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Category: Meander

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 25: Tazria’

    What just happened:
    Some sections are easier to relate to than others. And then there was this week’s parsha. Two years ago there wouldn’t have been much to work with here. This year it read like a practical and super relevant how-to guide for people learning to live together, when living together means living with disease.

    Since the first person figured out how to have a neighbor and not eat them, we’ve been trying to make this live-together-thing work. We’ve had better centuries and we’ve had worse ones. But show me another mammal that can live in 30-story buildings packed with neighbors above, below, on all sides, millions of souls going up and down elevators, shopping, making a nice brisket, and mostly not killing each other.

    And don’t say poodles. Poodles are terrible at making brisket.

    So what can we learn from Leviticus’ advice on living with leprosy, and perhaps more importantly, living with lepers?

    Of possible note:

    • The Torah asks us to trust the Levites. Interestingly, they aren’t making religious judgments. They’re just… being trustworthy. Worthy of trust. Because having trusted leadership is not optional when people start getting sick.
    • It turns out that quarantining is a helpful option. Good to know.
    • We don’t burn the sick or blame the sick. And we don’t pretend the sick aren’t really that sick. If we think someone’s sick, we keep them away from the herd, to keep the herd whole.
    • And we ask the sick to do their part too — to the small things they can to stop or slow the spread. Because the basic idea is, we’re all in this together. And if we stay calm and kind, if we have trusted leaders, if each do our part, maybe we’ll all get through this together too.

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 25: Shemini

    What just happened:
    This was a big one — the laws of kashrut (aka how to be kosher), including surprising news about bunnies and bats!

    Of possible note:

    • The gestures, the rituals, the blood, the burning — I had never thought of it this way before, but today it really struck me how much these directions felt like spells and incantations, a pinch of this and a dash of that… And of course, follow them to the T if you want to avoid the fate of Nadab and Abihu. (Spoiler: you want to avoid the fate of Nadab and Abihu.)
    • For a book filled with people who live in gray moral spaces, who are more human than paragons, the Torah sometimes draws awfully sharp lines. There’s the sacred and the profane. There are animals you can eat, and animals that are abominations. There aren’t many animals for example, that I wouldn’t recommend you eat, I’m mean they’re kind of gamey, but suit yourself.
    • Speaking of kind of gamey, who knew bunnies aren’t kosher? Clearly not my beloved Aunt Ruth. Likewise, who knew that bats were birds? Total curveball, that.
    • Curveballs aside, a wise fellow reader pointed out to me that all these rules, these details, create a life infused with reminders of the sacred. Which made me wonder what I might do to add a little more sacred to my day to day.

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 23: Va-Yikra’

    What just happened:
    Leviticus opens with several laws of sacrifice and the details therein which are, let’s be honest, alarming for anyone who either likes pigeons or believes blood should be dashed on the wall rarely if at all.

    And I thought to myself, Leviticus, your reputation precedes you. Because that’s pretty much what I know of this third book — that it’s a set of rules, rules and more rules, associated with the Levites.

    For the first few pages of this section, I thought there wasn’t much in the way of a picture idea that I could glean. The pigeon thing threw me. And it was interesting to learn we aren’t supposed to eat fat. (Clearly no one told my grandma Lilly that because: schmaltz.)

    But I didn’t see how I could use the above in my day to day. Then, pulling back, I did in fact glean a few things that perhaps I was taking for granted on first skim.

    Of note:

    • First off, there’s the embedded message that everyone sins — priests, nations, individuals — we all sin.
    • Happily, there is also a path to forgiveness. It’s possible to make up for our sins. To take action — to do something to right our wrongs. The key might be acknowledging the mistake, and marking that acknowledgement with care and an odor that God finds pleasing. Hard to argue with that.
    • And it turns out, ignorance doesn’t get you off the hook. If you later realize you did wrong, you still need to make amends.

    These are ideas that feel pretty widely accepted today. Sin is universal. But with conscious thought and effort we can move forward.

    It’s easy to align these ideas with confession, for example.

    I wonder though if they were that widely accepted at the time. As a novel notion, they would be revolutionary.

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 22: Va-Yakhel and Pekudei

    What just happened:
    The tabernacle is built and the Lord makes an appearance, as we finish Exodus. What’s a tabernacle, you ask? Wikipedia defines it thusly:

    According to the Hebrew Bible, the Tabernacle, also known as the Tent of the Congregation, was the portable earthly dwelling place of Yahweh used by the Israelites from the Exodus until the conquest of Canaan.

    And Wikimedia Commons offers this lovely image from the Phillip Medhurst Collection of Bible illustrations:

    Of note:

    • My co-readers had a wonderful reflection about this being the first great work of former slaves who had helped build Egypt. Now they build for themselves.
    • Meanwhile, I ruminated on the (let’s be honest) bizarre amount of detail this week’s portion was serving up. I’m just saying, you have to be confident that you have your audience locked in if you’re going to dive this deep. Melville did it. Pynchon does it repeatedly. Nice to see the Torah was written by confident folks, with no fear that they would lose their crowd in details of acacia wood, gold, copper, crimson yarns, linen, dolphin skins, lapis lazuli, spices, oil, flesh hooks, goat’s hair, cups shaped like almond-blossoms, and the extraordinary tabernacling skills of Bezalel, son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah.
    • Adversity creates community. As can a shared past. Building something massive and mighty also bonds people with a sense of a common purpose, the common good, an appreciation for the moment and a stake in the future.
    • Looking at the image above, it’s clear that the tabernacle is more than an extravagant tent or gold-covered arc. It’s a mobile town. A place you can carry with you. No surprise that it would be so precious to this wandering people in search of a home.

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 16 (Yitro)

    In brief:

    The gang brings Jethro up to speed, and God makes a memorable appearance.

    A couple of thoughts:

    • Where much of Exodus thus far has hit me with a political vibe, this one seemed to be full of great work advice. For example, Jethro basically tells Moses “you really have to learn to delegate — everyone will be happier if you do.” Ancient advice that people have been ignoring for a few thousand years. Likewise, it had never hit me before today how interesting it is that “take a day off” is one of the top 10 most important things you can do. Don’t murder, don’t steal. And take a chill day, because God did.
    • I always figured don’t lie was a commandment. But that’s not quite what it says. “Don’t bear false witness against your neighbor,” we’re told. Which feels to me much more like a (super important) requirement for having-neighbors-and-not-killing-each-other (aka living with other humans) than it does an abstract virtue. Verily, this is the Good and Practical Book.

    If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Yitro (Exodus 18.1 – 20.23)

    Next up: Mishpatim (Exodus 21.1 – 24.18)
    -Cecil

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 11 (Va-Yiggash)

    In brief:
    Va-Yiggash starts out just as Joseph has demanded Benjamin be left behind and their father brought to Egypt, all on account of a super important stolen-but-not-really-stolen goblet that we’ll never hear about again. Trickery!

    After some sobbing and neck kissing, all is well in the family, and a score of he and she-assess are loaded with Egyptian goodies. Joseph’s brothers and the donkeys are then sent forth to bring Jacob and his extended family back to Egypt.

    Joseph then introduces serfdom to the people of Egypt. Did you see that one coming, gentle reader? I will admit, I did not.

    The people’s land and livestock are taken in exchange for food. They then get land rights back, but 20% of what they grow will henceforth go to the Pharaoh. There are interpretations that explain why this was a noble plan — that the 20% would help fend against future famine and such. Even so, my gut reaction was: yikes.

    A couple of thoughts:

    • “My son Joseph is still alive! I must go and see him before I die,” says Jacob. And God comforts Jacob that “Joseph’s hands shall close your eyes” — a moment that reflect a feeling that’s floated through the text a few times already that death itself is not a thing to fear. But a good death is something to aspire to. Abraham buried by Ishael and Isaac. Jacob, promised that he will be with Joseph at the end. All echoing the many moments that tie our purpose here, in this relay race we run, to the hand off — to how we leave things for and with the generation that follows.
    • This section also includes a wonderfully pure moment of forgiveness. Revealing himself to Judah, Joseph comforts his brother: “Do not be distressed or reproach yourself because you sold me hither,” God sent Joseph to Egypt so he could save his family, Joseph explains. How then could he condemn his brothers for what they did along the way? It’s all part of God’s plan. Which left me thinking of this simple truth — gratitude for where you are is often the key to accepting whatever brought you there.

    If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Va-Yiggash (Gen 44.18 – 47.27)
    Next up: Va-Yeḥi (Gen 47.27 – 50.26)
    -Cecil

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 10 (Mikkets)

    In brief:
    Joseph gets a haircut, some new clothes, some more new clothes, a wife, two kids, and nigh-Pharaoh-like power over the kingdom. So all in all, a pretty good bounce back for this promising young man.

    Years of abundance pass. And years of famine begin, all as foretold by Joseph, who, like a well-coiffed ant from Aesop’s fables, frugals Egypt through these challenging times.

    His brothers visit in search of food. They don’t recognize Joseph, though he recognizes them. And to no careful reader’s surprise, trickery ensues.

    A couple of thoughts:

    • I loved the names of Joseph’s children: Manasseh, meaning: “God has made me forget completely my hardship and my parental home.” And Efraim, meaning: “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction.” Both names of gratitude and resilience. Of moving forward.
    • I also still can’t believe they left poor Simeon behind and then sort dawdle around, debating whether or not to go back. (And if you think I’m being unkind here, don’t listen to me, listen to Judah who says: “…we could have been there and back twice if we had not dawdled.” And he’s right — that was some serious dawdling!)

    If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Mikkets (Gen 41.1 – 44.17)

    Next up: Va Yiggash (Gen 44.18 – 47.27)
    -Cecil

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 9 (Va-Yashev)

    In brief:
    We meet Jacob’s second-youngest-son Joseph, who is beloved by his father, and a bit of a twerp. Speaking of Joseph’s father, despite being renamed by the Lord, which you would think would count for something, so-called “Israel” is actually still called “Jacob.” This naming thing is complicated.

    Joseph is sold into slavery. In a side story, Jacob’s son Judah’s daughter-in-law Tamar is twice widowed. Through some exceptionally tricky trickery , she ends up having twins with her father-in-law Judah. And along the way, at least in my translation, she gets called a “cult prostitute” for her troubles. Oh, and we meet her second husband, the infamous Onan — more on him in a moment.

    Joseph goes down to Egyptland as a slave, resists temptation in a scene that feels straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird, gets thrown in jail, and delivers some exceptionally good news to the cupbearer, and some less positive news to the baker. (Spoiler: don’t get attached to the baker.)

    A couple of thoughts:

    • Joseph has some exciting dreams involving all sorts of people bowing to him. Which is great. And then he shares these dreams with everyone. Which is less great. There’s something wonderfully human though about meeting this young obnoxious Joseph and realizing, just like his dad, and just like all of us, he’s on a journey. He’s flawed and, let’s hope, capable of improving over time. As a young ‘un though, I’m not sure he deserved being thrown in a pit. But I’m not not sure either.
    • I was fairly stoked to run into the infamous Onan, namesake for the sin of self-pleasure (aka “Onanism”). Turns out, and stay with me on this: Onan’s brother Er died, Onan is told to marry Er’s widow Tamar, and Onan’s sin is that because he wouldn’t get legal credit for any kid they might co-procreate, he chose instead to “let [his seed] go to waste, whenever [they] joined.” OK, so first off, I’m pretty sure that’s not masturbation. And isn’t Onan’s sin really just being a total jerk? So there it is, if someone’s a total jerk, feel free to call them an Onanist and tell them the Lord doesn’t approve. And if they question you, just say: “Genesis 38:10, mic drop.” The mic drop part is really important. If you don’t do that part, you are an Onanist.

    If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Va-Yashev (Gen 37.1 – 40.23)
    Next up: Mikkets (Gen 41.1 – 44.17)
    -Cecil

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 8 (Va-Yishlaḥ)

    In brief:
    Jacob journeys back to Esau, worried, aware of the weight of what he’s done, seeking to make amends.

    Along the way, he wrestles with a mysterious figure and comes away with a limp to remind him of the struggle. These struggles, they leave their mark.

    The mysterious figure names Jacob “Israel,” but it doesn’t stick for even a sentence. Seriously, the book goes like (paraphrasing): “‘OK Jacob, you are now Israel’” and then: “‘Thanks!’” says Jacob.” It borderline feels like a burn on the mysterious figure, whose naming powers are clearly so-so.

    Esau, far from the wolfman I remembered from childhood, is just about the most genuine and sweethearted (albeit hairy) person imaginable, particularly given how he was raised by a family of, let’s face it, tricksters. And in a beautiful scene of reunion, forgiveness, and some pretty fierce brotherly hugging, we can’t help but start to like Jacob too.

    The story shifts quickly, though, as we learn of the rape of Dinah by Shechem. Her brothers Simeon and Levi slaughter Shechem and his townsmen and take their women and children captive. There is no waiting for divine judgment. Vengeance is theirs.

    In the third section, God names Jacob “Israel,” and this time (yes!) it takes. Rachel dies giving birth to Benjamin, and the coldness of her midwife’s words still kind of haunt me: “Have no fear, for it is another boy for you,” the midwife says … Two sentences later, Rachel is dead.

    With all this, it was honestly a relief when the text turned to full-on family tree mode, and we learned about several people who gave birth to many more people. Phew!

    A couple of thoughts:

  • By far the highlight of the week for me was learning what “Israel” means — something I really should have learned or at least wondered about, you know, a few decades ago. It turns out it means: “wrestles with God,” or at least that’s one of the translations. And holy cow does that resonate with me as a description for what it means to be Jewish, and how we go through this life, if we choose to go through it with faith. And perhaps this is true for all, or most people of faith. But what a powerful thing for the Book itself to codify. To be an Israelite is to wrestle with God.
  • As for devoting a whole section to the family tree? Before I started reading these weekly portions, I thought of these sorts of passages as filler — as some (honestly) goofy connective tissue. But as you flip through the pages, you start to get the feeling that these sections are at the heart of the Torah — knowing who and where you come from. Meeting the family and hearing their stories. And finding a place for yourself in those stories, among all the millions of stars and the many grains of sand.

If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Va-Yishlaḥ (Gen 32.4 – 36.43)

Next up: Va-Yeshev (Gen 37.1 – 40.23)
-Cecil

  • The 5 Books Meander, Week 6 (Toledot)

    In brief:
    Toledot kicks off the story of Isaac and his family of tricksters. I mean no disrespect here. But it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that everyone in this family is, well, one who tricks. Almost everyone that is. More on that in a moment.

    We learn that Esau — Isaac and Rebekah’s eldest child — has traded his birthright to his younger brother Jacob for a bowl of stew. Which I think is so specific it has to be true. Or invented by someone who really loves stew.

    There are inherited wells, stopped and unstopped, which is a metaphor and a half. Isaac shows that he’s picked up the trick of (deep breath here): pretending your wife is your sister in a way that makes people feel uncomfortable and/or angry and/or in debt to you.

    And then we get to a moment as complex in its own way as Abraham and the binding of Isaac before it.

    Rebekah tells Jacob to trick Isaac into thinking Jacob is Esau, so that Jacob might receive his father’s blessings and all that goes with them.

    Did I mention that this is a family of tricksters? They are such tricksters that when Jacob shows up in disguise, Isaac suspects right away that something is up. ‘Are you really Esau? Seriously? You’re not pretend-Esau?’ You get the feeling this family is tricking each other all the time. Everyone that is except innocent Esau.

    A couple of thoughts:

    • In my hazy memory of this section from childhood, I carried a bias against Esau. Esau, who is so hairy, his name means “hairy.” Esau the violent, one assumes. The simple, perhaps. But reading the text this week, I met Esau the hunter, who’s really the hunted. Esau, unloved or at least underloved by his mother. Esau who’s so much an innocent sheep that if you want to convince your dad that you’re Esau, you put on sheep’s clothing. The story of Jacob and Esau has just begun in this week’s portion. But already it’s hard to know who to root for, and easy to see why their story has had power for so many years.
    • The Torah experiences the past, present, and future as part of the same gust of wind. There are promises made to our descendants (…like stars in the sky and grains of sand on the beach). Land left by ancestors. Wells left with life-giving water. Birthrights to be bargained over. Blessings. Covenants. Curses to be endured. Our moment is a bead in a chain. And the awareness of that truth is what it means to live a human life. To remember and to receive — the good and the ill. To make our stand and then to pass things along — the good and the ill. I know we’re still only in the first half of the first book, but if we learn one thing from the Torah, I suspect that might be it. It’s a big ‘un. It’s mortality. And it brings with it appreciation, obligation, and the potential for peace, as we learned last week. The peace of Abraham.

    If you’d like to join in… this is the place for comments and commentary on Toledot (Gen 25.9 – 28.9)
    Next up: Va-Yetse’ (Gen 28.10 – 32.3)
    -Cecil