“What is this,” thought the Mateh as it began to float. For generations it had laid in the field, dropped by the murderer, Kayin. Now the waters seemed to be filling the land. What was to become of the Mateh, now just a part of the flotsam and jetsam of this strange and awesome flood. The Mateh floating along until it bumped into a huge boat. And from that boat came a hoary hand. No’ah plucked the Mateh from the rising sea. He looked on silently, for he was a silent man in a silent world, all life disappearing below the waves. He leaned heavily on the Mateh watching his world disappear. Then he turned and went below to feed the animals. If the Mateh had had a nose, it would have pinched it. The stench was unbearable, There were many species of animal, all in pairs. No, wait there are some that count seven. No’ah did count them again and made sure that of every Kosher animal, that is any animal that could be sacrificed, there would be enough to sacrifice and for the animal to replenish its species. The Mateh watched in wonder. This ancient man was caring for these young animals all on this floating ark.
It occurred to the Mateh that this Ark was a huge seed for planting, for repleneshing the earth. Eventually, the waters would rescind. Land would become visible and then viable. Grasses would grow, trees would blossom and life would bloom. This Ark, this seed contained the heart, breathing acts of creation or rather re-creation. The Mateh felt strange in this old and silent man’s hands. No, he was not a Tzadik, though he was a good man. After all, he was the most righteous of his generation. A generation so wicked that it had to be flushed from the earth. Did that make No’ah righteous or just a little less evil than the evil that surrounded him. The Mateh felt that this was a good man. It was not easy to be righteous in a world where righteousness begat derision, taunts and ridicule. No, this definitely was a good man, a person worthy of becoming an ancestor. Others would come more righteous than he. But for this time and this place, this silent old man was the one to sail the seed and then plant it rebuilding plant and planet and people. This was No’ah, the silent.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
John McBabel and Barak O'Babel try to be close to G
Well it is finally under way. It took a lot of planning and a lot of convincing but our leader, John McBabel is right. If we build this tower we will reach heaven (1) and in that way be close to G. That foolish Barak O’Babel thinks that we can be closer to G by building those low buildings only one or two stories high.
We contributed our labor to build it and it is now fairly under way. The CEOs paid for our uniforms, because we have to be unified. Uniforms unify we are told, and that is what we need to be to work together. Silly Barak O’Babel lets the people working with him wear anything they want. How can they work together if everyone is different.
Of course the CEOs of The Tower were given parachutes so that when they examine the work that we do, they will be safe. Some complain that we, who do the actual work should get parachutes. But John McBabel is right, we didn’t pay for our unifying uniforms, the CEOs did. It is right that they should have the parachutes.
Look how small that foolish man Barak O’Babel is from up here. His idea was so pedestrian. He wanted to build many low buildings. How can you get closer to G using low buildings like that. He campaigned that they could be used for housing us. Since we have lost everything to build this magnificent tower. What does he know? We live in The Tower. Each one of us has an allotted space and an allotment of food. I know that it is not a lot of food or a lot of space but John McBabel says that we all will have it better as soon as we reach heaven. The Tower is not as nice as the homes we had on the ground, but when we were grounded we couldn’t see all that John McBabel has shown us. Now everything is rosy, we even have the glasses to wear as we are building this Castle in The Sky.
There is Barak O’Babel working with his supporters, turning those low buildings into hospitals and kitchens and shelters and schools. How foolish he is. You know some say he isn’t from around here at all. We are building a tower to heaven. Soon, when we reach G, when we are as high as G, when we are like G, we won’t need any of that foolishness. We will have it all. How can he possibly believe that by building those low buildings he will be close to G. It is laughable. I think he is a communist.
Now we are so high that Barak O’Babel and his followers seem insignificant. Even though our tower is blowing in the wind, we continue upward, higher and higher. Soon, it must be soon, we will be in heaven and we will be with G, be like G. Come here and see what we have accomplished while that fool is building all those low buildings. How impressive we are, how common is Barak O’Babel’s vision.
Why is everyone arguing we are almost there, I can feel it. Wait, I can’t understand what they are saying. Everyone seems to be speaking gibberish what is happening. It must be the altitude. We must struggle on. The blowing in the wind is getting worse. People are panicking and climbing down, no, don’t leave, don’t give up. John McBabel’s vision is not complete. I yell, I call to them but no one understands me. There, even John McBabel is abandoning our tower. I am so high yet I feel so low as I descend behind them. Some speak to me but what is the use. We don’t understand each other.
I look up at that tower blowing in the wind, so unstable, as we must have been to build it. That Tower, had no answer, blowing in the wind. What a folly, what a waste, what a shame. Now on the ground again the low buildings of Barak OBabel look more inviting. I see his many schools. I see language schools for each of us. I see schools for learning to travel the world. I see schools for learning to live together for a higher purpose not a higher tower. No uniforms he says, differences make us stronger.
Differences are so wonderful, this I have discovered. When we were building that tower of John McBabel we all tried to be the same. Differences were bad. Even our image of the melting pot, that we thought so strong, was really a trap. When we pour hot molten metals into a melting pot they are dissolved into one. That which cannot be dissolved into one is called slag and skimmed off to be discarded. How many people have been skimmed from our society and discarded. Yet Barak OBabel speaks of a stew where every individual has hir (2) flavor to contribute. Each ingredient adds to the flavor of the whole without losing hir special, unique, personal taste.
Isn’t funny, the higher we built the further from G, I felt. Now working with each other to better the lives of all of us, I feel better. Helping in the hospitals, teaching in the schools, building homes and lives and hope, I feel so close to G.
(1) In Genesis 11:1-9 is a simple tale of the Tower of Babel. But simple is not always simple.
(2) I use hir instead of his and hers and him and her. I do this to avoid offending sensibilities and to avoid offending my sense of style that finds “his/her or him/her” very awkward.
We contributed our labor to build it and it is now fairly under way. The CEOs paid for our uniforms, because we have to be unified. Uniforms unify we are told, and that is what we need to be to work together. Silly Barak O’Babel lets the people working with him wear anything they want. How can they work together if everyone is different.
Of course the CEOs of The Tower were given parachutes so that when they examine the work that we do, they will be safe. Some complain that we, who do the actual work should get parachutes. But John McBabel is right, we didn’t pay for our unifying uniforms, the CEOs did. It is right that they should have the parachutes.
Look how small that foolish man Barak O’Babel is from up here. His idea was so pedestrian. He wanted to build many low buildings. How can you get closer to G using low buildings like that. He campaigned that they could be used for housing us. Since we have lost everything to build this magnificent tower. What does he know? We live in The Tower. Each one of us has an allotted space and an allotment of food. I know that it is not a lot of food or a lot of space but John McBabel says that we all will have it better as soon as we reach heaven. The Tower is not as nice as the homes we had on the ground, but when we were grounded we couldn’t see all that John McBabel has shown us. Now everything is rosy, we even have the glasses to wear as we are building this Castle in The Sky.
There is Barak O’Babel working with his supporters, turning those low buildings into hospitals and kitchens and shelters and schools. How foolish he is. You know some say he isn’t from around here at all. We are building a tower to heaven. Soon, when we reach G, when we are as high as G, when we are like G, we won’t need any of that foolishness. We will have it all. How can he possibly believe that by building those low buildings he will be close to G. It is laughable. I think he is a communist.
Now we are so high that Barak O’Babel and his followers seem insignificant. Even though our tower is blowing in the wind, we continue upward, higher and higher. Soon, it must be soon, we will be in heaven and we will be with G, be like G. Come here and see what we have accomplished while that fool is building all those low buildings. How impressive we are, how common is Barak O’Babel’s vision.
Why is everyone arguing we are almost there, I can feel it. Wait, I can’t understand what they are saying. Everyone seems to be speaking gibberish what is happening. It must be the altitude. We must struggle on. The blowing in the wind is getting worse. People are panicking and climbing down, no, don’t leave, don’t give up. John McBabel’s vision is not complete. I yell, I call to them but no one understands me. There, even John McBabel is abandoning our tower. I am so high yet I feel so low as I descend behind them. Some speak to me but what is the use. We don’t understand each other.
I look up at that tower blowing in the wind, so unstable, as we must have been to build it. That Tower, had no answer, blowing in the wind. What a folly, what a waste, what a shame. Now on the ground again the low buildings of Barak OBabel look more inviting. I see his many schools. I see language schools for each of us. I see schools for learning to travel the world. I see schools for learning to live together for a higher purpose not a higher tower. No uniforms he says, differences make us stronger.
Differences are so wonderful, this I have discovered. When we were building that tower of John McBabel we all tried to be the same. Differences were bad. Even our image of the melting pot, that we thought so strong, was really a trap. When we pour hot molten metals into a melting pot they are dissolved into one. That which cannot be dissolved into one is called slag and skimmed off to be discarded. How many people have been skimmed from our society and discarded. Yet Barak OBabel speaks of a stew where every individual has hir (2) flavor to contribute. Each ingredient adds to the flavor of the whole without losing hir special, unique, personal taste.
Isn’t funny, the higher we built the further from G, I felt. Now working with each other to better the lives of all of us, I feel better. Helping in the hospitals, teaching in the schools, building homes and lives and hope, I feel so close to G.
(1) In Genesis 11:1-9 is a simple tale of the Tower of Babel. But simple is not always simple.
(2) I use hir instead of his and hers and him and her. I do this to avoid offending sensibilities and to avoid offending my sense of style that finds “his/her or him/her” very awkward.
The Jew-Ching book of changes
The I-Ching.
In the process called the I-Ching, we choose, using coins or yarrow sticks a passage from the book of the same name and use it to empower and inform our questions. I believe that the I-Ching can be a useful tool as long as it does not dull itself as the simple, celestial answer book. But the I-Ching is not the only work that can be of spiritual use in that particular way. Every week we look into a portion of our Torah. We seek to find meaning for ourselves in the portion of the week. I call the process ‘Jew-Ching.’ One form of Jew-Ching is to turn the name of the portion around and around seeking something within ourselves that resonates in the name.
This week’s potion, as my grandson, Gage calls them, is called No’ah. But the full name of the potion is: Eleh Toldot No’ah. Normally we translate that as: “These are the generations (or offspring) of Noah!” It is descriptive in that it introduces the story of Noah. But there is a spark to be found by striking our souls against these words.
The root Nun Het has some interesting branches that flow from it. One meaning is ‘rest.’ “These are the generations of rest!” Oh if only that could be true. We would love to be able to rest. We want to rest on our laurels. We want to rest from all the troubles of the world. We want to rest and renew for the next epoch of time. This translation is about hope. Is this not a time for the rest of renewal as we prepare for a new direction in politics? And yet, there is something deeper yet.
No’ah also means silence. And in that case, it is a warning. “These are the Silent Generations.” In context, we look at No’ah, the silent hero of the story. For almost nine full chapters, No’ah is silent. As a matter of fact, throughout the whole story, No’ah has but one line. The Rabbis of old would compare No’ah to Avraham and find him wanting. When G tells No’ah that the world is to be destroyed, No’ah is silent. When G tells Avraham that Sdom and Amorah are going to be destroyed, Avraham calls out for justice. In this way the very fitting name of the potion is “These are the generations of silence.” And yet, Torah speaks to us, not just of our past but of today and especially in this season of change, this season of politics. Next week we have a chance to make history. We will affect the direction of this country. . . unless we are of the silent generation. If we step up and vote, we are not silent. Our voice rings the bell of freedom throughout the land. For freedom is not right and privilege. Freedom is a responsibility and challenge to our vigilance.
Next week, we get to decide, not only on who will be the next President of the United States. We get to decide on whether we are to be the silent generation. Are we to be the generation of No’ah the silent or the generation of Avraham, the generation of people who will be heard as we call for righteousness, for what is right.
In the process called the I-Ching, we choose, using coins or yarrow sticks a passage from the book of the same name and use it to empower and inform our questions. I believe that the I-Ching can be a useful tool as long as it does not dull itself as the simple, celestial answer book. But the I-Ching is not the only work that can be of spiritual use in that particular way. Every week we look into a portion of our Torah. We seek to find meaning for ourselves in the portion of the week. I call the process ‘Jew-Ching.’ One form of Jew-Ching is to turn the name of the portion around and around seeking something within ourselves that resonates in the name.
This week’s potion, as my grandson, Gage calls them, is called No’ah. But the full name of the potion is: Eleh Toldot No’ah. Normally we translate that as: “These are the generations (or offspring) of Noah!” It is descriptive in that it introduces the story of Noah. But there is a spark to be found by striking our souls against these words.
The root Nun Het has some interesting branches that flow from it. One meaning is ‘rest.’ “These are the generations of rest!” Oh if only that could be true. We would love to be able to rest. We want to rest on our laurels. We want to rest from all the troubles of the world. We want to rest and renew for the next epoch of time. This translation is about hope. Is this not a time for the rest of renewal as we prepare for a new direction in politics? And yet, there is something deeper yet.
No’ah also means silence. And in that case, it is a warning. “These are the Silent Generations.” In context, we look at No’ah, the silent hero of the story. For almost nine full chapters, No’ah is silent. As a matter of fact, throughout the whole story, No’ah has but one line. The Rabbis of old would compare No’ah to Avraham and find him wanting. When G tells No’ah that the world is to be destroyed, No’ah is silent. When G tells Avraham that Sdom and Amorah are going to be destroyed, Avraham calls out for justice. In this way the very fitting name of the potion is “These are the generations of silence.” And yet, Torah speaks to us, not just of our past but of today and especially in this season of change, this season of politics. Next week we have a chance to make history. We will affect the direction of this country. . . unless we are of the silent generation. If we step up and vote, we are not silent. Our voice rings the bell of freedom throughout the land. For freedom is not right and privilege. Freedom is a responsibility and challenge to our vigilance.
Next week, we get to decide, not only on who will be the next President of the United States. We get to decide on whether we are to be the silent generation. Are we to be the generation of No’ah the silent or the generation of Avraham, the generation of people who will be heard as we call for righteousness, for what is right.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Choices: Who is this Satan guy anyway?
How many times have we heard the story of “The Fall of Man.” The man is tricked by the woman who is tricked by the snake into disobeying G and they are thrown from the Garden. To some it is the original sin. How sad! I tell you this because I was involved in that ‘sin’. I was involved in the ‘sin’ of the Golden Calf. I was the stranger who wrestled with Yaakov. I was all of those which people call temptations. But I want to share my side of the story. Especially now right before the holy day of joy, Simhat Torah. You see I have a role in that too. But let me introduce myself. I am a Mal’ach, a messenger, that some call angels. When they refer to me they say that I am the ‘fallen angel’. But that is not true. I sit in the Yeshiva Shel Ma’alah, the Study hall of Heaven with the other messengers. I am no more or less than they. I am just more misunderstood by you earthlings. When you call my name, you do so with fear and disdain, for I am Satan (pronounced SahTan) and I was created to serve humanity and that is what I do and I can prove it.
I will give you two examples, one from the beginning of the human spirit quest and one from the giving of Torah in the form of tablets on Mt. Sinai.
Think about the Garden of Eden for a moment. The 2 earthlings had no knowledge, not even of procreation. They were placed in The Garden, for what purpose. Do you think that G had no reason or rhyme to this creation. No indeed! The Garden was a launching pad for the spirit growth which is humanity. Let us examine the evidence. 2 blank humans are placed in The Garden. They are given all that is necessary to survive. Then two trees are placed in The Garden, The Tree of Eternal Life and the Tree of (the search for) Knowledge. Does G create without reason? The Tree of Eternal Life is placed off somewhere out of sight, out of mind. But the Tree of (the search for) Knowledge is placed smack dab in the middle of The Garden. On top of that G emanated the knowledge that the tree was special, with a big “Do Not Eat!” sign on it. Well anyone who has children cannot but be aware of what will happen next. And to help the process there is Sammy Snake to chat up the earthling, regarding the fruit of The Tree. Now let us stop for a second and examine the possibilities. There are only four of them.
Number 1: The earthlings eat of neither tree and live their lives like cattle and die without progeny.
Number 2: The earthlings eat of the Tree of Eternal Life which necessitates that they cannot procreate (the price one pays for eternal life). They live forever without intellectual or spiritual growth in The Garden, ageless, changeless cattle.
Number 3: The earthlings eat from both trees. In this case they live forever, learning, growing, spirits expanding. But they cannot share the knowledge. The precious growth of spirit cannot be passed on to future generations.
You can see, can’t you that there is only one option.
Number 4: They had to eat of The Tree of (the search for) Knowledge. But once they eat from that tree, they have to leave The Garden. Growth comes from challenge. If everything is provided, then growth is stifled. They had to leave the womb of The Garden and live in a world of challenge and choice. That is where I come in. I took the form of Sammy the Snake. I was the one who convinced them to take that first step on the path to humanity. It was the only thing to do, and I was sent to do it for all human growth. Yet humans vilify me for the gift of choice that I gave them.
Is this not proof that I should not be treated so harshly in story and song? Then let me give you one more example, one that fits this wonderful Holy Day of Simhat Torah. You have heard that there were two sets of tablets given by G. The first were broken by Moshe when he saw that golden calf and the second were brought down and given, finally, to the people. What you might not know is that the first set was actually written by G. This people fresh from the narrow place of narrow minds was going to be given something actually written by G. They could not have handled such a thing. It would have become for them an eye-doll. But Moshe would not hear of it. He was so moved by G’s writing that he could not see the limitations of his people. So I had to show him.
I set their clocks ahead. They thought that he was late. They thought that he might not be coming back. They thought that he was a god and, like the gods of Egypt, he could die. So they cried out: “See this Moshe is late, make for us another god.” I knew, of course what Moshe’s reaction would be. He could not give the written word of G to a people of such weak faith, too young as a freed people to understand. He dashed them on the rock. But when the people realized that neither he nor a hunk of gold could be gods, Moshe returned to the mountain. But this time G insisted that Moshe write the words. You might think that this made them less powerful. But no, it imbued the words with more power. G spoke and Moshe wrote. And as a result humans have “Torah SheBichtav,” the written Torah that Moshe recorded. But because it was written down by Moshe, the people realized that they could be involved in Torah. They could take in and take up Torah. They could receive and roll out Torah. That involvement is called “Torah SeBa’al Peh,” “The Torah of the mouth.” Humanity is to be involved in the process of Torah. It is to be discussed and debated. You are to argue and object. But most of all, you are to be connected to the living word of G. Because of what I was sent to do, Torah is a living process not an antique artifact.
I know that I have a bad reputation, no one is going to name their son or daughter Satan. But before you condemn me too harshly, take a moment and remember and reflect on this messenger of choices. I want no more than that. I only offer choices, it is for you to choose wisely.
I will give you two examples, one from the beginning of the human spirit quest and one from the giving of Torah in the form of tablets on Mt. Sinai.
Think about the Garden of Eden for a moment. The 2 earthlings had no knowledge, not even of procreation. They were placed in The Garden, for what purpose. Do you think that G had no reason or rhyme to this creation. No indeed! The Garden was a launching pad for the spirit growth which is humanity. Let us examine the evidence. 2 blank humans are placed in The Garden. They are given all that is necessary to survive. Then two trees are placed in The Garden, The Tree of Eternal Life and the Tree of (the search for) Knowledge. Does G create without reason? The Tree of Eternal Life is placed off somewhere out of sight, out of mind. But the Tree of (the search for) Knowledge is placed smack dab in the middle of The Garden. On top of that G emanated the knowledge that the tree was special, with a big “Do Not Eat!” sign on it. Well anyone who has children cannot but be aware of what will happen next. And to help the process there is Sammy Snake to chat up the earthling, regarding the fruit of The Tree. Now let us stop for a second and examine the possibilities. There are only four of them.
Number 1: The earthlings eat of neither tree and live their lives like cattle and die without progeny.
Number 2: The earthlings eat of the Tree of Eternal Life which necessitates that they cannot procreate (the price one pays for eternal life). They live forever without intellectual or spiritual growth in The Garden, ageless, changeless cattle.
Number 3: The earthlings eat from both trees. In this case they live forever, learning, growing, spirits expanding. But they cannot share the knowledge. The precious growth of spirit cannot be passed on to future generations.
You can see, can’t you that there is only one option.
Number 4: They had to eat of The Tree of (the search for) Knowledge. But once they eat from that tree, they have to leave The Garden. Growth comes from challenge. If everything is provided, then growth is stifled. They had to leave the womb of The Garden and live in a world of challenge and choice. That is where I come in. I took the form of Sammy the Snake. I was the one who convinced them to take that first step on the path to humanity. It was the only thing to do, and I was sent to do it for all human growth. Yet humans vilify me for the gift of choice that I gave them.
Is this not proof that I should not be treated so harshly in story and song? Then let me give you one more example, one that fits this wonderful Holy Day of Simhat Torah. You have heard that there were two sets of tablets given by G. The first were broken by Moshe when he saw that golden calf and the second were brought down and given, finally, to the people. What you might not know is that the first set was actually written by G. This people fresh from the narrow place of narrow minds was going to be given something actually written by G. They could not have handled such a thing. It would have become for them an eye-doll. But Moshe would not hear of it. He was so moved by G’s writing that he could not see the limitations of his people. So I had to show him.
I set their clocks ahead. They thought that he was late. They thought that he might not be coming back. They thought that he was a god and, like the gods of Egypt, he could die. So they cried out: “See this Moshe is late, make for us another god.” I knew, of course what Moshe’s reaction would be. He could not give the written word of G to a people of such weak faith, too young as a freed people to understand. He dashed them on the rock. But when the people realized that neither he nor a hunk of gold could be gods, Moshe returned to the mountain. But this time G insisted that Moshe write the words. You might think that this made them less powerful. But no, it imbued the words with more power. G spoke and Moshe wrote. And as a result humans have “Torah SheBichtav,” the written Torah that Moshe recorded. But because it was written down by Moshe, the people realized that they could be involved in Torah. They could take in and take up Torah. They could receive and roll out Torah. That involvement is called “Torah SeBa’al Peh,” “The Torah of the mouth.” Humanity is to be involved in the process of Torah. It is to be discussed and debated. You are to argue and object. But most of all, you are to be connected to the living word of G. Because of what I was sent to do, Torah is a living process not an antique artifact.
I know that I have a bad reputation, no one is going to name their son or daughter Satan. But before you condemn me too harshly, take a moment and remember and reflect on this messenger of choices. I want no more than that. I only offer choices, it is for you to choose wisely.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Lessons from the Sukkah
Lessons from the Sukkah
I have just about finished it. It is one of the few things that I ever build. I have been building them for almost fifty years now. I have built them with wood, with pvc pipes, with steel, threaded poles. I have covered them with corn stalks and lattice work, fir branches and grape vines. The walls have been wood planks and canvas cloth, tarps and none at all. And they have been filled with the most astonishing guests and the most amazing lessons. It is a non-permanent dwelling in which we have permanently dwelt for close to four thousand years. It speaks to our nomadic beginning and our agricultural influences. It informs our desire to reach out to the poor and the powerful with humble reminders and reminders of humble beginnings. Within this flimsy shelter flows some of the most powerful energy in the universe. Indeed the very model of the universe is shaken within its walls. The Sukkah connects heaven and earth and points to our passion for peace. Sukkot speak to us
Sukkot first spoke to us in Torah. There it is called "Hag HaAsif," the festival of the harvest (Exodus 23:16). Harvest festivals are all about thanksgiving. We have made it through another year and, when our stores were running low, we looked to the harvest time. Now the harvest has come, our stores are restored and we celebrate and thank G in joy. The theme of joy is echoed in the name for Sukkot given by the sages of old. They referred to this holiday as Zman Simhateinu, Our Joyous Time (more traditionally, the season of our joy). Few of us are farmers anymore and know the earth-connectedness of planting and harvesting. We touch those moments in small ways. On T’u B’Shvat I would plant parsley and horseradish to harvest on Pesah. And the feeling of purpose and pride far exceeded my agricultural acumen. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of a power that far exceeds the agricultural holiday of TaNaCh . Sukkot reaches into our historical collective and elevates our memories of the wandering nomad. Rebbe Akiba and Rebbe Eliezer argued (as Rabbis are wont to do) regarding whether the Sukkot that we build are reminders of the tents in which we lived in the desert for 40 years or of the “clouds of glory” that protected us during that Midbar march. But both spoke to the mindfulness of memory. We physically recreate a reminder of that time of testing. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us even in the building of the temporary and temporal dwelling place that we call the Sukkah. Each Sukkah has its own lessons to teach us. This flimsy, floppy, waving in the wind, frail and fragile form reminds us how tenuous is our grasp on survival. And yet in Jewish lore, the Sukkah is a stronger structure than the ones made of mortar and stone for it is a structure of the heart and the soul. Every once in a while that point is driven home to us. I remember as a youngster in Indianapolis the Sukkah that we built on the patio outside the chapel of our Synagogue. My father, (zt’l) was the Rabbi and took pride in the fine Sukkah that the congregation built every year. One year on the day before Sukkot, nature threatened to storm on our Sukkah. I remember that he and the maintenance man, Harvey Gatti and I put up some plastic sheeting over the Sukkah to protect it from the rains. The next day when we showed up at shul, the weight of the rain from the night before bowed the Sukkah almost to the breaking point. After staring in shock for a moment my father and I began poking holes in the plastic sheeting to let the water through. Then, soaked, we sat and laughed at our own foolishness. We had put up human made plastic to protect from nature, the schah , the covering for the Sukkah brought from nature. We had covered corn stalks with plastic sheeting to protect them from the rain. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us from fond memory. I fondly remember our youth group travelling to Dr. Efrymson’s farm to gather schah. We would glean his field as he read to us from TaNaCh the passages of helping the poor, the homeless, the stranger. He read those powerful pieces of righteousness that are part and parcel of the Jewish path as we imitated the needy, gathering what was needed to build our sacred Sukkah. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speak to us of the dream of peace. We read in our prayers every evening, “UFros Aleinu Sukkot Shlomecha!” “Spread over us the Sukkot of Your Peace!” Peace is fragile and beautiful and needs our constant and consistent attention. Through the sweet smelling living roof of our Sukkah of Peace, we should be shaded from the heat of war and yet we should be able to see the peaceful stars of evening. The Sukkah of peace does not need a masterful builder, it needs all who are in need. Building a Sukkah is an ego-less act. Building the Sukkah of Peace requires us to drop our egos before we pick up our tools. Sukkot speak to us.
Sukkot speaks to us our guests. We traditionally invite guests into the Sukkah. We invite friends and family and we invite the celestial ancestors.
On the 1st night, we invite Avraham and Miriam for the Sefirah lesson of Hesed, compassion.
On the 2nd night we invite Yitzhak and Leah for the Sefirah lesson of Gevurah power.
On the 3rd night, we invite Yaakov and Hannah for the Sefirah lesson of Tiferet beauty.
On the 4th night we invite Moshe and Rebeccah for the Sefirah lesson of Netzah victorious doing.
On the 5th night we invite Aharon and Sarah for the Sefirah lesson of Hod joyous being.
On the 6th night we invite Yosef and Tamar for the Sefirah lesson of Yesod centering.
On the 7th night we invite David and Rachel for the Sefirah lesson of Malchut the council for this realm.
These guests remind us that at every holiday table are the invited guests who are beyond the vision of our eyes. Yet their presence is seen within our hearts and felt within souls. The Sukkah builders who came before us, sit in our Sukkot with us and we are tearfully grateful. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of our place on our planet and in our universe. It speaks of this realm and of others. The Lulav and Etrog form the sacred sword for cutting through the mundane, which in Hebrew is ‘hol’. As we lift our Lulav of light saber, we slash through the hol revealing the holy. The Etrog symbolizes heart, the willow is the mouth, the myrtle, the eyes, the palm, the spine. We bring together heart, spine, eyes and mouth. With these do we slice through the hol of complacency and reveal the holy light. Even the manner in which we strike enlightens our reality. We shake or swing or slash the Lulav in the four directions, then up and then down. We stand in the center of a universe that we create with the Lulav. The four spatial directions of this realm are marked. Then we connect heaven and earth as we stand in the center of our newly created universe where hol and holy become one. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of Mitzvah, of sacred connection. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to dwell in the Sukkah for 7 days. If you sleep there every night or simply break bread in this temporary dwelling, the opportunity for sacred connection is yours. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to have or be guests in a Sukkah. Sharing in wholeness elevates the hol-ness of our daily lives. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to shake the Lulav. We grasp our agricultural sword to cut the knot of complacency and elevate our actions through the 6 sacred directions, centering ourselves within them, the sacred 7th. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us. It asks you to join with other tribal folk for this tribal festival of schah and awe. I hope that you will join us on October 17 at 1830 hours for a special ‘Hallah-day’ as we stand in the center of our guests, all who were and all who will be, in oneness, under the Sukkah.
I have just about finished it. It is one of the few things that I ever build. I have been building them for almost fifty years now. I have built them with wood, with pvc pipes, with steel, threaded poles. I have covered them with corn stalks and lattice work, fir branches and grape vines. The walls have been wood planks and canvas cloth, tarps and none at all. And they have been filled with the most astonishing guests and the most amazing lessons. It is a non-permanent dwelling in which we have permanently dwelt for close to four thousand years. It speaks to our nomadic beginning and our agricultural influences. It informs our desire to reach out to the poor and the powerful with humble reminders and reminders of humble beginnings. Within this flimsy shelter flows some of the most powerful energy in the universe. Indeed the very model of the universe is shaken within its walls. The Sukkah connects heaven and earth and points to our passion for peace. Sukkot speak to us
Sukkot first spoke to us in Torah. There it is called "Hag HaAsif," the festival of the harvest (Exodus 23:16). Harvest festivals are all about thanksgiving. We have made it through another year and, when our stores were running low, we looked to the harvest time. Now the harvest has come, our stores are restored and we celebrate and thank G in joy. The theme of joy is echoed in the name for Sukkot given by the sages of old. They referred to this holiday as Zman Simhateinu, Our Joyous Time (more traditionally, the season of our joy). Few of us are farmers anymore and know the earth-connectedness of planting and harvesting. We touch those moments in small ways. On T’u B’Shvat I would plant parsley and horseradish to harvest on Pesah. And the feeling of purpose and pride far exceeded my agricultural acumen. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of a power that far exceeds the agricultural holiday of TaNaCh . Sukkot reaches into our historical collective and elevates our memories of the wandering nomad. Rebbe Akiba and Rebbe Eliezer argued (as Rabbis are wont to do) regarding whether the Sukkot that we build are reminders of the tents in which we lived in the desert for 40 years or of the “clouds of glory” that protected us during that Midbar march. But both spoke to the mindfulness of memory. We physically recreate a reminder of that time of testing. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us even in the building of the temporary and temporal dwelling place that we call the Sukkah. Each Sukkah has its own lessons to teach us. This flimsy, floppy, waving in the wind, frail and fragile form reminds us how tenuous is our grasp on survival. And yet in Jewish lore, the Sukkah is a stronger structure than the ones made of mortar and stone for it is a structure of the heart and the soul. Every once in a while that point is driven home to us. I remember as a youngster in Indianapolis the Sukkah that we built on the patio outside the chapel of our Synagogue. My father, (zt’l) was the Rabbi and took pride in the fine Sukkah that the congregation built every year. One year on the day before Sukkot, nature threatened to storm on our Sukkah. I remember that he and the maintenance man, Harvey Gatti and I put up some plastic sheeting over the Sukkah to protect it from the rains. The next day when we showed up at shul, the weight of the rain from the night before bowed the Sukkah almost to the breaking point. After staring in shock for a moment my father and I began poking holes in the plastic sheeting to let the water through. Then, soaked, we sat and laughed at our own foolishness. We had put up human made plastic to protect from nature, the schah , the covering for the Sukkah brought from nature. We had covered corn stalks with plastic sheeting to protect them from the rain. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us from fond memory. I fondly remember our youth group travelling to Dr. Efrymson’s farm to gather schah. We would glean his field as he read to us from TaNaCh the passages of helping the poor, the homeless, the stranger. He read those powerful pieces of righteousness that are part and parcel of the Jewish path as we imitated the needy, gathering what was needed to build our sacred Sukkah. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speak to us of the dream of peace. We read in our prayers every evening, “UFros Aleinu Sukkot Shlomecha!” “Spread over us the Sukkot of Your Peace!” Peace is fragile and beautiful and needs our constant and consistent attention. Through the sweet smelling living roof of our Sukkah of Peace, we should be shaded from the heat of war and yet we should be able to see the peaceful stars of evening. The Sukkah of peace does not need a masterful builder, it needs all who are in need. Building a Sukkah is an ego-less act. Building the Sukkah of Peace requires us to drop our egos before we pick up our tools. Sukkot speak to us.
Sukkot speaks to us our guests. We traditionally invite guests into the Sukkah. We invite friends and family and we invite the celestial ancestors.
On the 1st night, we invite Avraham and Miriam for the Sefirah lesson of Hesed, compassion.
On the 2nd night we invite Yitzhak and Leah for the Sefirah lesson of Gevurah power.
On the 3rd night, we invite Yaakov and Hannah for the Sefirah lesson of Tiferet beauty.
On the 4th night we invite Moshe and Rebeccah for the Sefirah lesson of Netzah victorious doing.
On the 5th night we invite Aharon and Sarah for the Sefirah lesson of Hod joyous being.
On the 6th night we invite Yosef and Tamar for the Sefirah lesson of Yesod centering.
On the 7th night we invite David and Rachel for the Sefirah lesson of Malchut the council for this realm.
These guests remind us that at every holiday table are the invited guests who are beyond the vision of our eyes. Yet their presence is seen within our hearts and felt within souls. The Sukkah builders who came before us, sit in our Sukkot with us and we are tearfully grateful. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of our place on our planet and in our universe. It speaks of this realm and of others. The Lulav and Etrog form the sacred sword for cutting through the mundane, which in Hebrew is ‘hol’. As we lift our Lulav of light saber, we slash through the hol revealing the holy. The Etrog symbolizes heart, the willow is the mouth, the myrtle, the eyes, the palm, the spine. We bring together heart, spine, eyes and mouth. With these do we slice through the hol of complacency and reveal the holy light. Even the manner in which we strike enlightens our reality. We shake or swing or slash the Lulav in the four directions, then up and then down. We stand in the center of a universe that we create with the Lulav. The four spatial directions of this realm are marked. Then we connect heaven and earth as we stand in the center of our newly created universe where hol and holy become one. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us of Mitzvah, of sacred connection. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to dwell in the Sukkah for 7 days. If you sleep there every night or simply break bread in this temporary dwelling, the opportunity for sacred connection is yours. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to have or be guests in a Sukkah. Sharing in wholeness elevates the hol-ness of our daily lives. It is a Mitzvah/Sacred Connection to shake the Lulav. We grasp our agricultural sword to cut the knot of complacency and elevate our actions through the 6 sacred directions, centering ourselves within them, the sacred 7th. Sukkot speaks to us.
Sukkot speaks to us. It asks you to join with other tribal folk for this tribal festival of schah and awe. I hope that you will join us on October 17 at 1830 hours for a special ‘Hallah-day’ as we stand in the center of our guests, all who were and all who will be, in oneness, under the Sukkah.
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