DUE TO THE Hebrew calendar’s complexities, we sometimes double up on the weekly Torah readings. The first of this week’s two portions, Matot (Numbers 30:2-36:13), concerns the laws of vows. Words are supremely powerful in Judaism – after all, our Torah holds that G?d created the universe by speaking it into existence – and how we use them matters. Our words can hurt or heal, create or destroy, bring people closer or push them apart. As the saying goes, “With great power comes great responsibility.” May our words be truthful, kind, and uplifting, each and all when necessary – and don’t forget to add a little humor!
Tag: Learning Jewishly
“A little Torah is all anyone knows.”
Reluctant Shepherds
OUR TORAH PORTION this week (Pinchas; Numbers 25:10-30:1) contains a powerful lesson in leadership dynamics. G?d reiterates to Moses that the mistake the prophet made a few chapters ago – smacking a rock instead of commanding it to produce water for the thirsty Israelites – will keep him out of the Land of Promise. But Moses doesn’t rationalize his mistake, complain about G?d’s unfairness, or otherwise try to change the divine verdict. Instead, Moses pleads for a successor (Numbers 27:16-17): “Let Adonai, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them … so that Adonai’s community may not be like sheep who have no shepherd.”
Leadership is a difficult thing for one who wields it. It can too easily become an ego-trip, and it can be challenging to put ego on hold and act for the greater good. Such ego-less leadership is a gift that few possess, and those who do possess it tend to use their precious gift as did Moses and his successor, Joshua. An unattributed saying can be applied here: “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” So let it be with leadership; so let it be with life.
Thirsty Work
What did Moses do wrong?
IN THIS WEEK’S TORAH PORTION, Chukat (Numbers 19:1-22:1), Moses disobeys G?d’s command to speak to a rock and thereby produce water for the thirsty Jews and their animals. Instead, Moses – perhaps in grief over his sister Miriam’s very recent death, or just fed up with the ever-complaining Israelites – twice wallops the rock with his staff. Abundant water does indeed flow forth but G?d, annoyed with Moses’ failure to sanctify his Boss in the eyes of the multitude, forbids him from ever entering the Promised Land.
Some say Moses’ mistake would have been a small thing in an ordinary person but huge for one of Moses’ stature; imagine the reaction had Moses spoken up rather than struck out! On the other hand, perhaps Moses had already had his time by getting us out of Egypt so we could receive the Torah, and G?d would have found some other way to keep him out of our then-undiscovered country. The Talmudic sage Ben Azzai tells us: “There is no one that has not their hour, and there is no thing that has not its place.” On this Independence Day of 2025, may we each find our own hour and place to help others quench their thirst for kindness and justice.
Breaking Class
(Sermon delivered this past Saturday morning. Feel free to scroll past if you’re not into that sort of thing.)
KI TISA IS ONE OF those Torah portions that helps give G?d a bad name.
It seems that every time we turn around, in Torah and in the rest of the Bible, G?d is getting mad about something. Jealous. Wrathful, even. What could be behind this extreme behavior?
According to Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed, there is one thing and one thing only which sets G?d off: idolatry. Turning our backs on G?d is something that G?d just can’t abide.
Which makes sense. Not only were Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob promised that their descendants – that’s us! – would become a vast population, but that with G?d’s help, we would thrive.
In addition, there’s G?d’s delivering us from Egyptian slavery with plagues and miracles. “You owe me,” G?d seems to be saying. “After all I’ve done for you, and you go lusting after idols? Take THAT!”
But as we’ve also heard this morning, Moses calls G?d’s bluff (if it is a bluff) to annihilate the Jews with a “what-would-the-neighbors-think” argument. And G?d relents.
Of course, Moses – no stranger to anger himself – then proceeds to smash the Tablets of the Ten Precepts, as R’ Adin Steinsaltz calls them. Moses destroys the only record of the Sinai Contract, then carves out a new and slightly different one that has lasted more than 3,000 years.
The aliyot my friend Stephen Steiner just chanted are from chapter 32 of Exodus. Stephen points out that in Gematria, Jewish numerology, 32 is also the numerical equivalent for the word “lev,” lamed-bet, meaning “heart.”
Active debate with G?d might be understood as one aspect of the Jewish heart. We don’t always take what G?d says at face value, whether it’s Abraham arguing on behalf of the S’domites, Jacob’s chutzpadik deal-making en route to Laban’s house, or the rabbis of the Talmud rejecting divine miracles as legal proofs.
But iconoclasm might be seen as another Jewish heart-aspect. If Moses hadn’t broken the Tablets, our ancestors wouldn’t have awoken from their idolatrous slumber. Moses is in good company: with Abraham breaking the idols in his father’s shop, Elijah breaking the reputation of Baal’s priests in this week’s haftarah, and Jews in general throughout history making radical breakthroughs in social justice, medicine, science, entertainment, agriculture, and many other fields of human endeavor.
We’re the little kid who points a finger at the unclad emperor and dares to say so; and sometimes, we’ve taken our lumps for it. But our holy chutzpah has always been in service of creating a better world – not just for Jews, but for everyone.
May it always be so. Shabbat shalom.
Hillel, Adapted
Q: “CAN YOU TEACH ME THE whole Torah in a dozen words or less?”
A: “‘Don’t be a jerk.’ The rest is details; now go experience them.”
One Letter (Alright, Two)
(If you’re not hot for stretchy, out-on-a-limb Jewish linguistic mysticism, best sit this one out. Otherwise, please enjoy.)
IT’S NO SECRET THAT JEWS love words. (After all, Torah begins with “God” speaking the world into being; if you need further convincing, check out almost any Jewish comedian.) Our tradition teaches that Torah contains no unintentional words nor letters – and that meaning can be extracted from it anywhere and everywhere you look. It’s all to play for, and we play hard.
Take, for example, the words “eved,” or “slave,” and “Ivri,” “Hebrew” – not the language, but a member of the tribe. Reading Fig. 1 and 2 from right to left, as one does in Hebrew, you’ll notice the third letter in each word looks very much alike: in eved, that letter is a dalet (D) and in Ivri it’s a reish (R). Another point is that the root word for Ivri is “eveir,” which means “to cross over.”
Now, stay with me here. It’s about to get weird.
Dalet is a 90-degree right angle, while reish is more of a sweeping curve. One way of understanding this difference may be that a slave is boxed in and constrained. A Hebrew, on the other hand, is a constraint-crosser: one who goes where the flow takes them in order to become more.
Mind you, this quality is not specific only to Jews, but to anyone who walks a way of self-transcendence. Jewish tradition teaches that anyone and everyone can practice growth – in skill sets, wisdom, spirituality, and character. But that osmotic, gut-level tradition is also one reason why there are so many Jewish doctors, scientists, philanthropists, Nobel Prize winners, and others devoted to improving the human condition.
And how exactly does one do that? See the last letter in Ivri? It’s a yod (Y), which symbolizes intuition and literally means “hand” – the appendage with which we effect change. Only good, hard, inspired and diligent work enables us to make a difference in this, the most interesting and problematic of all possible worlds.
Class dismissed.
Minute Mitzvah: ALL ONE ALL ONE OK OK!!!
Today’s Task: Know that “God” is One.
My dead psychic twin Sputnik, who rediscovered his natal Christian faith around the same time I came back to Judaism, was fond of saying, “Monotheism is not for wimps.” By that he meant that if you subscribe to the nondual one-Source-for-everything paradigm, you have to take the bad with the good: earthquakes and aurorae, wars and wonderment, convicted felons and patriots. In other words, if you believe that “God” is only responsible for the stuff you like, and is not to be found in the stuff you don’t, you might be spiritually hobbling yourself. Since the potential for every particle of existence emerged from the Big Bang, we are ALL connected; even to the people and things we despise. That can be a hard concept to swallow — but it can also be worth the chew.
Exercise: Flex those soul-jaws by trying to digest the idea that someone or something you find objectionable, or even loathsome, also partakes of the Divine. That doesn’t mean you have to condone or agree with them or it – an important distinction! – only that you acknowledge the connection. (Or, as Robert Anton Wilson writes, “Everyone has the Buddha-nature, but some poor bastards just don’t realize it yet.”)
Shock Absorber
THE MORNING OF NOVEMBER 6, 2024 gave me the biggest and most horrific shock of my sixty-two years.
I won’t go into why, because half the country already knows why, and those processing the same emotions could use fewer words rather than more.
And yet, I do have something to say.
Continue reading “Shock Absorber”
Torah, Nutshelled
(A recent Yom Kippur sermon.)
הִגִּ֥יד לְךָ֛ אָדָ֖ם מַה־טּ֑וֹב וּמָֽה־יְהֹוָ֞ה דּוֹרֵ֣שׁ מִמְּךָ֗ כִּ֣י אִם־עֲשׂ֤וֹת מִשְׁפָּט֙ וְאַ֣הֲבַת חֶ֔סֶד וְהַצְנֵ֥עַ לֶ֖כֶת עִם־אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃ – Micah 6:8
MANY SMART PEOPLE HAVE TRIED to distill the Torah and its 613 mitzvot – “commandments,” or “connections” – into something smaller and more digestible. When someone told the early first-century sage Hillel, “Teach me the entire Torah while I stand on one foot,” Hillel famously replied, “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. […] The rest is commentary. Now go study.” Put another way: “‘Don’t be a jerk.’ Everything else is explanation; now, go figure it out.”
The prophet Micah lived six hundred years before Hillel. He explained Torah thus: “You have been told what is good […] and what Adonai seeks from you: To do justice, love chesed, and walk humbly with your G?d.” All three instances of the word “you” or “your” are in the second-person singular. These instructions are aimed at the Jewish nation’s individual members – at you, and you, and you, and me.
So. Let’s take a closer look at what we’re getting into. Continue reading “Torah, Nutshelled”
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.
(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”
Chains
Never allow what you cannot do to control what you can do.”
— Rabbi Avi Weiss