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.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Shabbat PesachSh’mot 33:12 – 34:26
19 Nissan 5774 / April 18 – 19, 2014
19 Nissan 5774 / April 18 – 19, 2014
Pesach begins tonight! And tomorrow night we start to count the Omer. On Shabbat Pesach, we take a break from the regular Parshiot cycle to read a portion that is more thematically in tune with the holiday. This weekend we jump backward in the Bible, to the book of Sh’mot. The Israelites have just committed the sin of the Golden Calf (oops!) and we find Moshe on Mt. Sinai pleading with God for a deeper personal revelation and for communal repentance. I think the Parsha lends to thinking about the deeper meaning of Pesach, and that is what my D’var Torah below is about. Read on for further learning.
Many blessings!
Zvi
True Freedom, U Freedomby Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
On Passover we are told to refrain from eating anything that is leavened, or puffed up. Breads, bagels, muffins, certain cereals, and for some of us, beans and rice, are all placed under this category of food that is called chametz. Most of us know that the reason that we eat Matzah, or flat bread, is to remember that when the Jews were leaving Egypt, they had to rush out and did not have time for their bread to rise, thus they ate un-leavened bread. As Rabbis tend to do, they got concerned that eating seemingly leavened products would lead to eating actual leavened bread, so they created a radical edict to spend the entire holiday not eating anything that even slightly resembles leavened bread.
Another way to understand this practice is to think about what Passover represents and how this special diet might help the attunement of our awareness. Before the original Passover, the Jewish people and Jewish identity was stuck in a particular mode – that of slavery. We worked in harsh conditions for the Egyptians, gaining nothing from the sweat of our brow. Our relationship with God was also stagnated as the Deity of individual ancestors whose memory we had to connect through. Suddenly, there came time for a big change. We were going to be shifting, warp-speed, from oppressed workers to a boundless independent nation. If we stopped for a moment to think about that, we probably would lose faith, and say, “Helk no! I ain’t going nowhere!” And if you take a peek into the Torah narrative, when the Jews stop to rest in the desert, they begin to complain for the life they had in Egypt.
So matzah represents the Band-Aid (or plaster) that was yanked quickly off the wound of an enslaved identity. When we eat matzah, or more importantly, when we refrain from eating chametz and chametz-related foods, we are symbolically recreating this obliteration of the usual story and identity that we carry around. All for the purpose, I remind you, of receiving a newer and more liberated sense of self. Thus, we jaggedly cut out all the foods that are “filled with hot air,” and allow our egos to deflate. Of course, quick change does not equal lasting change. For this reason, we begin to count the Omer until Shavuot, which represents a more thoughtful and comprehensive transformation from slave to free-person.
For some of us, we might not connect with the idea of cutting out bread on Pesach. I would strongly recommend trying out the traditional practice in small doses, but I think there are other ways to enhance this dramatic shift in our inner-selves.
1. You might try another way of playing with diet. Perhaps Passover is a good time for a juice fast, or cutting out sugars, or other things that make you “high and inflated.”
2. You can make a list of, “Things I would do if I was truly free,” and then see how close you are to enacting these things. Perhaps there are a few that you should still refrain from.
3. Perhaps there is part of your name that you do not identify with – your middle name, or Hebrew name. You might spend the week introducing yourself with a new name and reclaiming your relationship with it.
4. Maybe there is a new Jewish practice that you want to try out that might enhance the way you live. Meditation, daily prayer, or lighting candles on Shabbat are all tools that free us from our normal way of doing and being.
5. Play with the seder to make it more meaningful. Introduce your own poems and personal stories of oppression and liberation. According to the Haggadah, you have to say the following three words: PESACH, MATZAH, and MARROR. The rest just might be commentary.
So however we fill our bellies (and hearts and minds) this Pesach, I bless us that we can experience a new and deeper understanding of what it means to be free. And that we should see freedom blossom in those places where freedom seems stifled.
Many blessings,
Zvi
Monday, April 7, 2014
Acharei Mot (Shabbat Hagadol)Leviticus 16:1 - 18:30
12 Nisan 5774 / April 11-12, 2014
Choose Life Itself!
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ
This portion is named Acharei Mot, meaning After Death, and it takes us back to, “the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of the Lord.” (Vayikra, 16:1). God teaches the children of Israel the proper way in which the High Priest, Aaron at the time, can draw close to the Lord without dying. The ritual is complex, with specific vestments, time frames, sacrifices, and intentions. Ultimately, for the Judaism of today, the ritual presented in this portion becomes the basis for our Yom Kippur service. We no longer carry out the specific ritual mentioned, though we draw from the reverence and responsibility that was given to the High Priest’s actions on that specific day.
As I reflect on this, the name of this portion, After Death, rings out to me. Our (mystical) tradition has a lot to say about what happens after we die - heaven & hell (gehenom), reincarnated souls, the Messianic world to come - but the Torah itself is generally silent about this (post) existential topic. Is there some teaching here for us about after we die? Is there a connection with the Yom Kippur ritual? And, since Pesach is right around the corner, how does this teaching connect to the themes of liberation?
There are similarities between the process of dying and the Yom Kippur ritual described in this portion. The process of the Priest washing his body and dressing in white linen clothing. And the fact that Aaron must carry out this ritual all by himself - a reminder that ultimately we are responsible for our own lives and that we die alone. This is a trepidatious moment in the text and in our lives, though the text continues. Aaron steps behind the veil of the sanctuary, perhaps a metaphor for stepping behind the veil of the life. What does Aaron do in the sanctuary? He performs his greatest act of service. He atones for the entire community of Israel, wiping clean any shortcomings that may have become evident over the course of the year. It is as if Aaron is given the power to turn back time, returning the Israelites to a state of absolute purity.
Looking at Aaron’s journey on Yom Kippur as a metaphor for after death, I get to ask the question, What if? What if the Torah is hinting to us that our work in the world does not end with our physical bodies? What if the work we do when we are alive is nothing in comparison to the impact we have after we die? I think about Martin Luther King Jr., Hannah Senesh, Rosa Parks, Abraham Joshua Heschel. People whose legacies last beyond a single lifetime. It greatly mattered who these people were in their lives, and the work they did daily, because they created the possibility to continue to transform the world without their physical presence. Similarly, Aaron’s crucial daily role in the community as the High Priest, enabled him to have such tremendous influence beyond the veil on Yom Kippur.
Today the Torah is reminding me that being alive is about setting the stage for how I influence and inspire others in this lifetime and beyond this lifetime. Perhaps it is not so important to understand what happens to my individual consciousness when I die, but it is important to consider how my life will continue to impact the world even after I die. The Torah teaches me that I cannot separate living for today from today’s influence on eternity.
How does this connect with Pesach and the theme of liberation? Freedom is manifested in our choice to be responsible for the lives that we live. If everyone was free to just do whatever they wanted, there would be no room for actual freedom. Considering the after death teaching of Yom Kippur - that I live with the intention of impacting the world beyond my individual life - creates a greater sense of freedom. I am not bound by my physical body in terms of my service and purpose of being alive. My essence is not narrowly constricted between one breath to the next. Also, there is ultimate freedom in being able to choose an infinite amount of responsibility to life itself, rather than one life, or even to several generations of life. Considering the choice to be responsible to life itself creates a clear sense of freedom for me. How about for you?
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