Showing posts with label Tanach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tanach. Show all posts

Thursday, May 12, 2016

The blessing that is Aviva Zornberg

היום תשעה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות וחמשה ימים בעמר
Today is nineteen days--that is two weeks and five days--of the omer
הוד שתפארת
A day of humility in a week of compassion

As mentioned yesterday, I've spent time this week learning from one of the premier biblical scholars of our time, Dr. Aviva Zornberg. It was amazing to be lead through the journey of Moses' life, both within each of the four teaching sessions and on the path from session to session--from his birth to his death. There's so much to absorb, processing the meanings contained in the trajectory of Moses' growth within himself, his complicated relationship with the Israelite people, and his intimate, but sometimes difficult connection with God.

But as special as having this time with this incredible teacher was to also get a chance to hear a bit about her life and how she came to this calling. She had a religious upbringing in Scotland, the daughter of Holocaust survivors. Her father became her teacher from an early age, passing his knowledge and wisdom of Tanach. Aviva admitted that she might have benefitted from the fact that she had no brothers, something that is certainly our gain :) She said she teaches in his lecture style, which is how she is able to take us on these 45 minute journeys in Torah, weaving in so much content but never losing her way. 

I got to ask her if she ever took into account the voice of who wrote the various parts of the Tanach, or the layer that the Masorite scribes added to the writing as they cemented the pronunciations and patterns of the chant. She said no, neither of those factors concerned her. She looks to what the text speaks to her, looking at what is there, accepting its inspired sacredness.

Throughout these teachings with this small group, she gave us glimpses of her life. She noted that, feeling the intimacy of the moments. It was such a blessing to learn from and with her, and it was time I will cherish.

Sunday, May 08, 2016

The prophesy of dry bones lives

היום חמשה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ויום אחד בעמר
Today is fifteen days--that is two weeks and one day--of the omer
חסד שתפארת
A day of loving kindness in a week of compassion

A teaching from 2007 that touched me--one I continue to teach today. There are those that think I'm crazy, but I see this prophesy coming alive.

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Yesterday was the Shabbat between Yom HaShoah - a day of remembrance for all those lost in the Holocaust - and Yom HaAtzmaut - a day commemorating the 1948 formation of the State of Israel. Because of this, Rabbi Moshe Levin of Ner Tamid chose to change the haftarah that is traditionally read for the Torah parsha Tazria-Metzorah. Instead, the haftarah that we read on the Shabbat HolHamoed Pesach - the Shabbat in the midst of Passover - Ezekiel 36:37 - 37:14, known as the "Dry Bones" story. He felt that reading was much more appropriate to the Shabbat linking Yom HaShoah to Yom HaAtzmaut. Reading that story, I totally agree with him, and think it's a change that should be made at Beth Sholom when we are back together next year in our new synagogue building.

The amazing thing about reading that haftarah this past Shabbat was seeing the prophesy of Ezekiel fulfilled with the survival of Judaism after the holocaust and the birth of the Jewish homeland. The imagery couldn't be more appropriate and the words more direct. Ezekiel tells of his vision in which God takes him to a valley of dry bones. God says to those bones: "I will lay sinews upon you, and cover you with flesh, and form skin over you. And I will put breath into you, and you shall live again" (37:6). And so it comes to pass:
"The breath entered them, and they came to life and stood up on their feet, a vast multitude. And God said to me, "O mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say, 'Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone; we are doomed.' Prophesy, therefore, and say to them: Thus said Adonai, your God: I am going to open your graves and lift you out of the graves, O My people, and bring you to the land of Israel. You shall know, O My people, that I am Adonai, when I have opened your graves and lifted you out of your graves. I will put My breath into you and you shall live again, and I will set you upon your own soil. Then you shall know that I, Adonai, have spoken and have acted" (37:10-14)
Read it again and let it all sink in. Hope is gone, dried up like those bones. But just as those lifted from the graves, hope rises from the ashes of the Holocaust as our people are brought to a land that can be called ours - the State of Israel. All our displaced people can now find their way home.

A prophesy written before the common era fulfilled in the 20th century. While I find this somewhat chilling, it also helps me confirm my faith in my Jewish tradition.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

The 21st Century Daughters of Tzelophchad


Pinchas is a parasha that is close to my heart—it is my birth parsha. There are so many ways it speaks to me personally. But this year, this week in particular, this parasha speaks to us all.
During the school year, I teach Torah to 7th graders. I constantly impress upon them what I call “the magic” of the Torah—that these ancient teachings, these stories, these precepts, have managed to speak to each generation with relevancy for its time. And this week is one of the moments when the Torah’s teaching come to life.
In this parasha, there is mention, by name, of nine women—nine  women. So often in the Torah we to have look between the lines to find the stories of women in a document written in a time of strong patriarchy, yet here, out front, nine are named, giving them a true presence in our heritage.
We have Cozbi bat Tzur, daughter of a Midianite chieftain, killed by Pinchas. Now, granted, she is certainly not one to be emulated but still, she gets a name, unlike Potiphar’s wife in the Joseph story or even Pharaoh’s daughter, who plucked Moshe from the water.
During the counting and the listing of the genealogies, we hear "ושם בת אשר שרח – v’shaim bat Asher, Sarach” – The name of Asher’s daughter was Sarach. It is a name we have heard only once before, in Genesis (46:17). Sarach is listed there as one of the 70 souls who go to Egypt with Jacob, once Joseph’s true identity is revealed. She is the only granddaughter of Jacob listed. We never learn anything else about her—yet the mention of her name must note something of importance. One story is that she is the one who told Jacob of Joseph’s survival, and lived long enough to tell Moshe where to find Joseph’s grave in Egypt so that his remains could be returned to the land of Israel, as he requested on his deathbed.
When counting the clans of the Levites, we hear for the first time, the names of Moshe’s parents—not just his father, Amram, but also his mother, Yocheved. Yocheved is not just described as a wife or a mother, but as a Bat Levi—given that honor in her own right. Miriam, his sister, is also named.
And then there are the daughters of Tzelophchad, whom I have dubbed “Women with Chutzpah” It is the story of these women that comes to the forefront today, in this monumental week.
We first meet the five sisters, Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, in the list of genealogy (Num 26:33). There, we learn only that their father, Tzelophchad, son of Hepher, son of Gilead, son of Machir, son of Manasseh son of Joseph—had these five daughters; he had no sons. But unlike Asher’s daughter Sarach, we do learn more about them. After all the tribes are counted and named, including the tribe of the Levites, their story is told.
Our story begins (Num 27) with these five daughters of Tzelophchad, once again mentioned by name—Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, who come forward. They stand before Moshe, before Elazar HaCohen, before the Nese’im—the chieftains, and before the entire Ai-dah—the entire community. They stand at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting and state their case:
Our father died in the wilderness. He was not part of the rebellion of Korach. And he left no sons. למה—LAMA––WHY should his holding in the Land of Israel be lost because of this—give us a place among our tribe. Moshe brings their case to God.
And God says, the words of these women are right, you should give them their place in their tribe—transfer their father’s share of land to them. And so, God relays these new laws of succession for the Israelites. The first of these laws—if a man dies with no sons, his property will transfer to his daughter.
Before the daughters of Tzelophchad spoke up, Jewish law dictated that only sons were in line to inherit from their father—any sisters were excluded from the inheritance. The daughters of Tzelophchad stood up to this injustice. Some commentators note that in a time when so many of the Israelites were pining and whining to go back to Mitzriyim, to Egypt, these women were looking forward, wanting their portion of the Promised Land. Rashi notes that as the reason their genealogy, going back to Joseph, was mentioned once again at this time. Just as Joseph cherished the land, wanting his remains to rest there (Gen 50:22), these daughters of Tzelophchad were imperative in their request for their portion –“תנה לנו אחזה בתוך אחי אבינו – t’nah lanu achuzah betoch achai avinu" - Give us a possession as part of our family inheritance.”(Num 27:4)
 Other commentators are impressed with the manner with which the daughters of Tzelophchad
made their request. They did not rebel, like those who stood with Korach. Reish Lakish, a 3rd century Amorah, Talmudic rabbi, says that the women went through the channels Moshe set up for these types of disputes on the advice of his father-in-law Yitro—first they went to the chiefs of tens, who judged that since it was a case concerning inheritance, it needed to go to a higher authority. They then went to the chiefs of fifties, then hundreds, then thousands, then the chieftains. All gave the same reply—this needs a higher authority. When the daughters went to Elazar, he told them to go to Moshe.
So, the daughters of Tzelophchad—Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, stood in front of the whole community—including all the chieftains, Elazar HaCohen, and Moshe, in a place for all to see, and stated their case. And Moshe, seeing the deference shown both by and to these women, realized that this case needed to be taken to his “Supreme Court”, God. God ruled in favor of the daughters of Tzelophchad, and the law was changed. And while, as we will see next week, there was some modification of the law, the women were granted their inheritance in the land as stated in Joshua (17:3-6), “Ten portions fell to Manashe…because the women of Manashe received a heritage among his sons.
These righteous women saw the injustice they were subjected to, the denial of their inheritance, and knew the time had come to stand up and be counted. Imagine the courage and the chutzpah they had to have to question the patriarchal rulings of the time. A group of five women making a claim for all to see in a time of strong patriarchy. They stated their case with respect, and were treated with respect. They wished to honor their father and their heritage. They showed their desire to move forward into the land of Israel when others wished to go backwards. Their righteousness was rewarded with an implementation of a change from an unjust system of inheritance to one of justice. Aviva Zornberg, a pre-eminent Torah scholar of our time, teaches that this is the first instance of oral Torah – these women were responsible for setting Jewish law.

Fast forward thousands of years-------

Starting in 1989, a group of righteous women, soon dubbed the Women of the Wall, women who simply wish to respectfully and fully pray at the Kotel, the remaining Western Wall of the Temple, are harassed each time they go to pray. Harassed not just with words, but with chairs thrown at them. They, like the daughters of Tzelophchad, keep going through the system, saying LAMA—WHY can we not, rightfully, partake of our heritage. And while that struggle continues, they, like Machlah, Noa, Tirtzah, Milcah, and Chaglah, are bringing changes to the laws.
And then there’s Edie Windsor and Thea Spyer—two more “Women with Chutzpah” who literally danced together through life. These two women met in 1965, and fell in love. In 1967, Thea proposed to Edie, presenting her with a diamond brooch instead of a ring to avoid attracting attention. In 1975, when Thea was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, they modified their dancing—whirling on crutches, then a wheelchair—and remained committed to each other. In 2007, they were finally legally married in Canada, this time with a very public announcement. Thea died in 2009. And that beautiful, vibrant, loving 44 year relationship was treated like it never happened.
But Edie, in the name of Thea and their love, stood up like the daughters of Tzelophchad, went through the system from one court to another, and this week, the Supreme Court of our land said, “כן—YES” this women is right, this law is wrong and it must be changed.
It is my bond with the daughters of Tzelophchad, that makes this parasha my parasha, but we are all a part of their inheritance. They stood up for their rights and for equal justice. They did so with respect and with strength. As do Anat Hoffman and the Women of the Wall. As did Edie Windsor and her lawyer, Roberta Kaplan. And as did Wendy Davis and Leticia Van De Putte in the Texas statehouse this week, literally standing up for women’s rights and access to the health care they need. And as did Kris Perry and Sandy Stier who, along with Paul Katami, Jeffrey Zarrillo and their lawyers, fought and won the right for marriage equality in our state of California—and hopefully soon, throughout our country.
Rabbi Arthur Green teaches that each generation leaves a bit of their oil on the Torah as it passes through their fingers. What happened in this country this week will become some of that oil, bringing light and relevance to the story of Chaglah, Machlah, Noa, Milcah, and Tirtzah—the righteous daughters of Tzelophchad—and pass that on to the next generation of  “Women—and Men—with Chutzpah.”

כן יהי רצון –  Ken y’hi ratzon – May it be so
Shabbat Shalom

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Finding Common Ground in the Valley of Dry Bones


היום ארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is four days of the omer
נצח שבחסד
A day of perseverence in a week of loving kindness

Today on Shabbat Hol Hamoed Pesach--the Shabbat in the midst of Passover--the haftarah that is chanted is the "Dry Bones" story - Ezekiel 37:1 - 37:14. Rabbi Moshe Levin of Congregation Ner Tamid in San Francisco teaches that this haftarah would be better placed in the week between Yom HaShoah--Holocaust Remembrance Day, and Yom HaAtzmaut--Israel Independence Day. I very much agree with him. It is a story that gives me chills each time I read it, seeing an ancient prophesy that came to life. I wrote about this during the counting of the omer in 2007. That was when I first really read the story and saw the link to being lifted from the ashes of the Shoah, restored to life in a land that we can call our home.

Three years ago, on this same omer day, I found another layer to this story. I saw that redemption doesn't just happen, we need to hear the prophesies and find the ways and the leaders that will make this happen. Finding the right leadership in Israel right now seems even more urgent. I fear that if things do not move forward towards a two-state solution, there will be no land to call home.

This year, I add another layer of commentary. When I read this today, verse 9 popped out to me: "Then He said to me, "Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, O mortal! Say to the breath: Thus said Adonai/God: Come O breath, from the four winds, and breathe into these slain, that they may live again." Not only do we need to be open to hearing the prophesy, but we, as Jews, need to come together from our different places, find a way to join our breath, our ruach, our spirit--physically, philosophically, theologically--to be able to live in our home. We need to find the commonality we have as a people in order to keep the land we call our home.

Once again I say:  "כן יהי רצון – May it be so"