Bereshit -- In The Beginning

On the Shabbat just past, we read Parshat Bereshit (Genesis 1:1-6:8). I wanted to get this up in advance, but that's not the way it worked this week. However, since Bereshit is the beginning of the Torah, I want to start with some thoughts about Bereshit rather than picking up the task later on.

There is so much going on in the text of Bereshit. The world is created, right down to the very last detail of creeping things on the earth and a day of rest. Adam and Eve, the first human beings named in the Torah, succumb to temptation and are thrown out of the ideal world God created for them. Their sons, Cain and Abel, indulge in a rivalry that ends up with Abel dead and Cain exiled. Adam and Eve and Cain all have more children and these children and their children spread across the face of the earth until their descendants start to anger God. The last descendants of Adam and Eve mentioned in Bereshit are Noah and his sons, though the story of their adventures isn't covered until the following parshah.

Delving into this richness of narrative to pull out one or two specific things to talk about is difficult. Perhaps that is why we read and re-read the Torah every year. After much thought, I realized that what I want to write about this year is the concept of b'tzelem Elohim, that we are created in the image of God.


Obviously, Michaelangelo and many other artists have fostered the idea that the image of God means that we physically resemble God the Creator. Or, probably more accurately, God the Creator resembles human beings.

There's a joke that goes
Q: "How do we know God is a baseball fan?"
A: "Because the Bible starts 'In the Big Inning'."

I love baseball, therefore God must love baseball, too. I have two legs and two arms and one head, therefore God must also have two legs and two arms and one head. Makes sense, doesn't it?

But I cherish the idea of an Unknowable God, One Who cannot be defined by -- or restricted to -- human form. And if this Unknowable God created me and you  b'tzelem Elohim, what does that mean?

Human beings, alone among God's Creation, were created  b'tzelem Elohim. So I look at what differentiates human beings from the rest of Creation and I keep coming back to the same thing -- the urge to create. I can already hear some objections out there -- that birds and other animals build nests and structures. I agree that many animals build. I disagree that these animals are creating something -- that is, that they are making something which has never been seen before. One bird's nest, one beaver's dam, is much like the next.

Human beings, on the other hand, are always creating. Some of our creations are beautiful, such as great art or poetry. Some of our creations are useful, such as buildings and bridges. Some of our creations are both beautiful and utilitarian, such as the Taj Mahal or quilts. And some of our creations are detrimental and even cruel, such as atomic bombs and leg-hold traps.

What all of these things have in common, regardless of their beauty or utility or destructive potential is that human beings conceived of them and then caused them to come into existence. I believe that this drive to create something new is what separates humans from the rest of God's Creation, as well as what makes us b'tzelem Elohim, made in God's image.

The Three Weeks, The Nine Days, and Tisha B'Av

Tomorrow, June 29, is the 17th of Tammuz on the Jewish calendar and marks the beginning of the Three Weeks before Tisha B'Av, which commemorates a variety of disasters in Jewish history including the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. All three weeks before Tisha B'Av are a kind of mourning period during which many restrictions are practiced by some Jews, with the last Nine Days being an even more intense period of mourning.

I'm thinking about this tonight because I haven't posted much to this blog recently. That's because there's not much going on between Shavuot and the beginning of Elul in the Jewish calendar -- apart from Tisha B'Av. Also, a friend recently tried to start a discussion about the Three Weeks by sending me a long list of the restrictions during this period. A few of the most notable (for those who don't want to go read the whole article) are:

-- No weddings or other public celebrations.
-- No listening to music.
-- No haircuts or shaving.

During the Nine Days, additional restrictions are added, including:

-- Purchasing only necessities (i.e., nothing for pleasure).
-- Not planting flowers and trees or doing home improvements.
-- Not wearing freshly-laundered clothing.

On the evening of Tisha B'Av, the book of Eicha (Lamentations) is read using a special melody. People sit on the floor rather than on chairs because one should not be comfortable. Tisha B'Av is also a full fast day -- from sundown to sundown -- just like Yom Kippur.

All of this is prelude to admitting that I do not observe the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, nor Tisha B'Av, though various members of my family do so. And I have reasons for choosing not to observe, which I will get into in a moment. I know people who do follow all of the restrictions and I respect them for their choice, but I honestly feel that it is not one that I can make for myself.

The article I mentioned earlier states: The "Three Weeks" between the 17th of Tammuz and the Tisha B'Av have historically been days of misfortune and calamity for the Jewish people.  

This is the first part of why I choose not to observe this period as  a time of mourning. I've read and researched the catalog of disasters and calamities that have been historically assigned to the Three Weeks. It's pretty clear to me that some calamities for which no date is known have been tossed into the mix to increase the feelings of doom and despair. Not that that's a bad thing -- at least we confine all this catastrophe to one period rather than moping about it on separate days throughout the year. But there's a strong element of superstition at play as well, a sort of sympathetic magic. To avoid joy just because sad things once happened on the same day simply doesn't make sense to me. It makes the Three Weeks into some kind of Bermuda Triangle of diasaster -- avoid it at all costs because something else bad might happen.

The biggest catastrophes assigned to Tisha B'Av are, of course, the destruction of both the First and Second Temples. And this is the main reason why I have chosen not to observe Tisha B'Av and the period preceding it. I honestly believe that the destruction of the Temples was -- in the long haul -- a positive thing for the Jews. 

If the Temples had continued to stand, I do not think Jews would have survived to modern times. Temple Judaism was an ancient religion, made for a people who needed the sacrifices, the pageantry, the mystery. When we lost the Temple, we were forced to come up with creative solutions to keep the faith of Abraham alive. Rabbinic Judaism was that solution. In my opinion, it was a brilliant solution. Rabbinic Judaism has kept us together right up to the modern era.

I, for one, do not want to see the Temple rebuilt. I don't want the re-institution of Temple practices and sacrifices. 

One person to whom I offered these arguments asked in return "Do you want to see the coming of Moshiach - and the end of our exile?" For some people, the restoration of the Temple and ingathering of exiles is coincident with the coming of the Moshiach.

I gave her question a lot of thought, and decided that my answer would depend a lot on what is meant by Moshiach (Messiah). And exile, for that matter. (Now I feel like Bill Clinton.....)

The more I study mentions of Moshiach in the Tanakh, the less certain I am about what Moshiach is. Is Moshiach an individual human being? An ideal period which is, regrettably, in our future? It seems to me that much of the mythology around Moshiach  (and I use "mythology" in its anthropological sense -- a popular belief or assumption that has grown up around someone or something -- not as a term indicating that something that is untrue) comes from Talmudic times rather than from Biblical times. If Moshiach is an anointed leader from the line of David (which would be a little hard to establish at this remove, but I don't discount miracles) who will unite b'nai Israel (the children of Israel; i.e., the Jews) and bring in an age of universal peace -- of course I want to see that. 

Given the deep divisions in modern Jewish life, I think uniting b'nai Israel would be a miracle all on its own.

What is exile? In the times of the Bible, exile truly meant isolation, a rift between home/Israel and Diaspora. Today, with instant communications and global awareness, exile doesn't mean quite the same thing. In many ways, Jews today are more connected to Israel than at any time in the last 2,000 years or so. We can go there pretty much at will, we can find out what is happening there with minimal effort, we can help our people with our money and actions, we can voice our opinions, if we are Israeli citizens we can vote even if we aren't physically there.

In what ways are we exiled today? We have the right to return to eretz Israel. The only thing that keeps a Jew today from making aliyah is personal choice and most American Jews choose not to return. 

Having written all that, I had to laugh a little because the name of this blog is "Living in Galut" and galut means exile.The exile I had in mind when I started this blog was physical or geographic isolation from centers of Jewish life. Yet even here in the "Jewish wilderness of New Mexico" I can choose to lead a Jewish life. And, even here in the Jewish wilderness of New Mexico, I could make the choice to return to a richer Jewish community, or to make the move to Israel.

Shavuot

Shavuot is often trivialized in the modern world. It falls at an awkward time of year, after many religious schools have finished up classes. It doesn't have any big symbols like building a sukkah for Sukkot, nor any major rituals like the Pesach seder. However, there is a lot to like about Shavuot and it has become one of my favorite holidays.

Like most Jewish holidays, Shavuot has both an ancient agricultural meaning and a more recent (though still pretty old) rabbinic meaning. Agriculturally, Shavuot is known as Chag HaBikurim, the festival of the first fruits or Chag HaKatsir, the festival harvest. Through these names, Shavuot is tied to the wheat harvest and to the custom of bringing the first and best of the harvest to the Temple in ancient times.

The agricultural connotations have little meaning to Jews living in Galut, as we do. Therefore, the later rabbinical layers have come to take on some very special meanings. My personal favorite is Z'man Matan Torah -- The Time when the Torah was Given. The tradition is that on Shavuot all Jews -- not only those who were living at the time, but all Jews in all generations -- stood together at Mt. Sinai and received the Torah.
To remember receiving the Torah, every year on Shavuot, we stand again in our congregations all over the world as the Ten Commandments are read from the Torah.

In anticipation of this re-enactment, many groups and synagogue hold a tikkun leyl Shavuot the night before the Ten Commandments are read. A tikkun is an all-night study session intended to get you in the right frame of mind to receive Torah. Receiving Torah, after all, is a dynamic and ongoing process.

Our local community does not hold an all-night tikkun, so this year we invited some friends over for a small personal tikkun. Various people promised to teach something, or to lead a discussion, but it was kind of a free-form evening and we figured we would go until we ran out of things to say.

First of all, we had to rearrange our family room to make room for everyone, including comfortable pillows and blankets in case people (or children) felt like taking a nap.

Okay, the pillows and blankets hadn't arrived yet when that picture was taken, but at least there were lots of places to sit and lounge around. We also set up a tent on the back patio so that the youngest members of the group could settle down out of the way.

The early part of the evening was somewhat oriented toward the kids, with the adults having various discussions in the background. They made a delicious Torah cake, where they had to look up verses in the Tanakh (Jewish Bible) to figure out the ingredients. Fortunately, I had checked out the verses the night before because there were a couple of errors in the version I found. The corrected version is available as a PDF.

Other kid-oriented activities: We read a midrash about b'nai Israel receiving the Ten Commandments from G-d at Mt. Sinai. The entire decalogue was said all at once and it was hard for the people to understand, so they asked Moses to go up alone and receive the word of G-d. So we stood 10 adults around the room with abbreviated versions of each commandment and we read them all at once. Afterwards, we had a nice discussion of what the kids actually heard.

Around midnight, we took a short walk around the neighborhood and then went out into the back yard to gaze up at the sky. Another midrash tells how, at midnight on erev Shavuot, the heavens open up and prayers are heard.

We also had a couple of simple crafts available for the kids -- ones that required little to no adult supervision -- such as tissue paper flowers.

One of the participants prepared a list of topics she was ready to talk about, and has allowed me to reproduce it here:

Jews and Brisket
The Changes of Our People - Our Nation
Intermarriage
Chinese Food
British Jews vs American Jews and Self Identity
Who is a Jew
Patriarchs, Mad and Imperfect
The First Born Jewish Son, Syndrome
Belief levels, Mystic vs "Reality"
Prepare to be Assimilated
Jewish Mothers and Food
Why don't we listen harder to our Converts?
Do We Need the Diaspora - Cue Community
Jews and the "Swan Lake Syndrome"
Jewish souls
Being Isaak
Jewish Identity in America Today, from my point of view
The connection between Midrash and OCD in Jews
To Frum or not too Frum
30 minutes crash courses and introduction to Judaism
The Flood
The history of the Tikkun

What is truly interesting about this list was that, over the course of the evening and early morning, we touched on almost all of these topics, even though our "official" list of topics was slightly different:

Jewish views toward death and afterlife
What makes a Jewish community?
Day and Night in Jewish Thought
What is holy/holiness/a holy people?
The Evil Eye, amulets, and superstitions
Why being a Red Sox fan is similar to being Jewish

We even had a participant via webcam from England. I hate to confess that I don't really remember most of what she talked about because I kind of dozed off right about then, but it was nice to have yet another point of view presented.

In the morning, we woke up the kids and ate blintzes and fruit. And then we went to the synagogue, where I got to read the 10 commandments from the Torah. One of my favorite Torah readings of all time.

All in all, it was a very satisfying experience. If you don't have an all-night tikkun where you live, think about putting one together next year.

I Didn't Forget ... I Just Got Busy

I didn't forget to write about Bamidbar, this week's Torah reading. I just got overwhelmed by preparing for two of my children to move back into the house for the summer. And I really wanted to write about Tikkun Leyl Shavuot instead, anyway.

Maybe tomorrow night while I am on the road to La-La Land to pick up the offspring, I will take some time to write about what we are planning to do for Shavuot.

Counting the Omer

I don't know why I said I would write about counting the omer. It's not really a custom that I personally perform. Here's how it works -- every night, starting with the second night of Pesach, you say a blessing and then a formula that states the day of the omer. Tonight, for example, is the 38th day of the omer. (Jewish days begin at sundown, which is another topic for some day.)

Though I don't formally count the omer each night, I do keep track of the omer. When trying to figure out why, I came up with two reasons:

First of all, counting the omer is a commandment. So I follow the spirit of the law here, if not the absolute letter.

Second, counting the omer ends and culminates with the holiday of Shavuot, the day on which we received the Torah on Mt. Sinai. Apart from being one of the three major festivals of the Jewish year (along with Sukkot and Pesach), Shavuot commemorates the day we (b'nai Israel) truly became a people with a common purpose. I love this significance of the omer.

Since there's not a whole lot involved with counting the omer and I don't do it anyway, I'm not going to explain how to do it.

Some thoughts on Behar/Bechukotai

This coming Shabbat, we will read the double parshah of Behar/Bechukotai. It is found in Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34.

I thought preparing a short discussion of the weekly parshah would be a relatively simple task, but -- as so often happens when one studies Torah -- I found myself going in an unexpected direction.

Here's the way it works. Sometimes, for some people, that is. You read the text from the Torah and start thinking about it. Maybe you read a few commentaries written by learned men and women from the past and the present. As you continue to think, other things get mixed in. Maybe something going on in your life; maybe something going on in the world around you. And before you know it, you have a different perspective on what the Torah is teaching.

I suppose that is why we read the Torah over and over again. Each year we read the end of the Torah, the death of Moses, and immediately start again with Creation. Each year, we find that something different speaks to us, or that where we are in our lives brings a different understanding of what we have read so many times before.

Behar/Bechukotai is what we call a double parshah -- two for the price of one. This happens because Jews run on a lunar calendar and the rest of the world runs on a solar calendar. Because Jewish months are not quite the same length, every so often we toss in an extra month so that our fall holidays continue to occur in the fall and our spring holidays in the spring. No biggie -- there are whole books (and web sites) devoted to keeping track of these things.

Behar means "on the mountain". In this case, the mountain is Mt. Sinai, where the Law was given to Moses and accepted by b'nai Israel. As you might expect, Behar contains many laws. Bechukotai continues this theme -- it means "by/about My laws". These parshiot are the last two readings in the book of Vayikra (Leviticus) and, as just about anyone who leyns Torah would say, about time. There's not a lot of story in this book and parts of it are hard to slog through.

Behar starts with laws concerning the shmittah year, the seventh year in which land must be given a rest with no planting or harvesting going on. Then there's a discussion of the Jubilee, the 50th year, in which a variety of things happen. Both the shmittah years and the Jubilee years apply only to the land of Israel. After that, there are a number of laws about dealing with your "brother" or "fellow" -- in either case, these laws refer to how we are to treat fellow Jews.

Bechukotai is known primarily for a long list of rather gruesome curses, though some blessings bracket the curses and there are more laws about vows and assessments toward the end of the parshah.

Now that we've laid the ground work, here's what happens.

Two news stories caught my attention over the past week. In one, a homeless man came to the defense of a woman who was being attacked and ended up being stabbed himself. He lay on the sidewalk, bleeding, for over an hour while people walked past him. Some stopped to look; one even took a picture with a cell phone. By the time someone called 911 and EMTs responded, this man had died.

The second story is even more chilling for me. An off-shore drilling rig, which exploded while killing at least 11 people, is now spewing oil into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. This story is very personal for me. I used to work in the Oil & Gas division of the Department of Interior in New Orleans, reviewing permits for offshore drilling rigs. I was there far too long ago for this particular rig to have been something I would have had any responsibility for, but I know a lot about offshore drilling rigs and the life that the workers on these rigs lead. The Gulf Coast waters were my back yard for a significant portion of my life. I know just how fragile the ecology of the Gulf coast is and my heart aches every time I see the pictures from the Gulf. When I read the place names, I can picture each. And I can imagine the devastation coming to places I have known and loved.

So what do these two stories have to do with this week's Torah reading? Good question.

Shmittah is practice of leaving the land to its own devices every seventh year -- neither planting crops nor harvesting perennial crops such as fruit trees. These laws were given, at least in part, to teach the nomadic Jews about stewardship of the land they would one day live upon. Not only were they being taught respect for the land, but also respect for the owner of the land -- who is not any individual, but God. God gives us the use of the land.... and it is our responsibility to take care of God's land. If we extend this notion of God's ownership of the land to the entire world, what do oil spills say about our use of the gift of God's Creation?

Ethical treatment is primarily geared at treatment of fellow Jews. Many of the laws in parshah Bechukotai deal with how we are to treat our "brothers", meaning other Jews. We must not cheat them in business affairs, or charge them interest, or -- should a fellow Jew become indebted to us and give us service to pay off that debt -- treat him like we treat our slaves. We don't, as a rule, own slaves these days, but the principle stands -- we should respect and uphold the community of fellow Jews.

First ourselves and our families, then the Jews in our local community, then Jews as a worldwide community, and only after that do we have a responsibility to non-Jews. But what does it say about us if we can ignore any person in need?

What I am taking away from my study of Behar/Bechukotai this week, this year, is something that I already know, but which perhaps I need to reminded of. I have a responsibility toward the Earth. I have a responsibility toward other people. As Hillel says in Mishnah Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) 1:14:

If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
If I am for myself alone, what am I?
And if not now, when?

The Way It Will Be ... I Hope

Too much is going on -- if not around the house, then in my head. So I've come up with a plan to post to this blog twice a week from now on. Here's the general plan:

Sunday or Monday -- Something about the Parsha Hashavuot, the weekly Torah reading or, depending on whether a holiday is imminent, the Torah readings associated with the holiday. I'm going to be posting something early in the week for the upcoming Shabbat.

Thursday or Friday -- Something else. It could be related to what's going on in the Jewish calendar (e.g., Rosh Hodesh or holidays), something about Jewish living or symbols (e.g., kashruth - keeping kosher, mezuzah, tallit) or even something more general (e.g., what is kavvanah, tzedakah, mitzvah - give you a hint, a mitzvah is not a "good deed").

Because today is Friday, the first post under this new scheme will be delivered no later than Monday, May 3. I'll write something about the double Parshah Behar/Bechukotai (Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34), which will be read in synagogues around the world on Saturday, May 8, 2010. I'm not sure yet what direction these weekly divrei Torah (words of Torah) will take. Perhaps some ideas of things to do or discuss with your family, perhaps my own thoughts on the reading, perhaps something else altogether.

For the later post next week, I will probably talk about counting the omer, a ritual we engage in between the second night of Passover and Shavuot.