Sharing a bit of Torah, a bit of meaning, and even some modern Hebrew. Also providing some resources for teachers of day-school, Hebrew / Religious school, and for anyone looking to learn.
It's Passover, and we eat the matzah and say: "We were slaves, now we are free people."
Ok, but: Why matzah?
First idea:
1. We were in a rush when it was time to be free, and couldn't wait for the bread to rise / God wanted us out of Egypt, and fast. Delivery and redemption - the change we so desperately wanted - couldn't come fast enough, we couldn't wait / God wouldn't wait, even the minimal time required for bread to rise. I think there's a power to this idea -- that which is unacceptable has to come to an end immediately. Imagine if we thought about our modern day plagues this way...
Second idea:
2. This is the bread of poverty - this is honestly the message I find
most meaningful - it's about remembering that, once upon a time the
only food we could afford or were given was matzah. Matzah is
delicious once, even twice, maybe even for a whole week if necessity dictates,
but the challenge is to imagine that this flat dry cracker was the entirety of your diet.
And so we learn about pesach - it's about people that are living subsistence lifestyles. As members of the lowest rung on the social chain of Egypt, we learned what makes a people holy: treating humans like humans.
The way the Seder proceeds is that through the telling and actions we are supposed to see "our selves as if we were in Egypt". We celebrate freedom, but we also mourn loss - the drops of wine at the ten plagues are a physical reminder that our happiness is lessened by suffering, even if it the suffering is felt by people that have done us wrong. A story is told in our tradition about a king and his son, traveling through the desert. When the son has a need for water, the king orders that a well be dug and a sign placed showing the location. The prince, confused, asked: 'Why not just send someone to one of the nearby town to fetch water?' The king responded, 'Right now we have access to water, but many years from now, when that town is no longer here you'll be able to access the water."
According to the tradition, that's what the holidays are to us - access to the special energy of the day. On Shabbat we enter the "palaces in time that we create", to quote Rabbi Heschel of blessed memory, and on each of the holidays we are called upon to dig deep, to tap into those reservoirs, to access those special waters. So if Shabbat's special 'water' is rest and appreciation for the world of creation, what is the energy, the 'special water' we have access to on Passover night? Freedom. Freedom from tyranny - Pharaoh, and freedom from forced labor and poverty - Matzah. And so, we get to the meal - we sit, we eat, we sing, and by consciously trying, we access that ancient energy - the special water of the day that's only available right now. What is it? It's interdependence. We rely on God, the world, each other, and our tradition to build meaningful lives. Dayeinu - aren't we fortunate.
Wishing everyone reading a happy, healthy, and meaningful pesach. Mick Fine
The word of the week is עוני (oni) it means poverty. The Passover Seder is kind of all about it. But we forgot, and made it all about songs, and afikomans, and frogs, and freedom, and slavery. Those are important too -- but why Matzah for freedom? We were in a rush. Or maybe there's more to it...
So what's Passover really about?
It's about identity - How do you see yourself? Are you impoverished?
Probably not, you're reading this on a smartphone or a computer - either way, you're doing OK.
But we're supposed to "see ourselves as if we had been" enslaved. We were so poor that ALL we had to eat was matzah.
Not that matzah is bad, I quite like it with coffee (matza and kava was a staple of my
Ashkenazi Romanian upbringing) but ONLY matzah. No turkey for the matzah sandwich, no
Nutella. Just matzah. All the time.
It's about saying things, things we mean.
"All who are hungry, come and eat." This is the saddest statement in the Haggadah.
It's sad because we say this not to hungry people (i.e. those for whom food
insecurity is normal) but to those people we invited, sitting at the table. If they're
hungry, it's only because it's getting to be around 7pm, and the Seder is lengthy.
DOES ANYONE NEED TO EAT??? COME!!!
We were supposed to put it into action. To physically get up and say:
- הא לחמא עניא דאכלו אבהתנא בארעא דמצרים, כל דכפין ייתי וייכול," כל דצריך ייתי יפסח.
“This is the bread of poverty – that our forefathers ate in the Land of Egypt. All that are hungry, come and eat; those who need – come and dine.”
So here are my 3 Pesach mistakes to avoid: 1. Singing songs without thinking about their meaning.
If you are singing a song about thanks (that's much of the songs) figure out
and say aloud in English what it is you're thankful for. To quote Rabbi Heschel z'l:
"What's needed is a worship of the heart,
not a service of the lips."
2. Reading the Haggadah as if it were in indecipherable Sanskrit. Today's Haggadah will tell you what all that funky Aramaic and Hebrew means. Take a gander even 5 minutes beforehand - it's supposed to be meaningful, but that only happens if you're involved in meaning-making. If you only have an old-school Haggadah - it's time to invest.
3. Making it all about "them, then" and not at all about "us, now".
I am a teacher, so I understand - you need to talk about the ten plagues.
Let's start talking about modern day plagues too -- The kind that are
still plaguing us, and that we should work towards ending: Hunger, Despotism, Lack of clean water, Bullying, Racism, Sexism,
Intolerance, Greed, Death from curable diseases - to name 9 - add one of your own.
It's not easy to affect change. I know. I grew up attending the Seder
that my grandparents organized, and it was like a high-speed bulldozer -
if you got in the way of monotonous reading - prepare for destruction. 15 years later one of my greatest regrets is not engaging my grandfather in
meaningful conversation about his Judaism, his Jewishness and personal connection. Don't accept a Judaism that doesn't speak to you. Speak to it. Make it your own.
OK, sure, sounds nice. But: How?
Here's 3 ideas. Try one, or come up with your own.
1. Do weird and new stuff. The whole point of the random Seder
elements was so that you could get down to business: saying, "What the
heck is going on here?!" (That's a loose translation of mah nishtana
by the way).
- Pass a matzah over people's heads around the table (Moroccan
tradition). When someone invariably asks: "What the heck is going on
here?!" Answer: Matzah is supposed to be on our minds: once upon a
time we were so poor all we could afford to eat was matzah with a side
of matzah.
- Put an orange on the Seder plate (Feminist custom) commemorating
the valiant efforts of the women in the Exodus story that are
thoroughly locked out of the Haggadah. The midwives refused Pharaoh's
orders to kill the baby boys (the first recorded act of civil
disobedience), and it was Moses' mother and adopted mother that saved
and raised him.
2. Tell stories. Tell the story of your family. The holiday is all about ancestry,
leaving one land for another, and reasons why - add your own family's
piece to the puzzle. Tell the story of your food. The blessing on the bread (in
this case matzah) is: Thank you God, ruler of the universe, that
brings matzah out of the ground. Except, matzah doesn't come out of
the ground. Someone has to seed, maintain, and harvest grain. Then
someone else has to process it into flour, take it on a truck to a
factory where people make the matzah - appreciating the process can
make even sawdust-like matzah a valued commodity. Engendering
appreciation is the whole point of blessings - don't miss the boat.
3. Add to the Haggadah -- it's really old.
Either buy a set of Haggadot (that's the plural) that has new, imaginative,
interesting readings and art in it, or add your own pages - see the bottom
of this post for one such page. I have a hard time watching 80's television,
why on Earth we would think that it will be exciting to read 380's texts without any eye for our world is beyond me.
If you'd like some resources to help in the process of modernizing the Seder here are a few:
1. An outline of the Seder* with notes on pages, and family friendly
activities. The Haggadah this is designed around is: "A Different
Night" by Mishael Zion - A GREAT Haggadah.
* My sincerest thanks to Professors Hauptman
and Tauber at JTS for their input and notes.
Matbeah was developed as a resource for the
Ohel Ayala Brooklyn Seder 2013
2. If the topic of hunger is one you'd like to build on here is a source sheet with some Torah (ancient) and
a few voices (classical and modern) discussing the commandment to "open one's hand" to the ani - the poor person". This can 5 minute discussionmaterial, or a whole lesson for you Day-School / Religious School / Hebrew School teachers out there.
It's related to a topic that I think is very rich --
In what ways did being a slave in Egypt form our national identity? Our idea of moral / ethical concerns? Of kedusha (holiness)?
Right click, Save, then Print.
3. Multimedia extravaganza. If you feel comfortable showing a video - http://www.g-dcast.com has a cute 5 minute cartoon on the four sons. Here it is:
4. I have developed two curricula on Pesach - If you are a teacher of Hebrew School / Day-School / Religious School or Adult-Ed - please check out these two links. Each is 5 activities / lessons, and It's free! Looking for Heroes in the Exodus Narrative AND Pesach - A Living Tradition Most importantly, have a happy and a healthy holiday.
Mick Fine
UJA-Federation Rabbinic Fellow
The Jewish Theological Seminary of America
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This week begins a new book of the Torah - Sefer Vaykira - ספר ויקרא - the first word of it is ויקרא which means "and ____ called", and here it is in the sentence below.
וַיִּקְרָא, אֶל-מֹשֶׁה; וַיְדַבֵּר ה' אֵלָיו, מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר.
And Moshe was called to, and God spoke to him, from the Tent of Meeting, saying...
In Hebrew קריאה - kriyah means reading. These two meanings are probably connected, you can conjure up the image of the town crier, opening up the scroll of the king's decree and "calling" it out, i.e. reading it.
It is also (for many) the most boring book of the Torah, hands down.
Whereas
בראשית [Genesis] has, well, Genesis -
the beginning of everything:
the universe,
the creation of mankind,
the beginnings of the Jewish people,
the drama of Joseph, famines, marriages and sibling rivalry.
And שמות (Exodus) has, among other things,
a Bob Marley song named after it,
10 plagues,
a tag line: "Let my people go...",
a sea splitting in two (!),
and a major holiday (on our horizon - Passover) celebrating freedom.
Sefer Vaykira, AKA Leviticus, is
short on drama,
long on rules,
and is therefore the bane of the Bar / Bat Mitzvah kid that has this week's reading,
and the modern Jew, strapped with the task of making meaningful these ancient codes.
So what's it all about?
Sacrifice.
Sure, it's a buzz word, and very meaningful, but who really yearns for the good old days of burning cows and doves whole? Or for that matter the delightfully pleasing scent of incense mixing with freshly slaughtered and burnt animals?
Not I said the calf. Not me said the bird.
But what's it all about for us?
We could say: nothing.
Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan developed the idea of revaluation, the process of looking through the tradition, and thinking honestly about what speaks to our moral and ethical needs - keeping those, and relegating the rest to the bin of archeology. He was a professor at JTS (Conservative), and a rabbi at the Jewish Center (Orthodox), and started The Society for the Advancement of Judaism (Reconstructionist). The idea, apparently is / was quite popular. After all, we don't sacrifice animals, we protect them.
We could say: it's about a calling.
The people called Cohanim had their rites, their special tasks, the Leviim too, had their own roles (helping the Cohens, and moving the portable temple around on sticks - talk about the short end of it). The regular Israelites too had a role (if you were a male over 18 -- thanks for bringing this up last week Lizzie) you are called upon to be a part of the army, and responsible for funding the priestly system - the Cohanim are busy sacrificing and can't farm, so you'll need to pay into the system, so that they can afford to live too.
We all have our roles to play, not everyone can or needs to be the Cohen, the rabbi, or the janitor, but they are each important roles.
Or you could say: it's about a system of holiness.
Whether or not you want to think back on the days of sacrifice and say: Wow, I wish I had that opportunity! I imagine you would agree that holiness is a worthy goal, one that takes a heck of a lot of effort, and a community to accomplish. To quote our outgoing Secretary of State: "It takes a village" to be holy.
And what is holy anyway?
In this book, which I hope I've started to convince you isn't so bad - we find out:
It's us. Well, kind of:
Later on in this new book, we hear
וידבר ה׳ אל משה לאמר: דבר אל כל עדת בני ישראל ואמרת אליהם: קדשים תהיו...
"And God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole community of the people of Israel, and tell them: Be holy people..."
When we stretch ourselves to include the community, and when we act as members of a people and not only as individuals - that's holy.
When we remember that it's not just the ark that holds the Torah, but also every person in attendance (and not) that's holy and worthy of our concern -- that's holy.
And that's what the prophet Micah was sharing, when he said:
What does God require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.
Want to learn more? Teach this idea? Check out the source sheet I made below.
The word of the week is שקל Shekel - which is both the word for the currency of modern Israel, and a measurement - לשקל means to weigh. In last week's reading, Ki Tisa, we saw it in the phrase:
"This is what everyone who is entered in the records shall pay: a half-shekel by the sanctuary weight — twentygerahsto the shekel — a half-shekel as an offering to the Lord... the rich shall not pay more and the poor shall not pay less than half a shekel..."
[Exodus 30:13-15]
It's about community.
And by the way-- Who is in that community?Who counts? How do you know how many and thus - strong you are? The answer is given in the the Torah - a census was taken. Themethod of census taking is quite beautiful: everyone gives a half a shekel. The poor are not to give less, the rich are not to give more. Half a shekel. When you tally all the shekels up, multiply by two: that's the population. Now you know who you can count on, and thus who counts - you get your status as a member of the community by giving. The Torah here is not being subtle: To be a part of the community, you're going to need to contribute to it.
And Moses said: Huh?
The tradition teaches that Moshecouldn't understand the commandment.
Somehow a half a shekel was goingto make a difference?
(How many of you feel that way when consideringthe change that might be accomplished through donation of yourchange?)
According to the tradition brought down by the Kotzker Rebbe (a Chassidic Rabbi) God, the ultimate teacher, showed Moshe a half shekel on fire.
Shekel coin minted in 68 CE
The firesymbolized the passion that is the necessary complement to thedonation. It's not about the amount of worth donated, what matters iswhat worth we place on the mission, our burning passion put to a goodcause.
I learned a beautiful drasha (teaching) that asked the question:
Where did all those half-shekels go?
The answer: the adanim - the base plates at the bottom of the walls of the mishkan - the portable temple - they connected the walls, locking in the panels, forming the foundations and stabilization - so that winds would not be able to push them down.
The Torah is saying: it's your contribution and participation that makes the institution viable and strong. Oh, and whose institution is it? Everyone, equally. The poor and the rich, half a shekel.
When we realize that the community will not be defined in a top-down fashion (see Cyd Weissman's recent article), but rather will always be a conglomeration of individuals coming together in search of meaning, learning, and connection - then we will realize the potency of thisweek's message - we are all half shekels, and in the words of thegreat Kabbalist and poet of Tzfat (and writer of Lecha Dodi) RabbiShlomo Alkabetz:
"Why a half shekel? To teach us that only by combining with another
soul do we become whole. "
Mick Fine UJA-Federation of NY & MAZON Rabbinic Fellow The Jewish Theological Seminary of America Contact me via email at mickfine@gmail.com Want to teach this? I wrote a source sheet (below). Just right click and hit "Save image", then print. Let me know how it goes!
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