Category: Torah

The Text(s), the tribe, the learning, the being. (With a bit of random spirituality mixed in.)

Give It Away Now

THE TALMUD SAYS THAT ONE who teaches Torah to a child is as if one gave birth to that child.

What it also says is, “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

As noted elsewhere, Torah is a great interest and passion of mine, even more so than my other passions and interests. But if I only study Torah for my own edification and increasing my personal knowledge base, it’s as if I never studied it at all. What earthly good or use is knowing anything if you don’t share it with others?

There’s an important Hebrew concept called “l’dor vador.” This phrase is mentioned twice in the daily prayer service and is sprinkled throughout our Bible and its related teachings. It’s usually translated as “generation to generation,” and means each generation teaches the next what it has learned, all the way from Abraham to the end of recorded history (please G?d we should live so long, especially these days). Torah even states this explicitly in Genesis 18:19, where G?d says, sotto voce, “For I have singled [Abraham] out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of יהוה by doing what is just and right.” If Abraham had kept his monotheistic ethics to himself, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

A friend who served as a combat medic summed up his training thusly: “Learn one, do one, teach one.” It’s a nice organizing principle, whether in medicine, in Torah — or in life. Pass it on.

Five More Thoughts

1. ANOTHER SERVICE, ANOTHER ARMED GUARD. After making cordial introductions — as one of the service leaders, I was the first to arrive this morning — he informed me that an access-grate was askew below the sanctuary. One of our congregants (chair of our newly formed Security Committee, in fact) checked it out with him and pronounced the situation completely and unmistakably benign. But I’m glad someone noticed.

2. As a friend put it so well on our congregational Facebook page: “Our Shabbat service today was truly blessed. Neighbors Yolanda and Silvana joined us to pray for peace and share their pain over the war and anti-Semitism. Yolanda told her story of her Jewish family’s religious persecution from Spain and other family members’ persecution as Lebanese Christians. Her daughter brought roses, candles and a cactus to share with us. The notes were written to express their wishes for peace. Our hearts are full.”

3. I’ve never seen so many haunted faces. We did manage to manifest some light — quite a bit, actually — during and after the service. But still.

4. At the post-service kiddush (“coffee and fellowship time,” for those unfamiliar with that Hebrew term), every conversation involved what, as another friend put it, “is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last I think of at night.”

5. Where do we go from here?

The Feeling

YOM KIPPUR AFTERNOONS ARE USUALLY the spacetime nexus where radical growth happens — and this year was no exception.

Let’s set the stage. After an intense twenty-or-so hours of not eating or otherwise tending to physicality, continuous guided liturgical meditation, and extended standing periods, the mind becomes…relaxed. Pliable. And open to self-generated suggestion. It’s a long stretch of characterological self-diagnosis that forces a focus on our broken, less-than-who-we-want-to-be parts. (To paraphrase an old 1960s protest song: “Where can you run / where can you hide / when the Implacable Judge / is on the inside?”)

Previous years’ personal revelations centered on egotism, religious one-upsmanship, and hiding from unpleasant truths. This year was positive by contrast, and involved feeling in my guts something I’d only ever thought about. (You’d be surprised what a little shift of perspective can do.)

Revelation #1: “Gifts are for sharing.” And revelation #2: “I belong here.” Continue reading “The Feeling”

A Weary Wariness

UNTIL OCTOBER 7 AND ITS AFTERMATH, I hadn’t understood just how pervasive and systemic Jew-hatred was. (Is.) I did know it was Out There, of course, but only intellectually. It’s something else to see it in its natural habitat.

Case in point: This past August, I encountered what I call an incident of “casual antisemitism.” In its wake I sent the following email to some Jewish friends:

Hope this finds you all in good health and spirits. I recently had an experience which left me feeling shaken and more than a bit helpless, so I am turning to you for sharing and feedback.

Last week I was at a reunion lunch that [a mutual friend I’ll call “Z”] was having with one of her former teachers and classmates. [Z] hadn’t seen these people since 8th grade. (Obviously, I didn’t know them, and I wasn’t wearing my kippah at the time.) During the course of an otherwise very pleasant afternoon, [Z’s] former teacher, “Miss C,” related a conversation she had had in the late 1960s at a party with other young teachers – colleagues – and two of the couples were voicing what Miss C. called “radical” political viewpoints, touching on Communist ideals.

Then she said, matter-of-factly: “The Nakamuras hated America because they were Japanese; the Weinsteins hated America because they were Jewish.” Continue reading “A Weary Wariness”

365 Names: “Friend”

FRIEND, AT LEAST AS A Divine Name, is inspired by the Breslov Chasidic tradition. Its founder, Rebbe Nachman, once said (quoting from memory) “It is good to pour out your heart to God as if you were speaking to a good friend.” This exercise is central to Breslover practice, but for mystics — defined as any who approach G?d as an Experience rather than as a Being — this can pose something of a challenge: Who exactly am I speaking with, anyway? On one level, that doesn’t matter; the actual doing of it, even by agnostics, can be both focusing and grounding. Try it and see!

Once upon a time, The Metaphorager aspired to feature daily a year’s worth of different names for that-which-some-people-call-God: some creative, others traditional, each unique. For reasons, instead we’re just going to occasionally post them until we run out of the considerably fewer we’ve collected so far. If you want to see your favorite here, but haven’t, send it along with the subject line “365 Names” and let us know whether or not you want to be credited.

Five Thoughts

1. WE HAD A WELL-ARMED GUARD at our synagogue service this morning. (In the United States. IN SONOMA. Which, as you may imagine, made/makes me feel both glad and sad.)

2. When our rabbi asked those visiting for the first time to rise, nearly two dozen people stood up from within the packed sanctuary. The rabbi then gave them the Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24-26), with great feeling from him and a rousing “AMEN!” from us.

3. Prior to reciting the Kaddish, a prayer for the dead, it’s our synagogue’s custom to ask those assembled to offer names for whom they’re mourning. When it was my turn, I said, “the innocents.” (Or I might have said “the innocence.” I’m still not sure.)

4. Two things I hated, because we are generally otherwise a very welcoming community: 1.) The unfamiliar guy on the cellphone in the parking lot who asked our rabbi if this was a church (we share a campus). “Yes,” the rabbi told him. “A church.” 2.) We have been Zooming our 23-year-strong Saturday morning Torah study since COVID began, and this morning, an unfamiliar name popped into the waiting room. “Anybody here know a [Jane Doe]?” I asked. No one did. So I blocked her.

5. We also made space/time for each of us, as the spirit so moved, to share/vent/cry with each other. When it was my turn, I said that words were insufficient for the current situation. But I then related that, at Hebrew school this past week, our youngest student (and unofficial mascot) asked the rabbi, “Who do you hope wins this war?” “In war,” the rabbi told him, “nobody wins.” I hope his words entered the students’ tender hearts — and long memories.

(Don’t) Be Like Moses

B”H, the following is scheduled to be delivered by me at today’s Yom Kippur service in Sonoma. Take from it what you will, or leave it be.

TO PARAPHRASE ANOTHER FAITH’S holiday greeting, “Teshuva [repentance, return] is the reason for the season.” What I want to tell you about is a rather embarrassing teshuva of my own.

First, let me take you back to an exciting day in our people’s history: the consecration of the Tabernacle, the portable wilderness tent containing the ark with the Ten Commandments, and where Moses spoke with G?d for the rest of the prophet’s life.

On that day, according to chapter 9 of Leviticus, a most wondrous thing happened: after the ritual offerings had been slaughtered and placed atop the altar, fire came forth from the Tabernacle and consumed them.

The people all shouted and fell on their faces – I mean, wouldn’t you? But their joy lasted only a moment.

In the very next verse, and for reasons that have been debated for millennia, Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu made an unauthorized incense offering. Fire then came forth from the Tabernacle – and consumed them.

Moses, perhaps moved by brotherly concern, tells Aaron that “This is what יהוה meant by saying: ‘Through those near to Me I show Myself holy and gain glory before all the people.’” In other words, “Somebody had to demonstrate how seriously we must take having the literal Presence of G?d in our midst – and how important it is to get things right.”

The Torah then tells us: “And Aaron was silent.” Continue reading “(Don’t) Be Like Moses”

Posse Commentatus (An Alpha-Nerd Manifesto)

(Originally posted 2007.06.28)

IN THE BEGINNING was the Text. But not for long.

The Text – definer and exemplar, authority and comfort, platform and trampoline – was no ordinary collection of words. It spoke of history and possibility, treated miracles as though they were commonplace and elevated the commonplace above the miraculous. Its basic gist was that humanity matters, even if humanity couldn’t always understand why.

Yet while the Text was finite (after all, its Author had to stop writing somewhere) it did contain the seeds of an infinite perpetuation, though not in the most obvious of ways.
Continue reading “Posse Commentatus (An Alpha-Nerd Manifesto)”

Sacred Comedy

LAST WEEK AT THE GROCER’S, the guy ahead of me in line is good-naturedly chatting up the sales clerk when he catches sight of my yarmulke.

“What happened to the rest of your hat?” he asks.

Without missing a beat, I reply, “It fell off.”

His “damn! he got me!” gesture punctuates our mutual laughter. I love it when we humans play.

Prophylaxis

THE MISSIONARY AT THE DOOR was polite but insistent as she tried to hand me a tract.

I bowed my head and pointed to my yarmulke. “No thank you,” I said.

Her eyes widened and her mouth made a little “o” of consternation as she backed away. “Thank you for being so courteous,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” I said, and closed the door.

Usually, my “yarmie” acts as a lighthouse for interesting conversations. It’s good, and a little sad, that it can also act as a conversation stopper.

Favicon Plugin created by Jake Ruston's Wordpress Plugins - Powered by Briefcases and r4 ds card.