2nd week of the Omer

April 28th, begins the second week of the Counting of the Omer.

This is the week of Gevurah.

Today we carry on the counting of the Omer into the mystical mystery of Kabbalah. We count the Omer by dwelling on the Branches, called Sefirot, on the Tree of Life

Gevurah is about the discipline of power and the power of discipline. A world filled with unconditional love cannot stand. It needs a little Gevurah to balance life and enhance the flow. This week we allow Gevurah to help us look into ourselves, illuminating the different corners that so often get overlooked in our workaday struggles.

Day 1) Hesed of Gevurah:
The unconditional love hidden within the disciplined path of power.

Day 2) Gevurah of Gevurah:
Finding the strength to live a powerful life filling each moment with meaning.

Day 3) Tif'eret of Gevurah:
Discovering the balance that leans on inner power mitigating judgment with compassion.

Day 4) Netzah of Gevurah:
We strive to find the courage to act on our personal power.

Day 5) Hod of Gevurah:
Exploring in quiet solitude the power and the process and the path that lies ahead.

Day 6) Yesod of Gevurah:
Settling our power deep within us. Letting go of the ego trappings of authority and discovering our true power and the power of truth.

Day 7) Malchut of Gevurah:
Gathering our gleanings of power and carrying them out into a world sometimes too short sighted to see and too deaf to the needs of humanity an our planet. We go forth to life, using our power not as stumbling blocks to the blind but as building blocks to blessing.

The Kabbalah of Counting: The Mystical Meaning of the Counting of the Omer

The Counting of the Omer originated in a deep, loving relationship to the earth.

For us, it has become process of re-creation, re-birth and re-newal of a sacred bond that grounds our hearts to the earth and lifts our souls to the heavens.

The 49 day period is counted in days and weeks.

The 7 days of each of the 7 weeks constitutes the 49 days.

Each week is represented by a specific sacred attribute, called Sefirah from the mystical Tree of Life.

Each day within that week is represented by an aspect of that attribute. We count the lower 7 Sefirot for the seven weeks. For each day, one Sefirah is counted within the Sefirah of the Week.

The famous Kabbalist, the RaMaK, Reb Moshe Kordevero (ca. 18^th cent) wrote a powerful work entitled PaRDeS. In it he explains the word Sefirah. He expounds that the word is related to the 3 mystical aspects of creation. MiSPaR, number, SiPuR, the story and Sapir the sapphire, the translucent crystal of illumination that is discussed in many works of Kabbalah.

Each week, for the next 7 weeks I shall share with you the spiritual attribute, the Sefirah for the week, and the daily Sefirah SheBSefirah, the aspect within the attribute, according to Kabbalah. You might try an exercise, using these as meditation points in which you stand back and take an objective look at your subjective emotions (no small task in and of itself).

Seeing their strong an weak points will, in turn, enable you to apply yourself to the development and perfection of these feelings as you grow towards emotional and spiritual maturity.

The evening of April 21 after the second Seder, begins the counting of the Omer. Today we carry the Omer into the mystical mystery of Kabbalah. We count the Omer by dwelling on the Branches, the Sefirot, of the Tree of Life

The first week is Hesed. Hesed is unconditional love. It is compassion without bounds. It is the offering of love without the thought of recompense.

Day 1) Hesed SheBHesed:
Unconditional love offered freely even to those for whom we find difficulty offering love.

Day 2) Gevurah SheBHesed:
Tough love, that teaches boundaries and consequences but measured with compassion and caring.

Day 3) Tiferet SheBHesed:
Balanced compassion offered without judgment but with honesty and the frailness of fairness.

Day 4) Netzah SheBHesed:
Acts of loving-kindness is compassion in motion. True victory comes into the world through love activated in action.

Day 5) Hod SheBHesed:
The love that sleeps quietly purring in my heart. It is the quiet cuddling, the comfortable silence of deep felt love.

Day 6) Yesod SheBHesed:
Soulful love that goes even deeper than the heart. Love that is core to our inner existence and our outer manifestation. It is the love that connects heaven and earth.

Day 7) Malchut SheBHesed:
Love given to the world around us is Malchut SheBHesed. Love that is felt must be fostered. For our planet to survive we must walk the path of love. For humanity to thrive we must live our love.

Jews are Crazy

Jews are crazy. These crazy people get together for a dinner party. It sounds nice, yes? They sit together and have a nice glass of wine, good. Then they eat some parsley. After that little bite of food they talk and they talk and they talk. They ask questions, they tell stories, they sing songs (what’s to sing about on an empty stomach) they might even act out a play. On and on it goes. Finally, when your stomach is growling, as you smell the food cooking, and your head is nodding from the second glass of wine, they announce the meal. They put some food in front of you. Don’t be fooled. First they give you a dry cracker. Then they put a large hunk of vegetable in front of you. Be warned! They call it a bitter herb. They aren’t kidding. It is bitter, tears pour from your eyes as they announce that you can eat a sandwich. Guess what! The sandwich is more of the cracker and more of that bitter herb. And just when your taste buds are on fire, a feast is served. The food is good and you relax. They even tell you how to relax. You have to lean on one side. Finally, when you have stuffed yourself, they announce dessert. Amazingly it is more of the cracker business. More wine more talk and finally you can go home. Jews are crazy.

No, Jews aren’t crazy, we are tribal and we wish to tap into that mystical mystery of life. And what has been described is the Seder, from the point of view of someone closed to the mystery and who stands outside the tribal camp. For those who are willing to open their hearts and minds and souls, the Seder becomes a ‘soul transporter.’ It takes us back to a time of slavery and liberation. It challenges us to become aware of our tribal roots and our mystical branches. We ‘return to those exciting days of yesteryear’ when we first discovered that freedom is not free. We travel through ages to share moments filled with tyrants and torments, teachers and transcendental times. We taste fear and freedom in the Matzah that we eat. We re-turn, re-experience, re-view re-live and re-new that mystical moment when we burst the bonds of slavery and entered into holy service to our G, our world, to our fellow human beings and to our spiritual selves. Not a bad way to spend an evening really.

A Friendly, Simple PESAH GUIDE

Of all the Jewish holidays, Pesah is the one most commonly observed, even by otherwise non-observant Jews. Pesah begins on the 15^th day of the Jewish month of Nisan. It is the first of the three major festivals with both historical and agricultural significance (the other two are Shavuot and Sukkot). Agriculturally, it represents the beginning of the harvest season in Israel, but little attention is paid to this aspect of the holiday. The primary observances of Pesah are related to the Exodus from Egypt after generations of slavery. This story is told in Exodus, Ch. 1-15. Many of the Pesah observances are instituted in Chs. 12-15.

The name “Pesah comes from the Hebrew root Peh Sameh Het
meaning to pass through, to pass over, to exempt or to spare. It refers to the fact that G “passed over” the houses of the Jews when slaying the firstborn of Egypt. “Pesah” is also the name of the sacrifice (a lamb) that was made in the Temple on this holiday. The holiday is also referred to as Hag he-Aviv (the Spring Festival), Hag ha-Matzoth
(the Festival of Matzot), both refer to the agricultural holiday with which the historical holiday, Pesah was blended with Z’man Herutenu
(the Time of Our Freedom). One of the most significant observance related to Pesah involves the removal of hametz from our homes. Traditionally this commemorates the fact that the Jews leaving Egypt were in a hurry, and did not have time to let their bread rise. Yet it also refers to the meal eaten on the first Pesah which was held before we left Eqypt. It also symbolizes the end of winter and eating the last of the winter stores. In a symbolic way, the of removing the Hametz is the challenge to remove the “puffiness” (arrogance, pride) from our souls.

Hametz includes anything made from the five major grains (wheat, rye, barley, oats and spelt) that has not been completely cooked within 18 minutes after coming into contact with water. Orthodox Jews of Ashkenazi background also avoid rice, corn, peanuts, and legumes (beans) as if they were hametz. All of these items are commonly used to make bread, thus use of them was prohibited to avoid any confusion. Such additional items are referred to as “kitniyot.” In my family a great miracle happens just before Pesah every year. We become Sefardic and therefore kitniyot are found in our home.

According to Halacha (The Jewish Path) we may not eat hametz during Pesah; we may not even own it or derive benefit from it. We may not even feed it to our pets or cattle. All hametz, including utensils used to cook hametz, must either be disposed of or sold to a non-Jew (they can be repurchased after the holiday). Pets’ diets must be changed for the holiday, or the pets must be sold to a non-Jew (like the food and utensils, the pets can be repurchased after the holiday ends). You can sell your hametz online at http://www.chabadcenter.org/ or through me (a form is included). From the gentile’s perspective, the purchase functions much like the buying and selling of futures on the stock market: even though he does not take physical possession of the goods, his temporary legal ownership of those goods is very real. It is a wonderful way to share this holiday with our neighbors. In years past I have sold my Hametz to ministers, priests, the chief of police, the mayor and other public officials.

The process of cleaning the home of all hametz in preparation for Pesah is an enormous task. To do it according to Halacha, you must prepare for several weeks and spend several days scrubbing everything down, going over the edges of your stove and fridge with a toothpick and a Q-Tip, covering all surfaces that come in contact with foil or shelf-liner, etc., etc., etc. After the cleaning is completed, the morning before the Seder, a formal search of the house for hametz is undertaken, and any remaining hametz is burned. In my family it is the time for spring cleaning and, of course, to look through our stores and eat up all the Hametz the we can before Pesah, much weight is gained at this time.

Matzah is unleavened bread, made simply from flour and water and cooked very quickly (under 18 minutes according to Halacha). This is the bread that the Jews made for their flight from Egypt. It is also the reminder of the harvest festival known as Hag HaMatzot.

The day before Pesah is the Fast of the First Born a minor fast for all firstborn, commemorating the fact that the firstborn Jewish males in Egypt were not killed during the final plague.

On the first night of Pesah (first two nights for traditional Jews outside Israel), we have a special family meal filled with ritual to remind us of the significance of the holiday. This meal is called a Seder, from a Hebrew root word meaning “order,” because there is a specific set of information that must be discussed in a specific order. It is the same root from which we derive the word “siddur”
(prayer book). An overview of a traditional Seder is included below.

Pesah lasts for seven days (eight days outside of Israel). The first and last days of the holiday (first two and last two outside of Israel) are ‘Hag’, days on which no work is permitted according to Halacha. Work is permitted on the intermediate days. These intermediate days on which work is permitted are referred to as Hol Ha-Mo’ed, as are the intermediate days of Pesah.

The Pesah Seder

The text of the Pesah Seder is written in a book called the Haggadah. The content of the Seder are as follows:

1. Kadesh,
   
2. Urchatz,
   
3. Karpas,
   
4. Yachatz,
   
5. Maggid,
   
6. Rachtzah,
   
7. Motzi,
   
8. Matzah,
   
9. Maror,
   
10. Korech,
    
11. Shulchan Orech,
    
12. Tzafun,
    
13. Barech,
    
14. Hallel,
    
15. Nirtzah

Now, what does that mean?

Kadesh: Sanctification

A blessing over wine in honor of the holiday. The wine is drunk, and a second cup is poured

Urhatz: Washing

A washing of the hands without a blessing, in preparation for eating the Karpas

Karpas: Vegetable

A vegetable (usually parsley) is dipped in salt water and eaten. The vegetable symbolizes springtime; the salt water symbolizes the tears shed as a result of our slavery. Parsley is a good vegetable to use for this purpose, because when you shake off the salt water, it looks like tears.

Yachatz: Breaking

The middle of the three matzahs on the table is broken. Part is returned, the other part is set aside for the afikoman (see below).

Maggid: The Story

A retelling of the story of the Exodus from Egypt and the first Pesah. This begins with the youngest person asking The Four Questions, a set of questions about the proceedings designed to encourage participation in the Seder. The Four Questions are also known as Mah Nishtanah (Why is it different?), which are the first words of the Four Questions. This is often sung. The Maggid is designed to satisfy the needs of four different types of people: the wise one, who wants to know the all the details and the deep spiritual meanings; the wicked one, who excludes himself (and the punishment IS the crime); the simple one, who needs to know the basics; and the one who is unable to ask, who doesn’t even know enough to know what he needs to know. At the end of the Maggid, a blessing is recited over the second cup of wine and it is drunk

Rahtzah: Washing

A second washing of the hands, this time with a blessing, in preparation for eating the matzah.

Motzi: Blessing over Bread

The Motzi blessing, a generic blessing for bread used as a meal, is recited over the matzah.

Matzah: Blessing over Matzah

A blessing specific to matzah is recited, and a bit of matzah is eaten

Maror: Bitter Herbs

A blessing is recited over a bitter vegetable (usually raw horseradish; sometimes romaine lettuce), and it is eaten. This symbolizes the bitterness of slavery. (Note that there are two bitter herbs on the Seder plate: one labeled Maror and one labeled Hazeret. The one labeled Maror should be used for Maror and the one labeled Hazeret may be used in the Korech).

Korech: The Sandwich

Rabbi Hillel was of the opinion that the Maror should be eaten together with matzah and the paschal offering in a sandwich. In his honor, we eat some Maror on a piece of matzah, with some Haroset, a mixture of apples, nuts, cinnamon and wine, which symbolizes the mortar used by the Jews in building during their slavery. The Hillel sandwich originally contained lamb instead of Haroset. But since the destruction of the 2^nd Temple we do not sacrifice animals, so there is no paschal offering to eat (though that must have been a great sandwich).

Shulchan Oreh: Dinner

A festive meal is eaten. There is no particular requirement regarding what to eat at this meal (except, of course, that hametz cannot be eaten). Among Ashkenazic Jews, gefilte fish and matzah ball soup are traditionally eaten at the beginning of the meal. Roast chicken or turkey are common as a main course, as is beef brisket.

Tzafun: The Afikoman

The piece of matzah set aside earlier is eaten as “ the desert dessert,” the last food of the meal. Different families have different traditions relating to the afikoman. Some have the children hide it, while the parents have to either find it or ransom it back. Others have the parents hide it. The idea is to keep the children awake and attentive throughout the pre-meal proceedings, waiting for this part.

Barech: Grace after Meals

The third cup of wine is poured, and Birkat Ha-Mazon (grace after meals) is recited. This is similar to the grace that would be said on any Shabbat. At the end, a blessing is said over the third cup and it is drunk. The fourth cup is poured, including a cup set aside for the prophet Elijah, who is supposed to herald the Mashiah. Our hope every Pesah is that the time of Mashiah (or the Messianic age for the modernists) will come about during this time. The door is opened for a while at this point for Elijah. On a historical note, Jews were accused of heinous crimes such as putting the blood of Christian babies into the matzah. In fear of oppression and false accusations we opened the door to show our Christian neighbors that we were innocent of their blood libel. A curse against our accusers accompanied the opening of the door. But today we open the door and offer welcome to all who are hungry and in need, turning a custom that was a response to fear and prejudice into a sacred moment of openness and tzedaka).

Hallel: Praises

Several psalms are recited. A blessing is recited over the last cup of wine and it is drunk.

Nirtzah: Closing

A simple statement that the seder has been completed, with a wish that next year, we may celebrate Pesah in Jerusalem (i.e., that the Messiah will come within the next year). This is followed by various hymns and stories.

May your Pesah be filling and fulfilling this year. May we, Members of the Tribe and Friends of the Tribe and even enemies of the Tribe, learn and grow and aim for a world filled with Peace.

Finding meaning in Finding Hametz

Outside of the High HolyDays Pesah must be the most widely celebrated Jewish holiday in America. I think that it has something to do with the pageantry, the rituals, food, the fun and, of course, the learning. Pesah is a learning holiday. Every aspect of the holiday teaches us a lesson. The Seder is a series of teaching devices to explain the story of Pesah to Jews of all ages. Indeed the word for the book that we use at the Seder, Haggadah, comes from the word, L'Haggid which means to tell.

But the Seder is not the only teaching device in Pesah. There are many others. For example, Hametz. Hametz is leavening and, we are supposed to avoid it on Pesah. The rituals surrounding the ridding of our homes of Hametz can be used as a string of educational toys for us and our neighbors.

There are three rituals that have to do with the ridding of our homes (and maybe our hearts) of Hametz. They are; 1) M'hirat Hametz, 2) B'dihat Hametz and 3) Bi'yur Hametz. Let's take a look at these rituals and how they can be used by us as a "string around the finger" a reminder of the higher self that is in each one of us.

1) M'hirat Hametz means the sale of Hametz. Before the beginning of Pesah, we do a spring cleaning. After the cleaning process, we make a ritual sale of whatever Hametz is left. Here is how it works. We put all of our cereals and grains etc. in a closet and tape the doors shut. Then we ritually "sell" the Hametz to those for whom there is no injunction against Hametz.

Next comes 2) B'dikat Hametz, the search for Hametz. The night before Pesah, we make a ritual search for the last crumbs of Hametz in the house. Traditionally, this is done with a feather, a wooden spoon, and a candle if you are Ashkenazi. Sefardim use a knife and a candle.

Lastly, comes 3) Bi'yur Hametz. The morning before the first Seder the Hametz that has been collected is burned with appropriate prayers. Now we are ritually ready for Pesah.

But what can these rituals teach us? What is the "right" that go along with these rites. How can we use these rituals to make ourselves better people, to open our eyes to our inner selves?

Let's take a look at them again.

1) M'hirat Hamatz, the sale of Hametz is a public statement. It is a way of sharing with our neighbors who we are and the righteousness for which we strive. Let's try it, let's go to our non-Jewish neighbors and discuss the meaning of Pesah. Let us begin the process of sharing our different customs as well as our similar ideals. Our neighbors will learn about us and, indeed, we may learn about them as well. It is a fun way of building bridges. We aren't looking to end differences, just begin to understand and accept them.

2) B'dihat Hametz, let us search our hearts for Hametz, for that which is not fit for the celebration of Pesah. Let us examine our own prejudices, whether they be based on the differences of religion, race or origin. Have we been guilty of treating the stranger differently than the home born? Have we judged others on the basis of their looks or heritage? If so, (and who of us hasn't) then it is time for the next step.

3) Bi'yur Hametz is the burning of the Hametz. Let us begin the process of purging not only our homes but our hearts of Hametz, the Hametz of hatred and racism. For isn't that the true meaning of Pesah? Aren't we commanded to remember that we were slaves in Egypt in order not to enslave others? Aren't we required to remember that we were "strangers in a strange land" in order that we would treat others better than we have treated so often in so many lands? The lessons of Pesah are not so far away from our daily lives.

But sometimes we need a little reminder or two or three.

Soul Progression

This week’s Torah Portion is called Aharei Mot. The words mean “After death!” One does not have to read the portion to be struck by the question. It is a question asked out loud or in the deepest recesses of our hearts. Is there anything after death? What is the trail of the soul when the garment that we call body has been returned to replenish the earth? The Jewish path speaks of 5 levels of soul. Each is a pointer towards a different way of looking at life and our soul connection to G, to each other, to the earth and to ourselves. Together they offer us a way to explore our own feelings regarding the infinite that is hidden just below the surface of our finite lives.

NeFeSh is the physical soul that returns to the earth with the body. It becomes one with the spirit of the earth as our body becomes one with the matter of the earth. Some might refer to this as becoming one with the ‘Gaia spirit’.

The next level is RUaH, the wind spirit aspect of our soul. My father (zt’l) would speak of anonymous immortality. Imagine that you share some important life lesson with a friend. That friend is moved by your teaching. S/he shares it with others in your name. They share it with others and so on. But during the passing of the teaching, your name disappears from the story. The story lives on and in this way you live on in the realm of RUaH but your name does not; anonymous immortality. The stories and lessons that we share regarding our parents, our teachers, our ancestors keep their RUaH, their wind spirit alive in our realm. This is why tribal folk keep an oral history. The tribe lives on in the oral history and in the actions based on that history. When I tell stories of my parents and grandparents, or when we tell the stories of Sarah and Avraham, Moshe and Miriam, Ester and Mordecai, their RUaH feeds us, feeds the tribal RUaH.

The third level is NeShaMaH, which is the breath of our soul. I envision a tiny, invisible silver thread connection to the Wholly One of Being. Since all humans have this connection, the picture is of a spider web of inter-connection between us all and with G. Our joys and sorrows strengthen the web connection of NeShaMaH. Each of us from the greatest Tzadik (righteous one) to the most mean spirited Rasha (evil one) is part of the web. On our computers we see WWW/World Wide Web but that is a pale shadow of the greater WWW that connects us to the Wholly One of Being. Ignore it if we will, it is always there. I remember a story of a Bar/t Mitzvah who said: “I don’t believe in G!” The Rabbi’s response was: “Don’t worry about it. G believes in you!” The World Wide Wholly One of Being Web (WWWOBW) is always connected and no virus can create a disconnect.

The fourth level is HaYah, which can be translated as life and sometimes as a hungry wild beast. But here it refers to longing. We may long for more money, more stature but this is a deeper form of longing. This is a longing to elevate ourselves into a oneness with the Wholly One of Being. “Oh G, how I long to be with you, to feel you in my life!” HaYah is the holy longing. “Oh G, I am hungry for your presence!” In prayer we are in Hayah. We are, as Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel might say, in longing to be part of that which is greater than the self. We are in preparation and in longing for the final level of soul, of soulfulness.

That level is YeHIDaH. YeHIDaH refers to being in total oneness. In Hebrew there are 3 words having to do with ‘One’. There is YaHaD in which I am one with… My belovedest and I are one. We are one made of parts. Indeed everything that is of matter is one, made of parts. All matter can be broken down into smaller parts. The next level is EHaD as we find in the Shema. EHaD is one without parts, impossible to dissect into aspects. Maimonides speaks of G in this way. G has no parts, G cannot be separated, broken down into components. G is the Wholly one; G is the Wholly One of Being. And the third level of ‘one’ is YeHIDaH. Not only is it one without parts, it is one alone. There is nothing else. There is not even a ‘nothing else’. The image is of G before creation. YeHIDaH is the oneness without parts and without ‘the other’. My mind has trouble wrapping itself around the concept. And yet that part of our soul is us yet not us it is a part of the One Who has no parts. On this level of soul, we do not exist as other than G.

So what happens Aharei Mot, after the passing of our physical? According to this paradigm, our NeFeSh returns to Gaia spirit. Our RUaH lives on in the souls touched by us in our journeys in this realm. Our NeShaMaH is wound back to G; our HaYaH disappears completely. For there is no longer longing as we become YeHIDaH, enfolded into the total oneness of the Wholly One of Being.

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I sometimes capitalize the transliteration of the Hebrew letters and keep the vowels (which were added later to the language) in small letters. This accentuates the root of the word.

The Menorah and the Hanukiah: a children's tale for adults

The Menorah and the Hanukiah

They sat side by side, almost twins. But their emotions were as dissimilar as their shape was similar.

“I am so excited!” chortled the Hanukiah. “It is almost that time of year. Soon the house will be filled with the smell of Latkes and the warmth of my favorite holiday.”

“I wonder what that could be!?!?” grumbled the Menorah, standing tarnished and forlorn by her younger sacred symbol.

“Why are you upset, you sound jealous?” replied the Hanukiah with a hurt tone of voice.

“What if I am,” the Menorah responded angrily.

“Why are you jealous? Hanukah comes but once a year. Ok, so I get lit for 8 days in a row!” (He positively shivered with delight). “But you are the most important symbol of the Jewish people. For one night every single week, you are brought out and lit! Songs are sung and prayers are said wonderful food is eaten. I envy you!!!!”

“But that is just it, I am not brought out once a week, or once a month or even once a year. I am forgotten, a meaningless relic, a useless ornament in the breakfront.”

The Hanukiah felt bad. “I…I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“Well I am not putting up with this neglect, this abuse. I am leaving!!!” And with that the Menorah pushed with one of her 7 branches against the glass of the breakfront.

Don’t do that,” cried the Hanukiah, “the glass will...” and with that there was a crash and a thud as the Menorah broke the glass and fell to the floor. “I told you,” called the Hanukiah.

“Well, I don’t care, I am leaving!” cried the Menorah, tears running down her branches, as she brushed herself off and began to make her way through the living room towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Cried the Hanukiah.

“Home!” Shouted the Menorah and then again, more quietly, “Home!”

“And where is home?” called out the Hanukiah.

For a moment, there was no response, then the faint sound of brass against brass as the Menorah strived and succeeded with a grunt to open the door. Then as the door swung wide, the Hanukiah heard the answer. “I am headed to Israel. That is where all of this started and that is where I intend to find out where I come from and why I have been so forgotten.

For years The Menorah struggled in its travel. It found its way onto buses and trains, into the trunks of cars until finally it found its way into the suitcase of an Orthodox Jew on his way to Israel. When the Menorah arrived, it climbed out of the suitcase and waddled its way onto a bus heading for the Negev, the desert of wandering. It felt as if it was drawn by an irresistible force to the ancient desert dwelling of our ancestors. Somewhere near Ein Gedi, that ancient oasis in the desert, it threw itself from the bus and struggled through the passes and wadis until, exhausted, it collapsed against a strange looking plant a sweet smelling plant, a sage plant.

As it rested, dully gleaming in the sun, the plant called to it. “Welcome home my child.”

The menorah was shocked. “How can a plant speak it wondered aloud.”

“In the same way that a Menorah can waddle,” the plant laughed, “Ask the author. Clearly, you are here for a reason. You have returned to your source.”

“Yes, I have come to Eretz Yisrael, my source, where it all began. Maybe I will learn why I am so forgotten, so useless?”

“Yes yes, Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel, but more importantly, you have returned to me. For I am your source, you were patterned after me. Thousands of years ago, when the people called, Ivrim, Bnai Yisrael, Yehudim, created your ancestor, the Menorah in the Holy Temple, they designed it, and therefore you, to look like me. I am the plant Moriah. Do you know what my name means?”

“No, I don’t.” exclaimed the Menorah in wonder, beginning to examine this strange plant more closely.

“It means the teaching of G. You were meant to remind all Jews of their relationship to G, the source of all, the source of life, the source of holiness. You were meant to be a pointer to the great lessons of life. Shabbat, which you also represent is a time to reflect on life, and love and oneness, indeed all the great gifts that humans take for granted.”

The Menorah laughed bitterly. “Yet I am forgotten. The Hanukiah is shined and used and the children sing songs and play games around it and I am left in the cupboard, forgotten and alone.”
“But don’t you know that the Hanukiah is your spiritual child. It was created to look like you, to remind, as you remind.”

“But that is just it, the Hanukiah reminds the children and their parents of the glory and the power and the spirit that was long ago. But I do nothing, I am nothing, I am only a relic.” And the Menorah wept, droplets of oil rolling down its branches, as it was held by the Moriah in the wilderness of loss.

Meanwhile, there was one in the Menorah’s former home who did notice that the Menorah was missing. Her name was Rinah Tal. She was the youngest daughter of the family who had purchased and then ignored the Menorah for so long. She was 12 and there was excitement in the house as everyone was preparing for their trip to Israel. This was to be her Bat Mitzvah present. Her family was going to travel to Israel and celebrate her Bat Mitzvah at the Dead Sea, near an ancient oasis called the well of the goats, Ein Gedi.

Rinah had always liked the Menorah, been somehow drawn to it, touched by it. She enjoyed looking at it in the breakfront and wondered why it was never used. She had read the stories of the Temple of long ago and the Menorah, the Ner Tamid, that seven branched candelabra that had been lit daily there.

The day finally came, the family had traveled by taxi and bus and plane and private car to the beautiful resort at the Dead Sea. She had done her Bat Mitzvah by the waters of Ein Gedi and everyone had been proud of her and awed by the stark beauty of the place. She had been showered with praise and gifts, yet for her, something was missing. The day after her Bat Mitzvah, she snuck out of the hotel early and caught a bus, by herself up to Ein Gedi, the sight of “her day”. She wandered in and out of the groves that grew along the water. She felt elated and yet…

Then she saw it. Tangled in a sweet smelling plant hidden from view was… a menorah. No, not a menorah, THE MENORAH it was the one she had loved, the one she had longed for, the one she had missed. She tried to pull it free and as she did some of the plant came away with it. She was ecstatic. She was so happy she wanted to sing and dance. But then she felt a powerful sadness, loneliness. She felt, almost heard the feeling coming from the plant wrapped Menorah, the need to be used, to be lit, to be a symbol once again of the ancient ways that were as new as the new day dawning. She said out loud, not at all embarrassed to be addressing the plant encrusted Menorah:
“My beloved Menorah, you are my Bat Mitzvah gift, my heritage gift, my sacred connection. I will light you every Shabbat as a reminder that I am Bat Mitzvah; I am part of the sacred history and spirit of my people. You are a symbol of my connection to G and to my people and to my soul,” She shouted in joy.

She ran back to the bus and took it to the hotel where her parents were up and worried about her. When she showed them the Menorah they were in shock. They tried to explain away its presence, not willing to accept that this was a place of signs and wonders. But Rinah Tal would have none of it. She insisted that this was her Menorah from back home. She insisted that from that time on it would be lit every Shabbat, SHE WOULD LIGHT IT EVERY SHABBAT. She quietly muttered; “This is my Bat Mitzvah present, this is the meaning of my trip to Israel, this is who I am.” And her soul was filled with the light of an inner Menorah, a Ner Tamid that would never be extinguished. And she insisted that the sprigs of the plant that had attached itself to the Menorah NOT be removed, ever.

Standing in the breakfront, next to the Hanukiah, the Menorah smiled with a dull shine of pride and awareness. Candle droppings covered it as a Talit of Rainbow colors. It was home and it was fulfilled.

Shabbos is for lovers

The Spiritual Romance of Shabbos

A couple approached me to perform their marriage ceremony. When we interviewed each other, they told me that they did not want a 'religious' ceremony. "Then why come to a Rabbi," I asked. "Because our parents want a Rabbi to do the ceremony," they replied. Well, it is nice that we do things for our parents. I agreed to marry them but I did not agree to a secular ceremony .

We began our meetings. Every time different spiritual aspects of Judaism were brought up, they were met with displeasure. They just were not interested. One day I decided to come at the challenge from a different angle and that, dear friends is the story I wish to share.

They both worked very hard. I suggested that they find a time to be together without the baggage of the workweek. They agreed that such an idea was important and I went on. "This should be a space without time," I suggested. "Watches and clocks become unimportant in this space. Imagine a whole day where you concentrate on each other, not on the telephone or email or business of any kind, which includes worrying about the bills, or who said what at work. This is a time for the two of you!" They were warming to the idea.

Next I suggested that they should start this 24-hour weekly vacation, not in the morning, but at night. In this way they could divest themselves of the workaday and invest in the holiday before going to bed. They agreed that this idea made sense.

I then recommended that this space without time should have the theme of romance. They really liked that concept. "So let's discuss what makes the beginning of this space romantic. Mood is important." I suggested. The woman came up with the idea of candles as a 'mood-modifier'. "What a good idea," I agreed. "And what about a 'mood-enhancer' after a long week of work and separation? How about a little wine? This too was met with enthusiasm."Great, we have candles to soften the edges of a hard week and wine to enhance the mood. Now, how about something simple to eat, to begin your romantic meal." I proposed that they buy what is often called 'egg bread' from a bakery and just before the meal, heat it up in the oven. The aroma would be heartening and the warm soft bread would make a sweet beginning to the romantic time together.

I pushed the idea that this was a romantic getaway from time by putting forth the idea that they should, in the morning read to each other and take a walk together and maybe even a picnic. Their enthusiasm was growing.

"But how do we end this wonderful romantic day," I asked. I answered my own question with the idea of creating memory pegs so that they could carry a sense of the romantic space into the next week. "First, light a candle together as the stars twinkle. Then drink a little wine together, maybe even from the same cup. Next, find some sweet smelling spices. After all our olfactory system is deeply connected to memory. Lastly, put the candle out in the wine. With no lights on, the room will be plunged into darkness as the candle sizzles out in the wine. The taste of the wine, the smell of the spices and even the light of the candle will linger in your minds." They were quite taken with the idea, so much so that they began that week.

Of course I suggested that they try to do it on Friday night, the traditional end of the workweek in Judaism. And during the next several months, they perfected their romantic ritual. They even began to invite some friends over to share in the romantic dinner ritual on Friday night.
All was going well until they invited another Jewish couple over who asked why they did not say the Shabbos blessings as they began their Shabbos rituals. They were flabbergasted and even a tad miffed with me. When they came for their next session they said: "You tricked us!" Then they explained how their other Jewish friends blew the scam.

I asked them if, up to that point, they had enjoyed and found a beauty in the idea of celebrating a romantic time called Shabbos. They admitted that they had. "What is in a name...," I quoted. Then I urged them to continue, saying that I might be able to help them enjoy it even more. I asked for their patience and began to teach them the blessings for the rituals that they were doing.

I explained that the blessing said for lighting candles was a statement of awe for the sacred connection of light.

The blessings for wine and Hallah (egg bread) were statements of awareness that these items come from the earth not simply from the supermarket; that we are connected to the earth from which comes the food we eat and the wine we drink.

Then I went one step further. When we become aware, when we bring awe into our relationship with each other, we are elevating our relationship by acknowledging that we have another relationship of importance. Some call it 'G'; some call it a 'greater power'. I call it, 'The Wholly One of Being' (pun intended).

A few weeks later, the couple celebrated their wedding embraced in a religious ceremony. Though over the years I have lost touch with this couple, I like to think that they have continued to celebrate Shabbos and that they have expanded on their romantic adventure into a realm of spirituality.

Shabbos is for everyone and we all need a Shabbos.