Monday, February 10, 2014

Angry Moshe Blows His Top

Parshat Ki Tisa
Shmot 30:11 – 34:35
15 Adar 1 5774 / Feb. 14 –15, 2014


Angry Moshe Blows His Top
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

If there is a portion of the Torah where Moshe seems to be out of his mind, this is it! Moshe is on the mountain and everything is going fine. He is learning Torah with God and crafting a timeless text together. When they are done, God tells Moshe that the people have gone bananas. They are worshiping a false god and God will kill the whole nation and start fresh with Moshe’s kin. Moshe “leaps” into action and begs for the people’s forgiveness. He convinces God that it would be very un-God like for the people to be destroyed now. After all, they've come so far. And would we really want a rumor spreading around the world that the Almighty God freed the Jews only to kill them in the desert. No one wants that! God sees the reason in Moshe’s words and relents. The Jewish people will be spared.

This all seems great. Gold star for Moshe.

Now Moshe goes down the mountain hefting the first set of stone tablets. And he hears … debauchery! A raucous celebration that can only mean one thing – God was not kidding and the poop has really hit the fan! He approaches the camp and sees the Israelites dancing around this golden statue of a calf. They are singing around it and pointing to it proclaiming, “This is our new god!”

Moshe has already saved the people from destruction. He could have returned to the community, smashed the baby cow and set the people straight with a strong reprimand. Instead he seems to go ballistic. He breaks the tablets and grinds the calf to dust making it into an atonement cocktail for the people to drink. Then he rallies the people who are still “with God” and orders these zealots to slay their brothers who refused to come with Moshe. They killed about 3,000 people! In the text, he gave this order in the name of God, though it is not evident from the text that God actually told the people to kill their own flesh and blood.

While Moshe learned to sway God towards forgiveness, he did not seem to model God’s ability to forgive.
As I read Moshe’s story, I get a sense of a man who carries a burden that is too great. He is a leader that is broken by his responsibility. From this story it is very clear to me why Moshe could not continue on with the people to Israel. I hate to come down on Moshe. I would not want to walk even one step in his shoes. For me the story brings a lesson as a leader. Losing one’s head in anger is not a time for action. It is a time for reflecting on why there is so much angry.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Praying For The Whole

Parshat Tetzaveh
Shmot 27:20 - 30:10
8 Adar 1 5774 / Feb. 7-8, 2014


Praying For The Whole
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

In this week’s Torah portion Moshe and the Israelites are commanded regarding the clothing of the High Priest (Aaron), and his sons. In the caste system of this newly-liberated people there was one family (Aaron’s) from within the Levite family that would bear the burden and receive the honor of serving in God’s tabernacle. The Priests performed the holiday rituals and the daily sacrifices. They made sure to keep the lamp burning day and night, and were the only ones allowed to enter into the inner chambers of the temple.  Reflecting on this, I think about a monogamous relationship where the most intimate revelations about two people are shared between the couple only.

As we know very well, Judaism does not say that the Priestly connection was the only connection between humans and God. We believe that each person can reach out to God and also find forgiveness through God. If you think about it, atonement and reconciliation is a major function of clergy in many faiths. Similar to last week’s question, why have this central role if we are all privy to the power of Divine communication? And what of today, where a strong Jewish central figure seems to be missing?

When speaking of an individual’s relationship with God, I believe the priests’ role was less crucial. You did something wrong, and you brought an offering to the temple for atonement. The priests’ function was to help you with the roasting and blood spilling, and keeping order, very much like the clerks at a Department of Motor Vehicles. Essential for order, but not adding much more.

Now when we talk about communal processes, then the kohanim serve a much more important function. They act as the representative for the entire nation, with all of our intricate connections and bonds. This is very beautiful and wise. Having a central person atoning for the collective, shows that we understand that no one person is solely responsible for his or her actions. A murder acts within a social context and framework. A thief does not grow up with this propensity in a total vacuum. Just as we affect each other to express our positive identity, we also play a role in each other’s failings. Having the priest as a central figure is a cosmic play of the, “many combined into the One.”

Now how about today? We do not have the same system of centralized sacrificial atonement. We pray with words, words, and more words. Each person is individually responsible for the words of his or her lips and the meditations of his or her own heart. I believe, that the unification of prayer can be found in the repetition of the silent prayer by the Shaliach Tzibur (literally, The One Sent by the Collective), Service Leader. Also, we have a need for 10 people in order to say specific prayers – an enhancement of the individual prayer by the formation of a quorum.

In my own practice, over the past few months, I have been finding myself less  drawn to going to synagogue for prayer, but also in more of a need for an uplifting community experience during Shabbat. I think synagogue can provide that if I have the patience to show up and be open to the process that unfolds as we go through ancient rites of prayer. I will continue to explore this avenue. I also know that in my personal meditation practice, I sometimes feel bored, or I just do not want to sit and do my practice. What motivates me is to remember that world wide, people of all different faiths are engaged in communal practice right now, and that this is not something that I am doing all by myself. I feel myself plugging into a vast network of people trying to hone their compassion and higher-self qualities. It makes coming to the cushion (or  prayerbook) a lot easier.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Dwelling in All

Parshat Terumah
Shmot 25:1 – 27:19
1 Adar 1  5774 / Jan. 31 – Feb. 1, 2014

Dwelling in All
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
              
In this week’s Torah portion the Israelites are instructed to build a collapsible and portable structure for worship space in the desert.  It seems strange to me that God would want a physical structure, especially one made of the finest materials,

“… gold, silver, and copper; and turquoise, purple and scarlet wool; linen and goat hair; red-dyed ram skins, tachash skins, acacia wood; oil for illumination, spices for the anointment oil and the aromatic incense; shoham stones and stones for the settings, for the Ephod and the Breastplate. (verses 25:3-7)”
It seems counterintuitive that the Almighty Being that cannot be contained in language, time, or space, would want to designate one structure as a place to be “more holy” than another place. There is one verse that seems to address this theological conundrum.

“They shall make a Sanctuary for Me – so that I may dwell in them.” (25:8)

Contrary to idolatry, where holiness is bound up in a specified object, the Mishkan in the desert was more of a center piece that served to uplift the entire community of Israel. The holiness of the Mishkan stemmed from the meaning that the Israelites gave to it and not something attributed to any intrinsic nature. When they called the Mishkan holy, they were able to self-identify as holy because they were doing the naming. Thus the physical act of donating one’s own materials and using one’s own craft to create this holy space, served as a cultural reminder – Holiness is inside of you.

What does it mean for a person to be holy? I want to define it as a choice that an individual makes to live life in an authentic way that allows others to do the same. The key though is the choice that is made to elevate one thing over another. The holiness is in the choosing, not in the thing itself.  


The challenge for me in these portions is to understand God beyond a separate Being in the sky that rules over us. If God is more of a collective consciousness, or universal unifying factor, then the request for a house did not pop out of nowhere in God’s imagination. Perhaps the opulent commandment was a co-creative exercise between the people and the Creator.  Another good example of partnering with God to create a better world. 

Monday, January 20, 2014

Moshe & Martin's Legacy

Parshat Mishpatim
Shmot 21:1-24:18
24 Shevat 5774 / Jan. 24 – 25, 2014

Moshe & Martin's Legacy
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

How fitting that on Martin Luther King Day, we open to the week's Torah portion, Mishpatim, and read the words (21:2),

"When you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years; in the seventh year he shall go free, without payment."

There are other places in the Torah that speak more to the type of slavery that African Americans endured - people as property.  Though I think the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. can be noted in the connected with the verse (21:5),

"But if the slave declares, 'I love my master...I do not wish to go free.'"

We are witnessing here a condition in which an individual internalizes a slave mentality,  and in tandem, other individuals internalizing a master mentality.

Martin Luther King Jr. articulated a waxing vision in which both mentalities, slave and master, can be released and people can see each other through eyes of equal power. This is a HUGE pronouncement - that it can even be possible to shift out of our protective power hierarchies. But as we see in our day to day live, in the change of demographics in the world around us, it is possible!

Modern Jewish people, especially in the United States have made an interesting shift, from a Holocaust-centered power-less mentality, to a land owning and white-privilege bearing power-full mentality. In this new role it is incumbent upon us, dictated by Jewish values too, to remember that we were slaves once and to protect those that might be struggling to be freed from and release their internalized powerlessness.

We can learn about micro-aggression and watch out for subtle behaviors that perpetuate a system of inequality. We can also take larger actions, advocating for equity in education and progressive taxation measures. So much has been done since Martin Luther King Jr. shared his dream with the world. Today we can reflect on what is still left to be done and how we can use our power to move the world toward that vision. 

Moshe & Martin's Legacy

Parshat Mishpatim
Shmot 21:1-24:18
24 Shevat 5774 / Jan. 24 – 25, 2014

Moshe & Martin's Legacy
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

How fitting that on Martin Luther King Day, we open to the week's Torah portion, Mishpatim, and read the words (21:2),

"When you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years; in the seventh year he shall go free, without payment."

There are other places in the Torah that speak more to the type of slavery that African Americans endured - people as property.  Though I think the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. can be noted in the connected with the verse (21:5),

"But if the slave declares, 'I love my master...I do not wish to go free.'"

We are witnessing here a condition in which an individual internalizes a slave mentality,  and in tandem, other individuals internalizing a master mentality.

Martin Luther King Jr. articulated a waxing vision in which both mentalities, slave and master, can be released and people can see each other through eyes of equal power. This is a HUGE pronouncement - that it can even be possible to shift out of our protective power hierarchies. But as we see in our day to day live, in the change of demographics in the world around us, it is possible!

Modern Jewish people, especially in the United States have made an interesting shift, from a Holocaust-centered power-less mentality, to a land owning and white-privilege bearing power-full mentality. In this new role it is incumbent upon us, dictated by Jewish values too, to remember that we were slaves once and to protect those that might be struggling to be freed from and release their internalized powerlessness.

We can learn about micro-aggression and watch out for subtle behaviors that perpetuate a system of inequality. We can also take larger actions, advocating for equity in education and progressive taxation measures. So much has been done since Martin Luther King Jr. shared his dream with the world. Today we can reflect on what is still left to be done and how we can use our power to move the world toward that vision. 

Monday, January 13, 2014

Can you Covet Everything?

Parshat YitroShmot 18:1 – 20:23
17 Shevat 5774 / Jan. 17 – 18, 2014



Can you Covet Everything?
by Shalom Kaiser, Moishe Hosue Community Member

This week's Parsha presents us with the Aseret Hadibro't - the ten commandments.  God descends upon Mt. Sinai while the Jews are gathered around it and, for the first time ever, God communicates directly to his just-chosen people, conveying the fundamental laws and ideologies in Judaism.

The last of the 10 commandments is as follows:

 לֹא תַחְמֹד, בֵּית רֵעֶךָ; לֹא-תַחְמֹד אֵשֶׁת רֵעֶךָ, וְעַבְדּוֹ וַאֲמָתוֹ "וְשׁוֹרוֹ וַחֲמֹרוֹ, וְכֹל, אֲשֶׁר לְרֵעֶך

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house; thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's

There's a strange redundancy here: Why, after specifying several items that one may not covet, does the verse go on to prohibit coveting anything that "is thy neighbour's?" Why not just state the general prohibition?

One possible answer is that the verse itemizes your neighbour's possessions so as to imply that the key to not being covetous is by looking at EVERYTHING your fellow man/woman has. We tend to covet specific things our neighbour has; we generally do not covet EVERYTHING about our neighbour. So whether your neighbour is riding around on his top-of-the-line ox, or showing off his brand new manservant, or plowing his fields with the sturdiest ass you've ever seen, you have to stop and take into account that this is not the entire picture.

You're probably thinking to yourself, "Never in my life have I been envious of any of those things." You're likely lying (see commandment # 9), but in any case, the issue crops up in our lives more often than we might think it does. Consider Facebook. Everyone is posting only their most charming, attractive self -- pictures, messages, statuses -- falsely representing their lives. We know there's always more than meets the eye..

The essence of this commandment -- the only one of the ten that is not action based -- is internal. It's there to teach us that being a good person, being successful and happy, cannot be had by looking at your neighbour. Don't for a second believe that he/she does not have trials and tribulations of his/her own -- many of which you are not privy to. You have to go inward, acknowledge your own unqiue challenges and blessings, and understand they are yours for a reason.
Shabbat shalom!

 

Monday, January 6, 2014

A Sabbath of Song

Parshat Beshalach (Shabbat Shira)

Exodus 13:17-17:16

10 Shevat 5774 / Jan. 10 – 11, 2014

A Sabbath of Song
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

           In this week’s portion the Jewish people sing a song of praise and a song of remembrance of the miracle that occurred with the splitting of the sea. When I was younger I imagined a countless group of people skipping and hopping as they joyfully belted out the verses recorded in the Torah. The women grabbing drums and timbrels, their beats exploding into a trance mayhem.

           As I read the Torah portion this week, I get a very different sense of the purpose of the song and about the Egyptians drowning in general. The text clearly tells us that the Egyptians have received the message of God’s greatness loud and clear. They are divinely forced to chase after the Israelites even as their deepest intuitions scream to leave them alone. They walk on the sea floor and see that they will not make it through and exclaim that they should go back home because they cannot win this battle. If I was an enslaved Jew for 200 years, I would probably want my oppressors to be smashed by the waves and die with severe cruelty. But I am not, and I consider that 10 awful plagues, culminating with the death of every male first-born,  is punishment enough. The plagues, plus the miraculous sea splitting seems enough as a testament to God’s awesome power. So I ask,

Umm...God? Hello there. Did the Egyptians really have to die? Do you really have to be known as a “Master of War” (25:3)?     

              While I am awaiting an answer, I want to suggest that the Israelites’ Song of the Sea, which follows the death of Egypt, is a way to express all of their complex emotions. Of course, they were happy to be free, but they were also witness to mass destruction and a terrible power that exists in their world. I can almost picture the verses of the song (beginning with Exodus 15:1) being chanted slowly by a huddled mass of people, grabbing hold of one another and trembling.

I will sing unto the Lord, for God is highly exalted; the horse and his rider has God thrown into the sea.”

                Eyes wide open, hearts racing, shallow breaths – perhaps like the haunting sounds of ghosts, almost an unperceivable moan. Then, (verse 20) Miriam the Prophet breaks the spell with a drum beat as the women stomp out the grief, the terror, the shock of the entire nation. Using, almost the exact same words as the opening of this song,

“Sing to the Lord, for God is highly exalted: the horse and his rider has God thrown into the sea.”


                Music is an essential powerful part of Jewish life and culture.  Singing in our faith is a spiritual practice. It is an essential way that we record powerful transitional moments. We sing to express joys and fears, our hopes and weaknesses. We sing to acknowledge our confusion and doubts about God, our past, and our future.