Friday, February 28, 2014

P'kudei 5774


Two artisans, Bezalel ben Uri and Oholiab ben Ahisamach, design and craft the vestments the priests will wear.

These include the ephod and breast piece, with gold, blue, purple and crimson yarn and fine twisted linen.  Semi-precious stones, among them lapis lazuli, emerald, turquoise, sapphire, and amethyst, are set into these.  “They were encircled in their mountings with frames of gold.  The stones corresponded [in number] to the names of the sons of Israel:  twelve, corresponding to their names;’ engraved like seals, each with its name, for the twelve tribes” (Exodus 39:13-14).  The priests wore these highly worked garments when they made sacrifices.  We no longer offer animals to God; instead, we offer the prayers of our hearts.

What if we treated each word we pray like a precious stone?  What if, instead of merely mouthing words learned by rote, we made each one as beautiful as we possibly can?  We can make the effort to shape each sound beautifully.  We can engrave each word with kavannah – our heart-felt intention.  We can encircle each thought with love.  We can value each feeling as if it were a gemstone.

Praying this way requires supreme attention.  When we pray in this way, we offer our very best up to God.

Friday, February 14, 2014

Ki Tissa 5774


The first set of Commandments is carved “by the finger of God” (Exodus 31:18). The finger of God!  Can it be that God has a finger?  Anthropomorphic images of God abound in the Torah:  God breathing the breath of life into Adam, God walking with Noah, God’s outstretched arm freeing the Israelites.  Are we to understand that God has a body?

Rambam, a great sage of the Medieval period, tells us that the “Torah speaks in human language.”  That is, the Torah employs metaphoric language to convey concepts that outpace the human mind.  Since the Torah wants us to understand, it uses language we can comprehend. 

Language routinely uses simile and metaphor to convey ideas that are complex or novel.  Even young children understand that it never actually “rains cats and dogs.”  Why should the Torah be less subtle than everyday speech?

What is meant by the image “the finger of God”?  That the Torah emanates directly from God.  That God creates the words, and that they are holy.  If the words come from God, they can certainly hold multiple, simultaneous truths.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Tetzaveh 5774


The lamps flicker, filling the tent with smoky yellow light.  Shadows dance on the walls.  This is the Mishkan – the place of encounter between God and humanity.  It is lit by a golden menorah, and by a ner tamid.  Each light is fueled by olive oil.  The oil must be clear, made of beaten olives (Exodus 27:20).  

How appropriate that the holiest, purest element of the Mishkan, the one that symbolizes God’s presence, comes from something that’s been beaten and crushed.  Human beings pass through many difficulties as we live and, if we are lucky, some of them transform us into something better than we were before.  We all experience challenges, angst, suffering, and doubt.  They are part of the human experience; no one moves through life unscathed.  Although they are horrible, they can also be catalysts for growth:  they can help us know ourselves, prove our mettle, and forge ourselves anew.  They teach us empathy and make us who we are.  Like the egg on the seder plate, pressure can make us stronger.

I call this process “going through the fire.”  It’s the trial that toughens us up and helps us understand life more fully.  For me, it was the death of my college roommate.  That ushered me into a new and truer understanding of human life.  The pain was great, but so was the learning.

Let me be clear:  I am speaking metaphorically and not about getting beaten or abused physically.  Neither Judaism nor I hold that suffering is redemptive.  Although we may sometimes grow out of pain, that’s not the intention of this verse.  Rather, the oil is produced here with sacred, not demeaning, intention.  The process transforms without destroying.

What’s true for oil is true for human beings:  when we encounter adversity, and stretch to overcome it, we can recreate ourselves into something truer, purer, and brighter.