Parshah Ki Tavo: Are You Listening?

A modern photograph by Roie Golitz | "Shofar"

"Before he began his lesson to the scholars," says the Babylonian Talmud (Shabbat 30b), "Rabba used to say a joking word, and the scholars were amused. After that, he sat in dread, and began the lesson."

So the rabbis did have a sense of humor. But is something like the following passage humorous, or just ridiculous? I mean, it does include a "Why does the chicken ..." question.

Rabbi Zera encountered Rabbi Yehuda standing by the door of his father-in-law’s house. He observed that Rabbi Yehuda was in a very cheerful mood and understood that if he asked him the secrets of the universe, he would tell him. Rabbi Zera asked: Why do the goats go first at the head of the flock and then the sheep? Rabbi Yehuda replied: It is in accordance with the creation of the world. First there was darkness and then there was light [the goats are dark colored and the sheep are white]. Rabbi Zera asked: Why do the sheep have [thick] tails which cover them, and the goats do not have tails which cover them? He answered: Those with whose material we cover ourselves [i.e., wool of sheep] are themselves covered, while those with whom we do not cover ourselves are themselves not covered. Rabbi Zera asked: Why does a camel have a short tail? He answered: Because the camel eats thorns [and a long tail would get entangled in the thorns]. Rabbi Zera asked: Why does an ox have a long tail? He answered: Because it grazes in the marshland and has to chase away the gnats with its tail. Rabbi Zera asked: Why are the antennae of locust soft [i.e., flexible]? He replied: Because it dwells among willows and if the antenna were hard it would be broken off when it bumped against trees and the locust would go blind. For Shmuel said: If one wishes to blind a locust, let him remove its antennae. Rabbi Zera asked: Why is the chicken’s lower eyelid bent upwards? He answered: Because it lives on the rafters, and if smoke entered its eyes it would go blind. (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 77b)

I spent a lot of time mulling over this week's parshah when I was preparing to offer up learning for my awesome coworkers yesterday. I was torn between the discussion in Torah Studies adapted by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson about why the text specifically mentions Egypt and Laban when discussing the first fruits.

“And you shall speak and say before the L-rd your G-d: ‘An Aramite destroyed my father, and he went down into Egypt and sojourned there, few in number … And the L-rd brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand … And he has brought us into this place and has given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And now behold I have brought the first-fruit of the land which You, O L-rd, have given me ...’ ”

The Aramite being Laban and Egypt being, well, Egypt. The discussion surrounds why these two specific instances are mentioned above all the other tragedies that were befallen by the Israelites. It all comes down to those being to instances where total destruction was a promise, but also moments in which we were "permanently settled" in a land that was not ours. You see, the first fruits offering is meant for when we're dwelling in the land that HaShem gave us. Because during these two narratives we were settled but not in Israel -- compared to the other tragedies that befell us during the wandering -- these two hold a significant place in us needing to remember those times when we were not where we were supposed to be. It's a gnarly concept, and you can read more about it here. 

But for me, I ended up focusing on something incredibly simple that we probably overlook that Rabbi Jonathan Sacks didn't overlook. There is no word in Torah meaning "to obey." Judaism is not a religion of blind obedience, despite what many thing and the way that many profess to live their lives Jewishly. The word in Torah that often is used when HaShem is saying "hey, you, do this or else" is "to hear" or l'shmoah. And what a perfect time of year for this parshah, right? We're commanded in the month of Elul to hear the voice of the shofar, because it is the closest thing we can get these days to truly hearing the "voice of G-d." 

The question is ... If HaShem is not demanding that we obey, but rather that we simply hear, what does that mean for us in the scheme of things? 

We talked for about a half-hour at our staff meeting yesterday about this concept, and the best way for me to approach it is this: We're commanded to listen to HaShem. To hear HaShem. We're invited to be active participants in this world, to really think about the reasons and the words that we're given in the Torah. And when we make that choice to really listen, we see that so many of the 613 mitzvoth are about ethics, values, and morality. They're not as distant and strange as we might think they are -- the problem is that we don't take the time to listen, examine, and explore. 

And, I also pointed out, the problem today is that so many Jews do listen -- but not to Hashem. So many Jews choose to listen, but instead to intermediaries that would wish to send them down the wrong path, a path where the listening comes second-hand. I say this in regards to the Haredi and to the most secular of Jews. 

We are commanded as individuals to listen to HaShem. To process, consider, evaluate, to truly be active in life, in this experience of Judaism. Are you listening? 

What's the Shofar? A Ram's What!?

Mad props to MyJewishLearning.com for putting together this cute little video about what a shofar is (it's a ram's horn, folks, get your mind out of the gutter). I must also give a hand to the fella from The Sway Machinery for talking so intensely about the shofar. His voice is sort of, well, intense I guess is the only way to describe it. I've never heard of his band before, but now I'm intrigued. Enjoy!





Alternatively, if you want to see The Sway Machinery's cover of "Billie Jean" in Krakow, give it a gander here:

May You, and I, May We Be Inscribed.

Rosh Hashanah reflections? I have few. I'll have to say I was very distracted by the fact that I was born 25 years ago on Rosh Hashanah (making my Hebrew birthday Simchat Torah). I was destined to really let that Jewish soul loose, is what this means.

So for Erev Rosh Hashanah I went to the Chabad dinner since it was so close. It turns out the rabbi is keeping tabs on me, as someone mentioned to him I guess that I'd been in New York. I told him I'd been in Washington Heights, which, I guess, to those from other NY neighborhoods is where the "fancy Jews" are. The food was good, the conversation, too, and I walked away with a bowl full of gefilte fish, which was a stellar parting gift considering I got beat up by the rabbi's middle child (I could really go off on the lack of discipline here, but these are the Days of Awe and I'm really pushing for the book of life). Tuesday, I went to services at Hillel, heard a teenage undergraduate blow the shofar with might while the rabbi's child-size son toyed with the other shofar while oozing with cuteness. A lot of stuff in the service was skipped because there were a couple "break out" sessions of meet your neighbors and to discuss Hannah's song. And after everything? There was no lunch served. But there was Tashlich, and it was my first service as such. It was a little unnerving watching the birds pick up all the things which I had cast off, but I suppose they were carrying it up and above instead of it sinking down below. That night I was a horrible person and ended up going to see a (free) movie screening (of "Religulous") with Evan and then he took me to dinner for my birthday. I also have to mention that he gave me an amazing bouquet of White Roses for the big Two-Five, a gift I haven't gotten from anyone, ever, period. What a prince, no? And today? I was sick. I blame too much gefilte fish and kugel (which I had consumed essentially every day since Friday). So now, Rosh Hashanah is over and we prepare for Yom Kippur. I also realized not so long ago that tomorrow is a fast day (Fast of Gedalia ), but it's a minor fast from dawn until dusk and I'm not so keen on whether this is a hard-core across-the-board type of fast or one of those "you can, you don't have to, but you should, but no hard feelings." Feel free to let me know!

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So I sat down tonight with Martin Buber's "The Way of Man: According to the Teaching of Hasidim " because it's 41 pages long and took me about five seconds to plow through. There was a lot of interesting -- and relevant -- stuff in the text which I really want to share with you, my ever-so-lucky readers! In a chapter discussing the tenet of "Not to Be Preoccupied With Oneself," Buber discusses the significance of "turning" or what we know of as teshuvah, which is incredibly appropriate for this period of the Jewish calendar. He tells of a rabbi who married his son to the daughter of Rabbi Eliezer. After the wedding, the rabbi approaches Rabbi Eliezer and tells him that he feels close to him now, that he can tell him what is eating at his heart, he says "My hair and beard have grown white, and I have not yet atoned!" Rabbi Eliezer's response is "Oh my friend, you are thinking only of yourself. How about forgetting yourself and thinking of the world?" Buber, in his wisdom, says that essentially what Rabbi Eliezer is saying is "Do not keep worrying about what you have done wrong, but apply the soul power you are now wasting on self-reproach, to such active relationship to the world as you are destined for. You should not be occupied with yourself but with the world." Buber goes on to iterate a sermon by the Rabbi of Ger on the Day of Atonement, and I think it sums up something pretty worthwhile for considering at this season:

He who has done ill and talks about it and thinks about it all the time does not cast the base thing he did out of his thoughts, and whatever one thinks, therein one is, one's soul is wholly and utterly in what one thinks, and so he dwells in baseness. He will certainly not be able to turn, for his spirit will grow coarse and his heart stubborn, and in addition to this he may be overcome by gloom. What would you? Rake the muck this way, rake the muck that way -- it will always be muck. Have I sinned, or have I not sinned -- what does Heaven get out of it? In the time I am brooding over it I could be stringing pearls for the delight of Heaven. That is why it is written: "Depart from evil and do good" -- turn wholly away from evil, do not dwell upon it, and do good. You have done wrong? Then counteract it by doing right.

Indeed, we're conditioned to dwell. We see the bad in things or in ourselves and it becomes the spotlight's focus. But by dwelling on such things, we're not working in the right way. It must be counteracted, not given validation. That, folks, is your food for thought as we approach Yom Kippur.

Tomorrow I'll put up a piece also from this book by Buber which I think can provide us all a little bit of air when it comes to the many paths to G-d -- anyone who tells you there is one way is truly mistaken. So stay tuned and Shana Tova!

Hear the Shofar, Hear your Heart.

I've never before been to a Selichot (or S'lichot) service. I now understand the importance of such a service, not to mention how peaceful and beautiful it was.

First let me explain what the Selichot service is. As some of you might or might not know, the Jewish High Holy Days (Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur) are fast approaching. The Selichot service is basically a service to prepare us for the holiday season and introduces the themes, prayers, and music of the holidays. It's traditional to have the service late at night after havadalah, typically at midnight. A lot of places have adopted doing it earlier in the evening so more people can attend (ours started with a study at 8:30 p.m., desserts at 9:30 and service at 10 p.m. -- it lasted until about 11:30 P.M.).

The synagogue I go to is quite large. The main sanctuary is set up so that the bimah and ark can be pushed back into a gymnasium-style room that is decked in stained glass (and where we sometimes have services), to add hundreds of more seats for individuals. Now, it's hard to describe what this is like. You definitely have to be there. The ark and bimah are a HUGE piece of construction, and I'm not exactly sure how they do this, but it's absolutely fantastic. The service last night, though, was set off to the side and was set up with chairs off to the sides of the lectern, with the choir behind the lectern, creating a square shape. It was incredibly intimate, and it was dim in the little make-shift sanctuary. The choir comprised only 10 or 12 individuals, but the music was loud and powerful. Our cantor, Aviva Katzman, has one of the most beautiful cantoral voices I've ever heard.

The service was moving. I can't exactly describe the emotions, but I only wish I had attended such services before, as it truly is just enough to prepare one for the service-heavy holy days. The silent meditations interspersed with the reciting the sins and transgressions. I feel prepared enough for the holidays, but I think there's a lot I need to think about. I need to really reflect on the past year and how it has changed me and who I have become.

One of my favorite bits from the service was a quote from Louis Finkelstein: "When I pray, I speak to G-d; and when I study, G-d speaks to me." The gleanings read before and after the changing of the Torah covers from their colorful decor to their High Holy Days white. The night ended with the blowing of the shofar by a man who did the act for his 59th year -- talk about a tradition. I forgot how comforting and beautiful the sound was ... though I do miss the gal who used to do it at my temple back home in Lincoln (it was a teen girl who had some serious pipes on her).

I'm excited and ready for the new year. It means new beginnings, rebirth, and chances to really make something of myself this year in all avenues possible. I want to do more for the community, I want to pursue my goals, and I want to strive to make every day holy. I have resolutions that are worthy of the new Jewish year of 5768. I want to extend my Torah study to include the haftarah portions, as I didn't do that last year. I want to spend more time with the texts and look into Talmud. I want to take those Hebrew classes and being pursuing school. I want to be engulfed and flooded over by learning. And at the same time, I want to review the past year and learn from my transgressions and work toward holiness.

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Prior to services, I went to Borders and picked up Chaim Potok's "My name is Asher Levy" and to my luck, "Celebrating the Jewish Holidays" that focuses on the fall holidays! Alas, the latter book was going along swimmingly until I hit a duplicated word about 10 pages in ... and if you know anything about me and my anal retentive editor tendencies, you know that I had to stop reading the book. I'll pick it back up in due time, but things like that are a complete turn off to me and it's probably some kind of OCD tendency that I should have looked at!