Torah portion Genesis 18:1-22:4
Collected from my thoughts, Midrash (usually Genesis Rabbah), TBI’s Torah study group and the books Midrashic Women by Judith Baskin and People of the Covenant by a group of non-Jewish scholars who are occasionally obviously anti-Israel but otherwise have good points. I blame no one but myself for all my negative thoughts about Abraham’s and Sarah’s behaviors.
The parsha begins with Abraham sitting at the entrance of his tent on a very hot day. Three "men" appeared before him; some say they were all angels and some say one was God, Himself. Abraham had many servants, but he hustled about to serve these men himself. He asked Sarah to prepare cakes of choice flour and a servant boy to prepare a tender calf. Abraham served these cakes with the calf and with curds and milk! This could well have been a Biblically kosher meal, but it most certainly was not a Rabbinically kosher meal. (Biblically kosher because the Torah does not say not to serve milk and meat products together. It says not to boil a kid in its mother's milk, which I interpret as an injunction against insensitivity to the mother since we are also not allowed to take eggs in front of a mother bird or kill a calf in front of its mother.)
Even Moses never got to see and talk to God man to man the way Abraham did. I wonder if God knew the founder of Judaism needed more attention. Or maybe this was Abraham’s reward for waiting on them himself, instead of having his servants do it. Abraham's relationship with God was familiar, almost. Because Abraham's God was friendly and is called El-Shaddai and El-Roy in this parsha, and El was the name of the Canaanite high God, some scholars have believed Abraham's God was not indeed the God of Moses, who resembled the Midianite high God, who was a God of volcanoes, fire and war.
The men/angels/Lord ate while Abraham hovered, ready to do whatever they asked. The one presumed to be God said he would return this time next year and Sarah would have a son. Sarah, listening in the tent behind them, laughed quietly to herself; she had stopped menstruating. "Now that I am withered, am I to have enjoyment, with my husband so old?" God asked Abraham why Sarah laughed. Sarah was frightened and lied about her laughing. But you must realize, for 24 years they had been hearing this; I think a moment's disbelief would be expected.
(Sarah is the first of three very beautiful women who were all related and all barren until God intervened. One, Rebekah, was only able to conceive after her husband, Isaac, prayed to God for a child. Two of them, Sarah and Rachel, did not conceive until they gave their husbands their maids as concubines. A fourth relative, Leah, understood precedence and gave Jacob her maid as a concubine when she wished to resume bearing children. If I were placed in such a position, I would interview maids until I found one who was not only capable, but also hirsute and odiferous!)
Abraham accompanied the "men" on their way towards Sodom. God mulled over whether or not to tell Abraham his plans to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Finally he decided to tell him the purpose of the trip: to see if they had mended their ways. Abraham, who must have been thinking partially of his nephew Lot, answered, "Will you sweep away the innocent along with the guilty? What if there should be fifty innocent...? Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?" Abraham deals until God agrees to spare the land if there be but ten innocent. Then He and Abraham parted.
Lot met the "men" at the gate to Sodom and entreated them to stay with him. He prepared a feast for them. The townspeople began shouting at the door for him to bring them out. Lot went outside and tried to bargain with them to leave the "men" alone. As a woman, I truly hope he knew who was in his house, because what he does next to spare the men is terrible: he offers the townspeople his virgin daughters to do with as they please if they leave the men alone. The townspeople tried to break the door down, but the "men" grabbed Lot, brought him inside and struck those outside with a blinding light. The “men” urged Lot to get his family out of the city before the Lord destroyed it, to flee and not stop or even to look back. Lot was able not able to persuade his sons in law, but he took his two unmarried daughters and his wife and they fled. Lot's wife, however, looked back and was turned to a pillar of salt.
Abraham hurried the next morning to see that Sodom, Gomorrah and the Plains were all destroyed, with smoke rising still. We can only wonder if Abraham knew that Lot had been saved. The poor guy has repeatedly been promised that he will father a great nation and Lot is the closest thing he has to a son. In the paragraph below, you will notice that since only Lot’s virgin daughters survived, he almost did not continue his own line.
Lot was so afraid he and his daughters went to live in a cave. The girls, believing they would never again see another man, got their father drunk and had sex with him so they might have children. It is interesting, because God so repeatedly commands against incest, that the Davidic line has this incestuous start. (Not to mention all the half-sisters and nieces that became wives of the patriarchs.)
Abraham took his household to live between Kadesh and Shur. While traveling in Gerar, unfriendly territory, Abraham again said Sarah was his sister. King Abimelech (who was almost tricked again later by Isaac) took Sarah, but God appeared to him in a dream and warned he would die because Sarah was a married woman. Abimelech had not defiled her and protested that he was innocent and had believed lies. Abimelech called Abraham to him and ran him off after giving him many presents, including sheep and oxen, male and female slaves. So again Abraham profits from her!
However, after this, the Lord gave Sarah a son, whom they named Isaac. Abraham circumcised him at eight days old.
In Genesis Rabbah, the rabbis say that the matriarchs were barren because the Lord longed for their prayers. Once they turned their hearts fully to Him, He heeded their prayers. Moreover, when Sarah birthed, He filled the wombs of numerous barren women, healed many of deafness and blindness and insanity, removed doubt from those who did not believe, and even increased the brightness of the sun and moon, just because His heart was so gladdened by Sarah's prayer. Sarah was even said to produce fountains of milk so that noble women of many nations could bring their children to be suckled by her! The text says, 'Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would suckle children!' even though she only had one child. (Various Rabbis in Genesis Rabbah offer a number of other reasons for barrenness that seem a bit odd, like so she will remain beautiful to her husband… for 89 years, long past when their relationship was strained by the lack of children, long past when he could have divorced her for being barren? I prefer to believe that since they were all related, they may have had a family tendency towards inability to conceive.)
When Isaac was weaned, Abraham celebrated with a great feast. Then Sarah, watching Ishmael “playing” (which the Rabbis interpreted as playing lewdly or meanly) asked Abraham to cast away Hagar and Ishmael because she did not want them to receive Abraham's inheritance. (I like Judith Baskin’s comment, “Here, as elsewhere in biblical narratives, questionable human actions, driven by the most elemental emotions, are presented as fulfillments of a larger, predetermined plan.” If Hagar and Ishmael had been allowed to stay, Ishmael may have thwarted the divine promise that Isaac would carry on Abraham’s name as founder of a great nation.) So after losing Lot, Abraham now also loses Ishmael.
Abraham was upset to force his first child out, but God reassured him Ishmael would also live to found a great nation. Abraham gave them water and bread and sent them on their way. They became lost and Hagar cried, afraid that her son would die of thirst. An angel of God told Hagar that God heard the boy's cries and opened her eyes so she might see a well of water. Ishmael drank, and from there on, God was with him.
During this time period, Abimelech and Abraham made a pact not to deal falsely with each other. Abraham gave sheep and oxen to Abimelech. They agreed that Abraham dug and owned a well that had been in dispute. (They named it Beer-sheba and it would come up again later, when Jacob stopped there for the night.)
The parsha ends when God tells Abraham told to sacrifice his favorite son, Isaac, the son he waited a lifetime to have! Human sacrifice was common among pagans because they believed in order to guarantee future fertility, they had to sacrifice their firstborn child to fertility gods. Abraham may have been horrified, but we do not know it. Then again, he may have recalled how many times God had promised him that through Isaac, he would father a great nation, so maybe he did not believe it would actually happen. In any case, Abraham saddled his ass and took two servants and Isaac on a journey to Mount Moriah, which would later become the Temple Mount.
On the third day, Abraham asked his servants to stay and wait for them to return after they worship. He had Isaac carry the wood for his own funeral! Isaac asked his father where the ram was for the burnt offering and Abraham answered that God would provide it. When they reached the proper place, Abraham built an altar, built a fire and bound Isaac, who could have fought for his life, but apparently did not. Abraham had the knife ready when an angel of the Lord calls Abraham to stop. Abraham had passed this test. A ram appears in the thicket. Abraham released his son and offered the ram instead. The angel promised again that Abraham shall have "descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore."
Friday, November 26, 2010
Torah portion Genesis 12:1 – 17:27
Torah portion Genesis 12:1 – 17:27
Collected from my thoughts, my OneNote notes from multiple sources, Midrash (usually Genesis Rabbah), TBI’s Torah study group, Ten Rungs by Martin Buber and the books Midrashic Women by Judith Baskin and People of the Covenant by a group of non-Jewish scholars who are occasionally obviously anti-Israel but otherwise have good points. I blame no one but myself for all my negative thoughts about Abraham’s and Sarah’s behaviors.
A theme here is that we should trust in God and follow his wishes even though many years may pass before we know the full instruction or the outcome. The Lord promised land, which soon after Abram moved, did not support his household. The Lord also promised offspring, but Sarai was barren until she was 90 years old. There were many faith trials (Maimonides outlined ten in Abram's lifetime) but everything turned out well for Abram (who became Abraham) in the end.
The parsha also suggests to me (through Abram’s repeated conversations with God) that maybe in addition to waiting patiently, there may sometimes be a need to ask God in order to receive what is promised us!
In the previous parsha, Abram's father began this journey to Canaan with his family and stopped at Haran, which means crossroads. Torah does not explain the reason for this journey. Abram's father died.
When Abram is 75, God told him (according to the translation Rabbi Martin Buber used, which is different from my JPS edition): "Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto the land that I will show thee." Buber says: "'out of your country' means the dimness you have inflicted on yourself, 'out of your birthplace' means the dimness your mother has inflicted on you, 'out of the house of your father' means the dimness your father inflicted on you... Only then will you be able to go to the land I will show you." (See my thoughts, in italics, below) The Lord promised Abram would father a great nation, his name would be great and he would be a blessing. (Not that Abraham would bless us, but that he will be a blessing - meaning that others will learn and be blessed by Abraham's story.)
People of the Covenant says that within the Bible, there are three references to calculate the date of Abraham's journey. All start from the fourth year of Solomon's reign, which is accepted by science and religion to be accurate within a few years at 960 BCE. The arithmetic leads to dates of 1870, 2055 or 2085. People of the Covenant also says that there is no archaeological evidence that Abraham existed. Nor are there any extrabiblical sources mentioning him.
During this time period economic, environmental and political unrest caused civilizations to come and go quickly and many formerly agricultural types to revert to nomadism or semi nomadism. The Egyptians called wanderers who settled near them ‘Apiru, which later became Hebrew.
However, Jews, Muslims and Christians all claim Abraham as their ancestor. So we will assume that he existed for purposes of this parsha.
Why did God choose Abram? Since the parsha does not state it outright, we wonder and create theories. In Torah study, we discussed in 15:6 the Hebrew word for trust, which is related to word "amen", which means agreement. Abram's trust in God was his righteousness. Moreover, Midrash says Abram's father was an idol maker. Abram scorned worshipping things that could be burned or broken. He actually broke all the idols except the largest one, and then placed the sledgehammer in the lap of this last idol. His father returned and was furious when Abram suggested the big idol crushed all the smaller ones; his father exclaimed that idols cannot move! Abram had thus proved his point.
My thought: Leaving the house of his father could also mean leaving idolatry.
Midrash also says Abram testified mightily on God's behalf. The persons or souls (the word neshama is used in the text) he had acquired and brought with him to the Promised Land were converts (nefesh/souls). Included in these converts were Hagar, the daughter of Pharaoh and Eliezer, the son of Nimrod.
During the famine, Abram and his household left the land God promised him for Egypt. Curious that Promised Land would have severe famine so soon without any human wrongdoing.
Abram did eventually go back to his Promised Land - when he was tossed out on his rear for lying about Sarai. This is a difficult parsha for a woman to read. In Egypt, Abram asked Sarai to say she was his sister because she was very beautiful and someone desiring her might kill him to get her. Both Midrash and Torah say she was indeed his half-sister, so he wasn't completely lying. However, it appears to me he was pimping her so he could profit from her instead of possibly dying because of her. Since he didn't know, but only worried that he might be killed because of her, wasn't his behavior reprehensible? The Torah does not record Sarai's thoughts, but I'll bet they weren't happy ones. (However, Rabbi Maurice, in his devar at TBI, said he imagined a serious conversation between them and Sarai agreeing willingly.) As one lady pointed out in Torah study, at least she was "safe" since she was barren; she would not have a half Egyptian child.
Why wasn't Abram punished instead of Pharaoh? Pharaoh did not know he was taking a married woman. Was he rough with her? How did Pharaoh know that he was being punished by God because of Sarai ? Did God speak to him? My JPS version says simply that Sarai "was taken into Pharaoh's palace" but Rabbi Maurice said she was seized. If Abram had gone after her, I would be inclined to believe so, but the next sentence says because of her, Abram grew rich!
In our conversation later, Rabbi Maurice said he understands why I might not like Abraham very well after reading this parsha. He reminded me that a very serious famine forced them to travel to a foreign land that was very dangerous and beg for food. They were desperate. Sarai, especially, acted very bravely here. He also reminded me that the likeability of our patriarchs and matriarchs was never the point. We agreed that if they were perfect, we’d have less to study. But also he said we would be less likely to identify with them and feel that they were family. Rabbi Maurice said I might learn to identify with Abraham because like him, I firmly believe I should go against what I had been taught (and not taught) about religion by my family and society to vigorously pursue becoming Jewish. He said that Abraham's desire to worship only God in a land of idol worshippers was far more dangerous to him than my situation was likely ever to be for me, but perhaps though my own struggle, I might see how brave he was.
On the journey back to the Promised Land, Abram suggested he and his nephew Lot (who had lived with him since he was orphaned) split up amicably since there was not enough good pasture to support their livestock. Lot took the obviously lush pasture where they were rather than risking the return to the Promised Land. Thus, Abram made Lot happy without violating his own orders from God.
Abram showed great loyalty and bravery when Lot was captured. Lot, by the way, was an ancestor of Ruth, who was an ancestor of David, so it was a good thing Lot was saved! Since Abram only had 318 volunteer soldiers, none of them trained, his victory must have been with God's help. When allied kings offer him loot in reward, he says he wants nothing other than that his soldiers be compensated.
People of the Covenant, which I mentioned earlier is sometimes quite anti-Semite, had a really good point here that I somehow missed despite reading this parsha numerous times. Lot is the closest thing Abram has to a son for most of his life. When he and Lot split here, Abram has only Sarai. PotC does mention without belab
oring the son point that Abram rescues Lot. A sticky subject for many Torah readers is that Abram argues so earnestly to save Sodom but goes quietly up the hill to sacrifice Isaac. I think he does believe that Sodom will be destroyed (with his near-son Lot) but does not believe Isaac will be destroyed. More on that later.
God appears to Abram and tells him his "reward will be very great". Abram responds that he is childless and has only his faithful servant, who is not his flesh and blood. God asks him to look up at the heavens and try to count the stars; so will his own flesh and blood offspring be. God tells him to make a sacrifice. It was typical for people of that time to split an animal in half and for all the attendees of the sacrificial ritual to walk between the two halves, showing that they are accepting the animal's flesh in place of their own for the sacrifice. In this strange passage, only Abram and God are present. God is not physically present, but is a voice, and after Abram was acceptably fearful, a smoking oven and torch passed between the two halves of the offering. God speaks then, declaring "To your offspring I assign this land..." so it is fairly clear that God Himself has passed between the sacrificial animal halves. This is truly stunning.
Sarai, who was barren, gave Abram her maid Hagar to Abram as a concubine, hoping for offspring. In those times the firstborn son, and thus his mother, received half of his father’s inheritance. Any other sons split the remaining half. A barren woman received nothing. I suspect that Sarai expected to raise the child as her own and was disappointed to put it kindly, that Hagar kept the child.
When Hagar apparently was disrespectful to Sarai after she became pregnant, Sarai, instead of dealing with Hagar directly, chastised Abram! She actually says the Lord shall decide between him and her! She said it was his fault! (Who was it who didn't have children again? And who acted disrespectfully towards her mistress? Not Abram in either case. Since her anger towards him was irrational, I think she was still angry that she was traded to Pharaoh for livestock! She also seemed to expect Abram to stand up for her, which he did not.)
Genesis Rabbah excuses Sarai’s behavior by saying Hagar told others that if Sarai were truly righteous, she would not have been barren. If Hagar really spoke thus, Abram most certainly should have come to Sarai’s aid. Instead, he told her to do with Hagar whatever she thought was right. Embittered, Sarai was so cruel that Hagar ran away and had to be told by an angel to turn around and go back.
Even the Rabbis, who want so much to exalt Sarai and vilify Hagar, noticed the obvious sympathy towards Hagar at this point in the text. This meeting with an angel (or some say the Lord Himself) caused Talmudic rabbis, who did not themselves meet an angel (or the Lord) to wonder at the great merit this slave girl must have had, despite her relationship with Sarai.
Hagar's son was named Ishmael, which means "God will hear." His line also became a great nation, the nation of Islam.
God changed the names of both Abram and Sarai, adding an "h" sound to indicate holiness.
God told Abraham that every male in his household eight days old and up must be circumcised, even his purchased slaves. He further said he would bless Sarah with a son. Abraham threw himself to the ground, in the pose of submission he often took, possibly also to hide his laughter. Abraham threw himself on his face and laughed, as he said to himself, ‘Can a child be born to a man a hundred years old, or can Sarah bear a child at ninety?’ And Abraham said to God, ‘O that Ishmael might live by Your favor!’ God answered that Sarah will indeed have a son, to be named Isaac, for “laughter”.
Abraham immediately followed orders, circumcising possibly dozens of men and children on that very same day, including Ishmael. That cutting there should be a sign to God seems strange, but that organ is the organ the rabbis considered the one in charge of procreation (women's organs didn't count) and procreation is the only way we can be like God, by creating life.
The parsha ends here, just before Abraham meets three angels, one of whom may have been God Himself. This parsha is often read with Isaiah 40:27-41:16; in my ignorance I wonder why it is assigned to the parsha of Abraham, since it speaks often of Jacob. But I am struck by Isaiah 41:8, in which God says, “My servant Jacob, whom I have chosen, Seed of Abraham, My friend.” And as you will see, Abraham indeed meets three divine beings as friends.
Collected from my thoughts, my OneNote notes from multiple sources, Midrash (usually Genesis Rabbah), TBI’s Torah study group, Ten Rungs by Martin Buber and the books Midrashic Women by Judith Baskin and People of the Covenant by a group of non-Jewish scholars who are occasionally obviously anti-Israel but otherwise have good points. I blame no one but myself for all my negative thoughts about Abraham’s and Sarah’s behaviors.
A theme here is that we should trust in God and follow his wishes even though many years may pass before we know the full instruction or the outcome. The Lord promised land, which soon after Abram moved, did not support his household. The Lord also promised offspring, but Sarai was barren until she was 90 years old. There were many faith trials (Maimonides outlined ten in Abram's lifetime) but everything turned out well for Abram (who became Abraham) in the end.
The parsha also suggests to me (through Abram’s repeated conversations with God) that maybe in addition to waiting patiently, there may sometimes be a need to ask God in order to receive what is promised us!
In the previous parsha, Abram's father began this journey to Canaan with his family and stopped at Haran, which means crossroads. Torah does not explain the reason for this journey. Abram's father died.
When Abram is 75, God told him (according to the translation Rabbi Martin Buber used, which is different from my JPS edition): "Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto the land that I will show thee." Buber says: "'out of your country' means the dimness you have inflicted on yourself, 'out of your birthplace' means the dimness your mother has inflicted on you, 'out of the house of your father' means the dimness your father inflicted on you... Only then will you be able to go to the land I will show you." (See my thoughts, in italics, below) The Lord promised Abram would father a great nation, his name would be great and he would be a blessing. (Not that Abraham would bless us, but that he will be a blessing - meaning that others will learn and be blessed by Abraham's story.)
People of the Covenant says that within the Bible, there are three references to calculate the date of Abraham's journey. All start from the fourth year of Solomon's reign, which is accepted by science and religion to be accurate within a few years at 960 BCE. The arithmetic leads to dates of 1870, 2055 or 2085. People of the Covenant also says that there is no archaeological evidence that Abraham existed. Nor are there any extrabiblical sources mentioning him.
During this time period economic, environmental and political unrest caused civilizations to come and go quickly and many formerly agricultural types to revert to nomadism or semi nomadism. The Egyptians called wanderers who settled near them ‘Apiru, which later became Hebrew.
However, Jews, Muslims and Christians all claim Abraham as their ancestor. So we will assume that he existed for purposes of this parsha.
Why did God choose Abram? Since the parsha does not state it outright, we wonder and create theories. In Torah study, we discussed in 15:6 the Hebrew word for trust, which is related to word "amen", which means agreement. Abram's trust in God was his righteousness. Moreover, Midrash says Abram's father was an idol maker. Abram scorned worshipping things that could be burned or broken. He actually broke all the idols except the largest one, and then placed the sledgehammer in the lap of this last idol. His father returned and was furious when Abram suggested the big idol crushed all the smaller ones; his father exclaimed that idols cannot move! Abram had thus proved his point.
My thought: Leaving the house of his father could also mean leaving idolatry.
Midrash also says Abram testified mightily on God's behalf. The persons or souls (the word neshama is used in the text) he had acquired and brought with him to the Promised Land were converts (nefesh/souls). Included in these converts were Hagar, the daughter of Pharaoh and Eliezer, the son of Nimrod.
During the famine, Abram and his household left the land God promised him for Egypt. Curious that Promised Land would have severe famine so soon without any human wrongdoing.
Abram did eventually go back to his Promised Land - when he was tossed out on his rear for lying about Sarai. This is a difficult parsha for a woman to read. In Egypt, Abram asked Sarai to say she was his sister because she was very beautiful and someone desiring her might kill him to get her. Both Midrash and Torah say she was indeed his half-sister, so he wasn't completely lying. However, it appears to me he was pimping her so he could profit from her instead of possibly dying because of her. Since he didn't know, but only worried that he might be killed because of her, wasn't his behavior reprehensible? The Torah does not record Sarai's thoughts, but I'll bet they weren't happy ones. (However, Rabbi Maurice, in his devar at TBI, said he imagined a serious conversation between them and Sarai agreeing willingly.) As one lady pointed out in Torah study, at least she was "safe" since she was barren; she would not have a half Egyptian child.
Why wasn't Abram punished instead of Pharaoh? Pharaoh did not know he was taking a married woman. Was he rough with her? How did Pharaoh know that he was being punished by God because of Sarai ? Did God speak to him? My JPS version says simply that Sarai "was taken into Pharaoh's palace" but Rabbi Maurice said she was seized. If Abram had gone after her, I would be inclined to believe so, but the next sentence says because of her, Abram grew rich!
In our conversation later, Rabbi Maurice said he understands why I might not like Abraham very well after reading this parsha. He reminded me that a very serious famine forced them to travel to a foreign land that was very dangerous and beg for food. They were desperate. Sarai, especially, acted very bravely here. He also reminded me that the likeability of our patriarchs and matriarchs was never the point. We agreed that if they were perfect, we’d have less to study. But also he said we would be less likely to identify with them and feel that they were family. Rabbi Maurice said I might learn to identify with Abraham because like him, I firmly believe I should go against what I had been taught (and not taught) about religion by my family and society to vigorously pursue becoming Jewish. He said that Abraham's desire to worship only God in a land of idol worshippers was far more dangerous to him than my situation was likely ever to be for me, but perhaps though my own struggle, I might see how brave he was.
On the journey back to the Promised Land, Abram suggested he and his nephew Lot (who had lived with him since he was orphaned) split up amicably since there was not enough good pasture to support their livestock. Lot took the obviously lush pasture where they were rather than risking the return to the Promised Land. Thus, Abram made Lot happy without violating his own orders from God.
Abram showed great loyalty and bravery when Lot was captured. Lot, by the way, was an ancestor of Ruth, who was an ancestor of David, so it was a good thing Lot was saved! Since Abram only had 318 volunteer soldiers, none of them trained, his victory must have been with God's help. When allied kings offer him loot in reward, he says he wants nothing other than that his soldiers be compensated.
People of the Covenant, which I mentioned earlier is sometimes quite anti-Semite, had a really good point here that I somehow missed despite reading this parsha numerous times. Lot is the closest thing Abram has to a son for most of his life. When he and Lot split here, Abram has only Sarai. PotC does mention without belab
oring the son point that Abram rescues Lot. A sticky subject for many Torah readers is that Abram argues so earnestly to save Sodom but goes quietly up the hill to sacrifice Isaac. I think he does believe that Sodom will be destroyed (with his near-son Lot) but does not believe Isaac will be destroyed. More on that later.
God appears to Abram and tells him his "reward will be very great". Abram responds that he is childless and has only his faithful servant, who is not his flesh and blood. God asks him to look up at the heavens and try to count the stars; so will his own flesh and blood offspring be. God tells him to make a sacrifice. It was typical for people of that time to split an animal in half and for all the attendees of the sacrificial ritual to walk between the two halves, showing that they are accepting the animal's flesh in place of their own for the sacrifice. In this strange passage, only Abram and God are present. God is not physically present, but is a voice, and after Abram was acceptably fearful, a smoking oven and torch passed between the two halves of the offering. God speaks then, declaring "To your offspring I assign this land..." so it is fairly clear that God Himself has passed between the sacrificial animal halves. This is truly stunning.
Sarai, who was barren, gave Abram her maid Hagar to Abram as a concubine, hoping for offspring. In those times the firstborn son, and thus his mother, received half of his father’s inheritance. Any other sons split the remaining half. A barren woman received nothing. I suspect that Sarai expected to raise the child as her own and was disappointed to put it kindly, that Hagar kept the child.
When Hagar apparently was disrespectful to Sarai after she became pregnant, Sarai, instead of dealing with Hagar directly, chastised Abram! She actually says the Lord shall decide between him and her! She said it was his fault! (Who was it who didn't have children again? And who acted disrespectfully towards her mistress? Not Abram in either case. Since her anger towards him was irrational, I think she was still angry that she was traded to Pharaoh for livestock! She also seemed to expect Abram to stand up for her, which he did not.)
Genesis Rabbah excuses Sarai’s behavior by saying Hagar told others that if Sarai were truly righteous, she would not have been barren. If Hagar really spoke thus, Abram most certainly should have come to Sarai’s aid. Instead, he told her to do with Hagar whatever she thought was right. Embittered, Sarai was so cruel that Hagar ran away and had to be told by an angel to turn around and go back.
Even the Rabbis, who want so much to exalt Sarai and vilify Hagar, noticed the obvious sympathy towards Hagar at this point in the text. This meeting with an angel (or some say the Lord Himself) caused Talmudic rabbis, who did not themselves meet an angel (or the Lord) to wonder at the great merit this slave girl must have had, despite her relationship with Sarai.
Hagar's son was named Ishmael, which means "God will hear." His line also became a great nation, the nation of Islam.
God changed the names of both Abram and Sarai, adding an "h" sound to indicate holiness.
God told Abraham that every male in his household eight days old and up must be circumcised, even his purchased slaves. He further said he would bless Sarah with a son. Abraham threw himself to the ground, in the pose of submission he often took, possibly also to hide his laughter. Abraham threw himself on his face and laughed, as he said to himself, ‘Can a child be born to a man a hundred years old, or can Sarah bear a child at ninety?’ And Abraham said to God, ‘O that Ishmael might live by Your favor!’ God answered that Sarah will indeed have a son, to be named Isaac, for “laughter”.
Abraham immediately followed orders, circumcising possibly dozens of men and children on that very same day, including Ishmael. That cutting there should be a sign to God seems strange, but that organ is the organ the rabbis considered the one in charge of procreation (women's organs didn't count) and procreation is the only way we can be like God, by creating life.
The parsha ends here, just before Abraham meets three angels, one of whom may have been God Himself. This parsha is often read with Isaiah 40:27-41:16; in my ignorance I wonder why it is assigned to the parsha of Abraham, since it speaks often of Jacob. But I am struck by Isaiah 41:8, in which God says, “My servant Jacob, whom I have chosen, Seed of Abraham, My friend.” And as you will see, Abraham indeed meets three divine beings as friends.
Catching Up and Torah Study in Eugene, Oregon
Catching Up and Torah Study in Eugene, Oregon
I am now working full time, going to college full time and in love full time, so I have neglected this blog for a while. In the next few days I’m going to upload essays and parshas I wrote days, weeks or even months ago.
Friday Nov 12, I met with Rabbi Maurice at Temple Beth Israel to discuss my conversion. I last met with him about 6 months ago. We discussed my progress and when to actually convene the Bet Din.
I showed him an enormous Jewish reference guide I’m making myself in Microsoft’s OneNote, with separate folders including History, Jewish Philosophers (with a separate folder just for Maimonides), Hebrew and Yiddish, Prayers and Rituals, Torah, Talmud, Midrash, Torah Portions, My Thoughts, Media (I’ve read or watched or want to read or watch), Kashrut, Jewish Feminism, Jewish Marriage, Denominations, the Arab Jewish Conflict, etc. He was pretty much blown away. Most of it is notes from books, especially the History one, which goes chronologically from Abraham to the present. I don’t bother quoting my sources there, but I do in the Philosophers, Torah, Talmud, etc.
For those of you who are new to Jewish terminology, portion and parsha are used interchangeably to indicate the weekly Sabbath reading from the Torah, the five books of Moses that Jews read in entirety on a yearly cycle. If you pick up a Torah, the portions are often listed after the Table of Contents. Jews worldwide in nearly every denomination follow the same schedule of readings (although an occasional group will read the Torah over a period of three years) and conclude the year with a ceremony, Simchat Torah, celebrating reading to the end of the Torah – and then begin back at Genesis on the same day! It’s one of many ways we are connected with each other, despite the vastness of the diaspora.
The Torah Portions folder is almost entirely written by me rather than quotes or thoughts from others. I do distinguish when I get an idea from Midrash or Talmud and usually reference it generally (i.e. Genesis Rabbah), rather than citing pages and sages. I rarely quote the text directly, partially because it usually begins: “Rabbi so and so said in the name of Rabbi such and such and Rav so and so…” and I would get so tired of typing I probably wouldn’t get very far. When using discussion from TBI’s Saturday morning Torah study group I will say “in Torah study” rather than naming individuals. I haven’t asked anyone for permission to quote them. I don’t really want to, either, for fear that people might speak a lot less naturally, in case one of the whopping four people who read my blog might have negative thoughts!
This Torah study group is fantastic; if you are ever in Eugene on a Saturday morning, you should definitely come by. The group varies in size from about 5 people to about 25 and exhibits the entire range of Judaism: those who lean towards Hasidism, or are straight from the Torah literalists, or consult astrology, or believe themselves culturally but not religiously Jewish, or are serious scholars, or are seriously-wanna-be scholars (me!), or are professionals in psychology fields, Israeli natives, conservatives, liberals, etc., etc. On my way driving in, I often think of seven or eight points I’d like to make, but often I am so fascinated to just listen and I may make only two or three points.
I will have time to write and upload about a quarter of the Torah portions. To search Torah portions on this site, just type the Book, chapter and verse, i.e. Genesis 12:1. I should warn that these are written rather quickly and include quite a bit of summary along with a few devar worthy bits. However, I have found that the observations of a thoughtful long time outsider are sometimes useful to someone who grew up Jewish.
I am now working full time, going to college full time and in love full time, so I have neglected this blog for a while. In the next few days I’m going to upload essays and parshas I wrote days, weeks or even months ago.
Friday Nov 12, I met with Rabbi Maurice at Temple Beth Israel to discuss my conversion. I last met with him about 6 months ago. We discussed my progress and when to actually convene the Bet Din.
I showed him an enormous Jewish reference guide I’m making myself in Microsoft’s OneNote, with separate folders including History, Jewish Philosophers (with a separate folder just for Maimonides), Hebrew and Yiddish, Prayers and Rituals, Torah, Talmud, Midrash, Torah Portions, My Thoughts, Media (I’ve read or watched or want to read or watch), Kashrut, Jewish Feminism, Jewish Marriage, Denominations, the Arab Jewish Conflict, etc. He was pretty much blown away. Most of it is notes from books, especially the History one, which goes chronologically from Abraham to the present. I don’t bother quoting my sources there, but I do in the Philosophers, Torah, Talmud, etc.
For those of you who are new to Jewish terminology, portion and parsha are used interchangeably to indicate the weekly Sabbath reading from the Torah, the five books of Moses that Jews read in entirety on a yearly cycle. If you pick up a Torah, the portions are often listed after the Table of Contents. Jews worldwide in nearly every denomination follow the same schedule of readings (although an occasional group will read the Torah over a period of three years) and conclude the year with a ceremony, Simchat Torah, celebrating reading to the end of the Torah – and then begin back at Genesis on the same day! It’s one of many ways we are connected with each other, despite the vastness of the diaspora.
The Torah Portions folder is almost entirely written by me rather than quotes or thoughts from others. I do distinguish when I get an idea from Midrash or Talmud and usually reference it generally (i.e. Genesis Rabbah), rather than citing pages and sages. I rarely quote the text directly, partially because it usually begins: “Rabbi so and so said in the name of Rabbi such and such and Rav so and so…” and I would get so tired of typing I probably wouldn’t get very far. When using discussion from TBI’s Saturday morning Torah study group I will say “in Torah study” rather than naming individuals. I haven’t asked anyone for permission to quote them. I don’t really want to, either, for fear that people might speak a lot less naturally, in case one of the whopping four people who read my blog might have negative thoughts!
This Torah study group is fantastic; if you are ever in Eugene on a Saturday morning, you should definitely come by. The group varies in size from about 5 people to about 25 and exhibits the entire range of Judaism: those who lean towards Hasidism, or are straight from the Torah literalists, or consult astrology, or believe themselves culturally but not religiously Jewish, or are serious scholars, or are seriously-wanna-be scholars (me!), or are professionals in psychology fields, Israeli natives, conservatives, liberals, etc., etc. On my way driving in, I often think of seven or eight points I’d like to make, but often I am so fascinated to just listen and I may make only two or three points.
I will have time to write and upload about a quarter of the Torah portions. To search Torah portions on this site, just type the Book, chapter and verse, i.e. Genesis 12:1. I should warn that these are written rather quickly and include quite a bit of summary along with a few devar worthy bits. However, I have found that the observations of a thoughtful long time outsider are sometimes useful to someone who grew up Jewish.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tish'a B'Av and Thoughts on the Modern American Diet
Tish’a B’Av and Thoughts on the Modern American Diet
July 19th, 2010, the evening before Tish’a B’Av
For those who have not heard of the 9th of Av, it is the day repeatedly chosen by people (most likely) or by God or nature (perhaps) to inflict terrible punishments on mankind, but especially on the Jewish people.
Traditionally Jews around the world gather after nightfall the evening before to mourn and to meditate, quietly in dim light, with shoes off.
I expected an evening of candlelight and wailing. I arrived early, despite being warned that the juncture of West Coast time and Jewish time is at least half an hour after I have checked my schedule to see if I showed up on the wrong day.
I asked Rabbi Yitz how I could help and he asked me to pass out copies of liturgy to the arriving congregants. I was happy to do so; I socialize better when I have a job to do.
Possibly thirty people arrived. I handed out liturgy and we whispered hellos. We removed our shoes at the door and entered the sanctuary quietly. There were cushions on the floor in front of the pews. Two large pots were tipped over sideways before fabric in a wave pattern and a dead bird lying feet up: a visual reference to the BP oil catastrophe in the Gulf.
I was disappointed that we read paragraphs from Lamentations by turns around the room. It seemed we were distracted from the spirit of the event by paying attention to whose turn it was. I would have preferred that two or three people shared the reading under lights while the rest of us absorbed words in near darkness.
I found myself looking at everyone, noting who looked Israeli, who had an accent, who looked as much a convert as I do. There were two men with pleasant baritone voices and strong lungs, a woman whose radiant smile is incredibly contagious, a tattooed man who looks tough but is very sweet. I admired the family I always see together: an Israeli-looking man with his fine hawk nose and copper skin, his wife, son and a twenty-ish daughter with glorious, curly, dark hair. She went up before the congregation at Shabbat services a few days before and did very well.
I worried over my inglorious bare feet with untrimmed toenails. I had forgotten we would be removing our shoes.
I recognized one lady as the daughter of Holocaust survivors and wondered if any others were present.
Two men held their heads in their hands. One looked like he could be the brother of the man I had loved sadly for eighteen years. At the beginning of the service, Rabbi said we needed to reach inside us and find the place where this deep sorrow for all humanity lay. Although he said some of us found this sorrow in relationships, I did not want to think about this man tonight.
I wanted to think about the histories of all of our families, how some distant ancestor of mine may have caused pain to some distant ancestor of someone in the room and vici versa. I wanted to remember how universal human wants and needs are, regardless of social station or religion. How pointless and wrong are our fights over minor differences!
I remembered the conclusion of Middlemarch, which I found frustrating as a budding feminist when I read it in high school. An intelligent and loving woman used her influence where she was able, in reaching out to those in her immediate surroundings.
I surprised myself now by finding that ending noble and good. Can I do that? Can I begin a little domino effect? If I am mindful to radiate peace, can I influence others to radiate peace? I remember hearing a famous relationship coach say to give honest compliments whenever you can. This I do daily, without thought. They roll out of me because I admire and love easily. But peace? Peace I really need to work on.
Peace comes partially from gratitude, from not worrying about the future because you are thankful for what and who you have now. In the worst recession in Oregon’s history, probably many people are struggling to feel thankful.
Who I have has always been a problem for me, although I feel more peace in a quiet single life than a difficult married life.
I have given up the farm and now live in a motor home, but I am not hungry. Although I earn a fifth of what I made just a few years ago, I remember far worse times, when I only had $4.00 a week with which to buy groceries. I bought brown flour or brown rice, a dozen eggs, a pound of carrots and an onion. I made bread, pancakes, rice burgers, stir fries over rice… as much variety as I could manage. I searched for dandelion greens and onion grass in our city neighborhood. I fed the children at every meal but usually only ate one small meal a day, myself. Someone I knew started calling me The Amazing Two Inch Wide Woman. As I shrunk from a snug size 8 to a loose 4, I heard Auschwitz comments, as well.
In Lamentations, we read aloud of mind numbing hunger, of how much worse it was to watch people waste away or eat their children than to die in battle. I shuddered with horror, although I‘d read it before.
I remember hunger, but experienced nothing like that of the Jews while the Romans raged at Jerusalem’s walls or of the Jews crowded into concentration camps.
It occurred to me as I drove home that I should commemorate the 9th of Av by eating small quantities of flavorless livestock fodder like people ate in concentration camps: part of a potato in broth that was really just the cooking water. If they didn’t eat potatoes, they ate lumps of bread, but I am afraid to do that since I react badly to gluten. I’m not trying to die, to get sick, or even to fast for weight loss, since I love food and hate dieting. I need to have enough energy to get up early, drive to work, help people bigger than I am get in and out of beds and wheel chairs, drive home, walk the dogs, etc. It wouldn’t be a mitzvah to the living if I was so fuzzy headed I was unable to help them. I guess what I seek is the dietary equivalent of wearing a sackcloth - making myself uncomfortable so I remember and repent.
If there is a Heaven, which I have doubted my whole life, I want to show an honest effort to understand the pain of those in Heaven who were killed inhumanely. Who knows? Perhaps I will reach a state like American Indians who went into the wilds alone seeking visions. Perhaps I will have a vision.
Since I’m not a junk food junkie, I suppose I have a head start on this. But I am exceptionally fond of Larabars and coconut milk. I came home and put them away, out of sight. I opened the refrigerator and set limits: no spices, no sauces, no butter. I’ll eat the cantaloupe and mango only because it would be a shame to let them spoil. I’ll freeze the bananas. I started a pot of plain rice and boiled ten small potatoes.
I wondered how far to carry this sackcloth concept. I don’t go out for meals, rent movies, drink alcohol or otherwise participate in normal luxuries. Should I not read? No, then I can’t study. Should I not go to the park? No, the dogs and I need the exercise. Should I not think of men? That might not work, either...
And how long do I go? One day would teach me little and would be unlikely to impress the Heavens. A week? Two weeks? Through the fasting of the High Holy Days? Until my 45th birthday, which is at the beginning of the High Holy Days?
Tonight, I do not know. I may decide by watching my blood pressure and pulse. If I do well, I will keep it up until after Yom Kippur. If I do not, I will end it early.
July 20.
I ate about a cup and a half of brown rice with leftover sweet potatoes twice today, plain potatoes once and plain rice once. I drank plain coffee and herbal tea. I can’t exactly say I’m starving myself and impressing the Heavens, but it is true that none of this tastes very gourmand.
I checked the blood pressure and pulse readings stored in my digital blood pressure gauge. I have had heart trouble nearly my whole life, with consistently high blood pressure from last August until this June, when it began to come down for two or three days at a time. Given the wide disparities in readings, I guess I would only quit the Tish’a B’Av diet if my systolic pressure was consistently above 150. Because I have (likely permanent) tachycardia (pulse over 100, even at rest), a systolic pressure of 150 or more means minor chest pain during even low impact activities like bending over or walking and serious pain on strenuous activity. Since I do not eat packaged food anyway, my readings may not change. I will take a multivitamin/multimineral as a precaution, take my herbal diuretic and try to make myself sleep on the bed wedge. (Sigh.)
July 21
I ate rice and potatoes. I have had no revelations from on high yet but I do notice I am content today. Yesterday I really, really wanted butter, chocolate, coconut oil… anything with fat in it.
July 22
This morning before work I was reading selections from the Talmud on the prohibition against having hametz (leaven) in the homes during Passover. As the rabbis were wont to do, they digressed… I enjoyed the details of whether or not people should concern themselves about mice who carried hametz into their homes and of how a man who enjoyed feasting too much would make his wife a widow, his children orphans and bring “himself, his children and all his grandchildren for generations into disrepute…What does it mean by disrepute? Abbaye said people will call his children ‘Son of the oven heater’… Rav Papa said ‘Son of the pan licker’… Rav Shemaia said ‘Son of the one who collapsed on the ground.’”
Although I laughed at these insults, it occurred to me that greed and obesity are so normal now that no one would ever call anyone “son of a pan licker” now. We are nearly all pan lickers, except perhaps those who participate in other obsessions such as drinking and smoking.
I weigh 10 to 15 pounds more than I would like, which is less excess weight than most middle aged women carry, but I am well aware that it is because I eat out of habit and comfort rather than need. I am a lot less physically active than I was from my teens through my early thirties. The only real change I have made was forced because I was so sick: I removed all relatives of wheat and corn from my diet. However, I frequently eat snacks because they taste good, I am bored or because I am trying to substitute food for sleep. Sometimes I eat a “second dinner” because I ate my first one when I got home at 4pm and then wanted a second dinner at 9 or 10. Last week I bought food I do not ordinarily buy because I thought I was going somewhere where I would want to bring an impressive dessert. I didn’t go. I ate it myself in three days instead of freezing most of it for later.
I do not intend to make myself ill by eating like a true Soviet work camp or German concentration camp resident, so I doubt I'll lose most of that 10-15 pounds. However, I am starting to realize that I do indeed suffer from subtle gluttony.
Early this morning I dreamed of my main patient, the one who is declining. He is incapable of eating or drinking on his own and has to be told repeatedly to swallow after every spoon he is fed. Much of his food dribbles out of his mouth when he gasps for air or falls asleep before swallowing. Two days ago I put pants on him that were tight in June. They are very loose now. If he were capable of standing, they would fall to his ankles. I dreamed he was lying in a fetal position on a concrete floor, unable to move anything but his eyes.
July 26
I appear to mostly have gone off the diet, since I've shared a couple of very nice meals with a lovely man from synagogue. But I think I have had a serious talk with myself and will be more mindful in the future.
July 19th, 2010, the evening before Tish’a B’Av
For those who have not heard of the 9th of Av, it is the day repeatedly chosen by people (most likely) or by God or nature (perhaps) to inflict terrible punishments on mankind, but especially on the Jewish people.
Traditionally Jews around the world gather after nightfall the evening before to mourn and to meditate, quietly in dim light, with shoes off.
I expected an evening of candlelight and wailing. I arrived early, despite being warned that the juncture of West Coast time and Jewish time is at least half an hour after I have checked my schedule to see if I showed up on the wrong day.
I asked Rabbi Yitz how I could help and he asked me to pass out copies of liturgy to the arriving congregants. I was happy to do so; I socialize better when I have a job to do.
Possibly thirty people arrived. I handed out liturgy and we whispered hellos. We removed our shoes at the door and entered the sanctuary quietly. There were cushions on the floor in front of the pews. Two large pots were tipped over sideways before fabric in a wave pattern and a dead bird lying feet up: a visual reference to the BP oil catastrophe in the Gulf.
I was disappointed that we read paragraphs from Lamentations by turns around the room. It seemed we were distracted from the spirit of the event by paying attention to whose turn it was. I would have preferred that two or three people shared the reading under lights while the rest of us absorbed words in near darkness.
I found myself looking at everyone, noting who looked Israeli, who had an accent, who looked as much a convert as I do. There were two men with pleasant baritone voices and strong lungs, a woman whose radiant smile is incredibly contagious, a tattooed man who looks tough but is very sweet. I admired the family I always see together: an Israeli-looking man with his fine hawk nose and copper skin, his wife, son and a twenty-ish daughter with glorious, curly, dark hair. She went up before the congregation at Shabbat services a few days before and did very well.
I worried over my inglorious bare feet with untrimmed toenails. I had forgotten we would be removing our shoes.
I recognized one lady as the daughter of Holocaust survivors and wondered if any others were present.
Two men held their heads in their hands. One looked like he could be the brother of the man I had loved sadly for eighteen years. At the beginning of the service, Rabbi said we needed to reach inside us and find the place where this deep sorrow for all humanity lay. Although he said some of us found this sorrow in relationships, I did not want to think about this man tonight.
I wanted to think about the histories of all of our families, how some distant ancestor of mine may have caused pain to some distant ancestor of someone in the room and vici versa. I wanted to remember how universal human wants and needs are, regardless of social station or religion. How pointless and wrong are our fights over minor differences!
I remembered the conclusion of Middlemarch, which I found frustrating as a budding feminist when I read it in high school. An intelligent and loving woman used her influence where she was able, in reaching out to those in her immediate surroundings.
I surprised myself now by finding that ending noble and good. Can I do that? Can I begin a little domino effect? If I am mindful to radiate peace, can I influence others to radiate peace? I remember hearing a famous relationship coach say to give honest compliments whenever you can. This I do daily, without thought. They roll out of me because I admire and love easily. But peace? Peace I really need to work on.
Peace comes partially from gratitude, from not worrying about the future because you are thankful for what and who you have now. In the worst recession in Oregon’s history, probably many people are struggling to feel thankful.
Who I have has always been a problem for me, although I feel more peace in a quiet single life than a difficult married life.
I have given up the farm and now live in a motor home, but I am not hungry. Although I earn a fifth of what I made just a few years ago, I remember far worse times, when I only had $4.00 a week with which to buy groceries. I bought brown flour or brown rice, a dozen eggs, a pound of carrots and an onion. I made bread, pancakes, rice burgers, stir fries over rice… as much variety as I could manage. I searched for dandelion greens and onion grass in our city neighborhood. I fed the children at every meal but usually only ate one small meal a day, myself. Someone I knew started calling me The Amazing Two Inch Wide Woman. As I shrunk from a snug size 8 to a loose 4, I heard Auschwitz comments, as well.
In Lamentations, we read aloud of mind numbing hunger, of how much worse it was to watch people waste away or eat their children than to die in battle. I shuddered with horror, although I‘d read it before.
I remember hunger, but experienced nothing like that of the Jews while the Romans raged at Jerusalem’s walls or of the Jews crowded into concentration camps.
It occurred to me as I drove home that I should commemorate the 9th of Av by eating small quantities of flavorless livestock fodder like people ate in concentration camps: part of a potato in broth that was really just the cooking water. If they didn’t eat potatoes, they ate lumps of bread, but I am afraid to do that since I react badly to gluten. I’m not trying to die, to get sick, or even to fast for weight loss, since I love food and hate dieting. I need to have enough energy to get up early, drive to work, help people bigger than I am get in and out of beds and wheel chairs, drive home, walk the dogs, etc. It wouldn’t be a mitzvah to the living if I was so fuzzy headed I was unable to help them. I guess what I seek is the dietary equivalent of wearing a sackcloth - making myself uncomfortable so I remember and repent.
If there is a Heaven, which I have doubted my whole life, I want to show an honest effort to understand the pain of those in Heaven who were killed inhumanely. Who knows? Perhaps I will reach a state like American Indians who went into the wilds alone seeking visions. Perhaps I will have a vision.
Since I’m not a junk food junkie, I suppose I have a head start on this. But I am exceptionally fond of Larabars and coconut milk. I came home and put them away, out of sight. I opened the refrigerator and set limits: no spices, no sauces, no butter. I’ll eat the cantaloupe and mango only because it would be a shame to let them spoil. I’ll freeze the bananas. I started a pot of plain rice and boiled ten small potatoes.
I wondered how far to carry this sackcloth concept. I don’t go out for meals, rent movies, drink alcohol or otherwise participate in normal luxuries. Should I not read? No, then I can’t study. Should I not go to the park? No, the dogs and I need the exercise. Should I not think of men? That might not work, either...
And how long do I go? One day would teach me little and would be unlikely to impress the Heavens. A week? Two weeks? Through the fasting of the High Holy Days? Until my 45th birthday, which is at the beginning of the High Holy Days?
Tonight, I do not know. I may decide by watching my blood pressure and pulse. If I do well, I will keep it up until after Yom Kippur. If I do not, I will end it early.
July 20.
I ate about a cup and a half of brown rice with leftover sweet potatoes twice today, plain potatoes once and plain rice once. I drank plain coffee and herbal tea. I can’t exactly say I’m starving myself and impressing the Heavens, but it is true that none of this tastes very gourmand.
I checked the blood pressure and pulse readings stored in my digital blood pressure gauge. I have had heart trouble nearly my whole life, with consistently high blood pressure from last August until this June, when it began to come down for two or three days at a time. Given the wide disparities in readings, I guess I would only quit the Tish’a B’Av diet if my systolic pressure was consistently above 150. Because I have (likely permanent) tachycardia (pulse over 100, even at rest), a systolic pressure of 150 or more means minor chest pain during even low impact activities like bending over or walking and serious pain on strenuous activity. Since I do not eat packaged food anyway, my readings may not change. I will take a multivitamin/multimineral as a precaution, take my herbal diuretic and try to make myself sleep on the bed wedge. (Sigh.)
July 21
I ate rice and potatoes. I have had no revelations from on high yet but I do notice I am content today. Yesterday I really, really wanted butter, chocolate, coconut oil… anything with fat in it.
July 22
This morning before work I was reading selections from the Talmud on the prohibition against having hametz (leaven) in the homes during Passover. As the rabbis were wont to do, they digressed… I enjoyed the details of whether or not people should concern themselves about mice who carried hametz into their homes and of how a man who enjoyed feasting too much would make his wife a widow, his children orphans and bring “himself, his children and all his grandchildren for generations into disrepute…What does it mean by disrepute? Abbaye said people will call his children ‘Son of the oven heater’… Rav Papa said ‘Son of the pan licker’… Rav Shemaia said ‘Son of the one who collapsed on the ground.’”
Although I laughed at these insults, it occurred to me that greed and obesity are so normal now that no one would ever call anyone “son of a pan licker” now. We are nearly all pan lickers, except perhaps those who participate in other obsessions such as drinking and smoking.
I weigh 10 to 15 pounds more than I would like, which is less excess weight than most middle aged women carry, but I am well aware that it is because I eat out of habit and comfort rather than need. I am a lot less physically active than I was from my teens through my early thirties. The only real change I have made was forced because I was so sick: I removed all relatives of wheat and corn from my diet. However, I frequently eat snacks because they taste good, I am bored or because I am trying to substitute food for sleep. Sometimes I eat a “second dinner” because I ate my first one when I got home at 4pm and then wanted a second dinner at 9 or 10. Last week I bought food I do not ordinarily buy because I thought I was going somewhere where I would want to bring an impressive dessert. I didn’t go. I ate it myself in three days instead of freezing most of it for later.
I do not intend to make myself ill by eating like a true Soviet work camp or German concentration camp resident, so I doubt I'll lose most of that 10-15 pounds. However, I am starting to realize that I do indeed suffer from subtle gluttony.
Early this morning I dreamed of my main patient, the one who is declining. He is incapable of eating or drinking on his own and has to be told repeatedly to swallow after every spoon he is fed. Much of his food dribbles out of his mouth when he gasps for air or falls asleep before swallowing. Two days ago I put pants on him that were tight in June. They are very loose now. If he were capable of standing, they would fall to his ankles. I dreamed he was lying in a fetal position on a concrete floor, unable to move anything but his eyes.
July 26
I appear to mostly have gone off the diet, since I've shared a couple of very nice meals with a lovely man from synagogue. But I think I have had a serious talk with myself and will be more mindful in the future.
Shabbat 7/17 near the 9th of Av
Shabbat 7/17: thoughts on peace between cultures and my own awkward self
I enjoy my Saturday morning Torah class, largely because of the widely variant perspectives in class, from the more militant and conservative to the more peaceful and kabbalistic.
Today, on the Shabbat nearest the 9th of Av, we remembered tragic events in Jewish history, nearly all acts of violent anti-Semitism. Rabbi Yitz, who came to Oregon in a VW bus in 1971, confessed his discomfort in knowing that some anti-Semitism is influenced by how Jews are portrayed during a surface reading of the Torah. It appears that our ancestors, filled with land lust, killed mercilessly. They also plundered, forced conversions and sometimes took as wives the women whose husbands they had slain (after allowing them some small period of grieving).
Rabbi Yitz said God was with the Israelites, people who often grumbled and seemed undeserving, but who also had great leaders and who made attempts to worship and follow the commandments. The communities the Israelites dispossessed were horrid. As Jews forgot their God and became more like the idolaters, they were also routed out of Israel.
Although there were moments when Abraham and Moses pleaded with God for a kinder type of justice, there were many others when they followed orders that we do not today understand. Jews and Moslems both in the Promised Land today seem to be following such harsh ideology. It is difficult to reason with people who believe they emulate heroes from their holy books!
Rabbi said much hatred stems from fear. When we encounter anti-Semitism, we should respond with loving education. One of the biggest and most urgent duties for American Jews is to work for peace between the various religions, here and in Israel. And we must remember to deserve the land we have been given.
Several people told me they were hesitant to make aliyah to a land where only the promise of war seems to remain. However, at the crumbling Western Wall, thronged with people praying and stuffing written wishes into its cracks, the visitors are moved to tears.
In synagogue services I am frequently awed to witness the response of congregants called up to carry the Torah scroll, light Shabbat candles and lead us in prayerful song. It is almost indescribably beautiful for me to see some ordinary American in jeans and sandals go joyfully to the podium and sing beautifully in Hebrew. I wish others could see this.
In my teens and twenties I attended services at a variety of religious institutions. Of the twenty five or so places I went (including the Morman Tabernacle, The Franciscan Monestary, a Buddhist temple and The National Cathedral, all in Washington, DC), the one that most impressed me was a small Baptist church during a revival, when the congregation was very involved. I had tears in my eyes at that church, but when I went back for services a few weeks later, the congregation simply sat and listened to the minister or dozed off.
At Temple Beth Israel and at many other synagogues, the congregation is very involved. I have no desire to proselytize because I think religion is a very personal matter, like who you choose to love and marry. However, those who think Jews feel smug and haughty in our “chosenness”, need only to come to services to witness joy and humble devotion.
I appreciate the Devars, teachings by individual congregants. Someone I may walk past in a grocery store without knowing their hidden talents, expounds on the weekly Torah portion, sharing their learning, personal insights and philosophies. Often they are inspired by wishes for peace.
I confessed to Zachary at the conclusion of service that I want to give a Devar, but I feel inadequate. It seems to me that Jewish people are born with the confidence to speak and sing beautifully before a crowd. Perhaps, I said, the culture creates that poise. Zachary smiled, “If you come to services for ten years, you learn.”
I said hello to a couple of people, then slipped out as I often do because I feel clumsy and gawkish. I am articulate for a sentence or two, then suddenly remember myself and crumble into a stuttering, red faced mess, no doubt confusing onlookers, who must wonder what happened. Something to work on. I like these people.
Last week I found a listing in TBI’s newsletter for a service that coordinated volunteers to help the elderly. I assumed it was a Jewish run organization. While I was waiting for my own wheelchair-bound patient at the hospital, I called to offer my services to pick up patients and bring them to Shabbat or High Holy Day services. The lady on the phone didn’t know what I meant. She asked if I planned to take someone to church on a Friday night…? I said “to synagogue” and she answered, “Well, we don’t have many wheelchair bound clients…” My patient arrived, so I had to end the conversation. I resolved to ask the Rabbis if they knew of someone who would like the company of a bumbling but sincere person who could assist them physically. It would be a mitzvah for both of us.
***
The holidays I fear the most are coming up: the High Holy Days. The holiday concept is beautiful: We reflect seriously on our transgressions individually and as a people. We repent to God, who will accept if we are sincere. However, we must approach directly those people we have hurt and seek reconciliation from them - simply apologizing to God is not enough. God is said to witness and record whether or not we make heartfelt amends and also whether we give selflessly to charity during the ten days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. (Of course I have heard stories of secular Jews who only give to charity and attend services during this ten day period to quiet their nagging mothers.)
I understand now why people usually convert for marriage and not alone, but I am determined to attend as many of the High Holy Day services as I can, nervous or not. Again, something to work on. I like these people.
I enjoy my Saturday morning Torah class, largely because of the widely variant perspectives in class, from the more militant and conservative to the more peaceful and kabbalistic.
Today, on the Shabbat nearest the 9th of Av, we remembered tragic events in Jewish history, nearly all acts of violent anti-Semitism. Rabbi Yitz, who came to Oregon in a VW bus in 1971, confessed his discomfort in knowing that some anti-Semitism is influenced by how Jews are portrayed during a surface reading of the Torah. It appears that our ancestors, filled with land lust, killed mercilessly. They also plundered, forced conversions and sometimes took as wives the women whose husbands they had slain (after allowing them some small period of grieving).
Rabbi Yitz said God was with the Israelites, people who often grumbled and seemed undeserving, but who also had great leaders and who made attempts to worship and follow the commandments. The communities the Israelites dispossessed were horrid. As Jews forgot their God and became more like the idolaters, they were also routed out of Israel.
Although there were moments when Abraham and Moses pleaded with God for a kinder type of justice, there were many others when they followed orders that we do not today understand. Jews and Moslems both in the Promised Land today seem to be following such harsh ideology. It is difficult to reason with people who believe they emulate heroes from their holy books!
Rabbi said much hatred stems from fear. When we encounter anti-Semitism, we should respond with loving education. One of the biggest and most urgent duties for American Jews is to work for peace between the various religions, here and in Israel. And we must remember to deserve the land we have been given.
Several people told me they were hesitant to make aliyah to a land where only the promise of war seems to remain. However, at the crumbling Western Wall, thronged with people praying and stuffing written wishes into its cracks, the visitors are moved to tears.
In synagogue services I am frequently awed to witness the response of congregants called up to carry the Torah scroll, light Shabbat candles and lead us in prayerful song. It is almost indescribably beautiful for me to see some ordinary American in jeans and sandals go joyfully to the podium and sing beautifully in Hebrew. I wish others could see this.
In my teens and twenties I attended services at a variety of religious institutions. Of the twenty five or so places I went (including the Morman Tabernacle, The Franciscan Monestary, a Buddhist temple and The National Cathedral, all in Washington, DC), the one that most impressed me was a small Baptist church during a revival, when the congregation was very involved. I had tears in my eyes at that church, but when I went back for services a few weeks later, the congregation simply sat and listened to the minister or dozed off.
At Temple Beth Israel and at many other synagogues, the congregation is very involved. I have no desire to proselytize because I think religion is a very personal matter, like who you choose to love and marry. However, those who think Jews feel smug and haughty in our “chosenness”, need only to come to services to witness joy and humble devotion.
I appreciate the Devars, teachings by individual congregants. Someone I may walk past in a grocery store without knowing their hidden talents, expounds on the weekly Torah portion, sharing their learning, personal insights and philosophies. Often they are inspired by wishes for peace.
I confessed to Zachary at the conclusion of service that I want to give a Devar, but I feel inadequate. It seems to me that Jewish people are born with the confidence to speak and sing beautifully before a crowd. Perhaps, I said, the culture creates that poise. Zachary smiled, “If you come to services for ten years, you learn.”
I said hello to a couple of people, then slipped out as I often do because I feel clumsy and gawkish. I am articulate for a sentence or two, then suddenly remember myself and crumble into a stuttering, red faced mess, no doubt confusing onlookers, who must wonder what happened. Something to work on. I like these people.
Last week I found a listing in TBI’s newsletter for a service that coordinated volunteers to help the elderly. I assumed it was a Jewish run organization. While I was waiting for my own wheelchair-bound patient at the hospital, I called to offer my services to pick up patients and bring them to Shabbat or High Holy Day services. The lady on the phone didn’t know what I meant. She asked if I planned to take someone to church on a Friday night…? I said “to synagogue” and she answered, “Well, we don’t have many wheelchair bound clients…” My patient arrived, so I had to end the conversation. I resolved to ask the Rabbis if they knew of someone who would like the company of a bumbling but sincere person who could assist them physically. It would be a mitzvah for both of us.
***
The holidays I fear the most are coming up: the High Holy Days. The holiday concept is beautiful: We reflect seriously on our transgressions individually and as a people. We repent to God, who will accept if we are sincere. However, we must approach directly those people we have hurt and seek reconciliation from them - simply apologizing to God is not enough. God is said to witness and record whether or not we make heartfelt amends and also whether we give selflessly to charity during the ten days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. (Of course I have heard stories of secular Jews who only give to charity and attend services during this ten day period to quiet their nagging mothers.)
I understand now why people usually convert for marriage and not alone, but I am determined to attend as many of the High Holy Day services as I can, nervous or not. Again, something to work on. I like these people.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
WANDERING JEWS
Some denominations of Judaism believe the entire Torah (Genesis through Deuteronomy) was given to and written by Moses. If this is true, Moses then would have known in advance that his people would rise up against him repeatedly, that he would not be granted access to the Promised Land and that he would die. Then he would write about his own death!
Both Moses and God are repeatedly upset by the rebellion of the Israelites against them, making it seem unlikely to me that either would have foreknowledge. (Moreover, if God had foreknowledge, how could we have free will and what would be the purpose of prayer, repentence, learning and striving to change?)
I wonder why the Torah ends before the Israelites arrive in the Promised Land. Doesn’t it seem as if the whole point of Exodus, the fulfillment of promises to Abraham, Jacob and Moses is the arrival? When Rabbi Maurice mentioned this in a Torah class, he grinned, “But it made you buy the sequel, didn’t it?” (Meaning the Tanakh, which contains the rest of the Jewish Bible.)
Is perhaps the point of the story the struggle to stay pure amid tribulations and temptations?
If the Israelites had calmly reached the land of milk and honey before the Current Era, would there be any reason to record the Torah at all? Would there be a Jesus? Would Jews, Christians and Moslems all have separate holy books that claim ancestry of Abraham?
If the Torah had a happy ending, would we treat it like a novel, as a means of escape rather than as an inspiration and source of great learning? Would we Jews feel the need to study Torah over and over, bit by bit in Torah portions in our synagogues and homes?
Will we ever have another Moses? Will we ever really reach the land of milk and honey? The constant uncertainty of our daily living, fears of layoffs at work, of being hit on the way to the grocery store, of the frequent falls from the mountain of love, may lead people to take comfort in the struggles for goodness among even the most holy. Knowing that even Moses struggled may inspire us to work great deeds.
In fact, Israel was a land of desert, swampland, food rationing, thirst and malaria until kibbutz workers in the 1900s drained the swamp, irrigated the desert, planted fruit trees and established apiaries and dairies. So now it is a land of milk and honey, although the problem of nearly constant war remains.
Perhaps the persistence of Torah lies in the fact that Jews wandered from the destruction of the First Temple to our own lifetimes. We may even be wandering still, since we are still reforming, reconstructing, working to make Jewish life, worship and ritual compelling to modern Jews. The word Hebrew comes from the Egyptian Habiru, which means "stateless people." The word diaspora is from the Greek diaspore, which means milkweed or butterfly plant. Milkweed pods develop from flowers, open and seeds, borne on the wind in a tuft of down-featherlike fuzz travel very far from the mother plant. One could, in fact, argue that wandering has saved Jews from extinction numerous times, because the Romans, the Crusaders, the Inquistitors, the Cossacks and Hitler's army all attempted complete genocide of the Jews in their midst.
It is clear to me that although I am no longer wandering in and out of widely disparate religious institutions, I am still wandering. With my children grown and gone, I am devouring books on Judaism and my new career, I am single and considering dating again and I am also returning to college this fall. The wisdom and love in Talmudic teachings have helped me examine my own life. I now believe that even if my prayers of gratitude never reach God, they reach my own heart, and thus are worth saying.
I recently found a note I’d scribbled to myself in the midst of notes on Jewish history. “I want a scholar.” I closed my eyes and tried to remember what inspired that; I remember being moved by the humble wisdom of Rabbi Teluskin, a great modern scholar. For days afterwards I heard over and over again in my head the lilting voices of the daughters in Fiddler on the Roof: “For Papa, make him a scholar…”
During that same week, I also dreamed that I cut my waist length hair so I could wash the remaining hair in a metal bucket of creek water warmed by a campfire. I understood this as a message that my wandering may require personal change.
In synagogue Saturday, an elegant wisp of a girl shone at her bar mitzvah. She sang hundreds of words in Hebrew before the entire congregation, with only a rare stumble and smile. She carried the Torah scroll in the procession. She gave her teaching on the week's Torah portion. I checked the expressions of the others attending. There were many pleased smiles, but no one looked as surprised as I felt over the poise, intelligence, lovely voice and grace of this young girl. This is not an unusual occurance, I thought. Singing before us was justification for thousands of years of wandering, of Torah study, of keeping the Jewish faith and culture alive.
Both Moses and God are repeatedly upset by the rebellion of the Israelites against them, making it seem unlikely to me that either would have foreknowledge. (Moreover, if God had foreknowledge, how could we have free will and what would be the purpose of prayer, repentence, learning and striving to change?)
I wonder why the Torah ends before the Israelites arrive in the Promised Land. Doesn’t it seem as if the whole point of Exodus, the fulfillment of promises to Abraham, Jacob and Moses is the arrival? When Rabbi Maurice mentioned this in a Torah class, he grinned, “But it made you buy the sequel, didn’t it?” (Meaning the Tanakh, which contains the rest of the Jewish Bible.)
Is perhaps the point of the story the struggle to stay pure amid tribulations and temptations?
If the Israelites had calmly reached the land of milk and honey before the Current Era, would there be any reason to record the Torah at all? Would there be a Jesus? Would Jews, Christians and Moslems all have separate holy books that claim ancestry of Abraham?
If the Torah had a happy ending, would we treat it like a novel, as a means of escape rather than as an inspiration and source of great learning? Would we Jews feel the need to study Torah over and over, bit by bit in Torah portions in our synagogues and homes?
Will we ever have another Moses? Will we ever really reach the land of milk and honey? The constant uncertainty of our daily living, fears of layoffs at work, of being hit on the way to the grocery store, of the frequent falls from the mountain of love, may lead people to take comfort in the struggles for goodness among even the most holy. Knowing that even Moses struggled may inspire us to work great deeds.
In fact, Israel was a land of desert, swampland, food rationing, thirst and malaria until kibbutz workers in the 1900s drained the swamp, irrigated the desert, planted fruit trees and established apiaries and dairies. So now it is a land of milk and honey, although the problem of nearly constant war remains.
Perhaps the persistence of Torah lies in the fact that Jews wandered from the destruction of the First Temple to our own lifetimes. We may even be wandering still, since we are still reforming, reconstructing, working to make Jewish life, worship and ritual compelling to modern Jews. The word Hebrew comes from the Egyptian Habiru, which means "stateless people." The word diaspora is from the Greek diaspore, which means milkweed or butterfly plant. Milkweed pods develop from flowers, open and seeds, borne on the wind in a tuft of down-featherlike fuzz travel very far from the mother plant. One could, in fact, argue that wandering has saved Jews from extinction numerous times, because the Romans, the Crusaders, the Inquistitors, the Cossacks and Hitler's army all attempted complete genocide of the Jews in their midst.
It is clear to me that although I am no longer wandering in and out of widely disparate religious institutions, I am still wandering. With my children grown and gone, I am devouring books on Judaism and my new career, I am single and considering dating again and I am also returning to college this fall. The wisdom and love in Talmudic teachings have helped me examine my own life. I now believe that even if my prayers of gratitude never reach God, they reach my own heart, and thus are worth saying.
I recently found a note I’d scribbled to myself in the midst of notes on Jewish history. “I want a scholar.” I closed my eyes and tried to remember what inspired that; I remember being moved by the humble wisdom of Rabbi Teluskin, a great modern scholar. For days afterwards I heard over and over again in my head the lilting voices of the daughters in Fiddler on the Roof: “For Papa, make him a scholar…”
During that same week, I also dreamed that I cut my waist length hair so I could wash the remaining hair in a metal bucket of creek water warmed by a campfire. I understood this as a message that my wandering may require personal change.
In synagogue Saturday, an elegant wisp of a girl shone at her bar mitzvah. She sang hundreds of words in Hebrew before the entire congregation, with only a rare stumble and smile. She carried the Torah scroll in the procession. She gave her teaching on the week's Torah portion. I checked the expressions of the others attending. There were many pleased smiles, but no one looked as surprised as I felt over the poise, intelligence, lovely voice and grace of this young girl. This is not an unusual occurance, I thought. Singing before us was justification for thousands of years of wandering, of Torah study, of keeping the Jewish faith and culture alive.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
My First Service at TBI
Two weeks ago I moved into a woodsy community near Dexter Lake, only 12 miles from Temple Beth Israel. I meant to go to service last Shabbat, but was feeling awkward and shy. Last night I put my Kol Haneshamah and Torah into my car and headed that direction, but suddenly decided I was underdressed so I went to Borders instead! After leaving the bookstore, I went home, said a little prayer over wine I’d bought just for that occasion (my first service), blessed my dogs to be like Ephraim and Manasseh and felt ashamed of myself. So this morning I went to Torah Study in the library before the Shabbat morning service. I arrived ten minutes late, thought about turning around, but decided to go in quietly and sit off to the side. Rabbi Yitzhak motioned me to the table, where there was an empty seat. I blushed, got up and seated myself between two men. Within a few moments, though, I was following along and commenting. I am frequently intellectually competent and socially INcompetent within the same few moments.
Our weekly Torah portion included a passage that I found shocking when I first read it, Numbers 20:12. Moses had led the Israelites faithfully and well through four decades, during which there had been many hardships. Miriam had just died. Although it appears Moses and Aaron did not have a chance to grieve, the people berated them for bringing them to this wretched place, with no water, grain, figs, vines or pomegranates. God commands Moses and Aaron to assemble the community and with rod in hand, order a rock to bring forth water. Moses, apparently at wit’s end, speaks in anger to his people and strikes the rock twice. Water gushes forth. So little was said here; I wonder if Moses perhaps was angry with God, too – for it was God who told him to bring the people out of Egypt. The greatest test of faith, in my opinion, comes with the death of a loved one. Apparently Moses failed the test. Aaron did not correct him. God tells them he will not allow them into the promised land.
At my first reading, I closed the Torah, indignant for Moses. But reading on, I realized that Moses was old and was being granted the honor of training his successor, Joshua. Moses’ life was not immediately snuffed by a “jealous God”. It was simply time to relinquish leadership.
Rabbi said this passage dealt with ego – Moses, held up to us as the greatest of Jews, the one chosen for Revelation at Mount Sinai, ultimately had human emotions that brought his downfall. We are to honor God, not play God.
When class was over, we stood and the man to my left, Zachary, introduced himself. Then, going down the stairs to service, Susan introduced herself. I sat off to the side again, and Rabbi came over to introduce himself and to say I should keep in mind that a much smaller congregation came to Saturday morning services. I answered perhaps that was what I needed since I had been feeling too scared to come. Rabbi started to tell me which liturgical book they would be using, I showed him mine and we realized together I had brought the wrong one: the one in my car, Shabbat EVE! Doh! Fortunately, there were many of the correct books available.
Moments later, Susan invited me to sit near her, which was a blessing to both of us. Her voice, clearly articulated and sweet, helped me participate during communal song, since I do not know Hebrew. I could tell it pleased her to be able to do this kindness for me. Later it became apparent that if I had come Friday night instead of Saturday morning, the congregation would have been one person short of a minyan and she would have been unable to say kaddish for her deceased mother.
I also stood to say kaddish, the prayer that does not mention dying, but is traditionally said in honor and remembrance of the dead. It is an affirmation of belief in and devotion to God, chanted or sung aloud by the community, drawing us close to each other. I was thinking of my father, and realized part way through that only those who had lost a loved one within the last year were supposed to stand. I heard Susan’s voice waver; I put my hand on her back. When we sat, we whispered briefly about our losses, tears in our eyes. I apologized for standing when my loss was over three years ago; she said that I could stand whenever I felt the need.
For those who have never been to a Jewish service, it is a communal affair. Although the rabbi leads, he does not preach. Under his direction, we sing, read aloud and have moments of silent prayer. He chooses members of the congregation to help with devotional duties and rituals. It is clear that those chosen feel honored. I was stunned and delighted to see David, still dressed in his leathers from his morning ride, chosen to carry the Torah scroll in a procession around the room so we may touch our prayerbooks and shawls to it and kiss them. Clearly I could have come last night in my khaki pants and blouse that looked somewhat dressy until you realized the fabric, like a vinyl tablecloth, could be wiped clean (I am now a professional caregiver).
When we rose and gathered around the scroll, we read and sang from one book, then changed to another and I found myself on the wrong page in the wrong book. Zachary noticed and motioned that I could read along with him.
Unthinking, I placed my stack of holy books on the floor next to me. Susan swept them up and put them on a chair. Oops.
Afterwards, we blessed little cups of wine and grape juice, washed our hands and wrists and shared challah. I had been afraid of the moment the challah was offered to me; refusing it due to celiac disease seemed like turning away a Godly ritual. So much ritual in Judaism revolves around food, so much of it wheat based! But no one pressed me and the moment I’d been dreading was quickly over. We talked among ourselves; by the time I left I had met nearly all and was feeling good.
Rabbi Yitzhak said I had come to the right service. He was right. I will be back next Saturday morning!
Our weekly Torah portion included a passage that I found shocking when I first read it, Numbers 20:12. Moses had led the Israelites faithfully and well through four decades, during which there had been many hardships. Miriam had just died. Although it appears Moses and Aaron did not have a chance to grieve, the people berated them for bringing them to this wretched place, with no water, grain, figs, vines or pomegranates. God commands Moses and Aaron to assemble the community and with rod in hand, order a rock to bring forth water. Moses, apparently at wit’s end, speaks in anger to his people and strikes the rock twice. Water gushes forth. So little was said here; I wonder if Moses perhaps was angry with God, too – for it was God who told him to bring the people out of Egypt. The greatest test of faith, in my opinion, comes with the death of a loved one. Apparently Moses failed the test. Aaron did not correct him. God tells them he will not allow them into the promised land.
At my first reading, I closed the Torah, indignant for Moses. But reading on, I realized that Moses was old and was being granted the honor of training his successor, Joshua. Moses’ life was not immediately snuffed by a “jealous God”. It was simply time to relinquish leadership.
Rabbi said this passage dealt with ego – Moses, held up to us as the greatest of Jews, the one chosen for Revelation at Mount Sinai, ultimately had human emotions that brought his downfall. We are to honor God, not play God.
When class was over, we stood and the man to my left, Zachary, introduced himself. Then, going down the stairs to service, Susan introduced herself. I sat off to the side again, and Rabbi came over to introduce himself and to say I should keep in mind that a much smaller congregation came to Saturday morning services. I answered perhaps that was what I needed since I had been feeling too scared to come. Rabbi started to tell me which liturgical book they would be using, I showed him mine and we realized together I had brought the wrong one: the one in my car, Shabbat EVE! Doh! Fortunately, there were many of the correct books available.
Moments later, Susan invited me to sit near her, which was a blessing to both of us. Her voice, clearly articulated and sweet, helped me participate during communal song, since I do not know Hebrew. I could tell it pleased her to be able to do this kindness for me. Later it became apparent that if I had come Friday night instead of Saturday morning, the congregation would have been one person short of a minyan and she would have been unable to say kaddish for her deceased mother.
I also stood to say kaddish, the prayer that does not mention dying, but is traditionally said in honor and remembrance of the dead. It is an affirmation of belief in and devotion to God, chanted or sung aloud by the community, drawing us close to each other. I was thinking of my father, and realized part way through that only those who had lost a loved one within the last year were supposed to stand. I heard Susan’s voice waver; I put my hand on her back. When we sat, we whispered briefly about our losses, tears in our eyes. I apologized for standing when my loss was over three years ago; she said that I could stand whenever I felt the need.
For those who have never been to a Jewish service, it is a communal affair. Although the rabbi leads, he does not preach. Under his direction, we sing, read aloud and have moments of silent prayer. He chooses members of the congregation to help with devotional duties and rituals. It is clear that those chosen feel honored. I was stunned and delighted to see David, still dressed in his leathers from his morning ride, chosen to carry the Torah scroll in a procession around the room so we may touch our prayerbooks and shawls to it and kiss them. Clearly I could have come last night in my khaki pants and blouse that looked somewhat dressy until you realized the fabric, like a vinyl tablecloth, could be wiped clean (I am now a professional caregiver).
When we rose and gathered around the scroll, we read and sang from one book, then changed to another and I found myself on the wrong page in the wrong book. Zachary noticed and motioned that I could read along with him.
Unthinking, I placed my stack of holy books on the floor next to me. Susan swept them up and put them on a chair. Oops.
Afterwards, we blessed little cups of wine and grape juice, washed our hands and wrists and shared challah. I had been afraid of the moment the challah was offered to me; refusing it due to celiac disease seemed like turning away a Godly ritual. So much ritual in Judaism revolves around food, so much of it wheat based! But no one pressed me and the moment I’d been dreading was quickly over. We talked among ourselves; by the time I left I had met nearly all and was feeling good.
Rabbi Yitzhak said I had come to the right service. He was right. I will be back next Saturday morning!
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