Monday, July 28, 2014
Shabbat Dvarim (Chazon)
Dvarim 1:1 – 3:22
6 Av 5774 / August 1 - 2, 2014
Don’t Just Do Jewish!
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
After each Torah portion, a section of the Prophets is also read, called the Haftorah. During the Three Weeks (leading up to Tisha B’Av, August 5th) we read specific writings that fit into the themes of despair and punishment. This Shabbat, connected to Parshat Dvarim, we read a famous Haftorah that begins with the words, “Chazon Yishiyahu,” (The vision of Isaiah). Thus, this Shabbat, the week before Tisha B’Av, is called Shabbat Chazon, the Sabbath of Vision.
Isaiah’s words take us to the final hour. The moral and ethical level of the Jewish people has fallen beyond repair and the only solution is exile. The Holy Land (and God too) will not tolerate inhabitants that offer
meaningless sacrifices, judge without righteousness, and ignore the poor and needy. I find it very wise that as we read the opening section to Moshe’s farewell address in Dvarim, we also read about the shortcoming
of our community several generations later. Moshe’s speech is given at the boundary of the Land of Israel. He reviews some of the challenges that were had on the way to the Promised Land. Finally, the Israelites
can actualize their dream. The promise to Abraham will become manifest! And in a blink of an eye, we read Isaiah’s admonishment,
“Woe! O sinful nation, people weighed down with iniquity, offspring of evil, destructive children.” (1:4).
Isaiah reminds the people, both our ancestors and us, about what is truly important. He pleads, “Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the victim, do justice for the orphan, take up the cause of the widow.” What good is “doing Jewish” if the world around us is not getting any better. Kashrut, Shabbat, and Torah study are not practices that will inherently improve our communities. They are some of the Jewish tools
that have the potential for transformation. The key though is our own intention and how the world is impacted as a result of our engagement with Judaism.
I often hear and think about this question: So, why be Jewish? You can transform the world as a Buddhist or an atheist. Does it add anything if we do things in a “Jewish way”?
No one should have a really perfect answer to this question, because we should never seek to completely invalidate one life path over another. My “work-in-progress” answer is that having a foundation story to
connect with adds a tremendous amount of meaning to our engagement with the world. Our Jewish story fuels our passions, it frames our exploration of certain values and beliefs, and it creates an intimate
bond in a sometimes lonely and empty universe. Living a Jewish life enables you to access the specific tools of transformation that are inherent in Jewish practice. As you wrestle to find your own authentic expression of Shabbat and Kashrut, for example, how does this process impact you? To me, this is a question that is worth living into - a question that helps to shape our vision of a world we want to live in.
Have a beautiful week and a meaningful Shabbat.
Zvi
Monday, July 21, 2014
Shabbat Masei
Bamidbar 33:1-36:13
28 Tamuz 5774 / July 26 – 27, 2014
Do We Need Destruction?
by Zvi Bellin, Director of Jewish Education and Pastoral Counseling
In this week’s portion, Parshat Masei (Journeys) we are given a recap of a variety of stops made on the way from Egypt to Palestine. Finally, the time has arrived for the Jewish people to end their lives as nomads and become land owners. One problem: Palestine is not an empty land. It is inhabited by people from a variety of nations and in Chapter 33, verses 50-53, the Israelites are instructed to not only take the land of the people dwelling there but to “drive them out,” and “destroy all their prostration stones; all their molten images shall you destroy; all their high places you shall demolish.”
Reading these verses resonates sadly with the situation in Israel and Gaza today, and with the Jewish time period we are now in, called the Three Weeks. It is the time between two fast days that mark the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. The first day is the 17th of Tamuz when the walls of the Temple were breached and the second day is the 9th of Ave, the actual day the Temples were destroyed.
The destruction of the Temples brought a lot of change to the Jewish people and not all of it was bad. We have stopped killing animals for our worship and have become a book-based faith, able to survive anywhere. I wonder about how destruction is sometimes necessary in order for new ideas and understandings to bloom.
In my community I hear a lot about taking the “Buddhist approach” to a situation. Accept change and give up the pain of holding on to something that you will eventually lose anyway. I definitely see the value in this philosophy and with many things try to practice it. The problem though is when we try to judge others through that lens. It is easy to say that the Jews living in the Old City of Jerusalem should have just accepted that life as they knew it was over and a new model was needed. They could have opened the city gates and surrendered – perhaps saving many lives and the Temple itself. Obviously, this is a very difficult statement to make. How can we point back at the past and purport to know what should have been done? How do we really know if things would have turned out better?
The people of Israel is charged with a responsibility to Wrestle with God (the literal translation of Yisra-El). During these Three Weeks I think it is important to wrestle with the following question: What convictions do we want to hold on to, even in the face of destruction? Let’s take this contemplative period of our calendar to consider what are the beliefs about our selves, our community, and God that are really worth risking it all for. And similarly what convictions might we be fighting for that are no longer relevant or helpful.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Shabbat Matot
Bamidbar 30:2-32:42
Bamidbar 30:2-32:42
21 Tamuz 5774 / July 18 – 19, 2014
The Danger in Promises
by Shifra Mince, MH Park Slope
This week's Torah portion is the second to last in the book of Bamidbar, or Numbers. This book basically chronicles the Israelites wandering through the desert and so the penultimate chapter of the book is describing the ending of that journey. After 40 years of wandering the desert, the Israelites are pretty close now to entering the Land of Israel.
One of the most prominent themes of this week's portion is promises. The portion begins with a list of rules about taking vows. The Torah says, "When a man vows a vow to God, or swears an oath to bind his soul with a bond, he shall not break his word; he shall do according to all that proceeds out of his mouth."
We are being reminded that our speech has power and that if we make a vow to do or not do something, that vow is truly binding. In fact, this issue is so serious that the famous Kol Nidre prayer that we say on Yom Kippur is all about cancelling the vows of the previous year.
For example, if someone vowed to never eat chocolate, that vow is taken pretty seriously. They can only annul that vow on Yom Kippur when all vows are annulled. It is for this reason that observant Jews will sometimes refrain from saying "I swear." There is a sense that making such a binding agreement, even if its just a verbal agreement, has some real-world power. Not following through may have serious consequences.
Right after listing the rules about making vows, the Torah tells us a story of a promise. Two tribes, Reuven and Gad, decide they would rather stay on the eastern bank of the Jordan river and not live on the western side with the rest of the Jewish people. Moshe tells them that in order to do this they must promise to fight for and conquer the rest of the land with the rest of the Israelites. They agree. They promise to help with the fight and only after its done return to their homes on the east side of the river.
What is going on here? Why does the Torah specifically tell us very serious rules about making promises and then tell us a story about a big promise being made. Is the Torah warning us about making promises? Is it telling us that we can't generally follow through with them and so its better not to make them at all? Is it simply showing us an example of a promise in order to illustrate the importance of following through with one's word?
Perhaps the whole idea of a promise is pointing at an even larger promise that is setting the entire stage of this story: the promise of the Land of Israel to the Jewish people. The Jewish people have been wandering through the desert because God promised the Land of Israel to Abraham. But there are consequences, dirty consequences to that promise. We see just how violent the people have to become in order to conquer the land. It’s not simple. 400 years after God's promise to Abraham, the landscape of Israel seems to have changed.
This portion seems to be inviting us to explore both sides of promise-making. What is it like to just say a promise and then "flake out" and not follow through? Well, you hurt people. But what are the consequences of making a promise AND following through, as God is doing by bringing the people into Israel? Maybe this kind of promise is ALSO dangerous. Emotions run high because this land has been promised to them, even though they don't currently live there. Then they have to violently conquer the land.
With tensions in Israel rising, I would like to invite everyone to take a moment and think about promises in our lives. Beyond just reflecting on the power of speech, you might notice the promises others have made to you that you are still holding onto. Are those healthy visions/dreams for the future? Or are you just holding onto something because it was promised long ago? Maybe take a moment to allow the message of this week's portion to sink in. Promises are powerful and dangerous and must be taken seriously. But even more so, being promised something can be dangerous because it allows us to act from a past point of view rather than a present or forward looking point of view.
May this Shabbat bring us each greater inner peace and bring the world closer to global peace.
Awesome G-D Cast video, on topic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lLeUQ-V1J8
Monday, July 7, 2014
Parshat Pichas
Bamidbar 25:10 - 30:1
14 Tammuz 5774 / July 11 – 12, 2014
Stained Righteousness
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
This week’s parsha is complicated for me. It begins with Pinchas (Aaron’s grandson) who after killing an Israelite man and a Midianite woman in the midst of coitus, is rewarded by God with the eternal gift of priesthood. The back story is that the Israelites meet the Midianites on the way to Canaan and the Midianite women lure the Israelite men into a bit of a sex party. Pinchas’ bloody action, as you might guess, breaks up the fun. The fact that violence is commended and rewarded so highly does not compute in my brain and my reaction is, NOPE – I don’t get it.
The text states, in last week’s portion, that as the couple were publicly having sex, there was a plague occurring where other Israelites were dropping like flies. This plague claimed 24,000 lives and after Pinchas’ act of zealotry, people stopped dying. This leads me to believe that there was more at stake here than inter-religious baby making. The Israelites were under a spiritual and/or cultural attack. This was no meeting of two peaceful cultures for the sake of expanding wisdom. The Israelites were vulnerable and ungrounded, and if the charge led by this Israelite man would have succeeded, our history might have ended there. Pinchas killed two and saved thousands, and generations to come.
This ultimately does not satisfy me. I do not love Pinchas. Aaron’s lineage is about being a Rodef Shalom (a pursuer of peace) using peaceful means. His grandson seems to bring peace, though falls short in employing peaceful means – so there is a bit of a stain on his reward. The text suggests that God’s feelings towards what happened were not super positive either. First, in the parsha, when Pinchas is first mentioned, his name is spelled with a smaller-than-usual yud, י ,this denotes a limiting of Divine favor, as yud is a letter in God’s holy name.
In addition, in the phrase for Pinchas’ blessing, which the Torah says is a Brit Shalom - ברית שלום - a covenant of peace – the letter vav (ו )in the word Shalom is broken in the middle. This letter is also a letter in God’s name. To me this says that this covenant of peace has something broken within it.
As I reflect on this theme of stained righteousness, I think of the current events in Israel and Palestine. Four teenagers lost their lives for the sake of some supposed holier purpose. It makes me very sad that Israel still finds itself struggling to secure peace through peaceful means. It is easy to get sucked into an argument over which side is more right. I think that the Parsha teaches us that even if you think that one side is right, it does not mean that this side is whole. Ultimately, it is not enough to be right. Correctness does not lead to peace. Ramy Kaufler, MH Business and Finance Manager, shared this article with me, about how the families of the victims have connected to share in each other’s pain. To me, this is the wholly-est ending to such tragic stories and the best learning from such pain. It is the truest meaning of a Brit Shalom.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Parshat Balak
Bamidbar 22:2 – 25:9
7 Tammuz 5774 / July 4-5, 2014
Own your Jewish Karma
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
Holy Blessings Batman!
When Balak, the King of Moav, enlists the desert dwelling prophet Bilaam to curse the Israelite nation, words of blessing emerge that become timeless as part of our daily prayer. Balaam is summoned to an overlook where he can see the entire Israelite encampment. He intends to curse the people, but has promised that he will only speak the words that God puts into his mouth. Balaam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and chants these famous words that have found their way into scripture:
ה מַה-טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ, יַעֲקֹב; מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ, יִשְׂרָאֵל.
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5 How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, thy dwellings, O Israel!
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ו כִּנְחָלִים נִטָּיוּ, כְּגַנֹּת עֲלֵי נָהָר; כַּאֲהָלִים נָטַע יְהוָה, כַּאֲרָזִים עֲלֵי-מָיִם.
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6 As valleys stretched out, as gardens by the river-side; as aloes planted of the LORD, as cedars beside the waters;
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ז יִזַּל-מַיִם מִדָּלְיָו, וְזַרְעוֹ בְּמַיִם רַבִּים; וְיָרֹם מֵאֲגַג מַלְכּוֹ, וְתִנַּשֵּׂא מַלְכֻתוֹ.
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7 Water shall flow from his branches, and his seed shall be in many waters; and his king shall be higher than Agag, and his kingdom shall be exalted.
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ח אֵל מוֹצִיאוֹ מִמִּצְרַיִם, כְּתוֹעֲפֹת רְאֵם לוֹ; יֹאכַל גּוֹיִם צָרָיו, וְעַצְמֹתֵיהֶם יְגָרֵם--וְחִצָּיו יִמְחָץ.
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8 God who brought him forth out of Egypt is for him like the lofty horns of the wild-ox; he shall eat up the nations that are his adversaries, and shall break their bones in pieces, and pierce them through with his arrows.
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ט כָּרַע שָׁכַב כַּאֲרִי וּכְלָבִיא, מִי יְקִימֶנּוּ; מְבָרְכֶיךָ בָרוּךְ, וְאֹרְרֶיךָ אָרוּר.
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9 He couched, he lay down as a lion, and as a lioness; who shall rouse him up? Blessed be every one that blesses thee, and cursed be every one that curses thee.
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Balaam’s prophecy is a timeless blessing that includes us, the current generation of Jewish people. Our pluralistic and progressive homes are tents of Jacob and dwelling places of Israel. And so they are good. What is the goodness that this familiar line (verse 5) of prayer is talking about? Perhaps there are clues to be found in the lesser known continuing lines.
How exciting that verses 6 and 7 contain beautiful images from the natural world! “Gardens by the river side,” and “water shall flow from his branches.” Our generation is engaged in the process of exploring the deep bond between Jewish identity and caring for our planet. True to Balaam’s verses, we are discovering that our homes are good places because we do not see them as completely separate from the world outside of our windows. We know that we need to use natural resources responsibly in order for goodness to continue.
Verses 8 and 9 are less politically correct and so perhaps, a bit harder to digest. The blessing connects our relationship to a God of war and power. Is that what we need God for? To eat up nations and crush their bones?
I want to suggest that we read the end of the blessing as a progression. We began with the need for a God that destroys our enemies (verse 8), but we head towards a relationship whereby we have the power to bestow blessings and curses because of a connection with God within (verse 9).
Stephanie Nash is an actress and meditation teacher that talks about the resonance between two pitchforks. If you strike one pitchfork at the end of a gymnasium, a second pitchfork at the other end of the room will begin to chime in tune. Human relationships are guided by this phenomenon too. When we watch a movie and witness strong and powerful emotions we begin to experience the same feelings. Might the same be true for the blessings and curses that we put out into the world.
“Blessed be every one that blesses thee, and cursed be every one that curses thee.” If we choose to see truth in these words, then it is our responsibility to ensure that we act in ways that people will bless us, so we can all (Jews and non-Jews) benefit from increased blessing in the world.
Parshat Chukat
Bamidbar 19:1 – 22:1
30 Sivan 5774 / June 27 – 28, 2014
Grief and Leadership
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
We all might be familiar with the sequence of events:
- The Israelites complain for water.
- God tells Moshe to ask a rock to release water.
- Moshe hits the rock and brings forth water.
- God punishes Moshe that he can no longer bring the people into the Promised Land.
This story is shattering in a way. Where is God’s forgiveness? Wasn’t Moshe God’s #1 profit? Could Moshe have screwed up so badly by hitting a rock instead of talking to it?
These are difficult questions to answer, though our sages comment that Moshe hitting the rock in anger displayed a quality that would make him unfit to lead the people into the land.
That might be true, but couldn’t Moshe at least see the land of Israel? Couldn’t he have just taken a little stroll across the Jordan River, picked a pomegranate and enjoyed the view? I want the answer to be, “of course!” But this is not what happened. Moshe’s privilege to step foot into the land was stripped.
I was very struck upon reading the portion that in the narrative Miriam dies right before the people complain and Moshe hits the rock. It gives me a new perspective to understand that Moshe was wrapped in grief at that time. Perhaps his anger was not really about the people, rather he was angry as part of the natural process of grieving the loss of his sister. Remember, Miriam saved Moshe from Pharaoh's decree to kill all Jewish male babies way back in the beginning of Exodus. She watched over him and made sure nothing bad would befall him.
Now Moshe has lost his sister, his protector. He is torn apart. I think this is one of the most challenging places for a leader to stand in...How do I deal with my own emotional pain, while having to show up with a level head to greet my congregation/participants/students/clients? Moshe simply was unable to hold this dichotomy. When we are dealing with grief, it is almost impossible not to be overpowered with it.
The road to Israel was not a peaceful path. Joshua leads the Israelites into war. It is a tale of violence and loss. Perhaps, God was protecting Moshe from experiencing more loss. The lesson to be learned is that when facing strong emotions like grief, a leader will know when it is time to take a break, or even to step down. A robust system can sustain itself when roles need to shift and when power needs to be reconfigured. Moshe not entering the land was a clear message that it was time for Moshe to step down as the leader - the system needed restructuring. It is a hard lesson, but deep in wisdom.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Parshat KorachBamidbar 16:1 -18:3223 Sivan 5774 / June 20 – 21, 2014
Between Life and Death
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
This Torah Portion is famous for the challenge that Korach and his band of rabble-rousers raise against Moshe and the miraculous punishment of the Earth opening its mouth and swallowing these dissenters. On the surface, Korach’s claim is not so strange. He wants to know why Moshe and Aaron are given a higher status of leadership than other people of their own Levite tribe. Upon deeper exploration is seems that Korach’s intentions were not to increase justice, but rather to usurp power.
As the Earth licks its lips after a satisfying meal, there is yet another conflict in the Israelite camp. The entire Jewish people are now scared of Moshe and Aaron, faulting them for the death of Korach’s crew. They assemble against the Dynamic Duo (Moshe and Aaron) and shout with raged fists, “You have killed the people of God!” According to the text, their mob mentality strikes up another punishment. This time it is a mysterious plague that begins to spread throughout the camp, killing people instantly (the death toll reached 14,700!). God too seems to be infected with the fury virus and is ready to demolish all the Jewish people.
Fear not Israelites, Moshe knows how to stop this plague! He tells Aaron to take incense and burn it amongst the people and atone for them. Aaron does just this and the Torah states beautifully in verse 17:13,
“He stood between the dead and between the living and the plague was halted.”
I read this verse as saying that Aaron was able to stand between life and death and that his ability to hold these two extremes ended the plague. Aaron is able to dive into the plague -- into the anger, fear, and death -- and bring the remedy, his very own life and presence, and this calms the Divine rage.
We can see the above episode as the people being infected with a rage that is composed of maddening fear and despair. You are in the middle of the harsh desert and a large group of people have suddenly perished. And worse yet, you cannot trust your leaders. God has turned against you. Your world is shattered and your sanity broken. I imagine the people in a hysterical panic, trampling each other, fighting, lashing out, lost. (Think of some recent zombie movies.)
Aaron comes out with the sweet smell of the incense. He immerses into the mob and feels his own pain and hopelessness. He begins to panic, to feel the cold creeping hand of death tightening around his throat. He inhales deeply and smells the incense. The smell pacifies him, reminds him of his purpose and of the spirit which makes all things possible. Aaron rediscovers his own vitality and remains infectiously calm. The raging Israelites draw near to descend on Aaron. They are halted by the smell of incense and become infected with Aaron’s hope and peace of mind. There is no longer room for rage … the plague is halted, though not entirely obliterated.
We still encounter the same plague of hysterical fear and doubt today. We point similar fingers at our leaders, and react in unhealthy ways when our experiences do not make sense. We often react with extreme behaviors that are detrimental to our own and our community’s stability (i.e. addiction, suicide, homicide). Aaron offers one model to help us ignite the spark of life that can temporarily calm this anger and doubt. Using the burnt incense as a tool, which serves as a reminder of the soul and soothes the spirit (just like we do today in the Havdalah ceremony), Aaron was able to introduce order into the chaos. This is not an easy task and exemplifies big shoes to fill - a direction to grow in.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Parshat Shelach
Bamidbar 13:1 – 15:41
16 Sivan 5774 / June 13 -14, 2014
Dealing with Doubt
by Zvi Bellin, Moishe House Director of Jewish Education and Pastoral Counseling
This Torah portion opens with the ominous words, “And God spoke to Moshe saying, Shelach Lecha (Send, for yourself).” These words usher in the well-known story of the 12 spies that are sent to check out the land of milk and honey before the entire nation will enter the land. 10 spies come back with reports shattering faith in God. God delivers a punishment - the generation that left Egypt must die in the desert before their children can inherit the land. 40 years of wandering ensues.
Rashi, French Guru of Torah commentary, is curious about the opening words, “Send, for yourself.” Why not just, “God told Moshe to send spies”? Rashi learns from the words, “for yourself,” that God was not actually commanding that spies should be sent. Rather, if Moshe and the people wished to scout the land, they were more than welcome to do so. It seems that this was more of a test for the people. If there was doubt in their hearts about God’s plan, it will surface in the report of the spies. And indeed, this is what occurred.
Perhaps there is a message here about how we can deal with doubt in our own lives. We all have certain life trajectories (small scale and/or large scale) that we choose to put our faith into. Joining programs of education and experience, for example, which promise certain outcomes that will benefit us in the future. Of course, with any plan, comes some degree of uncertainty. Will point A really lead me to point B? I have definitely had experiences where things did not turn out as planned. I needed to take a detour, backtrack, or just let go of where I thought I was headed. These types of occasions leave me with a constant wondering, how can I really know that I am on the right path?
I think the story of the spies can teach us about embracing and confronting doubt rather than trying to ignore it. The spies, and really the entire nation, had sincere doubts about God’s promises. In the desert, the doubt caused the Israelites to complain a lot, and to ignore all the miracles of salvation that kept occurring in the desert. Finally, their doubt got the best of them, forcing a complete meltdown when confronted by the negative report of the 10 spies.
Perhaps a better way is to make room to acknowledge doubt along the path. What if we learned in the Torah that God and Moshe created a space in daily community life for people to voice their fears and have them be affirmed. I would like to believe that the spies accounting would have had a lot less power in that moment.
For us today, what if we were able to see doubt for what it is - just one part of an internal guidance system that is ultimately sourced in caring? In my day to day, I feel like it is almost taboo to voice doubt. Listeners are quick to change the subject, trivialize the doubt, or try to solve a problem. Ultimately, this just feeds the doubt. There is no space to air it out, balance, and disarm it.
So, I’d like this week’s Torah portion to serve as a reminder that doubt exists and that it is not a bad thing. When I am confronted by doubt, either internally or from someone else, maybe I can try to honor it a bit before running away from it. Acknowledge uncertainty without having to immediately act upon it. Ultimately, this strategy can lead me to make healthier choices and lessen the chances of being blindsided when I am so close to reaching a goal.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Parshat Beha’alotcha
Bamidbar 8:1 – 12:16
9 Sivan 5774/ June 6 – 7, 2014
Presenting … ME!
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
Early in the portion, we learn about the purification and dedication of the Levites for their life of service for the work of the Mishkan (in the desert) and the Temple (in Israel). If you recall from Vayikra, the previous book of the Torah, the Levites have some heavy responsibility, literally. It is their job to lug the pieces of the Mishkan through the desert from site to site. They maintained the order and cleanliness of all ritual items and served a supporting role to the Priests.
As God is instructing Moshe about this ritual, God states (8:16):
" כי נתונים נתונים לי המה מתוך בני ישראל."
“For presented, presented are they to Me from among the Children of Israel.”
Now the Torah is not a text that is generous with words, and if something is repeated twice, there is probably something to learn. Rashi comments on the double use of the word presented. He says that the Levites were presented for two main jobs – the first is to carry the mishkan (including physical labor in the Temple upon entering Israel) and take care of the ritual vessels, the second is to sing. During the Temple times the Levites would take shifts throughout the entire day singing psalms and praises to God.
The Parsha goes on to teach that a Levite would work between the ages of 25 – 50. When a Levite would turn 50 years old it was time for retirement. Rashi comments that they would retire from carrying physical loads, but that they would continue to sing praises in shifts.
When I think about myself and how I define myself, how I present myself to the world, there are some labels that are fleeting – like Camp Counselor, or even, Jewish Educator. And there are other identities that seem to stick with me – like Son or Helper. Throughout life we are called to fill certain roles in our communities, and these titles and tasks help us to live with a stable and sustainable sense of meaning.
I find a lesson in the Torah’s words by double-tasking the Levites with something that fades (carrying) and something that persists (singing). In our life we are going to lose and let go of jobs, people, and responsibilities that seem to capture who we are. There is a danger if we completely identify with these things, and think that without them our personal meaning is lost too. This is not so. Our identities are multi-leveled and dynamic. And as our roles shift, our personal meaning can be extended, clarified, and enhanced.
When we experience times when we lose something we thought was essential to our identity (a job or a relationship, for example), we might feel that we have lost every connection to meaning. In these moments, allow the Levites to remind you, that you still have a voice, a persistent form of expression that is lasting, and ultimately a way to connect back with your sense of purpose.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Parshat Naso
2 Sivan 5774 / May 30 – 31, 2014
Bamidbar 4:21 – 7:89
A World of Blessing
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
'May God bless you and guard you.
'May God shine God’s countenance upon you and be gracious to you.
'May God turn God’s countenance toward you and grant you peace.'" (Bamidbar 6:24-26)
The Jewish practice of blessing is quite audacious. We hold that no matter what kind of person you are, your words hold the spiritual power to shift the way reality unfolds. This is actually not such a hard phenomenon to witness. The next time you take a stroll down the street, or are at a grocery store, see what happens when you greet people with warm words versus speaking coldly to them. You will certainly draw different kinds of responses, and your small encounters will most likely cause ripples of impact in the lives of others.
Today, the Priestly Blessing is an invitation to stop and take notice of the people that surround us. It is also a reminder that how we speak to each other matters. I know for myself, especially through emails, it is easy to get caught up in busy-ness and send out kurt and crude messages. I know that these have had adverse effects on the reader, and I am learning over and over again to be more thoughtful about the content that I send out - written, or spoken.
Perhaps the ultimate gift of the Priestly Blessing is that in order to say it to someone else, there has to be at least a small part of you that knows that the receiver of the blessing is indeed worthy of its praise. You begin to see people through the eyes of the blessing, and they are transformed. As this happens, you begin to treat them as worthy of blessing, and so the way you act in the world is transformed as well. By this practice, we transcend the idea of a priestly class, into a priestly nation, and further still to a priestly global community.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Parshat Bamidbar
Bamidbar 1:1 – 4:20
24 Iyar 5774 / May 23 – 24, 2014
Everything in its Place?!
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
It is not easy roaming through the desert, especially with such a large group of people. You are susceptible to hunger, to spreading disease, and to attack. And added to this, the Israelites have a pretty serious mission. They have to transport these mystical tablets inscribed with God’s law through the desert to an only envisioned homeland. There is a lot riding on their survival.
The book of Bamidbar shares a strategy for their survival. Each tribe had a specific role and place in the encampment. The East was protected by Yehudah, Issaschar, and Zevulun. The West was covered by Ephraim, Menasheh, and Binyamin. The South was held by Reuven, Shimon, and Gad. And to the North, the tribes of Dan, Asher, and Naftali secured the nation’s safety. (Game of Thrones anyone??) And in the heart of the camp were the Priests and Levites securing the safety of the Ark and Tablets, and all the other instruments of holy work.
This past weekend, at the Moishe House Shavuot Learning Retreat, the participants learned that the holiday of Shavuot is a reminder that every Jewish person has a place in a Torah-based community. No matter your gender, sexual orientation, race, denomination, or conversion status, according to Torah-lore (midrash) YOU were present at Mount Sinai when the Torah was given. And so YOU, with your unique Jewish identity, is extremely important to the complete narrative of the Jewish people.
It could be so wonderful if, like the Israelites in the desert, we were given a clear role and placement in this community. But we all know that life comes with doubt. And sometimes we can feel so estranged from the surrounding Jewish community. We might disagree with the majority stance on Israel. We might have been told that we cannot love who we love. We might have been barred from leadership roles in our synagogue. We might feel whole-heartedly that Judaism should not exclude our non-Jewish friends and family members. It can be really hard to feel a part of a system that feels so foreign or even harmful.
At these times, I remind myself that Yisrael comes from the root to wrestle. Jacob was renamed Yisrael because he wrestled with God. And in our modern time, Israel, has been translated as the God Wrestlers (by Rabbi Arthur Waskow). And so, sometimes STURGGLE is the role that we play in our Jewish community. We grab hold of the fringes of our faith and tug with all our might to stretch its values to include an even greater expression of truth.
As we head into Shavuot, the holiday where we renew our commitment to greater revelation, I want to offer all of us a blessing that we can feel a part of the Jewish story as a framework that gives our life greater collective meaning. I wish you a healthy balance between certainty and doubt.
Many blessings!
Zvi
Monday, May 12, 2014
Parshat Bechukotai
Vayikra 26:3 – 27:34
17 Iyar 5774 / May 16 – 17, 2014
Well, Bless You Too!
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
In Parshat Bechukotai we learn about the rewards and punishments for following or abandoning the laws of the Torah. The picture of God that this portion paints is pretty harsh. “Listen to me, or else!” I continue to wonder why God, THE BEING OF ULTIMATE COMPASSION, would be so hell bent on people following all of God’s dictates. If a system is truly based on love, it follows in my own reasoning, that every little and minute detail is not what counts; rather it’s the relationship and closeness that matters. I think we all know pretty well that closeness cannot be mandated. Love has to be nurtured and cherished in order to be maintained and expanded.
While I fully believe in the statement above, I have to be honest. My decision to begin an observant Jewish practice began, in part, when I came across a verse from this portion. Verse 26:19 states the following punishment:
“I will make your heaven like iron and your land like copper.”
When I read this verse about 11 years ago, I looked at the sky and at the ground and I considered how the culture that I lived in was so obsessed with precious metals. Do we still see the sky and earth anymore, or do they just exist as potential resources or problems of production? My awareness of environmental maladies (drought, famine, ozone depletion) was growing, and I began to wonder if the Biblical curse had indeed manifested.
I also looked at my personal life. I was feeling confused about my life direction and basically down about who I was and the world around me. I felt like I had tried the traditional Western path of “dog eat dog” and found no peace. I decided at this point to try out the path of Torah and see how that would impact my life and the world around me.
It has been 11 years of ebb and flow Jewish practice. At times I feel more in line with Torah Judaism and at times I feel more distant. I continue to stay engaged in Jewish values and a Jewish way of being in the world. Part of my journey is a continuous refinement of how I can authentically live within the story that we call Judaism. Of course, after all the mitzvoth and prayers, the world is still obsessed with making money and there is still political unrest. The world outside of me has certainly not reached perfection, though I certainly have changed for the better.
While my first entry into Jewish practice might have been motivated by a threat and by fear, I am reaching more towards the approach of Love that I expect from this God of ours. We cannot start our spiritual life from the top of the mountain – with a perfect world, perfect self and perfect God. If this were the case, who would need spiritual engagement anyway? Religion does not make bad things disappear; however, I can change my attitude towards harsh reality through my religious and spiritual involvement.
I tend to adopt the opinion that in the desert, the Jewish people were, in a way, like children. They needed a present and sometimes strict God to tell them what was right and good. In our own lives, we never fully outgrow this phase. There are times, especially in trying times, when it is very helpful to have an exact procedure to follow. And, just as true, as we mature, we need to take more personal ownership of our life path and be allowed to do things our own way and to even make mistakes. The curses and the blessings were probably awesome for Jews in the desert, and are probably helpful for Jews like us, though only sometimes.
Today, when I look to the heavens, I see the beauty of the clouds and the majesty of the stars. The expansive land that supports me is diverse and naturally breathtaking. May we only need to see the world as a place of blessing and never as a curse.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Parshat BeHar
Vayikra 25:1 – 26:2
10 Iyar 5774 / May 9-10, 2014
In Parshat Behar we are not only told to rest on the seventh day of the week, but according to this week’s Torah Portion, Behar, we have to let the land rest every seven years. We also learn about a 50 year cycle where all bets are off and all contracts cancelled. Read on for some more thoughts on this week's Torah portion.
Many blessings!
Zvi
Value beyond Money
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
In this week's Torah portion we dive deeper into the concept of Shabbat. The Torah commands that every seventh year will be a year of rest for the land. This means that farmers take a whole year where they do not actively work their land, and basically, everything that grows wild is for the use of whoever might pass by. The bounty of the land cannot be collected and sold for monetary gains, rather the produce is considered above monetary value. All who are hungry and are in need of food, can come and eat. This seventh year is called the Shmita Year, and you can learn more about it and its relevance to life today at the following site: http://hazon.org/shmita-project/overview/
What I am thinking about is how awesome it is to translate the Shmita concept to the world of work today and the power of volunteering. Imagine you were asked to spend a full year at your current job (whether you are in a job, or spending time preparing for one in school) not getting paid, but rather volunteering. People would still benefit from the fruits of your labor, though you would not receive a paycheck. In this little exercise, let's say you were able to save up for your basic needs from the year before. My question is, what would motivate you to do your current job if it was not for the paycheck (or for the expected paycheck if you are in school/preparation phase?) Would passion drive you? A sense of self-worth? Community? Fun? Would you find nothing rewarding beyond a paycheck, and take off?
The concept of Shmita reminds me that there is no objective monetary value on the fruits of my labor. It pushes me to consider what I really value about my work in the world, and if that is fullfilling beyond a way to make money. Making money is great, though it is not enough to buy sustaining happiness. My grandmother always says, "Money isn't everything, but it's 50% of everything." This week, I invite you to contemplate that other 50% in what you do.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Parshat Emor
Vayikra 21:1 - 24:23
3 Iyar 5774 / May 2 - 3, 2014
Keeping Difficult Decisions Difficult
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
How do you go about making tough decisions? What information do you gather? Who do you consult? Where do you go for the clarification of values and ethics that allows you to choose one course of action over another, even when all choices are not perfect? When I read the final section of this week’s Torah portion these questions come to my mind.
Even today, people pay with their lives in response to seeking increased liberties. And each nation’s government has to make a decision if, and how, they should get involved in foreign conflicts. They often respond with military action that includes killing and supporting. The lines between enemy and civilian are blurred. The lines between helping and intruding also become blurred.
What about in our own communities? How do we punish behaviors and what does our reaction say about the kind of community that we are trying to establish? In Chapter 24 in the Book of Vayikrah (verses 10 – 23), we are told a story about a man who publicly curses God’s name. The people do not know what to do, so they take him to Moshe who locks him up. Moshe consults God who commands that this man must be stoned to death, AND in the same breath God says,
“And a man – if he strikes mortally any human life, he shall be put to death.” (24:17)
Now hold it there God. You just told us to kill this guy because he cursed You and now you seem to be saying if we listen to You and put him to death, we will be put to death too. What to do? A tough decision indeed!
This week, I understand this conundrum as saying: There is always a consequence to perpetuating violence. Death will always lead to more death – even if you have a good justified reason to do so. It seems to me that when we make a decision to go to war (figuratively, against ourselves, or another person, or literally, against an entire nation) we think only about the immediate effect of stopping whatever behavior we do not agree with. This story about the blasphemer widens my perspective to think about how violent action will inevitably lead to further violent action. I think history has proven this time and time again. I am not necessarily advocating for complete pacifism. I think this Portion is offering a reminder that the question to kill should always be a difficult one. If you can so easily agree with bloodshed, it might mean that you have ceased to see the other as a living person, like yourself. If we have lost our ability to recognize humanity, we can never create a humane world.
I hope that while the governments and armies of the globe are keeping peace within the model that is currently functioning, we Moisheniks – people living all over the world – are doing our part to educate against stereotypes, are learning deeply about the real issues from the perspective of the people facing them, and are innovating models of working for peace through peaceful means.
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