Friday, February 08, 2008

cutest little baby face - terumah


From the surface, the word "adultery" says a lot of how we see ourselves maturing through life. I haven't checked the dictionary, but I imagine we're describing an event which is...well...a manifestation or expression of adulthood. Consenting adults. But not quite. One of these is "faithfully" committed to someone else. And unbeknownst to them, their trust is being obliterated. Could such an abusive violation of the very gift of intimacy really be coined with a word that drips of maturity? Perhaps I've got it wrong. But from the looks of things out there, and the staggering rates of illicit behavior, it may seem that the very staple of adulthood is thoroughly rotted with its namesake, adultery.

Seems like we should stay kids forever, no?

By the way, in Judaism the stakes are raised exponentially. "Adultery" is not transgressed by only the very brazen men and women of action, but any adulterous violation of the purest intimacy is included. A spouse who has thoughts of another whilst loving his or her "beloved" of holy matrimony, is considered on par with the very worst. In the bedroom, there exists the potential for either the holiest and least lonely of life's experiences, or, God forbid (and He did ;-)), the most severely profane and most lonely moment in existance.

Lying atop the Ark of the Covenant in the Holiest place on earth, encasing the most sacred tablets of our people, are the cruvim כרובים (by their greek translation - cherubim). They are little, winged, baby-faced "angels" perched above the contract of existence, the tablets of our partnership with the Almighty, their wings outstretched upwards towards each other and the Heavens. And with typical miraculous fashioning, their posturing will change to reflect the spiritual state of the Jewish people vis a vis their covenant. With bowed heads and draped wings, the cruvim would tell a frightening tale of the Jewish state of affairs, longing once again to hold their heads upright and reach towards the Heavens. Many times in our history have they reflected such misfortune, and often have they radiated with the success and beauty of our people. Were they revealed to us today I shudder at imagining their pose.

Why children? Why children with wings? Why atop the Aron HaKodesh? Children are nothing but potential -waiting to be drawn out and brought to completion. Waiting to fulfill a great destiny that sprouts from toil, dedication, nutrients and nurture, that grows and develops into vessels of unlimited vision and hope, and develops capacities of almost infinite potential. This can be realized. Or this can be lost. But the potential is what God has given us, and that potential flows from one source alone - Him - and through one source as well - His Torah. The Cruvim stand above the Ark, fashioned from one piece of gold with the Ark's cover - drawing their existence from the contents within and spreading the light of Torah through the Jewish people and the world. Or not.

And now for some numerology: God is, obviously ONE (see the Shma). The number which most reflects the very next option for created existence is, you guessed it, TWO. Good. As we know, all hebrew letters have consistent numerical values. ב=2, כ=20, ר=200. These are the letters the represent all that flows from the ONE. The Torah begins with a beis ב because that's the place where Torah begins (reading that line requires the right emphasis - you can work it out, I'm hopeful) - the place where the spiritual world can first begin to flow into this one. The word for blessing, brocha, is made from these letters. A chariot, rechev, as well (bringing things out - can you see it?). And, of course, Cruvim. (I know, you hebrew speakers are wondering about cabbage - chruv - me too). Bringing things out into potential is the key to Jewish success and focus of much of our attention.

Adulthood, and subsequent acts of "adulthoodness" are meant to be actualizations of atomic potential, not adulterous stoopings to animalistic urges. As we grow and develop ourselves, we should be both frighteningly aware and euphorically hopeful of the great privilege and responsibility that lies in being raised, raising ourselves further, and one day (if not already) raising others.

Wishing you a lovely Shabbos,

Rabbi Lynn

Friday, February 01, 2008

Love me tender, Love me Jew... Mishpatim

Good Shabbos,

Parshas Mishpatim (the Torah segment called “ordinances”) - a laundry list of tort laws, marital laws, by-laws and more laws (including sorcery!). What a wonderful parsha. For those of us who spent years in yeshivas, this is the bread we’ve been raised on. All the subtleties, nuances, details, applications, manifestations, incarnations of God’s Law. Each word rings with hours and days and weeks of Talmuldic discourse, reams of commentaries, plumbed depths of philosophy and logic. The familiar smells of home, the tastes that linger and remind us of the place to which we yearn to return.

The parsha begins, “And these are the ordinances”. As we all learnt in grammar school – never, never begin a sentence with “and”, let alone a whole book, so to speak – except, of course, if you’re God. When He says it, He means to connect this entire teaching to the previous – not merely a run-on, but inextricably intertwined. Just as the previous parsha (10 commandments) was spoken and given on Har Sinai, so too were all these details. God’s world is like pointillism: the greatness of the big picture is only a result of an appreciation of the details, while the details themselves have no meaning other than their place in the larger context. Details, details, itty-bitty nitty-gritty beautiful, gorgeous details…

The measure of love is in the details. Go ask anyone who has navigated the labyrinths of marriage successfully and thus finds him/herself enveloped in love and oneness to sketch a picture their better half – what you’ll get are details and more details, well beyond the physical appearance. An open-ended story with infinite discoveries. And only a true lover will relish them – every last one to the nth degree.

The Torah is a love story. The Sages liken the revelation on Har Sinai to a wedding, with the mountain being our Chuppah – God and the Jewish people as bride and groom. I would be so bold to say that Egypt was the courtship, The Red Sea splitting the engagement, Har Sinai the marriage, and Mishpatim the honeymoon. These laws and intricacies, sometimes blamed as the source of ultimate frustration and abandonment of Torah, are actually the very keys to marrying the metaphysical. Judaism stands alone in striving to find God in the details – which really translates into bringing the spiritual in the physical, giving every inch of life and all its scenarios a connection to its source, and discovering holiness in the seemingly otherwise profane.

Wishing you a “loverly” Shabbos,

Rabbi Lynn