Ha'Iggeret ~ The Message

One day, when walking to the elevator in my sophomore dorm in college, I realized I had a bad habit that I needed to break. As I approached the elevator, a fellow student who was also waiting, saw me, and as if breaking out a sword for battle, they yanked out their iPhone and began “checking a text.” It was the epitome of avoidance. And I was so … repulsed by this action. Even more than being repulsed at my fellow student, I was repulsed at MYSELF because I realized that *I* did it too!

Pulling our phones at any lull is like having “I can’t be alone with my thoughts!!!” or “My insecurities prevent me from being comfortable standing in silence with a stranger!!!” written on our foreheads. So I forced myself to stop doing it, honestly just with the cringey image of that one guy, that one time, in my head. The superiority you will feel as you watch the plebes around you scroll will positively reinforce this behavior. (Don’t come for me. I’m simply here to provide the tools, not presenting myself as the finished product thank you very much…)

Avoidance.

That’s what I got from this week’s double parsha — closing off Vayikra, the book of Leviticus with the last 2 parshas: Behar and Bechukotai. Bechukotai is a pretty memorable parsha because it contains what we call the Tochecha, meaning “rebuke” or “reprove.” This section details the consequences for Am Yisrael (the people of Israel) not following the way of G-d.

This section is distressing to hear, so much so that when it’s read aloud in synagogues, it’s a custom to read it in a lower voice (of course still audibly).

But if we look a little deeper into the word “Tochecha” we get more than just “rebuke.” In the Talmud (Bereshit Rabbi 54:3) we read that “rebuke leads to love” - הַתּוֹכַחַת מְבִיאָה לִידֵי אַהֲבָה… “…rebuke a wise man and he will love you.” So rebuke is an integral part of a deep, meaningful relationships.

But being criticized doesn’t feel good! How can that lead to love?

I sometimes find myself down New York Times article rabbit holes. (You know… the one where you were just going in to read a theatre review, but then there’s a “You may also be interested in this…” suggestion and suddenly you’re in the real estate section.

Ok well I found myself in such a hole recently, and was reading an opinion piece about the fallacy of most controlled-environment diet / exercise experiments. There isn’t much money to be made from people living healthy lives, and therefore research about diet and exercise is wildly underfunded. (There’s much more money in the weight loss industry of diets / exercise plans / protein shakes!) Life-long health is something that needs to be studied longitudinally, not in short spurts.

The author gave a great example — studying an intensive exercise program. If you have volunteers doing long runs, aerobic exercises, and sports, you may see that 6 days in, they’re tired, weak, and sore. So I guess exercise is bad for you!??? No, obviously. If you studied these people over 6 months, though, they would adjust to the regimen and the conclusion would be the opposite.

Article 1 mentioned

Article 2 mentioned

Cont’d…

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

Parshiyot are named for the first significant word used. Our first sentence is, “And Hashem spoke to Moses, ‘Speak to the Kohanim, the sons of Aaron, saying to them, ‘Don’t defile yourself for any [dead] person of your kin / people.’” -

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר ה' אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו

This refers to the rule that a Kohen (priest) cannot come into contact with a dead body because they will become ritually impure and cannot perform their duties.

I’m going to start talking about a commonly spoken aspect of this parsha and then veer into something a little more original, I promise!

So there’s a bit of redundancy here, just with different ways of communicating the word, “say.” Why is the text, “Speak to the Kohanim…saying to them…”? If you’ve written any important email ever, you know that there’s a world of nuances you have to navigate. “Speak” / “Emor” is aggressive, while “saying” / “amarta is a little more gentle.

Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki, comments that the first, harsher command is for the “big” kohanim, and the second, gentler command is for the “small” kohanim. The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson taught that there is a parallel of “big” vs “small” within us too. What is “big” within us is our power of intellect and emotional intelligence, while the “small” aspect is our ability to act.

Our intellect, our thoughts, then, are important in determining and instructing our actions.

But this feels counter to what we learn, specifically in Pirkey Avot, (the Ethics of the Fathers, a part of the Mishnah) Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa taught, “…anyone whose deeds exceed his wisdom, his wisdom is enduring, but anyone whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, his wisdom is not enduring.”

So only those who act on their wisdom endure? But didn’t we just learn that actions are the “small” “narrow-minded” aspect to us?

Even further, just a little later in Pirkey Avot, we hear from Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah who taught, “Anyone whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, to what is he compared? To a tree whose branches are many but whose roots are few; and the wind comes and uproots it and turns it upside down, etc. But one whose deeds exceed his wisdom, what is he like? Like a tree whose branches are few but whose roots are many; since even if all the winds of the world come and blow upon it, they do not move it from its place.”

To translate, we don’t want to be a top-heavy tree. We want to be a bottom-heavy tree, supported by our deeds. I really tried to trim that one down but you really need all parts of it to get it… lol

This feels counterintuitive!!! But our answer (maybe) is given just before that beautiful piece of imagery. We get a famous line — “If there is no flour [bread / sustenance], there is no Torah. And if there is no Torah, there is no flour.”

אִם אֵין קֶמַח, אֵין תּוֹרָה. אִם אֵין תּוֹרָה, אֵין קֶמַח

Flour representing the physical, tangible needs we have, and Torah (duh) representing our intangible wisdom. We cannot have one without the other, which communicates to me the value of moderation, of balance.

Sometimes our actions represent an impulsive side to us, but sometimes all the wisdom in the world can’t make up for actions.

Ugh I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about this situation in this podcast but I can’t not!!! Ok so I got a desk for my room in my apartment. (I’m writing this from that desk… the best investment…) I wanted one that had certain qualities that would make it the most efficient for when I work from home / do anything of substance.

Cont’d…

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

This past week, I have had 2 positive customer service experiences. No one likes having to call customer service, and I imagine no one LIKES being the person that GETS called when customers need service. When people are calling to speak to customer service, there’s a 99% chance they’re already irritated before they even speak to a customer service agent.

This past summer I had a job that wasn’t customer service, but ended up feeling like it. I was the first line of defense for my organization and therefore got a lot of the brunt of people’s frustration. I think I’ve always had empathy for customer service agents, but after that it was x1000000.

So when I had 2 excellent agents assisting me, you bet I (1) filled out surveys commending my assister and (2) sent a - way too detailed and long - note to the customer service emails lauding said assister.

Why did I do that? Because I was procrastinating writing this? NO!!! (maybe) Because I know that being the first line of defense is hard and if every other person that day was rude to them, at least they received some chizuk (encouragement) for a job well done!

I am really not patting myself on the back because I don’t exhibit this kind of empathy in all areas of my life (though I do work on that), but this idea of having context for others’ lives is something that pops up a lot in the second parsha of this week’s double portion.

In my humble opinion, the #1 character trait that objectively “good” people share is theory of mind. Theory of mind meaning possessing the understanding that other people's thoughts and feelings may be different from your own. You can call this lack-of-self-centeredness, you can call this empathy — whatever it is, at its core, this trait is the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes.

But does good = holy? If we give words moral value, I guess something that’s good is holy and vice versa. But why do I bring up holiness? Because our second parsha is all about holiness — Parshat Kedoshim.

Kedoshim opens with: “And G-d spoke to Moshe saying, 'Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: You shall be holy for I, the L-rd your G-d, am holy.'"

“You shall be holy because I the L-rd your G-d, am holy” — קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י ה' אֱלֹקיכֶֽם

Well that’s a big ask!!! How does one “be” holy??? This word for “to be” - תִּהְי֑וּ refers to a state of being… just existing in holiness?? Well lucky for us, the rest of the parsha essentially answers our question. We have 51 mitzvot essentially straight listed. (This is not the highest number of mitzvot per parsha, but it IS the most mitzvot DENSE parsha. As in mitzvot per pasuk - line.)

Our first mitzvah that makes us think about others is the first one we’re given - revere your mother and your father. That one is simple - your parents ALWAYS had a harder day than you did. It’s a scientific fact.

Then later, we’re given tons of mitzvot back to back that are specific instructions of how to give to the poor. Leave the edges of your field for the poor, leave the veggies / fruits that you dropped while harvesting, leave part of your vineyard for the poor, leave fallen grapes SPECIFICALLY for the poor. Giving to the poor is totally theory of mind! That’s saying, “Hmm… If I didn’t have money to buy food, wouldn’t it be great if this field / vineyard I’m walking past would have some perfectly good food for me to glean?”

Cont’d…

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

There’s a cartoon that goes like this:

Moshe Rabbenu (Moses our Teacher) is on his way down Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) with the Aseret HaDibrot (the Ten Commandments). A hippie-looking man with long hair, the funky tinted shades, and sandals comes up to him and says, “Moses, could you redefine those commandments of yours so as to make them more meaningful to the youth of today?”

The Ten Commandments have JUST. BEEN. GIVEN!!! And yet our communal passion for novelty already considers them old. When Jewish educators are told to make Jewish teachings more “relatable” they are being asked to bring the teachings “down.” What about bringing ourselves up?

I was thinking about that cartoon while learning about this parsha. This particular parsha (or parshiyot because we have a double portion) is one of those that is very specific and, on the surface, not totally accessible today.

Operative words: “on the surface.” Thanks so some very smart, insightful people who write very smart, insightful things on the parsha, I have learned some deep stuff and I’m delighted to share that stuff with you!

Like I said before, this week we have one of our special double portions! (Does anyone else hear “Daily Double” pew pew pew pew from Jeopardy?) The parshas are: Tazria and Metzora — both have to do largely with the laws of ritual purity and impurity. More specifically with a skin condition called “tzaraat” which appears when people commit certain interpersonal sins, such as lashon hara, gossip (lit. the evil tongue).

When someone is “diagnosed” with tzaraat, they are considered ritually impure or tameh / טמֵא‎. After a quarantine period, if the infection hasn’t spread, they are deemed tahor / טהור.

But “pure” and “impure” really don’t do the translation justice. (Which is a super annoying, gate-keeper-y thing to say, but I mean it in regard to how we perceive them in English.) Pure is morally good, right? And impure is morally bad, then. But these words shouldn’t have a moral value — they’re supposed to be neutral words that describe something objectively.

This relates to one of the reasons people got tzaraat (the skin condition): lashon hara (or gossip). Lots of things that we may not really consider gossip, actually are. For example, sharing something that is objectively true is still considered lashon hara if not shared for a meaningful reason. This is why it’s still gossip. Because if something is shared “objectively,” unfortunately, as much as we try not to interpret things in a subjective way, we still do take it that way.

So these words “pure” and “impure” leave a subjective taste of either good or bad. Which is not good!

To break it down further, purity is holiness, vitality, life, potential. While impurity is the opposite: a reduction of holiness, death, absence of potential. Simple as that. A “lack” versus a “have.”

The most simple example is a dead body. Dead bodies are an example of the reduction of holiness, reduction of life, reduction of vitality, and therefore they are impure.

Actions such as gossip (lashon hara) are also a reduction of holiness, and therefore: impure (tameh).

But plenty of people speak lashon hara today! So why don’t we have it today? Entire communities would be walking around with white spots if we were still afflicted by this!

Tzaraat is sometimes mistakenly referred to as “leprosy.” But this is incorrect because leprosy still exists, unfortunately. And leprosy can only exist on the body, while tzaraat can infect clothing and even houses. Tzaraat has nothing to do with bodily health, but rather spiritual health. (cont'd)

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

This coming Shabbat is my cousin Gus’s bar mitzvah! I have been tutoring him for the past 9 months or so. I have been reading and re-reading this parsha trying to extract the most accessible and most interesting aspects for him to focus on with his d’var Torah. There are so many things to talk about this week… the smiting of Nadav and Avihu, the kohen (priest) sons of Aharon (Aaron)… the laws of kashrut (keeping kosher), or the completion of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). So in my search for the Top Hits of Parshat Shemini, I found this really cool gem about treating our fellow humans kindly. Something Gus and I talked a lot about is that religious practice means very little if you can’t practice being kind, too. Even though Gus is talking about something else in his d’var, I will share *that* idea with you!

After weeks of reading about the construction of the Tabernacle (Mishkan) in the parsha, we are now in the culmination of its building! Again, the significance of the Mishkan is the fulfillment of G-d’s commandment earlier in parsha Terumah - “And build for me a sanctuary so that I may dwell among them” - וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם

This isn’t busy work, or time to refine our artisanal skills — G-d wants to dwell among US, not just among the Mishkan in one place. And as of course we know, G-d doesn’t exist in one place alone, but AMONG us.

So the Mishkan is finally complete, and B’nei Yisrael has an opportunity to have the Chet HaEgel (the Sin of the Golden Calf) forgiven. How? We read in the opening of this parsha that, in the sacrificial inauguration of the Mishkan, Aharon (Aaron) is told, “Take for yourself a bull calf as a sin offering, and a he-goat / ram as a burnt offering,” to give as an inaugural sacrifice. Why these specific animals? If we do some quick text analysis, at first glance, the bull can be connected to the golden calf — the sacrifice serves the purpose of closing that event off on a high note. Ok great, but why a ram / he-goat, too? According to the Midrash, the he-goat is absolving something totally separate. What goat comes to mind?

The goat used in the faking of Yosef’s (Joseph) death! As a refresher, back in Shemot (Exodus), Yosef (one of Yaakov’s, Jacob, 12 sons) is the star of his family. Long story short, his brothers plot to kill him and end up selling him as a slave. But in order to throw their father Yaakov off the trail, they put ram / goat blood on Yosef’s coat and say Yosef had been devoured by a wild beast.

The ram sacrifice, then, puts a pin the rift between the brothers. Of course Yosef forgave his brothers many years later when they came to him in Egypt, but this ram sacrifice alongside the calf sacrifice communicates a lesson.

Chet HaEgel, the Sin of the Golden Calf was an affront a sin unto G-d. Yosef’s brothers’ treatment of him was an interpersonal wrongdoing — person to person. Of course absolving ourselves of a sin unto G-d is important, but this offering being immediately followed by the goat sacrifice elevates our interpersonal relations too.

So as the people are getting to break in their new Mishkan, the lesson they are taught is:

How can we dwell in the presence of G-d if we don’t respect the Creations of G-d — our fellow humans?

We simply can’t! They go together!

SNL clip: https://youtu.be/3LSByqoSpsI

The Office clip: https://youtu.be/8o5Cu4X2TeU

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

As I’ve mentioned before, I teach a 4th grade Religious School class for a Reform Temple on the Upper West Side. Since I started, I’ve realized that I view all of Jewish life through the lens of, “How can I make my 4th graders care about this?” I feel an absolutely desperate desire to make the students in my class feel any sort of strong feelings about their Judaism. Before I started this, when I was experiencing Jewish holidays, I just needed to make sure *I* connected to it, but now it’s a different level.

I also understand this is how *any* educator feels about their students — “How do I transmit this effectively?”

This idea connects both to this week’s parsha and to the holiday of Pesach (Passover) that starts this Saturday. So this week’s parsha is Tzav, where we learn more about the korbanot (sacrifices) in the Mishkan in the desert. Something mentioned earlier in the parsha is the command that the fire on the altar should be kept burning always, an Esh Tamid - אש תמיד (eternal fire). Not to be confused, of course, with the Ner Tamid - נר תמיד (eternal light), the light that is to kept burning in front of the Aron HaKodesh, the Holy Ark in the Beit HaMikdash (the Holy Temple). The fact that there are 2 different eternal flames that must be differentiated emphasizes the point I’m making — why can’t we can’t stop talking about continuity?

Something I listened to in the beginning of writing my weekly emails was a podcast produced by Tablet magazine, called Parsha in Progress. It ran until this past year every-other-week, hosted by a secular Jewish writer named Abigail Pogrebin and the president of the Open Orthodox yeshiva, Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, Rabbi Dov Linzer. The whole premise is “two different Jews talking about the same Torah,” which is a truly fantastic premise.

The Parsha in Progress episode about this week’s parsha, Tzav, from last year (2020 / 5780), focuses on the idea of the Esh Tamid in the context of sacrifices. Abigail mentions that the message she takes from the Esh Tamid is that Jewish continuity is a huge deal. That our existence, like the Esh Tamid, is something that should be cared for and kept alight. While he agrees that the sentiment is important, Rabbi Linzer doesn’t agree that it should be so central. He explains that continuity for continuity’s sake doesn’t do anything for him. Continuity because Judaism is a beautiful, meaningful way to live your life is something else. The message of their short conversation is: continuity for continuity’s sake isn’t enough.

Pesach (Passover) begins this coming Saturday night. Pesach is when we celebrate our Exodus from Egypt, or Yetziat Mitzrayim, after over 200 years of slavery. The central events in our modern-day Pesach are the 2 seders (ordered meals) that take place on the first 2 nights of the holiday (or only 1 seder on 1 night if you live in Israel).

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

In the beginning of creation, G-d separated the waters — יהִ֣י מַבְדִּ֔יל בֵּ֥ין מַ֖יִם לָמָֽיִם, let there be separations between water and water. Water and water meaning the lower waters of the earth from the higher waters of the heavens. In the foundational text of Kabbalah (mystical Judaism) called the Zohar, we get a story which details the lower waters’ devastation at what they perceived as rejection from G-d.

The lower waters knew that the lower, earthly realm was a place of impurity and the mundane, and that being distant from their Divine Source wasn’t good. The mystics teach that G-d comforted the waters, explaining that they would be separated, but that they would once again get to connect with G-d as an integral part of the korbanot, sacrifices, that B’nei Yisrael would bring to the Mishkan (the Tabernacle).

We are entering the third book of the Torah — Vayikra or Leviticus! And as we read in this week’s parsha, sacrifices are a large part of the spiritual life of B’nei Yisrael in the desert. We learn that salt is to be added to every single sacrifice  . This salt is said to represent the sea salt of the lower waters. This is what G-d was referring to when comforting the lower waters, in the act of sacrifices, we unite the physical (salt, lower waters) with the Divine (G-d).

We no longer can offer sacrifices. We don’t have the Beit HaMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem. But we still can sacrifice the figurative “animal” within ourselves. Every time we elevate ourselves with prayer, with mitzvot (commandments), with acts of kindness, we are bringing ourselves closer to the Divine “sacrificing” our animal-ness. But this elevation, like actual sacrifices, has to have a little “salt” sprinkled on. What is the salt for us? The salt represents the salt water like mentioned, but it’s also the tears of the lower waters that, like us, yearn to be close to the Divine.

All of our “offerings,” which are the expressions of wanting a relationship with G-d (prayer, good deeds, mitzvot, kindness, etc) must be “sprinkled” with a little salt — representing the Divine spark in all of us and in all of Creation that longs to be close to our Divine Source, G-d.

I’m good at keeping secrets, but I am not good at wondering if I’m being KEPT from a secret. I don’t mean secret birthday presents, I mean secrets such as what the heck goes on in Area 51 (a US Air Force facility that, though it’s probably just a normal compound where people are always writing on translucent dry erase boards, has become the center of lots of conspiracy theories about aliens.) I gotta know — are there aliens? I’m not alone in this — when we’re told we can’t know something, it only makes us want to know it more.

Enter sacrifices. Sacrifices don’t sit well with the modern mind. Lots of things, really, about Judaism cannot be fully explained, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an explanation, and it definitely doesn’t mean we can’t try to understand!

20th century Torah scholar Nechama Lebowitz wrote a piece that compares the famously opposite views of Maimonides, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, the Rambam, and Nachmanides, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, the Ramban. The Rambam viewed sacrifices as G-d’s way of replacing the idolatrous sacrifices we made in Egypt and in the years before. He explains that human nature doesn’t change instantly, and that the perfectly reasonable explanation is that sacrifices are an idolatry deterrent.

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

We have a double parsha this week! We have 54 parshiyot (or selections) in the Torah, but only about 50-51 weeks in a non-leap Hebrew year, as well as some other extenuating circumstances where we miss a Shabbat of Torah reading because it’s a holiday. So in order to fit all these 54 parshiyot in the Hebrew year, we double up at least 2 Shabbats! This week is one of them!

Our first parsha opens with the laws of keeping Shabbat and then we go right into hearing about the contributions that B’nei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) were instructed to make toward the Mishkan. In previous parshiyot we learned about the very precise pieces and ingredients for the Mishkan, but of course, even though G-d probably could have dropped the Mishkan from the sky, that’s not what happened, the Mishkan still had to be built.

So Moshe (Moses) relays that everyone who is of generous, willing, giving of heart (נְדִ֣יב לֵ֗ב) should give. Ovadia ben Yaakov Sforno, an Italian Torah commentator, explains that this means no one should give grudgingly or be forced to give.

The Or HaChaim, Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar, North African Torah commentator, clarifies that there was an intangible “donation” that G-d gave, the תרומת השם, the G-dly Contribution, that held all the tangible pieces of the Mishkan together — like Divine superglue. So when the tangible pieces were donated, they must be given by people who were able to elevate their contribution to be worthy of meshing with the Divine Mortar (if you will).

So we have people of generous, giving hearts who are the only ones allowed to donate and then we also have other characterized hearts, wise hearts.

When referring to the skilled men and women who would build the Mishkan or create the various materials, the Torah uses the phrase “Wise of heart”- “חֲכַם־לֵ֖ב”

Lovely idea, right? Generous hearts and wise hearts! But what does that really mean? And why does that have anything to do with ability in building?

And there’s a big difference between people who are “wise hearted” and wise in regard to specialized skills. Maybe in their years of slavery in Egypt, B’nei Yisrael picked up a few tips on building, but what are the chances they became the kinds of artisans required for building the Mishkan?

There are a few interpretations. The Netziv, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, Eastern European rabbi, wrote that wise-hearted didn’t just mean scholars, but that anyone (even people without specialized skills) who were G-d or Heaven-fearing, could participate. The Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, Nachmanides, a Spanish Torah commentator) interprets that the people who were wise of heart discovered they had the beginnings of naturally endowed skills, but were “raised up” or elevated through this service.

This of course reminded me of the final scene in the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy runs to Glinda, the Good Witch of the North and asks for her help in getting back to Kansas. But of course Glinda says her famous line, “You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas!”

All she has to do is click her heels three times and she’s home. To paraphrase — it was always inside you! You just had to be in a situation that brought the ability out!!

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

To watch Three Days of Rain till March 21: https://www.playbill.com/article/patricia-clarkson-john-slattery-bradley-whitford-reunite-for-three-days-of-rain-march-11

I have accidentally watched the TV show “Botched” too many times. “Botched” is exactly what it sounds like — it’s a show about plastic surgeons who try to reverse botched previous plastic surgeries. The people on this show are… wild to say the least. This show can teach us a lot, but the #1 lesson I have learned from it is: If you won’t, someone else will. I mean of course, that if you want to look like a human-version of comic book Superman and the first plastic surgeon you ask refuses, never fear, eventually you’ll find someone who will agree to make you the Clark Kent of your dreams.

This show came to mind as I was reading this week’s parsha, Ki Tisa. B’nei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) are waiting at the bottom of Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) as Moshe ascends to get the 10 Commandments (Aseret HaDibrot). Moshe is gone for a while, and B’nei Yisrael gets anxious. They go to Aharon (Aaron) the second-in-command and propose a solution — if Moshe is gone and we no longer have a leader, let’s make an idol!

Firstly, Aharon is a lovely, peaceful guy, but I have to imagine he’s a bit stung that if B’nei Yisrael essentially says, “If we can’t have Moshe, then the next best thing is a golden calf!!!!” Rude… whatever. What Aharon does next has puzzled many of us since first learning this Torah narrative. He says, “Ok, well go gather the earrings of your wives, daughters, and sons and bring them to me.”

Why in the world did Aharon entertain the idea of building a god for B’nei Yisrael? The Chizkuni, a 13th century French Torah commentator, presents Aharon’s options:

So, we see that the earrings ploy was Aharon’s attempt at buying some time. Maybe the wives, sons, and daughters wouldn’t be so eager to hand over their golden hoops, he thought. Maybe the women would not want an inanimate object to take the place of Moshe… but alas, the gold came rolling in.

Aharon knew the lesson that I personally learned from the TV show “Botched” — if you won’t do it, someone else will (and in an even worse way!) There is a similar theory as to why we have laws governing slavery in the Torah. If slavery is this horrible, dehumanizing thing that should have never existed, why does the Torah dignify it with laws and regulations?

Humans can be great, but humans also like to elevate themselves above other humans. The theory is if there were no laws about slavery in the Torah, then slavery would have happened anyway, but just without anything regulating it. It’s an interesting idea.

So Aharon is thinking, “They’re going to do it ANYWAY, so it might as well be on my watch.” He also knows that straight-up denying them isn’t an option, but he also can’t straight-up acquiesce. He recognizes something that the plastic surgeons who deny the Clark-Kent-wannabe might not — turning someone away doesn’t stop them. But if they care about the well-being of this type of patient, they should give them the chance to change their minds without making them feel out of control.

The truth is, no one can make decisions for us, no one can convince us 100% of anything.

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed

Tonight, the holiday of Purim begins. Purim is the holiday we read Megillat Esther (the Book of Esther), hearing the story year after year of the Jewish people’s near-annihilation but eventual triumph. If this was Netflix preview description this is how I’d summarize Megillat Esther: After Stealth-Jewess Esther becomes queen, she hears of a plot to kill all Jews. Esther is faced with a choice: reveal her true self and save her people, or die trying…

Dramatic, right? I’d watch that limited series.

Like most kids, I grew up loving Purim. I loved the idea of the beautiful and righteous Esther HaMalka, Queen Esther, defeating Haman with said beauty and righteousness. I loved the Shushan (the city where the story takes place) that I formulated in my mind. (In retrospect, I now realize that the “Shushan” I created in my mind was definitely just a Jewish version of the made-up city of Agrabah from Aladdin… I digress). We grow up idolizing Esther, viewing her as the model for a strong Jewish woman, a woman who ensured the continuation of the Jewish people, a model diaspora Jew (a Jew not living in Israel). Okay, inter-faith or non-Jewish readers, please stick with me. As I got older, I wondered why an inter-married Jew who hid her Jewishness was our model. If we want diaspora Jews to feel proud, to feel a sense of responsibility to others, shouldn’t we pick a new story? This question came up recently in my 4th grade Hebrew School class.

We were learning the Purim story, talking about Esther and how she had to hide her Jewishness, and so I asked my students if they ever felt they needed to hide their Jewishness. Keep in mind this is at a Reform synagogue on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. There are over 60,000 Jews between 60th and 100th St on the UWS. Some said, “No, I’m proud to live in a place with lots of Jews and I never feel scared to be Jewish.” Others said, “Well even if I’m not acting Jewish, I’m still Jewish.”

Always the inclusive, progressive teacher, I quickly said, “Yes of course! There are lots of ways of being Jewish!”

I wasn’t super proud of the way I handled that situation in class, I felt like I could have clarified or made a more definitive statement… so I consulted with a few friends who helped me realize a better answer lies in the Purim story itself. Esther isn’t the only hero.

A very important character is Esther’s cousin, Mordechai. The whole reason Haman wanted to annihilate the Jews was because Mordechai, as a practicing Jew, refused to bow down to Haman. It was below Haman’s stature to strike back at just one Jew, so he decided to strike back at ALL Jews. Mordechai and Esther are foils, exact opposites. Mordechai is a proud, unapologetic Jew. Does this mean Esther is an ashamed, apologetic Jew? No! Whatever Esther’s Jewish “practice” was, she still filled an irreplaceable role in the events of this story.

Every type of person serves their purpose, and this is the message I choose to emphasize. Of course it would be nice if every person observed their religion in the same way you do, (because of course — you the person reading this, of whatever faith you are — the way you observe is the right way, right???) Kidding. Obviously that’s not how the world rolls. And we can hope and pray for them to practice the way we do!!! But until then, this the message I am taking from the Purim story. We are irreplaceable cogs in the human story. Irreplaceable and all equally imperative.

For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here.

opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed