Peace at a price...

The dove and the olive branch. Ever wondered from where it originated? Not Picaso. But rather from this week’s Torah reading, the story of Noah. After previous unsuccessful attempts to find land, the dove returned with the famous branch showing God’s flood had begun to subside. Life would be renewed. A world of peace could be built upon the ruins of a world already ruined before the first raindrop. The evil, debauchery, thievery and ungodliness which prevailed was no more, and the olive branch was the first to raise it’s head above water and declare victory for God, Noah, righteousness, morality and humankind. Beautiful.

So why was the dove punished? That’s right, something it did was so consequential that its eternal Blessing was forever compromised (so says our tradition). In fact, the language, rather word choice of the Torah seems to describe the branch not as plucked, but rather killed – עלה זית טרף בפיה the olive branch was ‘killed’ in its mouth. Says our sensitive and exacting tradition in the Midrash, “if it were not killed, how many tress may have grown.” It didn’t need the olive, the seed, per se to bring the message of salvation and hope to a desolate world. It should not have been over exuberant in its announcement of success. Rather it should have understood, especially considering the circumstances of potential environmental genocide, the potential of life, its value and its sacredness.

A branch in the dove’s mouth would have been enough of a sign for peace. The olive would have populated the world one by one by one by one, and perhaps we’d be tasting the offspring-oil of the very first fruit that was granted a peaceful world. Our sages teach of exacting care and precision, even when performing a mitzvoh, and appreciation for all of God’s creation.

Good Shabbos,

Rabbi Lynn

One singular sensation....

On the eve on Shmini Atzeres and Simchas Torah,

“Your departure is difficult,” says God, “Please stay another day, just us alone”. This is the holiday knows as the Eigth-day Gathering, or Shemini Atzeres. We’ve spent quite a long while with Him – preparing during Elul, coronating Him on Rosh Hashana, crying and repenting to Him on Yom Kippur, celebrating Him and unifying existence for 7 days on Succos, and now, just as it’s all over, He wants one more dance. Just us and Him.

We’ve purified ourselves, reinstated the Kingship, wiped the slate clean, and brought the blessing of Oneness into the world. Succos was a time of worldly work. The lulav, esrog, willow and myrtle have been taken to become one – symbolizing the human condition (spine, heart, lips and eyes), the Jewish people (wise & righteous, wise but not righteous, righteous but not wise, and neither wise nor righteous), the world at large (4 different species growing in necessarily different ways). Shaking the lulav in all directions brings unity into a disparate world. You’ve become a venerable lighting rod for God.

Our Sages teach that all the 70 nations receive their life-force through the service of Succos. We as holy, purified intermeditory vessels live in our Succos for an entire week’s worth of spiritual world unification and receive divine protection as would angels on an earthly mission. And when the work is done and we prepare to leave, He calls us back.

“Put down your lulavs, esrogs, release your focus from the created world, leave your divinely guarded Succos dwelling, your protection from all things physical (including temptation). Leave it all behind and cling to your Creator.” Only when a Jew’s work on himself and the world around him is done, only then are we so close that we could reach out a grab Him. That’s why Simchas Torah’s the same day. We do. As best we can, we grab Him, and dance to our hearts’ content.

Enter into the chamber of life where souls delight, where bodies are relegated to glorified chauffeurs, but nothing more. Here, in the halls of synagogues across the world, Jewish souls grab their crown jewel, the sefer Torah, and swing their bodies behind them as they dance away the world.

Good Yom Tov,

Rabbi Lynn