Eitz ha'chayim

At Torah study, when we've completed our discussion and return the Torah to the ark, we (often, but not always, depending on who's leading the service) sing a song, Eitz ha'chayim, which calls the Torah a "tree of life".

One of the seder leaders yesterday had us discuss, in pairs, why that comparison, originally found in Psalms, is made and how we think the Torah may be like a tree.

My discussion partner had mentioned, in response to a previous question, that she has hiked dormant volcanoes and was amazed at the sight of saplings growing in crevices of long-cooled lava, that even from such destruction, life springs. I suggested that Judaism itself was somewhat like a tree; there are so many historical events that it should not have survived, and it's taken hold and is thriving in some highly unlikely places.

Just now, as I was making my previous post, I thought about it's being winter where we are, so most of the trees are dormant, but we trust that in the spring, they'll awaken and regrow their leaves. The new growth won't make any tree a different tree; it's just a slightly changed aspect of the tree that's been there all along. So maybe sometimes our connection with Torah and with God feels distant and dormant, but with time, we'll find new aspects and find ourselves growing again in newly perceived warmth.

Happy New Year, trees!

Yesterday, C and I went to a Tu B'Shevat seder at our synagogue. It began with a guided imagery, in which we were guided to imagine ourselves as seeds growing into trees (and if that sounds cheesy, it really wasn't), and from there, we moved, physically and mentally, into the seder itself, which involved readings, music, fruit and wine.

(I think all seders, for any occasion, involve wine. I expect to not be disabused of that notion.)

The seder itself went through the seasons of the year, and for each season, we drank a different wine (starting with autumn: white, white-with-a-little-red, red-with-a-little-white, red) and ate a different fruit (fruits with hard shells but soft insides [e.g. almonds]; fruits with edible seeds [e.g. pomegranates] fruits with edible outsides but something inedible inside [e.g. olives, dates], wholly edible fruits [e.g. figs, berries]).

I think. Did I mention that I'm doing this from memory and there were four cups of wine? Also, I'm not quite sure how the miniature apple strudels fit into this scenario, but they were rather tasty.

Anyway, where we live is in a cold snap right now, so it was quite lovely to be in a warm synagogue with friends and food, celebrating nature and knowing that soon, it will be warm enough outside to properly appreciate the cycle of the seasons again.

Sarah laughed

Gen. 18:11] Abraham and Sarah were old, well advanced in years; the way of women had ceased for Sarah --- 12] so Sarah laughed inwardly, thinking: "Now that I am withered, will I have pleasure, with my lord so old!" 13] But the Eternal One said to Abraham, "Why is Sarah laughing so, thinking: 'Am I really going to bear a child, when I have grown so old?' 14] Is any wonder too difficult for the Eternal? At this fixed time, next year, I will return to you, and Sarah shall have a son. 14] Sarah, then denied it, for she was afraid, and said, "I did not laugh"; but [God] said, "Ah, but you did laugh!"

In Torah study, we often discuss Sarah's laughter upon learning she and Abraham will have a son and how the word for her laughter (ותצחק va-titzchak) is related to that son's name (יצחק yitzchak, Isaac). I don't recall it being mentioned, at least not often, that Abraham laughed first.

Gen. 17:17] Abraham fell flat on his face and laughed, thinking: "Can a child be born to a man of 100? Can 90-year-old Sarah bear a child?"

It seems to me too that there is something discussion-worthy in contrasting Sarah's inward laughter with Abraham's falling on his face laughing, but I'm not sure what that is at the moment.

Um...

I spoke in passing to my sponsoring rabbi for the first time in quite a long while (I did e-mail her assistant to set up a meeting). I think she called me by my last name. Granted, my last name is a fairly common first name among Jews, but I'm just going to hope I misheard her. She did seem to want to meet with me.

Postin' fool

I now have as many posts this month as I had for the two years preceding. Hm.

I e-mailed my sponsoring rabbi's assistant; she said she'd get back to me shortly. I really shouldn't be as nervous about this as I am.

Not interfaith

For a while, C and I were on our synagogue's Interfaith mailing list, and I finally got around to asking them to take us off. I know "interfaith" is often defined as "Jew + not-a-Jew", but I never felt the label really fit us; most interfaith stuff around here is geared towards couples and families in which Judaism plus another religion are being practiced.

There's an interfaith dinner at our synagogue soon, and a Jewish-by-choice friend is going (sans Jewish husband, who's not much into the whole synagogue life thing), and she asked if we wanted to go. C was kind of interested, so I suggested C and friend go and see what kind of rumors get started. I'm actively not interested at the moment, to the point of being hostile to the idea, and I'm not sure where that's coming from. I suspect a fair amount of defensiveness on my part, since I still haven't converted official-like.

That reminds me that I really should e-mail my sponsoring rabbi's assistant to set up a meeting. I'll do that now.

And God saw...

(Another post started and never posted until now)

בראית 1:31

וירא אלהים את-כל-אשר עשה והנה-טוב מאד ויהי-ערב ויהי-הקר בקר יום הששי

B'reishit 1:31 Vayareh Elohim et kol asher asah v'hinei tov m'od vay'hi erev vay'hi voker yom hashishi

Genesis 1:31 God then surveyed all that [God] had made, and look--it was very good! And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

"Tov m'od" really means "mostly good." -Nachmanides

(I typed the Hebrew myself and transliterated it myself from a fully vocalized edition; any errors are mine, and I'm sure there are plenty in the transliteration. I did not, however, translate it myself. I know the following words without looking them up: Elohim, kol, asher, tov, erev, yom. These are useful, but do not make for a particularly accurate translation. Also, there will be no vowels until I figure out how to make them...it doesn't seem like it should be that difficult, but the consonants are sufficient for now. So while the original purpose of this post was to point to the Nachmanides quote, it seems to have turned into Hebrew practice. Which is fine, since I'm fairly certain I'm the only one reading this anyway.)

Hebrew Alphabet Practice

I installed the Hebrew keyboard option on my Macbook (I love my Macbook) some time ago, but I haven't tried to work with it until now. Of course, the font in the Wikipedia article is different from the font in my Torah, so I thought I'd type up a little practice here.

א Alef (T)

ב Bet/Vet (C)

ג Gimel (D)

ד Dalet (S)

ה Hei (V)

ו Vav (U)

ז Zayin (Z)

ח Chet (J)

ט Tet (Y)

י Yod (H)

כ Kaf/Chaf (F)

ך Final Chaf (L)

ל Lamed (K)

מ Mem (N)

ם Final Mem (O)

נ Nun (B)

ן Final Nun (I)

ס Samech (X)

ע Ayin (G)

פ Pei/Fei (P)

ף Final Fei (;)

צ Tzadi (M)

ץ Final Tzadi (.)

ק Kof (E)

ר Reish (R)

ש Sin/Shin (A)

ת Tav (,)

The difference between the vav and the final nun is very subtle, and the font used in the article is exceptionally confusing for such purposes; I figured it out through process of elimination.

Clearly, I need to study more.

And that shows me I made some considerable mistakes in my next post, in which I tried to transcribe directly from my Torah (well, the commentary), which I shall fix before I actually put it up.

Gripes

The rabbi with whom I get along best is leaving our congregation to go far away. I'm happy for her, but I'm cranky about the situation. Grr.

Plaut commentary quotes

Well, I just discovered a couple of posts that seem to have been saved as drafts that apparently never actually posted. Therefore:

"History neither confirms or denies religious commitment. Acknowledging that Martin Luther was a historical figure does not make us Lutherans; denying the historicity of Moses does not preclude our fervor as Jews." "The Torah and the Jewish People", Plaut commentary p. li

"Though the Torah contains chapters that are, at most, of historical interest only, it also contains much that is relevant and vital today. If it sometimes expresses moral judgments we have discarded as unsatis actory, it also challenges us with ideals we are far from having attained. Moreover, for us as for our ancestors, the line between written and oral Torah cannot be drawn oversharply. We too read the text in the light of the experiences and associations that have become attached to it. Every great classic suggests or reveals new insights to each succeeding generation. And the Torah is the classic of classics." ibid.

Every week, I am amazed at the lessons people are still drawing from Torah. Many people in the Torah study I attend are...at a later life stage than I am...and they talk about what a certain passage used to mean to them and what it means now, and I'm fascinated by such discussions.

This week's portion is Va-eira, concerning the Israelites in Egypt and the plagues. This year, it coincides exactly with Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday weekend (I can't quite think of a better way to phrase that). The discussion, drawing parallels between the Israelites' plight in Egypt and the plight of black people in this country, especially between the 1860s and the 1960s, ranged from Egypt to Birmingham to Haiti, and someone commented on the amount of money that is (rightly) being sent to Haiti right now, and why didn't New Orleans get that kind of attention after Katrina, and is sending Haiti money just a Band-aid on a severed artery?

Of course, no conclusions were reached, but I never leave a Torah study without having gained something.

Reassured?

I keep restarting Jewish People, Jewish Thought, simply because it's so textbooky. It's excellent, mind you, just dry.

I found this on page ten: "The overall theme of the biblical narrative is Israel's successes and failures--mainly failures--in fulfilling the divine demands."

I think I feel better.

Rambling about the afterlife, eventually

from the Plaut commentary on Lech L'cha (yes, I'm that far behind; I should be caught up by next year):

"Few biblical dicta have been more clearly reflected in history than the statement that those who bless Israel will be blessed and those who curse it will be cursed, or that those who are blessed bless Israel and those who are cursed curse Israel. The decline of a nation can often be clearly related to the way it has treated the Jew, and its prosperity stands in direct proportion to its sense of equity and human dignity. For if "this people Israel" does rest at the fulcrum of spiritual history, its condition must be essential to the welfare of its environment."

. . .

"To be sure, the world has but rarely given credence to this view. It has not usually seen the Jews as a "great nation," typifying humanity's highest and noblest aspirations. Christians and Muslims have exalted Abram/Abraham as their spiritual father and at the same time have denied validity to the religious quest of the Jews."

I know sadly little about Islam, and I've not had an in-depth conversation about religion with a Muslim (this ought to change), but one thing that has always bothered me about a certain type of Christian (by no means all, just a certain type) is their conviction that Judaism ought to be over. I feel fortunate that I haven't run into the situation described by several of my classmates in my Introduction to Judaism class, in which close friends and family members were horrified at their decision to convert.

According to their own stories, these particular people came from only-casually-Christian backgrounds and were therefore surprised at their kith and kin's vehemence; I'm not sure the rabbi teaching the class really got that those Christians were honestly afraid for my classmates' souls. Judaism isn't so much into the idea of eternal damnation, but a fair amount of Christianity is, and nobody wants to see someone they love condemned to hell for eternity.

Although my personal idea of what happens after death varies from moment to moment, swinging from "nothing" to "Sheol" to "reincarnation" to "it doesn't actually matter, what matters is what we do while we're here", the idea of being condemned to hell forever with no hope of redemption has never quite rung true for me. I can't think of many people who would deserve that, and even if there are, it's not my judgment to make. Clearly.

(As a side note, I am aware that traditional Judaism believes in physical resurrection in the Messianic Age, and that's why cremation is right out. [That, and Shoah, but that happened later.] Of course, many thousands of years have passed for some people, so there is probably less left of them than ashes, and if the Almighty can somehow restore them to a physical body, why can't He restore ashes?)

(As a side note to the side note, if there is an afterlife, do we get to see our pets again?)

Jacob, Jacob and Sons

A question came up in Torah study this week as to whether the order of Jacob's sons in Exodus 1:1-4 was significant. It took me a couple minutes to refer back to Genesis to confirm what I was thinking, by which point the discussion was three or four topics beyond that question, and I didn't feel like trying to take us back, but:

1:1] These are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each coming with his household: 2] Reuben, Simeon, Levi, and Judah; 3] Issachar, Zebulun, and Benjamin; 4] Dan and Naphtali, Gad and Asher. 5] The total number of persons that were of Jacob's issue came to seventy, Joseph already being in Egypt.

Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar and Zebulun are Leah's sons, born in that order. Benjamin, tacked onto the end of those six brothers, is Rachel's younger son, Joseph (already in Egypt) being the elder. The break after Judah may refer to Leah's having had the first four before any other wife or concubine had a child.

Dan and Naphtali are the sons of Bilhah, Rachel's maid, who were born before Gad and Asher, the sons of Zilpah, Leah's maid.

So the grouping makes sense that way. (Poor Dinah, Jacob and Leah's daughter, never gets mentioned again after the Shechem incident.) Whether there is any further significance, I do not know, although I'm sure it has been discussed many times by the rabbis and later scholars. And regular folks sitting in Torah studies.

Wabbit Season!

I've been wondering for some time how the word "nimrod", the name of a great hunter in the Bible, became an insult.

Apparently, we have Bugs Bunny to blame. He calls Elmer Fudd a "poor little Nimrod", and, people failing to catch the allusion, the name transformed into a put-down.

From that link comes one to an article claiming that Bugs Bunny is Jewish. "Of course, being smart asses, we have to add that RABBIT - T = RABBI."

Not mentioned in that article is that he generally solves his problems by talking his way out of danger rather than through physical means, a time-honored tradition among our people.

Oh, and just for fun...

THOSE CANAAN DAYS (from the aforementioned musical)

Do you remember the good years in Canaan?

The summers were endlessly gold

The fields were a patchwork of clover

The winters were never too cold

We'd stroll down the boulevards together

And everything round us was fine

Now the fileds are dead and bare

No joie de vivre anywhere

Et maintenant we drink a bitter wine

Those Canaan days we used to know

Where have they gone, where did they go?

Eh bien, raise your berets

To those Canaan days

Do you remember those wonderful parties?

The splendour of Canaan's cuisine

Our extravagant, elegant soirees

The gayest the Bible has seen

It's funny but since we lost Joseph

We've gone to the other extreme

No-one comes to dinner now

We only eat them anyhow

I even find I'm missing Joseph's dreams

Those Canaan days we used to know

Where have they gone, where did they go?

Eh bien, raise your berets

To those Canaan days

It's funny but since we lost Joseph

We've gone to the other extreme

Perhaps we all misjudged the lad

Perhaps he wasn't quite that bad

And how we miss his entertaining dreams

Those Canaan days we used to know

Where have they gone, where did they go?

Eh bien, raise your berets

To those Canaan days

Eh bien, raise your berets

To those Canaan days

Go Go Go Joseph!

So the past few weeks of Parashot have involved the Joseph story (Joseph was taken to Egypt in chains and sold/Joseph was taken to Egypt in chains and sold), and I've had a hard time listening to Torah study because I keep getting songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat stuck in my head.

I mentioned this to one of our rabbis, who kind of curled her lip in polite disdain. I don't think she's an Andrew Lloyd Webber fan.

I didn't intend to be either, but Cats came out when I was a 1o-year-old with a subscription to Cat Fancy magazine, and Phantom of the Opera came out when I was a pudgy, overly-romantic 14-year-old, so I hope I can be forgiven the nostalgia value.

Cherubim

As I prepare to return to work after a rather blissful week off, a gleaning from the Plaut commentary on B'reishit:

The Cherubim

According to tradition, they were angels of destruction, while those hovering over the ark (Exod. 24:22) were guardian angels. All had the faces of children. From this we may learn that if children are trained properly they resemble the cherubim of the ark; if not, those of Eden. -- Moshe Mordecai Epstein

This seems about right.