Torah Thoughts – Mishpatim

Torah Thoughts
Parshat Mishpatim  Exodus 21:1 – 24:18
February 21, 2009   27 Shvat 5769

Last week we read the Ten Commandments. Everything in the Torah led to this incredible moment – our people standing at the foot of Mount Sinai, feeling the ground tremble beneath the Presence of the Holy One. Our people stood and freaked out as they heard the words of G!d not in the thunder, or in the blaring of the shofarot (rams horns) or in the pounding of their own heartbeats. They heard G!d’s voice telling them the Ten Commandments in a whisper, directly into each and every person’s own ears. G!d’s voice was the sound of almost hearing, as personal as a whisper. What an incredible moment!

That personal whisper into each person’s ears is the closest,  the most intimate, extreme, spiritual, and climactic moment of the Torah. How do you follow that most amazing of experiences? Although the words of the Ten Commandments are repeated, the experience was exclusive, once and only once. And it begs the question, “now what?” Where do we go from here? The rabbis didn’t want the Ten Commandments to be holier or more significant than all of our other mitzvot, to be the only rules people might observe. All of the Torah is holy, and all of the mitzvot are important.

We can find the rationale for this approach in this week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, which seems to be a completely different experience. We have a compendium of about 50 laws. We have the judicial rules for how to handle and free our slaves and our enemies, manslaughter, kidnapping, insults, goring oxen, damage to livestock and to crops, arson, loans. We have rules for sorcery and for idolatry, and proper care for the needy, widowed and orphaned. This list is far from exhaustive. So, this week we go from our most holy moment at Sinai to what seems like a random list of rules.

But it’s more than just a list. It’s the details. This week we see how we can go from the most significant event in our lives to living every day – by taking care of the details. We see that there’s a message here in moving from the BIG issues to the almost mundane ideas of how we are supposed to behave towards one another. We elevate the mundane into something sacred. That’s not foreign to us at all as Jews. We’re used to taking the simplest acts – eating, drinking, seeing beautiful or ugly things, even going to the bathroom – as opportunities for praising, acknowledging or blessing G!d, ways to see the holy in our daily lives. We have blessings to help us see how holy the ordinary can be.

Sometimes we forget the importance and significance of the small stuff, the simple acts that might make real differences to others. Sometimes we miss the holiness in our own lives. We get so caught up in our routines that we forget that our time is holy, our acts can be holy, our lives can be filled with the spirit of G!d. The minutiae of this week’s Torah portion is a reminder that after the miracle of Sinai we have to pick up our stuff in the morning and go back to our daily lives, and what we do now is even more important, after Sinai, even if it doesn’t feel that way at first.

According to Rabbi Shraga Simmons, Maimonides explains this metaphorically as follows: “Imagine you’re lost at night, trudging knee-deep in mud through dark and vicious rainstorm. Suddenly a single flash of lightning appears, illuminating the road ahead. It is the only light you may see for miles. This single flash must guide you on through the night. So too, says Maimonides, one burst of inspiration may have to last for years.”

We fill our minds with Sinai, with the miraculous moment, as a light to guide us through the rest of our experiences. The peak moments are supposed to do that for us, to enable us to go on through the proverbial mud we find ourselves mired in. We can appreciate the light, the guidance, the flashes of insight we might get from the special moment, and we can  turn our minds back to those moments to guide us and to bring us hope and courage when we need them most. All of us have those special moments that we cherish that have the power, in their recalling and retelling, to transform and guide us on our personal journeys.

May it be Your will, Holy One of Blessing, that we take the moments to find holiness in our day-to-day life, and to be aware of our blessings daily. May we find inspiration for today, and dreams for tomorrow, as we recall the most special moments in our lives. May the special moments help us get through our darkest hours.  May the flash of Your light guide us on our journeys through life.

Torah Thought: B’shelah

Torah Thoughts
Parshat B’shelah Exodus 13:17 – 17:14
February 7, 2009       13 Shvat, 5769

When we look at history, we often look at it from our current, modern perspective. We think about it in our own terms, so we sometimes misunderstand why things happen the way they did. Our perspective has all kinds of anachronisms; we impose our values and beliefs on an earlier age, assuming that they should have lived by how we see things today.

It’s an interesting problem. When we look at Biblical narratives, we see them through our lenses. I did it a few weeks ago in a Torah Thought. I mentioned that Jacob, on his way home from exile in the Old Country, was worried about the reunion with his family. I said that you would be worried too, if you hadn’t sent an email or called your mother in 21 years, like Jacob had done. I was hoping to be funny with that line, and assumed everyone reading it would smile at the thought of Jacob calling his mother. I also made the assumption that the classic image of a Jewish mother applies to mothers in Biblical times. (A Yiddishe Mama in the Bible would make no sense, since Yiddish itself was not invented until the Middles Ages. Mothers have been around a lot longer.)

In this week’s Torah portion, B’shelah the people of Israel get to the Sea of Reeds, with the Egyptian army hot on their trail. They cross the Sea on dry land and the walls of the Sea come crashing down on the Egyptians, their horses, and chariots. The Israelites throw a big party for their miraculous rescue. Even though they have no idea of where they are headed, they know they have been rescued by miracle.

Whenever we talk about this miracle, or the 10th plague, death of the first-born, there are always feelings of compassion for the Egyptians. When we recite the Ten Plagues at a Passover seder, we remove a drop of wine from our glasses to diminish some of our celebration of the Exodus from Egypt, recognizing that other people suffered in the course of our miracles.

But my compassion for the Egyptians is limited. I’m sorry it took such strong measures to get Pharaoh to throw us out of Egypt. But even after the death of the first-born, Pharaoh goes with his troops to pursue the people he just threw out, only to find a watery death in the Sea of Reeds.  It was his recalcitrance, his repeated changes of heart, which led to the ever-increasing devastation by means of the plagues.

Now here’s the problem: why should the people of Egypt suffer because their leader is stubborn? It’s not like they voted for him, or had any choice about living under his dominion. Why should all Egyptian families have to suffer for the deeds of their imperial ruler?

These things scream at our modern sensibility. We look at the plagues and say that Moses should have negotiated a peaceful end to the dispute with Pharaoh. We repudiate violence of any kind, and prefer peaceful negotiation over all else. We look at the disaster of the death of the first-born and we consider it to be contrary to the Geneva Convention. The Egyptians’ human rights were violated. And we look at the theology of a G!d who would do such atrocities. (Of course, by now we have forgotten the atrocities of Sodom and Gemorrah, and the allegorical generation of the flood.) But what kind of G!d is this that we worship, Who is so cruel to innocent people?

Bill Clinton would have looked at the last sentence and asked what the definition of is “is”.  Is the Biblical G!d the same G!d as we worship today? Or is it possible that as humanity has changed, our perceptions and understandings of G!d have also changed? We see G!d as relating differently with us today – no one is expecting G!d to repeat the miraculous experiences of the Exodus from Egypt. This was a one-time event to be a reminder through all of history of the incredible power of G!d. Can we see G!d as having intervened in ways which are objectionable to our modern point of view and yet also recognize that they were necessary, and appropriate, for their times?

Biblical texts are of their own time and place. My guess is that in Biblical times negotiation of a dispute might happen, but it was more likely that war would settle disputes. After all, there are plenty of battles in the Bible. While negotiations happen, they usually are to create alliances with other people to battle a common enemy together.   It also would seem likely that the person who attempted to negotiate instead of bearing arms would be perceived as a wimp, and could be easily dispatched. The strange part of the story of Pharaoh and Moses is not that they didn’t negotiate a peaceful resolution to the conflict, but rather that Pharaoh didn’t kill Moses and Aaron anywhere in the process, as would have been normal for him to have done.

In Biblical times, there was no democracy, and the suffering of the ruler’s people, in the name of that ruler, was common, even, some might say, “honorable”. It’s contrary to our sensitivities, but we weren’t around in Biblical times. We would never have survived with our current values in Biblical times! The G!d in the Biblical narrative is described in terms understood by the people of those times, and it is our job to understand that G!d differently. Just as we are not as barbaric as our ancestors, our concept of G!d doesn’t have to be as barbaric either. We are different; we can relate to different aspects of G!d.

May it be Your will Holy One of Blessing, that we find the paths to greater understanding. May we remember whence we came, and that our future is influenced by our past, but not a reflection of it. As we value our progress, may we be blessed with the ability to progress theologically a well.

Shabbat Shalom!

Torah Thought: Bo

Torah Thoughts
Parshat Bo  Exodus 10:1 – 13:16
January 31, 2009          6 Shevat, 5769

I’ll admit it. I am stubborn.  At times, I am very stubborn. Sometimes being stubborn is a problem. Sometimes, it’s a virtue. When we look at it as a problem, stubbornness is about being obstinate, rigid, headstrong, stiff, unyielding. When we see it as a virtue, it’s about being dedicated, sure, unwavering, certain. When a person absolutely sticks to his/her plan and achieves a goal, we call that fortitude, or stick-to-it-iveness, persistence, determination, dedication. When we disagree with that dedicated, determined person, then the determined person often is perceived as stubborn.

A judge who is determined that a law is very clear is considered to be fair and honest, except by the people trying to persuade that judge of different perspectives. A doctor who has perfected a medical procedure, and sticks to it because it works well for his/her patients is considered an expert. Until, of course, new procedures s/he doesn’t use because they are not his/her way. A teacher who knows the facts, has studied and knows answers to the questions his/her curriculum raises is considered to be a master. But when others disagree with this person’s interpretation of reality, s/he is seen as obstinate, unyielding.

In many ways, I really don’t think I’m all that much more stubborn than most other people. It’s just when other people disagree with me, and I know I’m right, I stick to my guns. My guess is most people stick to who they are, what they believe, and are rarely all that ready, willing or able to move their positions and opinions on just about anything. That’s one of the reasons why New Years resolutions often don’t work or why every year we come together on Yom Kippur and confess exactly the same sins as the previous year. We cheated, we gossiped, we were miserly, we hurt other people last year, and my guess is that it doesn’t change all that much after Yom Kippur.  The optimists among us say that people can and do change; their counterparts say “nah, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

Sometimes we get stuck in places that could change if only we would let them. Illness, depression, addictions, enslaving habits can all be expressions of how we hold on to that which maybe we could be better off without. Maybe if we let go of what holds us back, we could change, grow, and experience the world, and our lives, in completely different ways.

If we look at our practice of Judaism, (or if you’re not Jewish, your religion) we can also see how this intractability is reflected. Think about it. Can you define what Judaism is all about, for you? What does it mean to be Jewish? How is your Judaism reflected in your life? How have you changed and developed in your religious practice in the last years?
Have you come to different understandings this year? Have studied a Jewish text this year, or read a Jewish, non-fiction book, or expanded your experience and practice of Judaism in any way in the past months?

In our congregations, sometimes we don’t explore why we do things the same way, year after year, or don’t explore how our traditions change and grow to include new traditions. We get so stubborn that there is a “tradition” that we forget the tradition is supposed to be creative, growing, flowing and moving – that the tradition can be more an act of stubbornness than an act of faith.

For those of you who are now wondering, yes, there is a connection with this theme and this week’s Torah portion, Bo. Remember we left off last week with two very stubborn men – Moses and Pharaoh, both locked in a battle of their own commitments. Seven plagues took place last week, and this week we read about the last three.  Many of us get very concerned by the fact that in these plagues G!d hardens Pharaoh’s heart, G!d makes him refuse to let the people go.

Why would G!d take away Pharaoh’s choice? Because Pharaoh has done it all along – it was his nature – to give up, realize the error of his ways, and to return to his normal behavior, which was to never give up. Pharaoh had lost his ability to change; in hardening his heart G!d was simply keeping Pharaoh doing what was natural for him.

It’s natural for us, as well. Human nature determines that we are going to just be that way.  The challenge, which I think is G!d’s message in the story, is to figure out ways to go against our very nature, to break the habits, to shed our stubbornness, to move beyond that which is usual and normal for each of us, and to be open to the ever-expanding wealth of our own potential.

May it be Your will, Holy One our G!d, that we find ways to defrost our hearts and our minds, our souls and our spirits, so that we can be less stubborn and more open to that which is different. May You lead us to find new ways of experiencing Your presence here with us, and may we continue to strive to attain our potential for change.