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.
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