From Beyond the Parochet, The Screen...Terumah Dvar 2013/5773

Dvar Torah Terumah

2013/5773

Behind the ‘Screen’

There is the story of a time of drought,

And one gentleman decided to give a dinar to a poor person on the eve of Rosh Hashanah.  His wife became upset with him and he left to sleep in a cemetery where he heard two spirits speaking to one another.  One of those spirits wished to travel ‘behind the pargod, the screen’ to find out what misfortune would come to the world.

The screen is the veil that separates God from the world, or as Rashi puts it, between the Ruler and the people.

Harry Potter fans may recall the gate of the ‘veil’ in the Department of Mysteries, the one way door between the world of the living and the dead.  A person can hear only muffled voices from behind the veil, and Harry’s godfather Sirius Black gets taken into the other world during a battle there.

There is a darkness about these two stories, one from the Talmud, one from popular literature of our day.  They suggest that the separation wall between our world and the ‘other world’ is one that we cross to discover misfortune or death.  But mystery need not be negative, nor scary.  Separation between the world of the Divine and human can increase curiosity and wonder.  It can set appropriate boundaries that keep us at a safe distance from the harm of approaching too close to a world that we should not ‘see’ with our own eyes.

God instructs the Israelites to create a parochet, a screen, to cordon the Holiest spot in the Mishkan – the Tabernacle – the portable sanctuary we carry through the wilderness for 40 years.  This screen reminds the priests to respect this most holy place, a place that even the high priest may not enter but one day a year, Yom Kippur, to cleanse and atone sins. 

There are many days when God feels distant, hidden away behind the screen and inaccessible.  We, our loved ones, and friends struggle with relationships, health, any number of life challenges that bury us in sadness, loss, pain, disillusionment.  We want to find compassion from God, a sense of peace that we desperately lack in these moments and every effort to grasp some sign or signal that there is order beyond the chaos amounts to nothing.

While we cannot enter the Mind of God, we can allow our inner voice, the unscripted natural reaction of ourselves to living in a world that is filled with God’s invisible Presence and energy, we can allow this voice to help us, to potentially help us…

Guided Meditation:  Let’s take a moment to breathe, to release tension of the past week, eyes open or closed, hands on lap, let random thoughts that come up move to the side of your mind until we’re done, picture a room – a room with a screen or curtain in the middle, hiding the area behind it, you cannot see behind the screen, but you feel a warmth, you feel a Presence, you are not alone, what does the screen look like? Color? Design? Texture? Thickness? See it from top  to bottom.  Without saying anything out loud here, see yourself speaking toward the screen or sending a thought of a challenge in life you are facing toward the screen and through it – see the words or thoughts as light moving forward and thru the fabric, what color are the thoughts?  Wait a moment to allow all the light to go through the screen.  A voice, more than a whisper but not a loud sound, speaks back through the screen or unworded thoughts come to you.  An answer.  Hear the response carefully and repeat it to yourself, once, twice, three times…hear it…hold onto it…

Let’s slowly return to this room, notice your breathing, feel feet on the floor. Anyone like to share re: screen, color of thoughts, did the answer you receive surprise you-did you get an answer?

My prayer is that we may hear God’s voice buzzing throughout the world and that the screen that shades the Divine from the human does not prevent words and wisdom from coming across, from the world of pure energy to the world of matter, from the world of mystery into the world we know best where the experience of the present can be opaque and disheartening, but where we can have courage to look beyond and find new sources of help and inspiration.

Shabbat Shalom.

Beshalach & Tu Bishevat - Trees After the Storm

Dvar Torah Beshalach 5773/2013

(Tu Bishevat)

Many of us here, given the series of gale force winds, rain, and ice storms that have hit our region the last several years, must feel some ambivalence about the very trees that shade our homes and lawns, the trees that create a green pergola of continuous natural beauty down the sidewalks and streets of our towns.  This ambivalence comes from the ways that some of these trees, that we assume are dependable in their roots, trunks, and branches have toppled over onto our homes, threatening our lives and the lives of our children inside, taking life, ripping up the sidewalks, pulling down electrical wires – cutting off power to our homes, littering and sometimes closing down the streets. 

For me, this ambivalence is unsettling.  I find myself looking up from time to time as I walk through town, listening for the sound of a cracking branch while walking or strolling with my kids.

For our ancestors, walking through the miraculous walls of water to the right and to the left, watching God’s power overwhelm the mighty Egyptian army at the Sea, they also must feel at least some ambivalence – the Torah notes that they take special note of the Egyptians lying dead on the shore, and the unsettling fear that accompanies the moment, that God’s power – energy without mass, no ‘Visible’ originator of the Power is apparent -  is total and has the ability to create as well as to destroy.

“Vayar Yisrael et ha’yad ha’gedolah asher asah Ado—nai be mitzrayim, Va’yi’re’u ha’am et Ado—nai…”.

‘The people saw the results of God’s might in what God did to the Egyptians, and the people feared God….’(Exodus 14:31)

To be sure, a song of triumph and celebration follows, and Miriam leads women in dances with drums and timbrels, but first the Israelites, then the peoples of the region are filled with terror just as the Israelites – In Philistia, in Edom, in Moav they are shaking with fear.  The Canaanites ‘melt’ in their fear.

We might see a silver lining here, that fear braces us and makes us aware in a straightforward and immediate way.  In the case of the trees, that we celebrate on this Tu Bishevat – 15^th of Shevat – New Year for Trees, our experiences sharpen our awareness of our surroundings and we take measures to protect ourselves.  In the case of the Israelites, their fear leads to deeper belief.

The people ‘feared God’ and ‘Vaya’aminu bAdo—nai uvmoshe Avdo.’  The sentence we began ends with, ‘And they believed in Ado—nai and Moses God’s servant.’

Their fear leads to trust of both the Divine and human leaders.  Fear, ambivalence, worry, and wonder.

Efforts on the trees of late have focused on prevention of future problems.  This mindset also informs the current debates on gun violence – How can we prevent future gun violence.

The storms and their aftermath though leave us with the feeling that there are weak points in the world, places where we find we cannot rely on the very things that seemed for so long to give us strength, comfort, and continuity.

If we can draw a lesson from the trees of our towns, it could be that the physical trees themselves are great for their beauty and contribution to the environment, but are not the things into which we should put our lasting trust and belief.  It is tempting always to favor the physical, the concrete, to lean on and believe in what we can see and touch, into something we may have planted and nurtured ourselves.

What our faith reminds us to do though is to put our belief in  a tree whose roots are invisible but deep and binding to our community, a tree whose fruit is wisdom and guidance in the form of words, lessons, stories, holy times, rituals and traditions, a tree that has weathered thousands of years of storms, fires, and terror and lives on – can you guess which tree I’m thinking of?

Etz Ha’chayim, the Tree of life Etz Chayim hi lamachazikim bah, ve’tomcheha me’ushar.’ The Torah is a tree of life to those who hold fast, all who support it are happy.’

(Sing…)

 

Dvar Torah Shmot - Am I alive?

Am I alive?

Dvar Torah- Shmot, 5773/2013

Rabbi Neil A. Tow©

In my high school years, years of staying up late doing homework, listening to Monday night football on the radio while pretending to go to sleep, dragging out of bed to get to school at 7 every morning, my brother Jeff would often do the ‘job’ of the older brother and try and ‘wake me up’ a little by saying, “Hey, are you alive?”

On days even when we have a good night’s sleep and we are fully functioning, we may wonder what it means to ‘be alive’ other than simply moving through time and space as we function as human beings, working, interacting with others, exercising, listening to music. 

To discuss ‘the meaning of life’ is a question that usually leads to nowhere since it is so vague, but to discuss the question of what it means ‘to be alive’ has real potential for relevance to us.

We hear the words of Moses speaking to his father in law in the opening lines of this week’s parsha, Shmot, the first in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus.

“Moses went to Jethro his father in law and said, ‘I would like to go and return to my people in Egypt, and to see ha’odam chayim – whether they still live.’”

Whether they still live?  Moses may be aware of Pharaoh’s  sinister plans he carried out once against the Israelite children, events that occurred when he was just a baby himself.  However, God has told him to return to Egypt already to free the people.  It seems unnecessary for Moses to say, “I need to go and see if they are alive.”  So, what might Moshe Rabenu, Moses our Teacher, be teaching us in what he says to Jethro his father in law?

Saadiah Ga’on reads ha’odam chayim, whether they are alive, as ‘whether they are still living there in Egypt’ - surviving, thriving.  Moses is asking not about whether they are physically alive, but whether they are full of life and spirit, wondering whether they may be open to God’s message or closed-down, depressed, and in the mind-set of the slave whose only hope is to live out the day, whose only conception of being alive is mere survival at the whim of Pharaoh, a ruler who is a god to his own people and has absolute power over slave and citizen alike.

‘Whether they are alive’ is also a poignant allusion to the moment when Joseph, some time ago, asks his brothers whether his father Jacob is still alive, a moment that, as with Moses, seeks to reaffirm a loving relationship despite the distance of a long elapsed time and geography.(See Robert Alter, 5 Books, p. 329)

We find inspiration for answering ‘what it means to be alive’ in Jewish thinking, “Choose life, that you may live,” It is up to us to not only survive but to register connection with the world, to be aware, to feel the pain of the suffering, to join in the rising music of celebration, to feel the conflict of salty tears shed in a moment when doubt turns certainty and predictability into question marks that fill our hearts. 

We could all benefit from asking ourselves every day, ‘Am I alive?’ Am I alive to those I care about – fully present and engaged, hitting the ‘stop’ button on my own internal monologue long enough to hear and appreciate their beauty, wonders, interests, and dreams?   Am I alive to myself, honest with myself about how I am feeling, what I value and whether I am doing something about what I value, whether I am doing something about the world in which I wish I could live?  Am I alive to my community, interested and engaged in its hopes and struggles, patient with its idiosyncrasies and struggles, with its projects?  Am I alive to God, aware of the colors and sounds of the winter wind, the way the Torah story catches my attention and draws my eyes back each time from the cacophony of petty distractions that surround us.  Can I hear the call to justice that rings out every moment?

When Moses speaks to his father in law, following God’s commission of Moses as co-ambassador to Pharaoh with his brother Aaron, we have a key turning point when Moses himself takes up the mission and does something proactive to get it started, the first step in the journey of a thousand miles.  In this dialogue with Jethro, Moses affirms that he is alive, that he is aware of what he must do and is now determined to begin.

May this Shabbat be the energizing step forward into being alive that will circulate through our souls what we have discussed so that each day, whether it is covered in the hard shells of despair, or sparkling and sending light into the world, will be a day when we choose to be fully alive.

Shabbat Shalom.

Dvar Torah Vaera - Stubborness

Stubbornness

Dvar Torah Parshat Va’era

2013/5773

Rabbi Neil A. Tow©

I told this story a few years ago on the High Holidays – now given the recent semi-paranoia about the ‘End of the World’-in the-Mayan-calendar predictions, I will re-tell the story accordingly.

Two friends were driving fast along a country road.  As they turned the corner, they noticed a couple of guys standing on the side of the road holding up signs, waving their hands, and shouting out, “Stop now! The end is near!”

The two friends slow down, lean out of the car and yell back, “Leave us alone you religious nuts!”  They continue speeding around the corner and a moment later the two guys with the signs hear a huge splash.

They look at each other, shrug their shoulders, and one says to the other, “Do you think we should have just said ‘The bridge is out?’”

A stubborn unwillingness to listen, as with the friends in the car who do not hear the warnings from the side of the road, is a prime quality of Pharaoh, King of Egypt.  As it happens, a similar quality emerges in the People of Israel, though not with destructive consequences against another innocent people.  Six times in the Torah, four times in Exodus and twice in Deuteronomy, the Israelites are ‘Am K’sheh oref’, a stiff-necked people, and the first time they receive this name, Ibn Ezra explains to us what stiff-necked means, listen for echoes of our ‘Bridge out’ story…

[The meaning of stiff-necked] may be explained by this teaching:  A person speeds along on her way and she does not turn around to hear the [other] person who is calling out to her.(Ibn Ezra to Exodus 32:9)

We might think that after suffering under the hands of a hard-hearted ruler, we might choose to act differently towards the benevolent One in Heaven who frees us from slavery.  Moses even has to beg God not to get too angry with us and to forgive us, to lead us to the Promised Land despite our stubbornness since God is ultimately and inherently forgiving and compassionate.  How can it be that we become so ungrateful and difficult?

While the Torah tends to teach us that God dislikes stiff-necked people, can we challenge this perception?  Can we argue that a certain strong will, a sense of singular purpose and resolve may have kept the people alive through their oppression?  Even as the groaning of the people under the heavy weight of Egyptian taskmasters and heavy labor reaches up to God, is it possible that the Israelites, inheritors from Jacob of a plucky and shrewd will to live, are able to survive (at least in part) from being stiff-necked?

It is not surprising to us that the same emotion can at one moment help and at another moment hurt.  To this day, I recall my driving instructor teaching our class not to drive when we are excessively happy.  A strange instruction?  A realistic one.  Great happiness is good, but it can also grab our attention from what is practical and necessary to do as we ride the emotional high. 

Looking at our emotional state and reactions to great events, whether happy or sad, can help us think about the debate on gun violence that has been in the forefront of our minds since the tragedy in Newtown.  If we are to move forward on this issue, and with many other issues that confront us in 2013 and beyond, we need to balance our strong wills and beliefs with the considered opinions of others.  We need to challenge assumptions, think creatively, and be open to change while staying true to the principles that guide us in life. 

Despite the stubbornness of the people, the dialogue between Israel and God never stops.  The people eventually do reach the Promised Land.

My fear though is that in the current climate of debate, a healthy middle ground on a variety of issues appears to not be possible.  Are we as individuals, as a country, so set in our ways that we cannot pause to read the signs on the side of the road, to turn around when the voices of reason call out to us from behind?

If we cannot begin to have debates, whether at the community level or national level in which the rightly strong-willed sides are willing, as in a Bahai meeting, to release their views to the group and yet still be active, then we must recast the story where we started. 

In this re-written story, it is precisely the unwillingness of the friends in the car to give any credence to anyone suggesting they do something different that causes the bridge to collapse. 

We must not let this happen.

Shabbat Shalom.