part of the story and the fact that her son lives.  In another Midrash, Tanachuma also on the Akedah, Sarah is confronted by Satan disguised to look like her son, Isaac.  In this Midrash, although Satan (by looking like Isaac) tells Sarah that “he” is okay, Sarah cannot bear the story of what happened and dies.  In this case Satan does to Sarah what he could not do to Abraham; bring death to their offspring and the future of the Jewish people.  However, despite evils failure so to speak,  the theme of this Tanachuma Midrash is that while “the sacrifice is not carried out [it is] not aborted [either],” meaning that for Sarah (and for us) it still has compromising results.  Finally, in a Midrash from Leviticus Rabbah, Zornberg says that its central theme is the tension of joy in a broken world.  The joy of Abraham that his son lived is mitigated by the sorrow that Sarah experienced that caused her death.  Zornberg concludes that this Midrash teaches us that “joy belongs to the future … not to the troubled middle-distance of temporal reality.”   All this to say that Sarah depicts humanity in a variety of ways by how she reacts to her own feelings and emotions regarding Isaac, which is why “The Life of Sarah” in the Bible is covert.  If that is so, what is it that Zornberg wants us to know?

     Well, each Midrash says something about how Sarah lived.  The first Midrash tells us that Sarah died not of misinformation but a terrible truth that her family would be attacked.  The second Midrash wants us to know that Isaac’s survival contributed to a frightening reality for Sarah, which would be the continuing attempts upon her descendants.  And lastly the final Midrash says, it will be even though it might not, hence even though Isaac lived the next person may not.  All in all, all three Midrashim for Zornberg carry a similar, although slightly different, meaning.   Sarah recognizes that the plot against her son and his father is the same that will plague humanity going forward, just like she separated Ishmael and Isaac as she reflected on what happened between Cain and Abel.  More than that, the death of Sarah also allows us to consider how the power of bad things can impact life in our world.  If Abraham did not do what he did with Isaac, even though Isaac lived,  perhaps Sarah would have not morphed into a woman who allowed the moment to ruin her?   This is based on Rashi who teaches וכמעט של נשחת, “and he was nearly slaughtered,” thus for the Maharal (Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, 1520-1609) Sarah’s “reaction of panic [came as she realized] that [it is] only a small thing [that] separates life and death.”  Sarah could not get over what almost happened to her son, it took her breath away so to speak. On the positive, when Isaac marries Rebekah, a 14^th century Midrash teaches that every time he entered his mother’s tent he would see darkness but upon entering it with Rebekah he saw light once again.

     That is how Sarah continues to live.  She died in the darkness of fear, panic and anxiousness of what could have been for her son, but also what the world can expect.  With Isaac, his mother was also a means of renewal, a light reappeared in the beauty of his marriage with Rebekah whom he loved.  We can therefore conclude that Sarah suffered a somatic attack that cased her death.  A somatic event is when the power of the mind and spirit, although distinct from the physical body, can impact the functioning of the body itself.  It seems like such a negative message to embrace, but really is just the opposite.  Knowing is a large part of the battle to overcome.  Torah is telling us that we live in a world demanding repair that will impact our mental and spiritual health not always in the best of ways (Sarah's darkness).  Torah does not want us to be ignorant that we live in a broken world, and via its teachings, wisdom and light are revealed (Sarah's light).  Having the expectation that everything is okay all the time has the power of working against us.  Expectation can be our worst enemy or it can be a healthy dose of realism.  Still, do we really need words on a page to tell us that we live in a broken world; of course not!  The words of our tradition simply want us to know that to fix things and rise above the brokenness of Sarah the answer involves her light as well, or a sense of “other” to guide us.                 

Parashat Vayeira - Come as you Are (5 min read)

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

     Last week we met Abram, who became Abraham, a man who was willing to separate himself from his past to explore a new future.  We also learned that unlike his predecessors Abraham was an active partner with God, both in his behavior and his flawed humanness. Abraham was given the charge והיה ברכה (to be a blessing) by lifting up the torch of Torah in his world, which he did by showing how a normal person (just like us) could traverse his “today” by walking toward a better “tomorrow.”  This week we are in Parashat Vayeira, Genesis 18:1-22:24, where we encounter more of Abraham as he continues his journey that began when he left the place of his birth. 

     Abraham’s world was a lot like ours; there were evil people, unfair rulers, wars, depravity, navigating seeming lose-lose choices, famine, parental decisions, relationship conflicts, family dynamics and personal belief systems (to just name a few). As he lived in his world our tradition says that Abraham taught us הכנסת אורחים (hospitality to strangers) when he attended to the three strangers who came to him while healing from his own circumcision. Likewise, as he intervened for the sake of Lot, his family and other upright folks in Sodom, Abraham teaches us the principle of צדקה (justice) in the affirmation of life.  Following the events in Sodom we finish this parasha with two like stories that we also encountered in Lech Lecha.   First like with Pharaoh, Abraham instructs Sarah to tell King Abimelech that she is his sister instead of his wife.  However, unlike Pharaoh who was fearful, when the king discovered that Abraham and Sarah were actually husband and wife he gave Abraham riches and respect since he was a  prophet of God.  Second, we have yet another story about the birth of a son to Abraham.  In Lech Lecha Abraham has a son (Ishmael with Hagar) who he eventually had to banish from his domain whereas here, when Abraham has another son (Isaac with Sarah), he believed his task was to sacrifice him on top of a mountain.  There are varied story-lines in Vayeira that each deserve time to be explored, but for now we will look at one passage to consider.

     The very first verse says, “And the LORD appeared (Vayeira) unto him by the terebinths of Mamre, as he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day” (cf. Genesis 18:1).  Why was Abraham sitting not only in the entrance of his but during the heat of the day?  Not surprisingly our tradition has differing views. The Talmud (Bava Metzia 87b) paints the picture of Abraham as a man who did not let the pain of his circumcision stop him for entertaining his quests.  The sun at the heat of the day was for healing that God sent because he cared about the welfare of Abraham (Rashi).  From Targum Jonathan we learn that Abraham while sitting still is given the opportunity to have the glory of God revealed  to him (just not appear).  With that understanding we then look to another Midrash (Genesis R. 48:7) that teaches Abraham would remain seated as he heals while the Shekinah stands before him and his children (Israel) to follow.  As such, the proof text that the Mishnah quotes to support the idea of the Shekinah standing before Abraham is אלהים נצב בעדת אל, “God stands in the congregation of God” (Psalm 82:1). The conversation ensues that then states, עומד אין כתיב כאן אלא נצב, “it does not say stand (עומד) but rather stand (נצב).”  The answer for this is - אטימוס (eh’tee’mos), which is a Greek word that means “present,” as opposed to just standing erect or a state of being.    In other words, using the Zohar to help understand “present” a bit better, the heat of the day is synonymous with the divine light of God that itself is revealed to Abraham has he sits in the entrance of the tent.  The entrance of the tent furthermore is seen as a portal between the lower and the upper worlds that stand between God and mankind (also see Perkei Avot 4:17).  The mystical tradition furthermore compares the sun to the sefirot of Chokhmah (wisdom) that sits right underneath Keter (Crown) as the essence of the divine light which descends from God into the lower world of mankind where Abraham dwells. 

     What can the mystical tradition teach us?  We learn that Abraham while sitting in the entrance of his tent during the heat of day was engaged with a God who he considered to be “present” with him.  In Abraham we see a sense of relationship with God on a personal level as opposed to the idea of “other” beyond human connection.  Abraham’s first act of kindness came to his three visitors and his second was the intervening on behalf of the righteous in Sodom; both acts reveal the core of Abraham’s conviction rooted in the values of Torah and therefore God. Abraham was not perfect, we know that, but again a lesson here is that as a normal person Abraham was committed to his own spirituality in both word and deed.   Abraham was a not a religious nut but a man who allowed himself to be in touch with his own spirituality, and Torah, gave him the opportunity to live out his convictions.  As we said, our tradition wants to repair that connection of the spiritual nature of humanity and the Torah that gives flesh to it, thus when we unify that duality we find the foundation of tikkun for self and others.  

Parashat Lech Lecha - the journey from yesterday till tomorrow (5 min read)

רפואה מן התורה

 Healing from the Torah

     This past Shabbat we had a brief discussion during our Torah study about Noah being described as, צדיק תמים היה בדרהיו, “righteous and unblemished he was in his generation.” In particular the word תמים was discussed. In modern Hebrew תמים (tamim) can mean “innocent, blameless or upright.” In Biblical Hebrew תמים can mean “God-fearing, unblemished” and is often translated as “perfect,” yet it can also mean “innocent”  The word for innocent in Biblical Hebrew is זכו (zachu), which can also mean “free or pure,” whereas in modern Hebrew it can mean not only innocent but also to “vindicate or exonerate.”  The words, though similar, are also slightly different.  In Biblical Hebrew the word carries with it more of a tone of spiritual and moral uprightness based on the ways of God, and in modern Hebrew, it’s more so a legal verdict.  That is very simple of course, but to the point. I think this matters as we begin to look at the life of Abraham.  Prior to Abraham we learned that Adam found out that there were consequences to the choices he made. With Noah we learned that he did not allow the higher values of his God-given soul to lead him as he encountered the power of his world.  And now Abram (later to be called Abraham) appears to represent a man, as we shall see, who aspires to live as one who is “righteous and unblemished” while seeking to conquer his own humanity.

     “Righteous and unblemished,” and some translations even say “perfect,” in many ways represent all the stories that we read about the people of God. Regarding Noah that designation has to be held in juxtaposition with “his generation” as opposed to being a man who was mistake free and/or infallible.  This is how the writers of the Torah understood Noah and I say the same is so for Abram.  Perhaps one difference between Noah and Abram is that Noah has no real voice, either with his short comings or emotive reactions, whereas Abram is more interactive and proactive as part of the story itself.  Abram’s story begins in Lech Lecha, Genesis 12:1-17:27, where God tells Abram and his family to leave their homeland.  Abram along the way makes some poor choices and the results are mixed.  In one part of the story Abram tells Pharaoh that his wife was his sister, because he feared that they might kill him so Pharaoh could have her,  although in the end he left Egypt with riches instead. In another part of the story he takes Hagar, his wife’s manservant, and has a son with her because he and Sarai could not conceive.  That however does not turn out so well, and Abram suffers the pain of a father, having to tell Hagar and his son Ishmael to leave. 
     In each case it was how he responded that should be noted.  When Abram and his family left Egypt it says, בְּשֵׁ֥ם יְהֹוָֽה וַיִּקְרָ֥א שָׁ֛ם אַבְרָ֖ם בָּרִֽאשֹׁנָ֑ה, hence it was the first time that "Abram called on the name of the Lord” by building an altar.  Why did this time happen now? Abram realized how fortunate he was to be alive after leaving Egypt with the gain of wealth, and despite his error, he gives thanks to God.  Likewise, after the birth of Ishmael, Abram would learn that his choice not to wait on God resulted in a divided home and the displeasure of his wife.  Abram questions God unlike Noah, or Adam before him, because he wants to know how his offspring can inherit a land if he has no seed?  When God makes him a promise of a seed Abram takes matters into his own hands. Like the riches he took from Egypt he and Sarai would have a son even in their old age.   In both cases, Abram acted, and he realized his error or undeserved good fortune by responding with thanks to God.  What can this teach us?

     This was God’s man, a man who was human but sought the right way even after he fell short.  So when he left his homeland the first thing God says to him in this narrative is, “And I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you, and I will aggrandize your name, and [you shall] be a blessing.”  We read in a Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 39) about a traveler who entered a city and saw a building on fire, only to wonder who would take care of it, with the owner appearing to take responsibility for the flames. Abram asks the same of his world, only to have God say that he is the caregiver of the world, and in Abram the world be cared for.  How is Abram a caregiver for the world?  The mystics teach that Abram was not just physically leaving his past behind him but spiritually was walking into something new.  Maimonides writes that “and [you shall] be a blessing” means that like Abram all the families of the world will be blessed.  It could be that Abram was a blessing by becoming the first Jew, being the first to embrace monotheism, being the forerunner to Israel, teaching us about the acts of hospitality or standing up for justice.  But in another Midrash, Targum Yonathan, we learn that Abram was not just to leave his place of birth but to “separate” from it and never return.   The commonality between Adam, Noah and Abram is that they all made mistakes and had to make a choice how to respond.  The difference is that only Abram responded to a God inspired way by choosing to separate from the ills of his past in order to enter a new future.  That was a voice that we have not encountered before.

     Abram (exalted father) became Abraham (father of many) because his blessing would be for all who will follow.  In Abram we are invited to separate from out past and seek a new tomorrow guided by the ways of Torah in how we connect to our spirituality, values and ethics.   We are human, like Noah and Adam, but what will make us “righteous and unblemished” is when we, like Abraham, choose to live as normal people in progress through our higher values.     

  

Parashat Noach - healing the broken (5 min read)

רפואה מן התורה

 Healing from the Torah

     Last week in Parashat Bereishit we looked at the idea of unified and broken dualities.  We viewed those dualities as both the unified equality of creation but also the nature of its brokenness, touching primarily upon the relationship of the Creator and the creation, and Adam and Eve.  We could have also looked at the broken duality of Cain and Able or the Garden as opposed to the world Adam’s family would inherit.  The fact is, the story of Adam and Eve (and their family) disrupts the equality of creation only to be followed by the tension of redeeming it.  Turning to Parashat Noach, Genesis 6:9-11:32, it begins the redemptive journey to restore that broken duality as part of Noah's story in his own generation.   As such, Prashant Noach begins, אֵ֚לֶּה תּוֹלְדֹ֣ת נֹ֔חַ נֹ֗חַ אִ֥ישׁ צַדִּ֛יק תָּמִ֥ים הָיָ֖ה בְּדֹֽרֹתָ֑יו אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹהִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ, “This is the line of Noah.—Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age; Noah walked with God.”
     We learn that during the days of Noah his world was full of evil, a bad generation, with Noah choosing good.  The Narrator of Torah makes the claim that Noah was the most righteous man of his generation, but that begs the question; was he righteous because he was more faithful and observant than others or was he righteous simply because everyone else around was not?  In truth, Noah was like everyone else, he was human, imperfect, a husband, a father, a man who lived in a world needing repair, so what made him righteous?  The word “righteous” (צַדִּ֛יק) itself means one who is “just in their actions.”  Therefore, looking at Targum Yonathan (an early Midrash), what makes Noah righteous is that he is “complete in good works in his generation.”  While the original biblical text does not say anything about good works, our oral tradition came to understand “righteous” in that very way, hence Noah walking with God meant that he did good deeds of righteousness. We can therefore look at Noah’s willingness to build an Ark as his good-works in the world which he lived, yet we must also note the words of Rabbi Elie Muck that being “righteous,” is not the same as being “perfect.”

     Our tradition also teaches that if Noah lived during the days of Abraham he would not have been considered that righteous. When Abraham was faced with the perverse cites of Sodom and Gomorrah he called on the justice of life and bargained with God about the lives of people.  Noah, on the other hand, seemed more concerned about he and his family as opposed to even the few who like him deserved life.  As such, we read about the totality of such death’s in Genesis 7:22 that says, “All in whose nostrils was the merest breath of life, all that was on dry land, died.”  Eben Ezra in line with tradition comments that such life lost were those of animals and not human life, life after all is precious in God’s eyes.  That is why Rabbi Jonathan Sachs is able to present a Noah that lost his title, the generation's most righteous man, simply on the point of the lost lives themselves (think of Jonah and Nineveh) but also that later Noah fell prey to his own humanity by debasing himself with too much wine (cf. Gen. 9:20-21).  Rabbi Elie Muck again comments that the shortcomings of Noah echo the evil generation of the flood when “man failed to make his soul rule over his entire being.” R’Muck reflects on other verses that paint the picture that the “breath” of the soul was given by God, meaning that the soul is furnished with the values of God.  In other words, Noah failed his quest to repair the word by not allowing his God-given soul to rule over the rest of his behavior.

     Is this a fair way to read the story of Noah?  First, as noted above, being “righteous” is not the same as being “perfect.”  Second, we have to read Noah’s humanity as our own, we too are in process and make mistakes.  Third, comparing Noah to Abraham is about growth not achievement, and while I see the value in making such a comparison, I am not sure it is relevant either since Abraham had his own issues of human failure.  And lastly, R’Sachs raises a question regarding the use of midrash, the same question that we should ask as well,  “what do these words mean, not when they were first spoken or written down, but to us, here, now?”  We can therefore read the story of Noah as one of valued driven struggles in the midst of a society that impacted the ability to do what is right.  The mystics teach that the Ark is like a sanctuary where the light of God can be found, recalling how Noah did not debase himself until after he left the Ark, itself acting as a form of protection.  Today, we live in our world, a world with its share of evil, but also good, anger and hate, yet love and caring as well.  The tension that Noah experienced was between his God-given soul to guide his greater humanity and the inciting (and enticing) power of the world around him that had its own pull in the opposite direction.

     A lesson from Parashat Noach asks us to elevate ourselves over our circumstances, whatever that might look like.  Perhaps Noah fulfilled his role and had no other beyond the Ark, or maybe there was other works that he failed to do, hence we turn to Perkei Avot that teaches, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it; If you have studied much Torah, you shall be given much reward”  Therefore, first, Torah (like the Ark) is to be embraced as our guide regardless if it is fully learned and/or fulfilled, its teachings are for our better.  Second, the protection of community (also like the Ark) and its support helps us to find the needed strength to persevere and grow, nurturing God given souls that govern our behavior in this world.  And finally, the story of Noah teaches that we cannot escape the impact of a world that needs repair, but we have the innate ability to transcend it and help to restore its broken dualities even if only one step at a time.  It is good to ask how the story of Noah helps to restore the world around us, but looking at Noah in particular is also a reminder that repair begins with self.    

Parashat Bereishit - spirituality and religion (5 min read)

 רפואה מן התורה

 Healing from the Torah

In Parashat Bereishit, from Genesis 1:1-6:8, we begin our Torah reading cycle all over again for the year. The nuggets or wisdom and learning that will lead to our growth and betterment begin in a parasha that can be understood to about unified and broken dualities.
  

The Mystics teach that the first verse is all we need to know, thus בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ, “In the beginning of God created the heavens and the earth.”  What it tells us is that creator and creation were unified, there was no separation even though there was distinction. We read from the start about separation and distinction; day and night, the upper and lower world, dry land and water, various types of plants, land animals and sea animals, animals and people, God and mankind, and even man and woman.  But even with man and woman, tradition teaches us that the human beings were created as androgynous and only later were separated into man and woman; an important poiunt to note as we engage the story of Adam and Eve.  But the bigger picture is this; although they were separate they we unified with no sense of difference even if their purposes were not the same.  This is unified dualities.

Yet, in the world we have good and evil, sad and happiness, positive sand negative, heaven and earth, and yes spirituality and religion, something we will return to in just a moment. Unlike the unified dualities above, these dualities exist in on-going conflict with each other. Take Adam and Eve, they lived in their world of Eden both naked and unafraid.  However, when their eyes were opened to a challenge that threatened their sense of existence, they saw their nakedness and became fearful; their unified duality became a broken one.  Likewise beforehand, in the same way that creator and creation were unified and distinct, so too was Adam and his wife, Eve  Conversely, the dissolution of that unity between Adam and Eve became emblematic of the separation between the creator and the creation.  That type of separateness is perhaps the reason why Adam and Eve were removed from the garden, meaning that it had more to do with their inability to embrace a unity with the Eternal as opposed to just a sin itself.

  

Therefore, in the same way the High Holidays come yearly to look at the past year with a hope for improvement in the next, we have a lifetime to prepare for eternity and that connection to the Eternal. Expanding that thought we look at the teaching of Rav Philip Berg was said that if Adam and Eve partook of the Tree of Life they would have a permanent unbroken connection with God, and their goal of human perfection would have been reached with no further spiritual work to do.  The idea is that that type of connection between the creator and the creation has to be repaired, which is why it takes a lifetime.  It is your choice if that rings true of not, but it offers us some insights on this idea of unified and broken dualities.

What then about the dualities of spirituality and religion?  It can be argued that in the narrowest of meanings spirituality is about a person’s inward existentialist relationship to the sense of “other,” whereas religion is an organized creedal system of deeds, values, ethics, laws, etc.  Today as most of us are aware, perhaps for yourself or another, spirituality and religion are separated and have become a broken duality.  Again looking at Adam, and his sense of being a part of the whole of creation in Eden, it was tied into his personal existentialism, or spirituality.  The sun had a job as did the rain that came from above since both participated in the growth of the garden.  Likewise, Adam had a job, thus the sun provided light, the rain provided water and Adam provided the care.  Adam saw his role as part of the whole, separate indeed, but unified in purpose.  But when Adam broke with that chain of being unified and distinct, given the first law that asked him to refrain from eating the fruit of just one tree, a broken duality that followed led to the removal from Eden, and hos broken existential spirituality.  The law we can see as religion, but it had the purpose to keep Adam upon the path of his spiritual existence since his free-will needed guidance and direction.  Let me suggest that Adam can be an example of a relationship between spirituality and religion that has become a broken duality and needs to be repaired.

Religion is the clothes of our spirits, hence our sense of “other” is dressed up in the garments of practice and tradition.  Religion does not make us spiritual but takes what is spiritual and gives it a face, order and guidance. Religion has been regulated to “organized religion” and its value has been lost to that definition.  Certainly it is man-made, so yeah it is imperfect and mistakes will be made, but that in no way takes away from its purpose and reward.  Existentially, as Jews, we are also connected to a history, family ties and values, and to whatever degree, from none to full observance, from humanistic to Orthodox Judaism, we Jews have a religion.  We have a history and a faith that is about clothing our spirits if we chose to walk on its path.

The unified duality of spirituality and religion has great benefit, the broken duality of spirituality and religion compromises our sense of “other” and larger meaning.  Being regulated and guided is a part of life; laws on the road, rules at work, even right and wrong in personal relationship’s, so why not in the relationship between that creator and creation or with guiding principles and human behavior – especially if it is about the repair of broken dualities for ours and the world’s restoration?

בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, reestablishing that perfect sense of existential unity and therefore inward oneness, and hopefully, personal contentment. .  

Holiday Message (3 min read)

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Perhaps you are familiar with the story about the homeless man who was brought to a tailor by a kind town’s person to have a new set of cloths made for Yom Kippur. The tailor told the homeless man to come back later that day to pick up his new cloths.  Upon his return the homeless man tried on his new cloths and was out-ranged at the tailor because they did not fit right. The tailor stood there patiently as the homeless yelled at him, accusing the tailor of shaming him with miss-fitting cloths.  After the homeless man was finished with his rant the tailor said, “Sir, I assure you that the cloths fit, but you have to take the old ones off first.”  While there are a number of applications to that story I suppose, here, it about leaving our “stuff” at the door and letting the message and the meaning of our holidays into our hearts, minds and spirits.

It’s good to reflect on what we just went through.  During this time of the year it also seems that Jews in general are more willing to consider the “nuts and bolts “ of God so to speak.  On Yom Kippur we spent 25 hours looking deep within, pounding our chest’s and confessing things we don’t normally think about.  Okay so maybe we don’t do everything that we read about, but you know we have the potential, and that is just as important to consider and reflect upon.  That is somewhat reminiscent of the two goats from Leviticus 16.   One goat is sacrificed to God for Israel to say thank you for the ritual opportunity to internalize being forgiven.  The second goat called the Azazel was sent off into the wilderness, symbolically carrying the bad and evil out of the Israel’s camp, a ritual where Israel was both grateful and humbled.  Grateful because God was willing to provide a means to banish what was no good from their midst.  Humbled because that was a mirror of self, revealing to each who stood there that their sins have also been cast away.  As that goat ran off into the wilderness and slowly faded out of sight, I think it reasonable to hold that those who watched surely realized in that moment that that could have been them. 

That message of Yom Kippur, although no longer in the image of a goat running away, exists in the words of our prayers - kind of like water that flows under the ice.  We need to remember that “to pray,” להתפלל, is a reflexive verb that just does not mean to pray but “to judge oneself.” (i.e. self-examination/words are a mirror).  The words of our prayers speak to us on a level that surpasses our intellect alone and touches our sense of the spiritual.  But is that not what prayer is supposed do?  If our prayers have such high lofty values that they are beyond our human comprehension is there value in them for us?  Well, sure there is value, but like the story about the homeless man and his new cloths, you have to remove the old that fights against the prayers in order to receive the newness of its meaning.  Every year we are confronted with a new meaning to our prayers, either new lessons that came our way or old ones we are still needing to learn.  There is great value it what we experience with Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur.

This past Sunday night we begin the celebration of Sukkot.  In contrast to the solemn day of Yom Kippur that concluded 40 days of Cheshbone haNefesh that began on Elul 1, Sukkot is joyful, sweets in our sukkah’s, a week of celebration and good food!  We had a season of reflection and growth that brought new energies into our lives. We need to be grateful and joyful for that. That is why Sukkot is Zman Simchateinu, a time of our rejoicing.  But Sukkot, like our prayers and the two goats beforehand, is a mirror for our beings, thus it asks us to embrace its meaning of thanksgiving.  The Mystics believed that the power of Yom Kippur was not confined to the day itself but would act as a guide throughout the following year, asking us always to consider the place of tikkun hamiddot, the repair of our characters to be better than we were before. Yet the Mystics also believed that based on Psalm 121:5 that says יְהוָ֥ה צִ֝לְּךָ֗ עַל־יַ֥ד יְמִינֶֽךָ, “The LORD is your guardian, the LORD is your protection at your right hand,” God would accompany us on our life journeys in the same way that our shadow follows us everywhere we go.

The Holidays are not over and each of us still has the opportunity to allow its voice to make us better people and Jews, raising our values to new and restored heights.  However it is approached, just remember, take off your old clothes first so the new ones can fit perfectly.  I hope you have a great Sukkot and may it indeed be for you Zman Simchateinu, a time of rejoicing.  Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach.