Torat Moishe - Moishe's Torah

Parshat Emor
Vayikra 21:1 - 24:23
3 Iyar 5771 / May 6 - 7, 2011

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.

Right now, people are being murdered in our global community in response to seeking increased liberties. And each 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 Shmot (verses 10 – 23), we are told a story about a man who publicly curses G-d’s name. The people do not know what to do, so they take him to Moshe who locks him up. Moshe consults G-d who commands that this man must be stoned to death, AND in the same breath G-d says,

“And a man – if he strikes mortally any human life, he shall be put to death.” (24:17)

Now hold it there G-d. 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 killing someone. 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 one 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 am 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.

Loving You is Easy Cause I’m Beautiful

by Josh Buchin, Guest Writer

This parsha, Kedoshim, instructs us how to be holy. We are given a comprehensive list of dos and don'ts that cover a wide range of topics: sacrifices, business dealings, dress codes, sexual relations, ethics, and even interactions with ghosts. At the heart of all of these seemingly disconnected rules is the verse,

"and you shall love your fellow as yourself: I am the Lord" (Exodus 19:18).

This verse encapsulates all of the other laws mentioned in this week's parsha. The central question posed by this Torah portion is: how can we be holy? What does God want from us?

Although this parsha contains many rules, the answer comes from this one verse. The answer is that God wants us to "love your fellow as yourself." God wants us to treat others fairly and with respect, recognizing the Divinity within them. This verse is not only key to understanding this portion, but is crucial to understanding all of the Torah, as well as all of Judaism. Rashi, quoting Rabbi Akiva, said that "this is the fundamental principle of the Torah."

The Torah, and Judaism, both want us to be our best selves, and to live in harmony with the Divine, the natural world and with those around us. Our tradition provides us with a wide range of instructions for how to do this; keep Shabbat, observe the dietary laws, celebrate the holidays. But at the heart of all of these commandments is the phrase, "love your fellow as yourself: I am the Lord."

Unequivocally, we are told to love everyone. Regardless of what they've done to us - or haven't done for us - we have an obligation to treat everyone with respect, kindness and compassion, and to love them in the deepest religious sense of the term. The second part of this phrase is even more specific: we shouldn't just love them, we should love them like we love ourselves. We should remember, in all of our interactions, what is often referred to as The Golden Rule: namely, the ethic of reciprocity, the desire to treat others the way we ourselves would want to be treated.

But how do we do this? How do we put this mantra into action? Is it even possible to love others like we love ourselves? It's often hard to connect with other people on a basic level, let alone to show them true and deep love the way we love ourselves. According to the Sefas Emes, a 19th century Biblical and Talmudic commentary, the way that we are to accomplish this monumental task is through the help of God.

"It is not easy to carry out the commandment 'and you shall love your fellow as yourself' in the fullest sense of its meaning. Therefore, immediately after this command, God declares: 'I am the Lord' - I, God, stand ready to help you to fulfill My commandment provided that you sincerely wish to keep it."

If we are willing to be in partnership with God, and to live in harmony with the Divine, God will hold up God's side of the agreement, and will help support us as well.

Elsewhere, the Sefas Emes said,

"One of the greatest religious problems is that people fear having a relationship with God and consequently distance themselves from Him."

We shouldn't be afraid of this connection. Rather, we should be eager to embrace it and to live in partnership with the Divine. Through this partnership, we can become our best selves and help strive for a better, perfected world. This is true holiness, and this is what parshat Kedoshim is instructing us. Being holy means remembering that we're not alone: it means remembering others, and treating them with kindness and respect. And it means remembering God, who has never forgotten us either.

Parshat Achrei Mot (Shabbat Hagadol)
Vayikrah 16:1-18:30
12 Nisan 5771 / April 15 – 16, 2011

Parshat Metzorah
Vayikra 14:1 – 15:33
5 Nisan 5771 / April 8 – 9, 2011

The Blessing of the Living Bird
by Zvi Bellin, MHHQ

I find the ritual for cleaning the person afflicted with Tzara’at simply strange. Essentially, the Kohen takes two birds. He kills one bird and lets the blood drip into a clay pot with water. Then he takes the second bird and dips it into the water/blood mixture of the first bird. He sprinkles the blood that is covering the live bird on the newly cleansed person and then sets the live bird free.

I am not really sure what to make of this. But I wanted to highlight this ritual as I enjoy taking note of some of the bizarre practices that we have at our roots. I sometimes see Yogic community members walking around in orange or yellow robes, with their little bells and thin pony-tails sprouting from the top of their heads, and I think, “Hmmm…That is strange.”

If I was able to time travel back to the days of the Jewish people in the desert, or early Palestine, I would probably shout with fright and feel uneasy with the lavish dressing of the Priests, the uber-posh décor of the Temple, and the bloody worship rituals. It does make me feel less judgmental about other people’s practices when I think how strange Jewish people must have looked (and at times, still look) to outsiders.

There is something in this ritual though, that I really love. I feel joy when the Torah tells us that the live bird is set free. It is like ourselves and our souls. The live bird has experienced the trauma of witnessing and experiencing pain and suffering. It has been bloodied and shaken by outside forces, yet that was all temporary. It is able to spread its wings again and live on to experience new adventures, new sorrows and new joys.

I would like to bless us with the blessing of this living free bird. May we be able to accept the pain and sorrow of the world and continue to find the strength to spread our wings and soar.

Parshat Tazria
Leviticus 12:1-13:59
5771 Adar II 27 / April 1-2, 2011

Thou Shalt be QUARANTINED!
by David Rosen, Moishe House Hoboken

The subject of this week’s Parashat Tazria has to do with the idea of purity and cleanliness, specifically with regard to childbirth, bodily discharges, and certain skin ailments. In the first part of this parasha, God speaks to Moses and commands that upon the birth of a boy, the mother remains in a state of impurity for 7 days, and upon the birth of a girl, the mother remains in a state of impurity for 2 weeks. People were also declared ritually impure by the high priest upon exhibition of skin diseases such as leprosy and during a woman’s menstrual cycle. When declared to be impure, a person must remain outside the Israelite camp for a prescribed amount of time and purify themselves by means of a mikveh, ritual bath, before they may reenter the camp.

There are a few Jewish ideas that come from the reading of this Parasha. The first is the institution of circumcision for newborn Jewish baby boys, which serves as a reminder of the covenant that God made with Abraham and his descendants. The next is the idea of lashon harah, or bad language, commonly taken to mean slander, gossip, speaking unkindly about someone behind their back. Lashon harah comes about when people were punished with leprosy because they spoke unkindly about someone or God. There is a specific incidence, recorded in a later parasha, when Moses’ sister Miriam is stricken when she attacked Moses’ wife for being a Cushite.

Aside from the implications that speaking unkindly leads to skin diseases, one of the main things I wonder about when reading this portion is why there is a need for separation from the community. What is the purpose of separation and who does it benefit more?

First, when discussing skin rashes and irritations, there are the obvious health benefits of separation so that whatever the afflictions are, they don’t spread. I don’t know what medicine was like back then when the Israelites were wandering through the desert, but I’m pretty certain there wasn’t a local pharmacy around that one could go to for analgesic cream. Instead though, if you read the portion, the idea of separating someone from the community was less health based, and more spiritual based, as the one who declared if separation was needed was the high priest. So what are the spiritual concerns then?

Surely skin rashes don’t spread by means of spirituality. So what does it mean to be spiritually impure? According to the torah, one who is spiritually unclean is forbidden to take part in holy acts or customs, such as entering the tabernacle or holy court. But for me it goes beyond that. For me, being spiritually unclean has to do with, not only a person’s physical state, but with their mental and emotional states as well. If you put yourself in the place of someone who has a skin ailment, or have ever been in that place yourself, how would you act around other people? It would change your normal behavior around other people, make you self-conscious, and possibly force you to lie about your condition if you tried to play it off as it not being as bad as it actually is. I’m sure you would want to try to hide your condition too as best as possible so as to not endure ridicule or social mockery.

Additionally, if you think about the knowledge of medicine they had at the time, they probably didn’t know if something was contagious or not, and a person might not take as much care as needed to prevent it from spreading. Think about what would happen if it did spread? As if there wasn’t enough complaining from the people, do you think Moses wanted to hear about sand getting into open blisters?

All kidding aside, when someone is stricken with any kind of debilitating ailment, it changes that person, how they act around others and how others act around them. The effects of being a social outcast can sometimes last longer than the physical effects of a skin ailment. So in this case, perhaps separation from the community is the wisest thing to do. It allows the person stricken to recuperate without facing ridicule or scorn from others, gives them time to be alone and not worry about spreading it around, and overall it protects the whole community. Don’t you feel better when you know someone is sick and decided to stay home, rather than trying to stick it out and risk the health of everyone else?

In conclusion, separation from the community is not always a bad thing, or seen as punishment. In these situations, it’s better for the community and the individual. The time away will allow the person to heal up and get better, and also recover from any mental or emotional harm that may have been done. Rejoining the community after recuperating also lets everyone know that you are better and there is nothing to worry about, or as the Torah would put it, you are clean again.

Parshat Shemini
20 Adar Bet 5771 / March 25 – 26, 2011
Vayikra 9:1 – 11:40

Faith in the Food We Eat
by Alli Zionts, Moishe House London

This week’s Parsha, Shemini, deals with two quite important issues in contemporary Judaism, although touches upon them each in rather strange ways: obedience and kashrut, our dietary laws. Beginning on the eighth day of Aaron’s instalment as the High Priest, he successfully creates an offering to G-d as an apology for the Golden Calf, an incident which is still haunting the Jewish people. However, while Aaron is taking to his new vocation quite well, his sons’ enthusiasm ruins that joy. Nadav and Avihu, although unqualified to perform sacrifices, do one anyway, and as a result G-d kills them. This strict punishment shows us not only how stern G-d is about G-d’s commandments, but also the type of mindset one should be in to create an offering: one should be concentrated on that which is pure and holy, rather than trying to show off to G-d.

In the second part of this parsha, G-d delivers to the Jewish people the laws of kashrut—with no discernable reason attached. As the dietary laws are so important, it at first baffled me that there was no explanation to the different nuances; however, linked with the killing of Aaron’s sons, it is beginning to make more sense. We are not meant to question G-d with G-d’s reasons, especially for something which involves all people (as we all have to eat at some point).

That being said, contemporary rabbis and other Jewish thinkers have questioned how to keep kosher in a world where other factors are maybe as important—what about supporting the local community? Fair wages for work? Harming animals when there is little need? Without the rationales from G-d, we are up to creating our own “new” kashrut, having to read into the laws and interpret them for ourselves. More and more people are giving up the hecksher (kosher symbol) system for vegetarian-items, or refusing to eat kosher meat unless it is also sustainably produced. These extra-stringencies may get tedious, but I believe that it is the caution and forethought in what we eat that allows us to truly connect to our roots, and show our obedience to not only G-d, but to the world and communities in which we live.