Thoughts on Parshah Eikev

I really like reading and writing about the weekly Torah portion, or parshah, but I know that it isn't a highly read thing here on the blog. I'm here to cater to my readers, but sometimes I just have to get some thoughts down on the page and hope someone appreciates them. No guilt or anything, of course, but I have some thoughts about this week's parshah, Eikev.

Eikev comprises Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25 and is a continuation of Moshe's final words to the Israelites in which he implores them to follow the word of HaShem and he reminds them of all of those ... missteps ... that they're so well known for, the Golden Calf incident among them.

In Deut. 7:14, it says

ברוך תהיה מכל העמים

Most would probably use this line as proof, especially with the English translation, that Jews view themselves as greater, holier, more special than other people. The English translation often reads "You will be blessed above all people." The Hebrew uses the preposition min (מן or -מ), which means "from." It's a comparative preposition, and it would be used to say "I am smarter than him" (אני יותר חכמה ממנו). A literal translation would be "I am more smart from him," but that's how Hebrew works. When you're comparing two things, you're setting them apart. Something is XXX from XXX.

Thus, this specific phrase from the parshah, which is found in a million other places in the Torah actually means that HaShem has made us different from other nations. Different, separate, unique. Remember that when you're eating a big plate of bacon with all of your non-Jewish friends. (I'm only half-joking here.) Is our uniqueness granted by HaShem inherent? Or must we act different?

In Deut. 9:9, Moshe tells the Israelites that he "neither ate bread nor drank water" during his 40 days and nights atop the mount in the desert when he was obtaining the commands from HaShem. Oddly enough, earlier, in Deut. 8:3, we read the following:

And He afflicted you and let you go hungry, and then fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your forefathers know, so that He would make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but rather by, whatever comes forth from the mouth of the Lord does man live.

וַיְעַנְּךָ וַיַּרְעִבֶךָ וַיַּאֲכִלְךָ אֶת הַמָּן אֲשֶׁר לֹא יָדַעְתָּ וְלֹא יָדְעוּן אֲבֹתֶיךָ לְמַעַן הוֹדִעֲךָ כִּי לֹא עַל הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם כִּי עַל כָּל מוֹצָא פִי יְי יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם:

Bazinga! Intentional or not, there's a juxtaposition with a point here. Moshe knew that man does not live by bread alone, so his hunger upon the mount was met with the words of HaShem, and that was enough. I suppose this is a powerful lesson for those of us that struggle with food, eh?

Later on in Deut. 9 I find it odd that the retelling of the Golden Calf incident from Ki Tisa doesn't mention an important aspect of the narrative. When Moshe descends the mount and finds out what has happened, the Golden Calf is burned and its ashes are spread into the water that trickles down from the mountain. In Ki Tisa, the people are then required to drink the concoction of ashes and water, but in Eikev, there's no mention of this ritual. I find it interesting simply because this very ritual of ashes and water was a very common one in the Ancient Near East, which makes me wonder if when the writing of Deuteronomy was going on the ritual was taboo among the Israelites. (I've written about the Golden Calf a lot in the past.)

There's also a lot of talk in this parshah about going to "possess" the land that HaShem as given our forefathers. It makes me jealous of those who've been able to make aliyah (or moving to Israel) a real, tangible thing. And maybe what that nagging empty feeling that really strikes me at random intervals is. All I can say for now is, in time. Ultimately I'll be in Israel, I just don't know when. HaShem promised it to my -- OUR -- forefathers, so it's only right that we should make it happen. It's not a "maybe," it's a "must be."

And, of course, I would be remiss to not mention the following phrase from Deut. 10:19 to love the ger or stranger in your midst.

ואהבתם את הגר בי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים

I hate to argue that this doesn't mean convert, because I know that later, in the Talmud, anything related to ger is referred to as meaning convert. In the Ancient Near East, people did float from religious entity to religious entity quite freely, but I don't know how actually prevalent it was for one to truly "join" the Israelites. It is possible that there were those who lived among the Israelites out of admiration or a sense of justice, and it likely was a situation much like today in Israel where refugees flee because of this very sentiment -- love the strangers in your midst, don't shun them or treat them poorly because you know what that felt like once upon a time. The theory is that Jews do so well no matter where they are because they know what it's like to be the minority. Thus, the assumption is that we tend to be a little more forgiving to those unlike us because we know how it feels to be the odd man out.

But the way the parshah ends has me a little unsettled. From Deut. 11:22-25:

For if you keep all of these mitzvot that I command you to do, to love HaShem, to walk in all His ways, and to cleave to Him, then HaShem will drive out all of these nations from before you and you will possess nations greater and stronger than you. Every place upon which the soles of your feet will tread will be yours: from the desert and Lebanon, from the river, the Euphrates, and until the western sea, will be your boundary.

No man will stand up before you: the Lord your G-d will cast the fear of you and the dread of you on all the land upon which you tread, as He has spoken to you.

This sort of makes it sound like we're going to be some big scary force that the rest of the nations cower before, and I'm not sure I like the sound of that. There's no real "how" for this, and that also has me worried. And the word "possess" ...? Of course, I'm thinking of the physical, when perhaps HaShem really means possess in terms of possessing respect and acknowledgement. The verb is לרשת, which translates to inherit or succeed, so I suppose it's pretty clear that it's a physical take-over or succession.

But now I wonder ... back then, nations were small, nations were made up of peoples sharing a similar geographic boundary. Nations aren't like what we have today. The boundaries are clear in this portion, so perhaps, then, the claim has been satisfied -- almost. Maybe it doesn't mean world domination, but simply geographic domination over the specific land area that HaShem gave our forefathers. Does this mean we're just that much closer to redemption? It does say "HaShem will cast the fear of you and the dread of you on all the land upon which you tread," so perhaps it does intend something bigger, something greater, something more massive than the geographic boundaries of Eretz Yisrael. However, maybe that bigger, greater thing isn't domination in the sense of politics or military but rather a domination as I mentioned before -- one of the heart and mind, one of respect and acknowledgement.

Perhaps HaShem meant for us to have Eretz Yisrael, but perhaps he also meant for us to have the hearts and minds of the rest of the world. The children of Israel, set apart from all other people yet loving and caring for those unlike ourselves. Perhaps HaShem expected us to fight for mutual respect.

Reliving the Bible Slap

I posted last week, not to mention in late 2010/early 2011, about this search I'm having for who I am and how I got here. This is another installment, sort of a follow-up to that post, as well as a pairing to go with my Don't Forget to Review the Conversion Manual post, that got a lot of mixed reactions. That post, of a little old man bringing into question my Jewishness, came about in December of 2007, whereas this post came about a year after my conversion in April 2007. From this post below to the one in December, I think I'd been through a lot. The pairing here is that in my Conversion Manual post, it is a Jew that challenges me. In this post, it is a Christian who challenges me (although without knowing that I am a convert). 

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Date: April 6, 2007

Post title: A Challenge 

I'm sitting in Argo Tea near Michigan Avenue in Chicago. Just by Water Tower place. I'm at a table among tables crowded with people, headphones in, listening to Explosions in the Sky (my Torah music). My Etz Hayim is open to Ezekiel 37:1-14, reading between talking via GChat ...

An older man with bad teeth appears over my shoulder, and with a thick British accent says, "Greek?"

I pull off my headphones and show him the cover, "No, it's Hebrew ... Torah."

He responds very quickly, as if waiting to quiz someone -- anyone -- with, "Ahh, how many Sabbath days in Passover!?"

I, taken aback at his random quizzing because it doesn't appear as a friendly exchange, but rather a challenge of "what do you know there little Hebrew girl?," respond with, "Well, the first two and last two days are treated as holidays." I, being Reform and in the Diaspora, know there are differences in the traditions. But this is the first thing I say, of course.

Wrong! He chides me, says "look it up! look it up!" and points me to Leviticus. There are TWO days, he says. And of course, in tradition, yes, there are. He then retrieves his Christian bible and reads the verses to me. I respond by mumbling the Hebrew translations and he continues to correct me when I say that the harvest was 'raised up' ... in the Christian bible it says it was waived about, I guess.

Then, almost as an insult he says, "You must be Reform, eh? Maybe someday you'll become Orthodox and really know your stuff!" He then talks about Easter and the crucifixion and blah blah blah. A barista approaches, mouthing "Are you okay?" The guy eventually shuts up and walks away.

It was like he was challenging me. Like he could see a sign above my head that says "Pick on me! I'm the Reform girl reading Torah in a tea shop! Please, quiz me!"

But it's bigger than that. He stood above me and I sat. I was below him. He reciting words from his Christian bible proving he knows better than I about the tradition. But I knew. Why didn't I just say "Listen man, this is the Diaspora, we do things differently. Not everything in the bible is word for word nowadays. It isn't the precision that matters, it's the passion." But I didn't. Why? I felt intimidated. Unprepared.

Why?

It's Good Friday. Beware one and all. These used to be the days when the Jews got nervous and skittish. Blood in matzo and all that. Mrph.

What a day. Chunks of meat in my ranch and getting lectured by the Christian on my own holiday. Slap! Slap! Slap!

Understanding the Misunderstood: The Bible

I had the pleasure of listening to the illustrious and brilliant scholar James Kugel not once today, but twice! I mean, this is the man behind The Bible As It Was and How to Read the Bible: A Guide to Scripture, Then and Now. I've known his name for years, and every time an amazing scholar enters my orbit, I'm elated. Kugel's big thing is understanding the Bible by understanding those who understood the Bible. Is that confusing? It shouldn't be. Kugel focuses on the evolution of how people understood the Bible and how we understand them and the Bible ourselves. Still confused? Okay, let's do this. Let's talk about what people call the "outside books," those that ended up in the Apocrypha or Pseudepigrapha. These books essentially attempt to understand the books of the Bible with a particular end in mind.

Kugel sees four points by which people in ancient times (he offered that it likely was around 500 BCE) started to look at the Bible:

1. The Bible is fundamentally cryptic
2. The Bible is a book of lessons -- aim is not merely history, but guidance
3. All texts agree with one another, there is no contradiction
4. All texts are divinely inspired

Okay, so that's good and well, right? But what does it mean for us. Let's look at an example.

In the beginning -- that is, in Genesis -- Adam is told that if he eats from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, he surely shall die. If you recall the story, Adam ate from the tree and didn't die. So what gives? Assuming that the Bible is cryptic, there's a greater meaning here. Assuming the Bible is a book of lessons, there's a lesson here. The text can't be a contradiction, so we have to figure that out, and the text is divinely inspired, so it just has to work. Let's work this out.

Two books -- especially the books of Ben Sira and Fourth Ezra -- tackle this issue in their own special way. The idea is that the "you surely shall die" bit is understood as you are now a "person who WILL die." The assumption, then, is that before Adam and Eve ate from the tree, they were meant to be immortal, and after eating from the tree they didn't die instantly, but the result of the sin is that they're meant to die eventually. Then we quip, what about that Tree of Life, then? Was that something from which they would have needed to eat every now and again in order to stay invigorated during eternal life? But let's not go there.

Then we have to ask -- because every explanation in the "outside books" and other commentaries always produces and equally frustrating question -- what about divine justice? Just because Adam and Eve screwed up and their punishment was eventual death, why should their descendants be visited with the sins of the fathers? After all, elsewhere the Bible talks about this not being the protocol. The explanation is simple: It wasn't the act, but the inclination to sin evident in Adam and Eve, that makes us mortal and insists upon eventual death. 

So we figure out the cryptic meaning, the lesson (inclination to sin = bad), the contradiction in the text is gone (even the visiting of sins of the father on the sons), and because all of those items are qualified, the text is provable (er, cough) as divinely inspired. Right? Right. Oh that feels so good. 

Kugel emphasizes the fact that texts are not, despite what we might want to think, immutable. This, of course, is incredibly vivid in my experience as a blogger -- people bring their baggage with them to every post, every text I write up. I can't change that, I can only embrace it and hope that it works itself out in a productive (and not destructive) way. I'd say 60 percent of the time it does, and the other 40 percent, it doesn't. Sometimes, what people bring to a text is far more destructive than productive. 

When considering the Bible and its extant texts, it is clear in the "outside works" that the authors have their own baggage at the table with them while writing/gleaning/revealing the text. We have expectations for texts depending on the genre we identify it as. Kugel gave the example of a letter, which starts "Dear ..." He said, "Dear?! We barely know each other!" The assumption, however, is that within the genre of the letter, "Dear" is a simple, typical, benign letter opener. But you look at a text and see it as a genre and you make your suppositions about it based on that information. 

So, I guess the same could be said for my blog. People come here, see it as a blog post written by me, probably with the assumption that it's about me, for me. Added that you have the baggage that an individual chucks with them, and that's what makes for a recipe for disaster. 

It's a delicate balance, and the theory works for anything and everything that is written -- be it Bible or a blog post. 

Stay tuned! I also want to blog about what he had to say about the two instances of G-d telling Avram to go forth (lech lecha!) and how Jubilees and other texts happen to reconcile the issue. It's fascinating, and maybe I can talk @DovBear into letting me chuck this and the upcoming post on his blog. 

And now? I'm going to finish up what's on my agenda for the night and try to track down a copy of "Life of Brian." Kugel quoted some hilarious lines from the Sermon on the Mount scene regarding the cryptic nature of the Bible :) The great thing about Kugel is that he's 100 percent brilliant, and his knowledge of language and the history thereof is not to be compared. Oh, and he has the perfect balance of jokes/information to keep his listener informed and involved. I only hope to have such mad skills as a teacher someday. 

Sidenote: Of Philo, regarding his birth and death dates, Kugel said: "In one era, and out the other!" I was rolling!

"Light is Hidden Away for the Righteous Ones"

This week, we begin the cycle of Torah reading all over again with the first parshah: Bereshit. So it says "In the beginning ..." I've blogged in the past I do believe about this portion, and it's one of my favorites. It's not just because there's this freshness about starting the year again, reliving the steps of the words of Torah year after year, but also because of how it begins. The entire Torah starts off with the letter bet, which looks like this:

What's so special about this? The rabbis and sages taught that this beginning letter serves a special purpose, considering one might suspect that TaNaKh would begin with an aleph to follow some type of higher principle. Because Hebrew is written right to left, we are taught (via Midrash Bereshit Rabbah) that just as the bet is closed on the top and at the sides, you are not to investigate what is below, what is above, or what comes before -- rather, you must investigate and seek out what is in front.

Some other suggested takes on the use of bet as the first letter of Torah? One sage thought it was because the letter bet connotes power because of the force of the air (ruach) being spoken forth, and another thought that by starting with a bet rather than an aleph, the almighty was in effect revealing that man did not know the first principles about creation (I kind of like this one). Also, for more on this topic, check out Ilana-Davita's blog post on the same topic!

I won't get into a long discussion about the parshah itself, because I'm offering up this stellar new video series called G-dcast , which throws up a new animated piece of the series every Monday. This week's piece features Rabbi Lawrence Kushner and discusses the purpose of "light" in this week's portion and why we have two creations of light in the first creation story of Genesis 1. It's really a fascinating and cool little animated video. Give it a go, will you?


G-dcast: Parshat Bereshit from g-dcast on Vimeo.

A few randoms.

A few of the randoms to help you sleep at night.

• BIBLES: I bought my first Holy Bible today. It's the Revised Standard Version, and it cost me about $12. Yes, when I say Holy Bible I mean the whole thing -- that Hebrew Bible and the new stuff, too. I don't do the whole "New" and "Old" bit, simply because, well, some people just don't like the way it sounds. Some, they say, think that by calling the Hebrew Bible "old," it's implying false or impractical or completely out of date and obscenely wrong. So I've got the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Bible (that works, right?) here in my clutches. I owned a Holy Bible once, back in the day, that was a gift from my parents when I was a wee lass. It was a Precious Moments bible, and I loved -- I repeat loved -- that thing because of the neat pictures it had. I remember at a very early age trying to get through Genesis, but all the so-and-sos begatting so-and-sos left me feeling empty, so I went back to the pictures. I will say, though, that it was, well, unsettling to have to buy this Holy Bible. Why? Because I'm moronic sometimes. Yes, every scholar should probably have a copy of the working Holy Bible, but I guess I've just never had a use for it before. But now, with my Bible Topics class, I have to prepare to delve into the Christian side of things. It makes me a little nervous ... everything I've ever read out of Paul just makes me want to ... well, that's a different discussion. Let's just say that I prefer my JPS Tanakh. 
• NAMES: I realized that Chaviva is a more practical name than some might thing. Yes, it might be difficult for the masses (Jew and gentile alike) to pronounce, but when I was walking through the dining hall tonight I kept hearing someone yelling "AMANDA! AMANDA!" and I, of course, looked. It isn't like I know anyone here, but I still had to perk up my old ears because, well, for nearly 25 years people have been yelling "Amanda!" I'd prefer to be able to not perk the ears any more with such a common name. I mean, how often do you hear someone yelling "CHAVI!?!?!" across a college dining hall? Yah, I'd know it was for me.
• NERVES (not of the steel variety): I've decided that the stomach ache I've been nursing since Monday evening is a big pile of nerves mixed with stress stewing in my insides. I get so worked up about things, even when, well, it isn't outwardly obvious. I'm really focused on doing things right, especially this first semester. It will likely result in anti-social behavior (sorry fellow graduate students -- read: Jess!), but I'm going to devote myself to studying olam in the realm of Qohelet, mastering the Hebrew language, and hopefully passing some tests and writing some massively lengthy papers. I figure if I can get through my first semester with brilliant, flying colors, then I will feel a bit better about everything.
• LUNGS: I've also decided that I need to breathe. 
• KASHERING: Unfortunately, I have yet to set foot in the kosher dining facilities. You see, I'm over here, and they're over there, and it's a bit of a jaunt. Yes, there are people who live even further south in the alumni dorms who I know are kosher and who trek over to Nosh for meals, but, I'm just not there yet. I mean, will it be awkward if I go into the kosher dining hall wearing capri pants, a tank top and a cardigan? Is there a typical dress code for fitting into the kosher dining hall? In truth, it isn't that that's keeping me, it really is the distance. It's a schlep and a half, and if the Hillel building were actually functioning, well, it'd be worth going over there for dinner at Nosh, then studying at Hillel. But that's a no-go so my inspiration is nil. On the other hand, I have eaten vegetarian since being here (well, if you don't count the chicken at Panda Express on Sunday when I had visitors), so that's a start, right? No opportunity to mix meat and milk there. 
• GRAD GUIDELINES: Someone really needs to write a book about the tricks to graduate school. On day one I was thinking, so I bought this UCONN t-shirt, right? I figured, school spirit, a new t-shirt, it's a win-win. But then I started thinking ... if I'm a grad student, should my loyalty continue to reside with my undergraduate university? Should I not show grad school pride? Is it one of those, once you're done you can exude pride kind of things? It was suggested that the UCONN t-shirt should be worn passively, perhaps under a sweater or other shirt. As a graduate student, am I to get involved on campus with groups? Or should I steer clear? What are the policies on campus pride, darn't!? I mean, I'm not about to go to football or basketball games, simply because they won't compare to Husker games (I'm a Husker for life), but add to that that I'm a graduate student and it seems to label me "apathetic, disinterested, nose-in-a-book student." Someone, please tell me the rules of the game?

Well, I think that's all for tonight. I'm trying to extend my awake hours so I can adjust for those nights that I really, really need to be awake to study or write or read or cry. This going to bed at 10 p.m. thing just isn't going to fly in this world. 

The Ultimate Goal.

"I have set God before me at all times" (Psalms 16:8)