Parshas Pinchas: Coincidence or Miracle?

At our l'chaim in Miami, Florida

If you have ever heard the story of how we met, you would be amazed at the coincidences.  We met in Peru, but only because Rabbi Ben decided to extend his time in Lima by 3 weeks to learn a particular sefer (book) he found there.  He finished his book, and in I walked.  Two and a half years later, Rabbi Ben was on his way to Puerto Rico and planned to pass briefly through Miami, where I was living.  Due to reading the dates backwards, his air miles expired and he had to take a different flight to Miami… and never made it to Puerto Rico.

Had Rabbi Ben not stopped to study that book at that time and taken so long to do so, we would never have met.  Had his air miles not expired, he would not have spent long enough in Miami to fall in love, get engaged, and get married.  What a fortunate coincidence!

In this week’s parsha, we see another incredible coincidence.  When Moshe uses a lottery to divide up the land of Israel, exactly the right amount of land falls to each tribe.  No one tribe gets even a tiny bit too little or even a tiny bit too much.  Every tribe gets exactly the right amount… from a lottery!

In Judaism, however, we don’t believe in coincidence.  Instead, we see every coincidence as a direct revelation of G-d’s presence and involvement in this world we live in.  The truth is, we have the chance every moment to look for and find G-d in our world, or to deny it.   As Jews, it is our job to seek G-d and to acknowledge Him when we see His involvement in our lives.

Even when it comes to great miracles, we have the chance to look for and notice G-d.  The biggest miracle in history was the exodus from Egypt.  Surely G-d’s involvement should be obvious!  And yet today scientists have found evidence of the 10 plagues in Egypt… but they have turned around and tried to attribute each of them to natural phenomena.  No matter how significant the miracle or how small, it is up to us to see G-d’s hand in it.

Shabbat shalom!

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Parshas Balak: Instead of Putting Others Down, Build Yourself Up!

Greetings from hot and steamy North America!  It is nice to be back in the warmer weather again, and even nicer to see our families.  Getting here has been quite the trip, but it is worth it in the end.  During all our travels we always try to maintain a positive attitude, no matter how difficult things become.

Rabbi Ben was once traveling in Peru.  His ticket needed a change, so he went to a special counter. Ahead of him was a German couple who were very upset about something and were shouting at the clerk behind the desk. Unfortunately, she spoke no German and they spoke no Spanish or English. By the time they left, the poor girl was nearly in tears. “Can I help you?” she asked Rabbi Ben. “No, can I help you?” he replied. Because he was so nice to her, she gave him a free upgrade to business class.

Akiva "reads" the safety information card on one of our many flights

Rebbetzin Rachel and Akiva had the ride of their lives this week when their flight left Sydney late. Because they missed their flights to the East Coast of America, they ended up running into horrible storms.  Five flights and more than three full days later, they still had not arrived in Virginia, where her parents live.  In the end, they had to take a bus to make it in time for Shabbos! But although some tears were shed, both mother and baby tried at the very least to be kind to all the people – airline staff, security, ground crew, and other passengers – they met along the way. After all, it doesn’t cost anything to be nice, and it might just make another person’s day.

In truth, we have this choice every day in our daily interactions.  In this week’s parsha, we see Balak make this same choice as well.  When dealing with the Jewish people, he has two options: either he can ask Hashem to bless himself or he can ask Hashem to curse the Jews.  When he hires Bilaam, he chooses the latter.  After all, it is easier to put another person down than it is to work hard on building yourself up!  But ultimately, this plan backfires.  Cursing others and wishing them ill is not what Hashem wants of us, any of us.

We can carry this lesson with us into the week.  When we are feeling low, we can ask G-d to bless us and build us up, instead of putting the other person down.  When we are angry, we can ask G-d to help fix things for us, rather than railing against the nearest person available for blame.  No matter what our situation, we can always choose to ask for a blessing, rather than to give a curse.

Shabbat shalom!

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Parshas Chukas: Explaining the Unexplainable

I like to ask questions. I like to challenge people.  It’s part of what makes being a lawyer come easily to me.  And it’s no coincidence that so many Jews are attorneys.  It’s part and parcel of being Jewish that we like to ask questions and understand things.

Jewish men studying in Yeshivah spend hours every day debating the minute details of the Gemara. Even the way the text is written is generally in the form of a debate: This Rabbi says “ABC,” but That Rabbi asks, “What about XYZ?”  The Other Rabbi responds by suggesting PQR, and on and on it goes.

So it should come as no surprise that in conversation with others, one of the most common phrases I come up against is, “There are just some laws I don’t understand…” usually followed by an example or ten.  We don’t just like asking questions. We like getting answers, too.  But the answers are only “good enough” if they make sense to us.

Once, when I was first becoming religious, I asked my friend Amy if she enjoyed covering her wild, red, curly hair.  I also have long curly locks and I hated the thought that I would ever have to cover them up.  Honestly, she replied that she didn’t really enjoy covering her hair. “Why do you do it, then?” I asked.  “Because the Torah says to,” she responded, “and G-d gave us the Torah, so I’d better do what He says!”  This idea of doing what G-d wants just because He is G-d and He surely knows better than I do was totally foreign to me.

Most people I meet knock their heads against this concept, just as I did.  Shouldn’t we question? Don’t we frown on blind obedience? Well, yes, we should question and try to understand. But maybe we shouldn’t frown on blind obedience in quite the way Western culture would have us believe we should.  In Judaism, doing a mitzvah just because G-d says so is the highest level we can reach.

That’s because it involves the total abnegation of our will to His.  And unlike other religions, where a Pope or guru is followed blindly, we don’t bend our will to that of another fallible and subjective human being.  We bend our will to that of our Creator by following His Torah, a completely objective instruction manual, free of whims, emotions, and prejudices.

In Parshas Ki Tisa, we learned about the Golden Calf and how worship of the Golden Calf symbolizes how the Jews put their own egos and wills before that of G-d.  Which makes it an extremely fitting parsha to juxtapose with this week’s.  In both, we have a cow – in Ki Tisa, a Golden Calf and in Chukas a Red Heifer – and in both we see the theme of subjugating our ego and will to that of our Creator.  After all, Chukas is the epitome of laws we don’t understand (click here for a more in-depth explanation) and following them requires us to suspend our worship of our own intellect and understanding in favour of pure worship of G-d.

So let me make another connection between these two Parshas and in doing so propose a little bit of an explanation for the unexplainable.  Perhaps the Golden Calf can give us a clue to understanding a bit about the Red Heifer.

I have heard it said that the Red Heifer comes to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf.  In a way it makes sense that a cow, the mother, should atone for the sins of the calf, her offspring.  After all, it is normal for parents to take responsibility for the actions of their children.  If I go into a shop and Akiva breaks something, I am expected to pay for it.  He is my responsibility.  So too, the cow is responsible for the calf.

But on a deeper level it doesn’t seem to make as much sense. After all, they don’t have much to do with one another. Sure, the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer) purifies the people, but it doesn’t exactly atone for their sins.  It’s a purification ritual for people who have come into contact with dead bodies.  The Golden Calf, on the other hand, was a situation of idol worship.

But on the other hand, they have everything to do with one another.  Before the situation of the Golden Calf arose, G-d Himself had spoken to the Jewish people and given them the Ten Commandments.  The Jewish people at that time were raised to the level of angels.  Angels, remember, never die.  But when the Golden Calf was worshipped the Jews came crashing down from their lofty level.  Like Adam and Chava (Eve) who defied G-d’s word with the Tree of Knowledge before them, the worship of the Golden Calf brought death into the world again.  Once again, the Jews were mere mortals who could die.

And death brings with it spiritual impurity.  (This, incidentally, is also the reason why women become spiritually impure after getting their period – it’s a loss of potential life – and then must ritually immerse themselves in a mikveh before becoming spiritually pure again. Men who have nighttime emissions must do the same for the same reason.)  Today, we don’t have the ability to become fully spiritually purified, but in the times of the Temple, we did.  And the means of purification? The Red Heifer.

So the two are intricately linked.  Although the actual workings of the Red Heifer remain a mystery to us, at least we can take a shot at part of its purpose.  And in the meantime, we can work to cultivate within ourselves the humility to recognize that our limited intellectual ability can in no way come cloe to G-d’s, so how can we possible expect to fully understand Him?  We should continue to ask questions, to try to learn and understand, but for those things that are beyond us, we just have to accept that He knows best.

Shabbat shalom!

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Parshas Korach: Being a Leader is Hard

When I first became religious, I admired the rabbis in my community.  My rabbi, or any rabbi, commanded respect from the community.  Even if you didn’t like them much or even if you disagreed with them, they always commanded respect.  I looked up to the wives, too, those women who manage to marry such paragons of Jewish leadership.  When I became one myself and married Rabbi Ben, it was a little bit like winning the ba’al teshuva lottery.  I felt like I was suddenly a spiritual millionaire.

But being on the other side of the fence now, I see that my one small viewpoint was not always correct.  Being a member of the clergy, rather than a member of the congregation, I see how hard a rabbi works.  I know firsthand how hard a rabbi’s wife works.  Many of my friends are also rebbetzins, constantly cooking, cleaning, phones that never stop ringing, chasing children, helping people… doing, doing, doing, and always for others.  Being a rabbi is a lot of hard work.

But being a leader is not without its pitfalls.  In this week’s parsha, everyone seems to focus on Korach, the rebel, the guy for whom the parsha is named.  He’s the bad guy, he’s the star of the show.  But what about Moshe Rabbeinu?  I hardly hear him discussed except in hindsight as the victor.  As we all know, it is the winner of the war who writes the history book on it.  We look back and think of Korach as this bad guy who dared talk back to the all-knowing and fantastic leader that Moshe was. But what happened at that time? How did Moshe feel in that moment? What really happened?

Here’s the story: Moshe as leader had to make decisions and declarations.  He denied Korach a post he wanted and that upset Korach.  Upset, offended, and hurt Korach a lot.  But it wasn’t just so offensive that Korach decided not to come back for minyan anymore – he wasn’t simply resolved to refuse Moshe’s future invites to Shabbos dinner.  Korach was offended enough that he had to tell other people about what had happened to him.  And what Moshe had done was so inflammatory that thousands of other people – people who were not even directly affected by Moshe’s decision, took such offense that they decided to join Korach in a rebellion.

Now, that’s no small offense that Moshe caused.  What could he have done differently? Is there some other way he could have spoken to Korach so as not to offend him so much? Did Korach have some past history he was carrying with him that Moshe should have known about and taken into consideration? What if Moshe did not – could not – have known about that emotional trauma Korach had?  If he did, surely he would have taken it into consideration and spoken differently, handled the situation in some other way, made sure not to upset Korach to such an extent.

And how did Moshe feel when he saw what had happened? This is, remember, the man that cared so much for the Jewish people that he was willing to throw himself on the ground and cry to Hashem to spare them. He spent weeks – literally weeks! – praying for the good of these people, that they be spared from calamity.  He cared more for the Jewish people than himself (remember, he was willing to give up G-d’s promise of making his offspring only into a nation – in order that the Jewish people should be saved).  How would he have felt upon seeing that his words, that something he had said, had caused so much hurt and discontent in one of his congregants?  He surely would have been much aggrieved.  It obviously was not his intention.

We must assume that if it had been possible for Moshe to repair the relationship, he would have.  Aharon, the great peacemaker, was certainly present and if he had been able to make peace, he would have.  Even at the point of open rebellion, G-d desires teshuva and He surely would have accepted Korach’s, too, if Korach had been willing.  And Moshe, who would do anything – anything! – to save the Jewish people surely would have done everything in his power to bring this about . . . if it was only possible. But with Korach it wasn’t.

We have to remember this when dealing with our own community leaders.  Our rabbis and rebbetzins are people, too.  They don’t know our whole life’s history, they don’t know all the emotional baggage we carry, they don’t know about all of our emotional traumas.  They misspeak sometimes, phrase something badly, or say something that offends us without even knowing.  As rabbis, we hold them to a higher standard and expect them simply to know better.  But being a rabbi or rebbetzin does not make you omniscient.  It does not mean you know everything.

So next time your rabbi or rebbetzin says or does something that you find offensive, perhaps ask yourself why it is offensive.  Is it because of an experience you had in the past? What is your relationship with them like? If they knew they were offending you, do you honestly think they still would have said what they did? Do you truly believe they singled you out with that goal in mind, that they want to say this to hurt you?  The answer is almost always no.  Community leaders want to lead, not chase away! And as leaders, they certainly do not want to offend or hurt anyone.  But unfortunately, leaders are just people, too, and sometimes they say things the wrong way.  Sometimes they tell us things we do not want to hear.  Sometimes they will do or say something to offend us or upset us – but they don’t intend to, really don’t want to – they just don’t know, don’t realize.  They are doing a hard job, doing a lot of work all with the goal of helping others. But that doesn’t mean they’ll never make mistakes.

Hey, if it can happen to Moshe Rabbeinu, it can happen to your rabbi, too.  Next time, try giving them – and anyone – the benefit of the doubt.

Shabbat shalom.

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Parshas Shelach: When to be a Tourist

Before arriving in Adelaide, we travelled a lot.  In fact, we still do, when we can manage it.  (Even Akiva, at 1 year old, has already taken 13 flights and had several long term car trips across Australia.)  But when we travel, we don’t travel in style.  We don’t fly first class, we don’t stay in luxury resorts, and we don’t spend a lot.  We travel on a budget and, as a result, we end up getting to know the nitty gritty of the cultures we visit.  We live like the locals.

We are rather proud of the fact that we are not traditional tourists.  We are expats at best, backpackers at worst – but never traditional tourists.  We don’t go on organized tours, we only set foot on a bus if it looks like it might fall apart any minute, and we rarely even visit the traditional tourist sites.  When we travel, we toss out our Lonely Planets and forge our own path.  We don’t do what everyone else says – we think for ourselves.  In some ways, we feel like this makes us cooler…. We are not tourists!

What is interesting is that in this week’s parsha, Moses sends 12 Jewish men to the land of Canaan to see what’s going on there.  But he doesn’t send out spies, he sends out tourists!  Tourists, with their ever-flashing cameras, loud chatter, and bright Hawaiian t-shirts.  Tourists, who go to places like Paris and Madrid to stay in Hilton Hotels and eat at McDonalds.  Tourists, who ride in giant buses in huge packs and stare out of cushy windows on the lowly locals below.  Tourists are what Moses sent to Canaan.

The men who went decided on their own to become spies.  Being tourists, floating along and simply taking in the scenery, was not enough for them.  They wanted a more active role. They decided on their own to be vigilant and on guard.  They made the decision to come to conclusions about the strength of the Canaanites and the Jews’ chances against them.  Moses never wanted that. Moses merely wanted to know the kinds of things tourists discover – How big are the cities? How fertile is the soil? – but instead he got a report given by spies, conclusions and all.

As we go through life, we often think we are better or wiser because we’re choosing to think for ourselves.  We’re acting independently and taking the path less followed.  But, while this is often commendable, it isn’t always.  With some things – Shabbat, kosher, etc. – it is better to step onto G-d’s “tour bus” and go along for the ride than to try to forge our own path.  If we do not, we run the risk of wandering in a spiritual desert for the next 40 years… or even for the rest of our lives.

Shabbat shalom!

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Parshas Behar: G-d is in Your Backpack

As observant Jews, we have a lot of items to carry around with us when we travel.  We carry pots to cook kosher food. We carry a siddur to pray. We carry tallis and tefillin and shabbat candles.  We have a lot of things in our backpacks that add to our weight and our bulk.

But no matter where we travel or how, there is one thing that never takes up space and never weighs us down: G-d.

In this week’s parsha, we are commanded, “Do not make gods for yourselves, and do not set up an image or a memorial stone or put up a marker anywhere in your land to cast yourselves down upon it.”  G-d is telling us that we don’t need reminders of Him. We don’t need huge monuments, sculptures, or little idols on our car dashboards.  We don’t need paintings or pictures to remember Him.

Instead, G-d has given us a precious gift: his Sabbath.  By keeping Shabbat and the commandments, by doing what is right and good, we remember Him.  We remember Him through something much more potent and meaningful than simply looking at a picture.

In fact, a picture or a sculpture is easy to overlook.  Look around the room you are in right now.  Are there photographs or artwork on the walls or on your desk? How often do you really notice them. How often do you sit and really look at them? Most of the time, we look through them or past them. We know they are there; our brains do not need to register their presence.  The same thing happens with paintings, drawings, pictures, sculptures, or monuments of idols.

But if we remember G-d through our actions then we truly cannot forget Him. We can’t look around or through our actions.  Even if some things, like negelvasser in the morning, become habit, the majority of our actions are conscious decisions we make.  We decide to do an act of chessed for someone else.  We spend hours upon hours of our time preparing to make the Sabbath beautiful… and if we are spending so much time doing it each week, it cannot be out of habit.  By keeping the Sabbath, by doing the mitzvot Hashem has given us, we remember Him and know He is with us and watching over us.

So when we travel, we may have to worry about packing a few extra things, but there is one thing we will never need to worry we’ve forgotten: G-d.  Because no matter where we are in the world, He is with us.  Even if we travel with no bags at all, even if we travel with nothing, G-d is still with us, as long as we keep Shabbat and do His mitzvot to the best of our ability.

Incidentally, Rabbi Ben has a book called “G-d is in My Backpack” coming out very soon.  Watch this space for it!  In it you will be able to read many amazing incidents that show just how true it is that no matter where you go, G-d is always with you.

Shabbat shalom!

Read more on Pashas Behar