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Rachael’s Thoughts on Shabbat Hagadol

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This Shabbat is called Shabbat Hagadol, The Grand Sabbath, the Shabbat before Pesach.   One of the reasons for this name is because this is the first time, while still in Egypt, on the verge of leaving, Israel willingly takes on the choice to fulfill a commandment.  This means all the Israelites in Egypt cross the threshold of becoming an adult, becoming Bnei Mitzvah, and the meaning of Gadol, when speaking of a person, speaks of someone who is no longer a minor, someone who is a mature adult. 

But being an adult, with free will, immediately raises a question of choosing a perspective.  Life brings wonderful things to us, and can equally blindside us and bring tears to our eyes.  We know both sides are in our path – we do not choose what will happen, we choose how we read what happens. 

It reminds me of the old Jewish man who is lying in bed fearing the worst.  He calls to his wife, Goldie, and he says: ‘Goldeh, things are looking tough right now, but I’m remembering our years together.  I remember when we first were married, and suddenly our lives became hard, finding a place to live’.  Goldie nods her head.  ‘And Goldeh, I remember when we opened our first grocery store together, and we were robbed within a month.’  Goldie nods her head. ‘And Goldeh, don’t think I’ve forgotten that when we opened our second store together, it burned to the ground right after the insurance expired.’ Goldie nods her head.  ‘And through it all, Goldeh, you were there, every step, every moment.’  Goldie’s eyes fill and she nods. ‘And so, my Goldeh, in this moment of dire reflection, I have come to an important conclusion…’ Goldie leans closer, ‘My Goldeh…I now understand…you’re bad luck.’ 

It’s not what happens to us that shapes us, it’s how we choose to view it.  Ancient Egypt simultaneously produced slaves and leaders.  Our texts show us that Moses becomes our spiritual giant, Miriam becomes the guardian, and Aaron becomes the peacemaker.  Yet it is for us to choose what we see and where we focus. 

This Shabbat is the 10th day of Nisan, the day Miriam died.  Miriam, the quiet leader who brought us culture through her spontaneous song and dance; who brought us water in the wilderness through Miriam’s Well; who taught us guardianship as she protected her brother, Moses; who taught us to step into opportunities as she spoke to Pharaoh’s daughter and reunited her mother with Moses so they could bond.   

Our Sages teach us that we were redeemed from Egypt on the merit of the Jewish women, and so my thoughts move to Miriam and Goldie.  As Shabbat Hagadol leads us into Pesach, I choose to think of everything Miriam brought to us, and not to think of the great sadness they felt when they lost her.  I choose to think of Goldie, so strong, so loyal, so misunderstood. 

Our people is filled with Miriams and Goldies and Moses and Aarons.  Regardless of how busy things can get, may we never be the ones who choose not to see them. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat —our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate.   

Also wishing everyone a meaningful, connected and beautiful Pesach. 

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Ki Tisa

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This week’s Torah reading, Ki Tisa, starts with Israel learning how to conduct a census.  It’s actually a far more nuanced thing than we first realize.  The very nature of counting something reduces its essence to something that can be quantified by a number.  When we count a thing, we objectify it, ignore anything that is unique or distinguishing about it, and relate to all things being counted as if they are they same.  The only significance applied to counting something is the end number, the sum of the things.  It’s clear why this process would be problematic to us when connected with people. 

The second problem with counting people is one of tempting the ‘evil eye’.  Jewish sensitivity about positive and negative forces in the universe goes back to our beginnings.  Once we accept that there is spirituality in the world, it becomes difficult to draw a line saying spiritual forces only exist in some places but not others.  Because we don’t really know, we err on the side of caution.  To assign a final tally to counting people might draw a negative force to take notice of that large number and now play with it, bring negativity to it…reduce it.  No mention of a number, no invitation or temptation for negativity, we have secured each other. 

As much as that might sound out of place in our modern society, I’ve noticed people who never took such things seriously suddenly became aware of it once they have children.  They err on the side of ‘just in case’. 

All wonderful spiritual concepts to explore but on a practical level, how could we ever take a census?   

God tells Moses to command everyone to give a coin, a half shekel.  No one is allowed to deviate from that set coin amount —whether rich or poor, everyone must give the same.  The coins are all collected and counted.  We are not counting people, we are counting their donations.  The amount collected would then be used to sustain and support those who work for the nation, the ones who facilitate ritual and leadership.  In other words, we managed to take a census, collect a religious tax, support community workers, and everyone in the nation has given charity and fulfilled a mitzvah.  Why be satisfied with a mere census when we can accomplish all of that instead? 

Sometimes, we read something in Torah and feel it imposed on us, or it’s tying our hands —wouldn’t  it be easier to just do what we want, directly and quickly.  It’s moments like these when we realize that what might seem as a limitation could actually be a broader accomplishment that now sits firmly on our Jewish values.  In a world of sound bites and instant response times, the Torah reminds us that taking shortcuts is not always our preferred process. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat —our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael  

Rachael’s Thoughts on Shabbat Zachor

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The Shabbat before Purim is called Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat of Remembrance.  It is named after the commandment to always remember what Amalek did to us as we were coming out of Egypt – the word ‘zachor’ means to remember.  Ironically, the commandment regarding Amalek is to erase the memory of this people, but at the same time we are commanded to remember. 

Our history with Amalek goes back to biblical times when they attacked us as we came out of Egypt.  It is not just the attack, it is that they targeted the part of the nation that is protected at the back: the women, the children, the elderly.  The rules of warfare respected that conflict should remain between the strong and the armed.  Amalek first attacked those that were vulnerable, they preyed on the ones ancient societies had agreed to protect.  Amalek was a nation whose core rested on self-interest, brutality, and immorality – the epitome of evil. 

The Torah commands us to remember that evil exists in the world and it will hunt.  We consider Haman to be a descendant of Amalek, and we therefore read of them on this Shabbat, the Shabbat of Remembrance.  But the commandment is to erase their memories from existence, so why do we do the opposite by naming a Shabbat after remembering them?   

It is not history that we are directed to erase, it is the logical reconciliation of that history.  The fact that hatred and evil of that kind can still gain supporters means it is somehow still making sense to someone.  The commandment to continue to fight Amalek, by remembering them until they are forgotten, speaks to the goal of changing the cultural consciousness.  We have not won against evil in the world so long as it still makes sense to some cultures. 

The prophet Isaiah spoke of a time of redemption when nation would not raise sword against nation, and they would no longer study war.  It is not that they would not feel the need to study warfare, it’s that war would no longer make sense to anyone. 

We remember Amalek so we will recognize evil when we see it.  It is the only war we are commanded to wage – fight evil until it’s very existence becomes an anomaly. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Shabbat Shira

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This Shabbat is special in that we read of leaving Egypt, crossing the Reed Sea, and singing our first song.  Because we sing the Song at the Sea, the entire Shabbat is named ‘The Shabbat of Song’, Shabbat Shira. 

We are born as a people when we emerge on the other side of the sea.  We inhale and take our first breath as free people; we are transformed from a clan to a nation.  The first thing any newborn must do is breath, and that first breath results in a sudden burst of crying.  Each parent waits for that first cry, the proof of life and breath.  But, in this moment of national birth, as Israel emerges from the sea, we inhale our first breath and sing.  As a newborn bonds to its parent, we bonded to God through breath and song. 

Our sages debated how Israel sang the lyrics to a song they didn’t know, since Moses is composing it on the spot.  One answer is that Israel was not singing the words, the people kept repeating the first word: “Ashira”, “I will sing”.  Every time Moses completed a sentence, the people sang their commitment to covenant and life: “I will sing”.  

In fact, the Torah refers to itself as ‘this song’, and when we chant Torah to each other we sing the traditional notes.  We have shaped the ritual of passage into Jewish adulthood, a Bnei Mitzvah, as calling a young person to the Torah to hear them sing it. We have learned the importance of song, and the importance of committing to it. 

A newborn baby does not consciously experience its birth.  The baby suddenly finds itself in a room of light when it had only known darkness; cold when it had only known warmth; aloneness when it had only known connection – of course a newborn will inhale and cry.  On this Shabbat we read of our conscious transformation, our feelings of freedom and safety, enveloped by God, whose Divine Presence is palpable– of course we would inhale and sing. 

It is traditional to stand in the service when the Song at the Sea is being read from the Torah.  We stand to remember that first instant we stood together, that moment of absolute completion.  We do not deny that life presents challenges, but on this Shabbat we recommit ourselves to sing. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

  

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Va’era

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This week’s Torah reading, Va’era, begins detailing the plagues of Egypt.  We are familiar with these plagues, after all, we recite them every year at our Seders. But, in fact, we’ve been debating their meanings for millennia.  We’ve looked at them in their details, in their impact, and in their categories. 

One of the ways we categorize them is by realizing that each plague is targeting another god of Egypt.  The Nile was seen as a god since it flooded its banks every year and irrigated Egypt.  Frogs were viewed as representing the frog goddess who brought fertility to Egypt after the Nile would flood.  As the plagues progress, each one targets a different god worshipped in Egyptian life.   

To anyone sitting outside of that culture, the impact of the plagues is devastating, but random.  To anyone in ancient Egypt, it is clearly an attack on their gods, and their world view.  The result of the plagues is to discredit anything Egypt has trusted, leaving them feeling confused and powerless.  When trust is removed, paranoia sets in, and everything and everyone now sits under a cloud of suspicion.  The cohesion of a nation has fallen apart. 

When we read of the plagues, we are not meant to read them as distant, ancient world occurrences.  The plagues challenge us to look at the world around us today, and question what the things are we worship, as if they are gods; what are the myths we have created in our daily lives that now build into a house of cards.  Measures of success today may be sitting on materialism in our lives, rather than on the role of values, compassion, and acts of human kindness, the things Judaism tells us could truly change the world. 

We think we know all about the plagues of Egypt, but we shouldn’t read them as if we stand outside of their reality.  The Torah, in its eternal truth, invites us in, and positions us to ask those questions in our own lives –what are the things I worship that are truly meaningless? 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

  

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Vayishlach

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In this week’s Torah reading, Vayishlach, we see Jacob wrestling with an angel all night until daybreak.  It results in an injury – the angel grabs Jacob’s thigh, injuring his nerve and causing him to limp for the rest of his life.  The severity of that injury has significance both in how it speaks to us in our Jewish identity, as well as how it remains silent. 

Before Jacob is injured, he demands that the angel bless him, and the angel tells Jacob his name will be changed to Israel.  According to the angel, the name means Jacob will struggle with people and with God but will be enabled to meet those challenges.  In the same moment of such a strong blessing we also hear of such a grave injury.  The two extremes sitting side by side teach Jews that Covenant conveys blessings but it is not a shield against injury or pain.  Jewish identity will always contain both the blessings and the pain. 

On a personal level, the injury remains silent.  The Torah tells us Jacob will now limp but Jacob himself never refers to it.  We do not hear him speak to his family of ever being in pain or ever feeling limited because of his limp. 

After Jacob, the Torah introduces us to our next leader, Moses.  Like Jacob, Moses also has a handicap which we learn of when he speaks with God at the burning bush.  Moses tells God he has a speech impediment.  Interestingly, God does not view it as a handicap and nowhere in Torah do we ever see anyone asking Moses to repeat himself because they can’t understand him.  Moses is the only one who sees his limitation and he feels insecure because of it. 

Two leaders stand side by side, both have physical limitations, but Jacob does not define himself by it while Moses does.  It challenges us to ask how much of how we perceive ourselves is based on self-imposed limitations.  Among the many things we learn from Jacob is this subtle detail of personal empowerment: choose the blessings over the pain, and question ourselves about our perceived limitations. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate.  

Shabbat shalom,  

Rachael  

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Lech Lecha

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In this week’s Torah reading, parshat Lech Lecha, we meet our first generation of ancestors: Abraham and Sarah. We always think of them as the beginnings of Judaism, the ones who followed God into a relationship that changes them, changes their descendants, and changes the world. 

What we don’t often emphasize is that the journey to search for something more didn’t begin with Abraham and Sarah, it began with Abraham’s father, Terach. Before reading of the beginning of the Jewish journey, the Torah tells us that a man named Terach took his family, including his son Abraham and daughter-in-law Sarah, and left their home in Chaldean territory. Along the journey, Terach dies, and his family stagnates. They seem paralyzed by the loss of their father and the family journey seems to end just as it has barely begun. 

It is then that God speaks to Abraham and prompts him to ‘lech lecha’, ‘journey onward’. It is a Divine prod to continue with the vision and initiative of his father, Terach –to bring the family to new horizons. The relationship that God, Abraham, and Sarah, will form is not the relationship Terach envisioned but it is the continuation of his impulse to search beyond the usual. 

The Torah is always full of layers of meaning and timeless messages. Terach changed his family culture and envisioned what could be beyond, but his life ended. If not for God reaching out to Abraham and Sarah, Terach’s vision would have ended as well. The Torah is always full of timeless messages, and in this case, we are shown that the journey of a life takes longer than a lifetime. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Noah

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This week’s Torah reading, parshat Noah, tells us the story of Noah’s Ark – a story we’re all familiar with.  We know the grandeur of the problem: all of creation has corrupted and turned evil.  We know the grandeur of the solution: God destroys everything with a flood.  But within the narrative lies a subtle detail that speaks volumes to us today. 

The Torah says that the animals and people entered the ark in their designated numbers. They are referred to as pairs when they enter. Yet, when these same people and animals leave the ark, we’re told they leave in their family groupings.  In other words, the people and animals who were isolating together in the ark formed relationships and bonds while they were there.   

As nature raged outside, the ark protected those within — not just with shelter from the storm, but with the understanding that they will survive if they create strong bonds with each other.  When the destruction outside became overwhelming, it is the love and bond they developed for each other that secured difficult moments. 

The corruption that led to the flood included a preference for disconnect and ultimate autonomy from everyone and everything.  The Sages speak of a world where absolute self-interest and self-promotion became the motive and expression of everything.  The Torah contrasts that with the changing reality inside the ark.  While everything entered on its own, they quickly formed trust, family, bond, and the hope of continuity.  

After the High Holidays, I heard from many families who re-experienced the power and joy of sitting together with family members.  In some cases, it had been years since they were able to experience those moments.  The spirituality of Judaism is not just the holiness of God and ritual, it is also the holiness we create when we reach toward each other and build strong unions.   

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

Shabbat shalom, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Shabbat Sukkot

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This Shabbat falls towards the end of the holiday of Sukkot, the time God judges the world for rain that will fall.  When the Temple stood, there was a ceremony connected with water called Simchat Beit haShoeiva’, the ‘Joy of the Water-drawing Libations’.  The descriptions of this ceremony are astounding.  There was ongoing music, dancing, singing and Sages juggling burning torches!  The Talmud specifically mentions Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, who juggled 8 burning torches at once, and never let them touch each other. 

In fact, the Talmud states that if someone has not seen the celebration of these water libations, they have not experienced joy – in other words, we don’t know from parties.   

Sukkot is a unique holiday because there are holidays within the holiday.  On the seventh day of Sukkot, Hoshana Rabah, we take our lulav and etrog and walk around the sanctuary in circuits as we recite the Hoshanot.  The day marks the end of the High Holidays, as the decisions of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are made, sealed, and now delivered.  It is a ceremony filled with Jewish mysticism — a step back into our ancient past.  If we watch this moment from a birds-eye view, everyone below looks like a current of water flowing round and round.  The medium becomes the message, as we pray for water, it is our bodies that express the prayer. 

For all of us who have ever danced a hora at a simcha (also called the Mayim dance), we have emulated the water libation dancing.  The words to the hora begin: ‘ushoftem mayim bisasson, mimaynei hayishua’, ‘and you will draw water in joy from the waters of salvation’ – a quote referring to Simchat Beit HaShoeiva – the Joy of the Water-drawing Libations. 

Soon we will transition out of our holiest time of the year, as we should.  We need to go back to the mundane, but if we’re lucky, we can carry some of these moments with us in the coming year.   

May we all enter a year of peace, abundance, and health.  May we dance a hora or two with the images of Rabbis juggling burning torches, and may we learn to experience joy that has no limit. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

  

Shabbat shalom, Umoadim lesimcha, 

Rachael 

Rachael’s Thoughts on Parshat Ha’azinu

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This week’s Torah portion, Ha’azinu, is the song Moses composes and delivers to Israel. He worries about Israel’s welfare, and the nation’s struggle with God. Moses repeatedly warns Israel never to underestimate their inclination to deny God, nor God’s response. 

At the same time, we are at the threshold of the holiday of Sukkot, the time we celebrate following God in the wilderness and learning of Divine Love and Divine Protection. It is the time we built our relationship with God. 

These two messages sit side by side this Shabbat. As Jews, we always struggle with understanding God, and the demands of our Judaism. At the same time, we celebrate that same relationship, those same challenges and demands.  

Moses’ worry is that we won’t keep the values of Torah close to our hearts. He refers to it as ‘this song’. He worries we will not teach our children to sing the song of Torah. Of all our leaders, Moses saw firsthand that if the generational chain is not well established, it can begin to disappear – Moses witnessed this in Egypt as slavery took its toll. 

Interestingly, another name for the holiday of Sukkot is ‘Zman Simchateinu’, the Time of Our Joy’. The name itself speaks directly of the message Moses is expressing. His warnings are dire, and the picture he paints is stark, but he always stresses how Torah must be inherited, taught, sung, and enjoyed. 

Through the prophets, God stated how sweet the memory is of our time together in the wilderness, when we followed God with complete trust – when we expressed ‘chesed’ to God in our youth, when we dwelled in our Sukkot.  

Moses worried we wouldn’t understand how important Torah is in our lives. When we sit in a Sukkah, we assure him we won’t ever forget. 

I’d like to wish everyone a sweet and peaceful Shabbat –our Jewish time to regroup, rest, and reinvigorate. 

Shabbat shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach, 

Rachael