Parashat Shof'tim - Deuteronomy 16:18 - 21:9

Let us not hear the voice of YHWH our God any longer or see this wondrous fire anymore lest we die.

Moses is reminding us, the mythical descendants of the Israelites, that we are the ones who beg and plead not to encounter God directly.  Moses represents us.  Moses goes up the mountain to listen to the divine voice.  Moses retreats to the wilderness to see the divine light.  And then, he tells us about it when he gets back.

Moses writes down the Torah and gives it to us.  He mentors Joshua, in whose time the Judges start a conversation about what the character of our literary history, Moses, meant to convey in the Torah.  The discussion is continued by Prophets, Priests, and Rabbis (legal interpreters of the old days and pastors of today), and finally taken over by scientists and ethicists.  They all report to us, to the extent that we pay attention.

We are the recipients of an incredible amount of information, stretching the capacity of what our sophisticated brains can process in a given moment.  (Have you watched someone under 30 multi-task?  I am so jealous.)  Consequently we're more tired, we get more headaches, and we're increasingly more irritable with one another.   I think the information overload needs to be counterbalanced.  

I literally stop and smell the roses.  I practice actually listening to my kids.  I still gaze into my husband's eyes.  I notice the migration of butterflies and which vegetables and fruits are in season.  It really puts everything else into perspective...

Parahashat Re'eh - Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17

With the Jewish New Year already on the horizon, it is no wonder this week's assigned Torah reading calls us to check the accuracy of our inner compasses.


If there appears among you a prophet or a dream diviner and he gives you a sign or a portent saying, 'Let's go worship another god that we will follow' - one whom you have not experienced - even if the sign or portent comes true, do not heed the words of that prophet or dream-diviner.  God is really testing you to see if your really love YHWH with all your heart and soul" (Deuteronomy 13:2-4).

The brilliant author of this text cautions us to be wary that even our own definition of the truth becomes an idol when it distracts us from loving YHWH, that is, distracts us from being radically amazed at all that ever was, all that is, and what is yet to come.

In order to understand how brilliant this beautifully written piece of literature is, we must understand the name for God, YHWH.  Because in the very development of  Judaism, thus far, the common person was not taught the proper pronunciation for the four letter name of God.  This was only given to the High Priest, the mother of all prophets and dream-diviners.

Somewhere along the way, rabbis of post-Temple times adopted the prophetic imagery of a master or lord to refer to God.  Hence Adonai was substituted in the reading of the Torah when the name YHWH appears, an enduring example of the use of creative license to interpret or translate the Torah.  YHWH does not mean Lord or Master.  Its root (HWH) is the verb "to be."  Its prefix (Y) indicates an imperfect tense - grammatically that means this verb is not limited by time.  It makes no distinction among the past, present, or future.  YHWH has something to do with "being" over, during, before, and after time.

I love the qualification the text from the Torah imposes, even if the sign or portent comes true, do not heed the words of that prophet or dream-diviner.


The language cautions us that even truth can become an idol.  The mind is a powerful tool.   The mind easily distracts us from recognizing the miracle of existence, how we got here, generations of partners showing up to the right place at the right time to meet the partner they'd schtoop.

The advances in what we've learned from science and mathematics and history easily leads to a diminished capacity for experiencing wonder.  Wonder leads to appreciation.  From appreciation emerges gratitude.  And from gratitude, intimacy.  Truth is important.  Even so, it is a distraction from the unfiltered joy of recognizing the miracle of existence itself.

A Hasidic master responded to a Jew who regarded the Torah as mere folklore,  Judaism is only transformational to the believer.  If you don't believe, it will do you no good.  So don't expect it.  



I have no problem working out regularly and generally eating well, while still loving chocolate cake.  I simply don't see the benefit in giving it up.  It tastes good.  When it's real chocolate it generates a pretty nice high.  Partaking in the joy of that chocolate cake every so often enriches my experience in life.  I can't eat it too often nor can I substitute it for a diet that includes nurtritional value, because the truth is that if I do, I'll feel terrible both physically and emotionally from the weight gain and nutrient deprivation.  Within a certain context, chocolate cake gives me joy.  I like being happy.

Believing is nothing more than the religious language for suspending our need for truth.  Who's to say that the author is suggesting that belief requires suspending our need for truth all the time? 

Within a certain context, suspending my need for truth can also bring me joy and enrich my relationships with the people I love.

I can't forget truth altogether, but I can suspend it to reap the satisfaction of sharing a ritual with others that marks time in the life-cycle or the year.

I can't forget truth altogether, but I can filter wisdom, values, and principles from human history as recorded in sacred literature.

Truth is truth.  Wonder is wonder.  Appreciation is appreciation.  Gratitude is gratitude.  Intimacy is intimacy.  All of them are important and powerful experiences that can coexist.  That is, if we make the choice to believe...

Parashat Va'etchanan, Deut. 3:23-7:11

I am YHWH, your god...You shall have no other gods beside me... 
(Deut. 5:6-7)


The rabbis of the Talmud tell us that we all heard these first two utterances of the Ten Commandments directly from God at the foot of Mt. Sinai.  Moses had to relay the rest of the Torah to us second-hand.


The mystics suggest that our consideration of these two utterances unlocks the mystery of our relationship with God.  If we can truly accept that YHWH is our god, we'll no longer be confused by the presence of other gods.


So, what is YHWH?


The Y denotes an imperfect grammatical tense - meaning whatever it is - is not bound to time.  It was, is, and will be all at the same time.


HWH are the Hebrew root letters for the concept of being or existence.


God was, is, and will be, all at once.


At first it seems that coming to terms with the four-lettered name of God is like actually understanding the Tao of Pooh.  I love it, but I can't really say I understand it.


God is not a concept to be understood, but the essential element and state of all being.  Whether or not we "believe" in God probably isn't even the point.  


"I am YHWH" is probably not an obligation to have faith.  Rather it is a reminder that all being - that which was, is, and will be - is the essential nature of everything.  


As a spiritual practice, "I am YHWH" is an opportunity to experience others and the planet with the understanding that their being is wrapped up in ours as well as the folks and rocks and trees that came before us and will come after us.  


When we experience union with the being of others including the rocks and trees, "You shall have no other gods besides me" - we are no longer confused.  These moments of clarity are fleeting.  Only practice increases the intensity and frequency of them.

Parashat Korach - Numbers 16:1 - 18:32

I think Korach's rebellion and its aftermath, as we read it in the Torah, is really difficult to stomach.

Korach asks a reasonable question of Moses and Aaron.  Who put you in charge?  Why do you get to make all the decisions?  Is it time for us to explore other more open and democratic ways of establishing ourselves as a nation?

Moses invites the Israelites to stand with whomever they choose to be their leader.  If it's Korach, go stand with him.  If it's Moses, take his side.  Everyone who supports Korach's challenge to the system is then swallowed up by the earth.  Moses continues to lead the people.

Ouch.

The rabbinic tradition for thousands of years has been to retroject information about Korach into the sparse story as it's told in the Torah.  They suggest that Korach was selfish in his motives.  Korach was arrogant.  Korach was a power monger.  All these negative character traits justify his violent and public death and the destruction of those whose curiosity was aroused by the questions he asked.

A found a Chasidic teaching that draws a different conclusion from the traditional rabbinic one.  What if Korach's mistake was not that he questioned Moses' authority or that he had a tad too much ego?  What if the reason Korach and his band are punished had more to do with how they went about voicing their opposition to the status quo.

There is no question that Judaism thrives because of thousands of years of ongoing discourse about the meaning of the stories and ethical guidelines contained in the Torah.  Arguments, challenges to authority, speaking up...isn't this what we Jews are all about?

Korach does something else.  He cultivates an angry mass of folks before voicing his concerns to the evolving national leadership.  He creates an atmosphere of "us" and "them."  His demise suggests to me that the earth cannot sustain a population that is divided into us and them.

There's the old story about the folks in the row boat.  One is drilling a small hole under his seat.  It is his seat, after all.  But everybody goes down with the boat when it sinks.  The hole driller may have declared autonomy over his own space within the collective, but his actions render the boat incapable of supporting everybody.

An atmosphere of "us" and "them" by its very nature promotes distrust, fear, false perceptions, more fear, and eventually life-destroying forms of acting out.

It's clear to me that the earth itself can't sustain our lack of cooperation and collaboration as a species on the planet.  If we don't figure out how to get along, learn from one another, and work together, we will destroy the earth's capacity to sustain us.   The earth will continue, we'll just become extinct before our time.  Pity.

Parashat Sh'lach L'cha, Numbers 13:1-15:41

Twelve spies scout out the Promised Land and return to Moses with two reports.

Joshua and Caleb are ready for the conquest.

The other ten argue against taking the land:
There we saw giants.  We were in our own eyes like grasshoppers, and so we must have appeared to them. (Num. 13:33)


The report of the ten spies moves the Israelites into a fearful frenzy.  It is at this point in the Torah's narrative that God determines that the Israelites will wander forty years in the wilderness before being allowed to enter into the Promised Land.  The generation of slaves must die off so that the new political entity of the Israelites is one that has completely shed its victim mentality.

I'm not sure the plan succeeded.  As a people, it seems to me, we still carry an enormous victim mentality with us.  I think we are collectively still too frightened by the other.

The Kotzker rebbe noticed that the lesson in this passage is very subtle one.  He teaches that  for the Israelites to think we were grasshoppers in our own eyes, was a natural expression of fear.  Their sin was to assume and so we must have appeared to them.  Just because we feel inadequate or insecure in important moments in our lives, doesn't mean others perceive us the same way.

When we give in to our insecurities by avoiding both attention and success, we ultimately defeat ourselves.  Whether taking on the stature of a door mat or a black widow that leaves no survivors, we ultimately render ourselves impotent in the world, in the workplace, and in our family constellations.

It is only natural to have fears or feel insecure at times but the truth of the matter is that others judge us by our words and our actions, not our inner monologues.  Our challenge is to harness the workings of our minds rather than to let them lead us into self-sabotaging behavior and relationships.   Mastering this practice makes the difference between wandering in the wilderness and entering the Promised Land.

Parashat B'ha'alotcha, Numbers 8:1 - 12:16

The riffraff in their midst felt a gluttonous craving and then the Israelites wept and said, "If only we had meat to eat. We remember the fish we ate freely in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic..."  (11:4-5)


The rabbi, Rashi, reminds us that the story of the Exodus tells us that when the Israelites left Egypt a mixed multitude joined them with a lot of cattle and sheep.  The Israelites have meat! So what's the gluttonous craving about?

Another rabbi notes that the Hebrew literally says that these folks craved a craving.  They were simply folks who wanted more.

A Chasidic teacher suggests that these particular Israelites with the craving were fooling themselves with a contrived yearning in order to feel that they were being unduly challenged by temptation.

Something in our nature enjoys creating problems so that we can feel that we're overcoming great feats and are therefore more important or more worthy than others who by comparison always have it easier than we do.

These sort of self-imposed hardships are much harder to shake than real problems.  I can't help but wonder if the true journey of our escape from slavery in Egypt wasn't running away from taskmasters, but rather facing our tendency to create troubles and challenges so that we can feel the joy of overcoming them.

It takes the Israelites 40 years of wandering in the wilderness before they realize that Israel just isn't that far from Egypt, even when traveling by foot.  But who would we be if not the ones who suffered and toiled in the hot sun for 40 years?