Excuse me, I’d like to share some words

As I read this weeks Torah portion, the story of Noah’s Flood, it is pouring rain outside. I am touched by how relevant and alive these words still are, just as they were hundreds of years ago, last year, and yesterday. Many perceive the Jews to be a people a scripture, a scripture that is outdated, remote, overly wordy, and nonsensical that has been transcribed onto very heavy scrolls. Meanwhile the people of this scripture see it as a life line, the breathing beating essence of G-d. How can such a discrepancy exist? Although it is not my job to defend G-d’s existence to mankind (we should really be defending our right to exist to G-d) I am going to attempt to paint a picture of how powerful the Torah is and how it can be used as a tool to improve our lives, offering comfort and inspiration to all who take a chance and dive into its waters.

For those unfamiliar with the tradition, each Saturday morning the Torah is taken out and read to and by the congregation. The Torah is broken up so that there is a chapter each week. During the holiday of Simchas Torah (the holiday I mentioned when we dance with the Torah), we finish the Torah and start over. Right now we are at the very beginning, reading the well known Book of Genesis. To start at the beginning gives us unique opportunity (in the realm of this blog) to take a new approach to the scripture. Plus, the first book of Torah has the best stories! Last week we opened the Torah and read about how the world was created (a very contentious topic that -G-d willing- I will be brave enough to touch on one day) how man was created, and how within two paragraphs of being created, man was already screwing around and getting thrown out of the Garden of Eden. This week we read about the story of Noah and the flood.

It is said by Rabbi Nachman that every story in the Torah is about you and I. Each and every single one of us can be in found there. It is kind of like Where’s Waldo, except YOU are wearing the red striped shirt. Every time we revisit a story, we are in a different place in our lives, we are different people, and therefore our position in the picture changes, the meaning changes, the lessons we derive changes. Sometimes it is difficult to find where and how a person connects to a section in Torah, but the chapter on Noah is a perfect way to demonstrate the concept since there is so much simultaneously occurring.

The beauty of the place I am currently in (a Jewish learning institute in Israel) is that words of Torah never stop; making it easy to find the story we connect to. On the streets, late at night, in the classroom, over dinner, the words keep flowing. The words are meant to provide a life lesson, provoke thoughts, sustain us in the upcoming week, and connect us to our past. I’d like to share some of the parcels of wisdom I have learned about Noah’s Flood through a scene and dialogue that commonly occurs at the dinner table (eating is almost as important a custom in Judaism as sharing words)

** None of these ideas are original to me (although I have infused them with my meanings and interpretations). Since I can’t properly cite them, I’d like to make it 100% clear that the sages, Rabbinic commentators, my teachers, my classmates, etc have shared these incites and I am so thankful to have the opportunity to share them with you.

The are four ways to read and understand the Torah. Using the acronym PaRDes we learn these ways are:
1. Peshat – the plain and simple meaning
2. Remez – allegorical meaning beyond the literal sense
3. Derash – metaphorical meaning
4. Sod- hidden, mystical meaning
See if you can identify what level of meaning each of the stories below are.

A typical dinner time conversation goes as follows:

Eater #1: “Why was the world utterly destroyed in the story of Noah and not in the story of the Tower of Babel? Because in the Noah, people were sinning against each other through robbery and violence while in the story of Babel, love prevailed”

Eater #2: For many years I was troubled by the fact I had to work all day rather than study Torah. From Parsha Noah we learn that Noah’s Flood it is analogous for the material world we exist in. The waters represent making a living. We have to work in order to survive and provide for our families. In Aramaic the word Noah means comforting, therefore should have comfort in the world below (physical) and above (spiritual). However we can not become consumed by water below instead we must use it to intensify our spiritual being. We must stay afloat! Working in the world is not a spiritual blemish as long as we don’t become drowned by it. Instead, the submersion in the material world should fan our love and raise our soul to a higher stature. We do this by remembering to stay true to ourselves and not become completely invested in our work. This Torah portion teaches us, “come into my ark, that is the only way you’ll survive the flood”. We should work with our external beings, our arms and legs, in the waters below while reserving our hearts for more important things.

Everyone in unison: Skoyach (Yiddish expression for “right on”)

Eater # 3: The Torah says Noah was a righteous man in his generation, why does it say this?
This explanation explains Noah's shortcomings. Even though he was considered a great man, he was only righteous for own self interest. When G-d tells Noah his plan to destroy the world, Noah doesn’t ask G-d to reconsider nor does Noah reach out to the people around him. It is said that he spent 120 years building the ark and in that time he didn’t convince anyone else around to change their ways nor did he invite anyone else aboard. At the end of the story of Noah plants a vineyard, gets drunk, and ruins himself because he realized that he didn’t save anyone but his family and could not face his own failure. From this we learn that we should go into the Ark, but we must not be selfish about it, we must reach out to the world and bring them in too.

Eater #4: I’d like to follow up on that idea. I once read a drash (story) that said the soul of Noah was reincarnated as Moses in order to fix the bad karma generated by Noah’s lack of outreach. Just as Noah doesn’t protest for mankind, Moses pleads to G-d after the incident with Golden Calf saying, “If you destroy the people, I want you to erase my name from your book”.

Eater #5: In Likutei Sichos it points out that when Noah comes off the ark, the first thing he does is plant a vineyard. In the Torah it says:

“Noach, a master of the soil, degraded himself by planting a vineyard. He drank the wine, became drunk, and uncovered himself in his tent. Cham and his son Cana’an (grandson of Noach) looked at his father’s nakedness and assaulted him. Cham publicly related the incident to his two brothers, Sheim and Yafes. Shem and Yafes took a garment and placed it on both of their shoulders. They walked backwards, and covered their father’s nakedness. Their faces were turned backwards, so they did not see their father’s nakedness”.

Eater #5 continues: “Their faces were turned backwards, so they did not see their father’s nakedness”. Why is this mentioned twice? Isn’t it enough to say “their faces were turned backwards? The Baal Shem Tov teaches us that when a person sees another one doing an inappropriate act, there are two possible ways too react.
a) You can see the flaw in that person and be disgusted by the act.
b) You can see the action they are doing and think how can I help them improve themselves in this area?
One may ask another question. Why would G-d show us other people’s flaws?
This is answered by saying that G-d is not showing us other people’s bad habits. Rather what one sees is a mirror image of things that he, himself, is struggling with and needs to improve on. Cham took the first approach. He “assaulted his father” by judging him and focusing on the inappropriateness of the situation. This was a personal struggle that Cham was going through. Thus he recognized the flaws in his father’s actions. On the other hand, Shem and Yafes “did not see their father’s nakedness” they did not become disgusted at what happened. They simply thought of how they could help fix the problem. So when the verse repeats itself it is emphasizing that they did not see the flaws in their father’s nakedness rather they were trying to help him. The lesson one can take from this is clear. A person should be aware that if they are judging a friend, it is because of the fact that in this particular area he has not completely “perfected” himself. Instead you should be pure in thought and judgment, seeing that your fellow friend is in need of help. May we all be able to tell the difference between the two approaches and see the good in our fellow friends!

Everyone in unison: L’Chayam (Yiddish way to cheers, means “To Life”


The End! (Time to bench)

This exercise was my attempt to demonstrate the breadth and width of the Torah and its ability to connect with our lives today, each person relates to a different point. The Torah is not foreign and it is completely accessabl, no matter where we are in life and what we are doing. I’d like to point out that the Hebrew word for ark used in the story of Noah is “tevah”. Tevah can also be translated into the word “word”. We should all come into the ark, come into the words, and find the meanings we need to grow.

(Apologies to those who read my blog and don’t subscribe to the Jewish faith. My attempt is not to proselytize or alienate. I truly believe that these sparks of wisdom are relevant to all members of the human race. Don’t we all yearn to be connected with the world and each other? Don’t we all yearn to improve our lives and the world? Don’t we all search for meaning?)

And it don't stop

.....and just when I think all the fun is over and I publish the post, I am suddenly deafened by the sound of loud music and blinded by blinking lights. I look out the window and see out of nowhere, a spontaneous parade. What is the occasion? A Torah has been completed and is being delivered to a nearby synagogue. The entire community suddenly comes running out of their homes in order to join the procession, dancing and holding torches as traffic is stopped to let the parade pass. Is this real life?

A Temportary Dwelling Place

The most solemn day of the Jewish Year, Yom Kippur, ended with a light meal to break the twenty-six hour fast. Then, within minutes, as if in a synchronized dance, the Country of Israel slid from its state of national reflection and prayers into a state of celebration. Sukkot had arrived! Overnight Jerusalem transformed into Sukkot and it isn’t just a feeling. It’s a very tangible transformation because it requires that each household build a temporary dwelling place called a Sukkah (in layman’s terms: a hut) outside of their home. The edifice must conform to certain standards in order to be considered a kosher sukkah, if you are interested and happen to be a mathematical genius; I can direct you to the Mishna that outlines the requirements. If not, you’ll have to be content with my explanation: a sukkah must have 2.5 walls that can be made out of almost any material. The important part is the ceiling,
called the Sko’ch. The sko’ch must be made out of organic material that is detached from the ground (palms or bamboo shoots are commonly used materials) and the sko’ch must allow the moon and stars to shine through. Got it?

Growing up, the holiday of Sukkot never meant very much to me. It wasn’t important like the Jewish New Year, I didn’t get presents, and it was not an excused absence from class. However in Israel, celebrating the seven day festival of Sukkot is a very serious matter. You must be serious about enjoying yourself otherwise you are not properly observing the holiday. In other words, it is a commandment, a mitzvot, that you celebrate Sukkot and anything that contributes to the joy…food, drink, music, and dancing (within reason of course) must be indulged in. Additionally, for these seven days it is proper that you do everything in a sukkah, eat all your meals, entertain guests, study, chill, party, and even sleep in your sukkah. As you can imagine, it creates quite a social environment, everyone is just hanging out, busy in their commemorating. It is traditional to invite anyone you can into your sukkah, the more guests; the better. It is said that during Sukkot, we have access to the wellsprings of joy that will sustain us for the upcoming year. The more we enjoy Sukkot the better our year will be..another marvelous concept!!!!

My Sukkot, as ordained to be, was beyond enjoyable... I am trying to think of a more powerful term to encapsulate my experience, how about exuberant? It all began when a close friend of mine invited me to Sfat to meet her fiancé and to do some hiking. We were only meant to go for a day, but as I packed for the day trip a divine inspiration came over me and I packed a week worth of clothing. I was anxious to see Sfat, it is a very spiritual town, the birthplace of Kabbala, and is situated on the top of a beautiful mountain. I had been told by many people that if I loved Ithaca, Sfat was the town for me. I needed to investigate the scene, see what the lore was all about.

The mystical tradition of Sfat began during the 15th century Spanish reconquista, forcing many prominent Spanish Jews, such as the Arizal, to leave and seek refuge in this mountaintop town. Another migration to Sfat occurred in the early 21st century when a bunch fed-up progressive, Jewish renewal liberals from California moved to Sfat as well, creating a vibrant neighborhood set in an ancient town. Nature, art, and spirituality swirl together like the purple clouds at sunset. It’s a place where the sky and the earth seem to meet. A place where ancient mysticism meld with forward-thinking hippies. A place where macrobiotics, water conservation, and recycling are valued as much as the preservation of mystic traditions founded there. Yes, it was like Ithaca, only a Jewish version. Needless to say, I didn’t leave Sfat after a day. In fact, I moved in for a while. I laid my bag, my head, and my heart and took the deepest breath I had taken since watching my last Ithaca sunset on top of my favorite lookout. There are four holy cities designated in Israel and they correspond to the natural elements. Jerusalem is fire, Tiberius is water, Hebron is earth, and Sfat is air. I didn’t realize how desperately I need that breath of air until my lungs were about to burst open from that inhalation atop the mountain of Sfat.

I was put in touch with an incredible couple, the Goldfarbs, who were kind enough to take me in during my sojourn in Sfat. They were very much my speed; their sukkah’s walls were made from tapestries. They gave me the keys to their Kabbala cave and introduced me to musicians, healers, artists and writers galore. It was nice to meet so many well rounded Jews, rooted in their traditions but hands dirty from participation in the world.

Sfat was magical and musical. There were concerts every night to celebrate the festival of Sukkot…the best evening concert I saw was the Kabbala Reggae band ;) But what took the cake was the musical performance I was fortunate enough to take part in each morning. During the week of Sukkot it is traditional to recite special prayers during the morning services, called Hallel. Usually Hallel is said quickly and isn’t very exciting. However, in a tiny synagogue named Beirav hidden in the alleys in Sfat something very special happened each morning at about 7:30 am. The Rabbi would indicate it was time for Hallel and everyone around would reach into their bags and suddenly guitars, tambourines, drums, flutes, violins, and instruments I have never even seem before appeared. At my Bat-Mitzvah I read a psalm about praising G-d with music but during these mornings, I actually praised G-d with music.

Then came Shabbos in Sfat spent with four close friends of mine. HaShem must have conspired to bring us together since the group, whose travels were all independently motivated, ended up breaking bread inside a sukkah which was lent to us by the local pizzeria in Sfat. The sukkah, situated at the very top of the mountain, overlooked the valley and endless mountain range. Since it was on the main road we had random guests wander past our sukkah and curiously peak in. Of course we invited them to sit, drink some wine, and join us in song. Over the course of Shabbos we were visited by many, most notably the 14th generational Sfatian and the minister of Tourism in Northern Israel who said he’d donate us land to begin a Kibbutz. As the sun began its departure, we walked up to the tippy-top of the mountain which had been transformed into a well-maintained public park. At the foot of the final ascent we noticed the opening to a cave. Of course we went in and after stumbling around in the pitch black we found a huge dome shaped room with the craziest acoustics. A finger snap would echo for minutes. And so we did what anyone in our situation would do; we chanted and sang. We fell out of the cave, the alternative universe we were fortunate enough to enter for a while just in time to watch the most magnificent sun set I have ever seen. We sat, silent and breath-taken, stolen by the city of air.

Sunday morning came and I thought I would head back to Jerusalem. After being in Sfat for five days, my friends at school were getting worried and calling me. Unfortunately for them, my phone had died. As I packed my bag, my hosts informed me they were heading to the Modi’im Moshav to attend the yearly Sukkot Fair. She the founder of T’ai Chi of the Hebrew Letter Alphabet (http://www.otiyot.com/index.htm), He a writer and poet, were heading to the fair to sell their goods at the craft booths. Visiting the Modiim was something I really wanted to do and suddenly the perfect opportunity presented itself. So I put off my return a little longer and jumped in the car. (The Modiim Moshav is a religious communal settlement that was founded in the 60’s by Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, a revolutionary who created his own Jewish movement combining the love found in Hassidus and music…if you are interested, I suggest you read more, or better yet, seek out a Carlebach-inspired synagogue near you) The festival was awesome and I met even more wonderful people and heard awesome music.

Monday I went back to Jerusalem just in time. It was the last day of Sukkot. My crazy adventure was only the prelude to the ultimate culmination, Simchas Torah. Simchas Torah marks the end of the reading cycle of the Torah and the beginning of the new. It is on this holiday that we celebrate having the Torah in our life and so for forty-eight hours it is imperative to not stop dancing and singing…with the Torah. Swirling skirts, shaking floors, voices singing at the top of their lungs. Sheer rejoicing. I have never seen such happiness. It was so beautiful to be a part of it. Spending the month of Tishrei in Israel is a truly poignant and unique experience, moving through the breadth of the human experience from awe, fear, joy, love and inspiration.

My final thoughts on Sukkot as I sadly watch everyone disassemble theirs and return to their houses:
I think it is absolutely brilliant, as children, most of us spent hours (at least me and my sister did) building forts and tents out of dining rooms chairs, couches, and all the extra comforters laying about. We played inside them until our parents begged up to dismantle it so they could sit at the table for dinner. Now here, we have a holiday that caters to the inner child in everyone, requiring us to leave our home and build a tent, to play in it. However, this explanation for the holiday is too whimsical. There are many reasons we celebrate Sukkot, and these reasons aren’t solely because G-d wants us to play. The most beautiful explanation I heard is as follows: The sukkot is an analogy for our soul. Our soul’s home is in heaven but they are sent down to earth to reside within our bodies temporarily. At the end of our lives, our soul must return to its permanent home, our bodies are merely a sukkah. What we learn from this holiday is how our souls are meant to spend their short-termed residence in this world…they are meant to enjoy every second of it. To celebrate, dance, and revel in the Festival of Life.

What is going on?

Funniest caption contest...go

My Garden

I live in an area called Katamon. Its about a twenty minute New-York-City-paced walk south from Old City Jerusalem. This neighborhood is residential with white stone houses and huge gardens; gardens overflowing with succulents, palm trees, and the most deliciously fragrant flowers; gardens that more closely resemble tropical forests rather than manicured front lawns; gardens similar to the meadow Alice finds herself wandering through in Wonderland. Among the vegetation, one can find the five fruits of Israel in all their glory, basking in the Mediterranean sun. Over ripened pomegranates dripping bloody juice, staining the underbrush, olives and grapes in bunches so large the trees are developing a lean, dates and figs crystallized from the saturation of their own sugar. How can this be? How come all these plants, fruits, and flowers aren’t tended to? Pruned? Eaten? Or Harvested?

The answer, which sounds absolutely bizarre, archaic, and economically reckless, is that this past year was a Shmita year. Shmita is an event that occurs every seven years in the Land of Israel and literally means a Sabbatical year, kind of like a Shabbos for the trees. During this time, no one can gain or profit from the land. Just like everything I have been learning, there are a lot of reasons behind keeping Shmita, I'll provide two. The face value of shmita are the agricultural benefits allowing the soil to regenerate its nutrients. On a deeper plane, it represents putting your faith into G-d’s hands and trusting that sustenance will be provided. Interestingly, it always rains early in the season during Shmita (which is no small deal since Israel is a desert, in fact praying for rain is an integral part of the blessings a Jew makes every day). The Shmita officially ended with the celebration of the New Year, Rosh Hashana, last week. I feel very fortunate to have witnessed it at its pinnacle. The untamed, uncultivated gardens are sown into my memory.

On the topics of wildly untamed gardens, I have been given an incredible opportunity this past week. Allow me to preface this story by introducing the concept of “Hashgacha Protis”. Think back through your life. Just try and identify all the times you've encountered a mind-blowing coincidences or event that you just know was divinely ordained. Times that made you believe, if even for a split second, that everything happens for a reason, that there is a bigger picture, that you are a part of the divine comedy starring your favorite actors: you and the universe. Explaining Hashgacha is extremely difficult however the sages taught us that stories are usually the best way to illustrate a concept.

Here's the story:
Last week I was confronted by my body who sternly told me that I needed to improve my lifestyle. I went from living a very healthy lifestyle (eating organic foods, walking for miles, doing yoga) to sitting in a classroom from 7 AM to 9 PM breaking only to eat dodgy food from a miscellaneous catering company, not to mention that there is a bottomless jar of chocolate spread (how dare they put one of those in a building with thirty women!!!) sitting on the table that taunts me in my sleep. I give in to the chocolate, convincing myself it’s not so bad since I am dipping carrots. Nevertheless, my body was desperately screaming for me to find a balance, to bring some activity into my life. My body even started threatening me with "you're going to mentally burn out" "you're getting fat" "you'll miss the most beautiful season in Israel". As I am debating in my head, the head of the school was debating about what to do with all the gardens surrounding are campus now that the shmita is over. Somehow the Rabbi and others on the program got the notion that I am miss mother earth, which is actually quite funny since anyone can attest that my luck with plants is very little. That I tend to overlove them, resulting in their untimely death. That my green thumb is actually a sickly yellow. But nevertheless, someone planted this notion in their heads and I was asked to take charge of the landscaping on campus. I accepted the position. I love the gardens that surround my school. Every morning we have an hour for prayers and meditations which I spend in the middle of a purple lilac bush, eyeing the pomegranates ominously swinging over my head, watching the six foot rose bush's bulbs burst open. This is incredibly excited. I am hoping to hone my gardening skills. This also means that I’ll have an obligation to be outside toiling in the land of Israel. Now I really have gani (refer back to 1st blog entry)!!! Hashgacha Protis.

Anyways, I had a lot more to tell you about…my roommates, my classes, the holidays in Jerusalem, the temple down the block that resembles a hippie commune. But I’ve got to run, my cousin Harry and his wife, Rachel, just got to town (which means my suitcase is finally here) and Yom Kippur starts tomorrow which is followed by Sukkot, an awesome holiday that entails building huts and making parties in them (a grave oversimplification but worth noting).

With Love