Dear TBZ Community:
As many of you know, I am about to begin the first part of my sabbatical. But first, I am excited to travel to Costa Rica with a group of fifteen TBZers (and friends) to a “Take a Breath” retreat led by my teacher and mentor, Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein, along with Karina Zilberman and Noah Aronson. Following the retreat, I will be staying in Costa Rica for a short time before returning to Boston for family time and some more travel. I will be away from TBZ for the next six weeks, starting after Shabbat and returning in time for Purim. I am grateful to the TBZ’s leadership and wonderful staff for this opportunity. If you need anything during my absence, reach out to our team at TBZ and they will help you. Shabbat N’kabla emails will continue to be sent weekly with Rav Tiferet Berenbaum (Rabbi, Congregational Learning & Programming) and Leah Carnow (rabbinic intern) writing the Shabbat messages.
Over the past week and a half, I have officiated or participated in the planning of every type of life-cycle event: a baby naming, a bar mitzvah, working on a ketubah (marriage contract) with a couple to be married this summer, a divorce, five immersions in the mikveh (ritual bath) for affirmation and conversion to Judaism, a funeral, and a shiva (week-long mourning period). I feel such gratitude accompanying people through their journey of life, helping them mark moments of joy and sorrow. I feel an immense gratitude to be part of a tradition that holds space and has rituals for the different journeys of our lives. Giving meaning and intention not only to those special moments but to our everyday life.
Sometimes I feel I am a broken record, repeating the same themes. And those of you who are regulars at Shabbat services know this. But, if I had to summarize the work I am trying to do in the world, the one message that I am trying to convey as a rabbi, as a teacher, as a parent, as a person, it is to live meaningful and intentional lives.
In this week’s Torah reading, parshat Yitro, God gives the ten commandments to the people of Israel.
In Exodus 19:17-19 we read:
וַיּוֹצֵא מֹשֶׁה אֶת־הָעָם לִקְרַאת הָאֱלֹהִים מִן־הַמַּחֲנֶה וַיִּתְיַצְּבוּ בְּתַחְתִּית הָהָר
Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain.
וְהַר סִינַי עָשַׁן כֻּלּוֹ מִפְּנֵי אֲשֶׁר יָרַד עָלָיו יְהֹוָה בָּאֵשׁ וַיַּעַל עֲשָׁנוֹ כְּעֶשֶׁן הַכִּבְשָׁן וַיֶּחֱרַד כָּל־הָהָר מְאֹד
Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for Adonai had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently.
וַיְהִי קוֹל הַשֹּׁפָר הוֹלֵךְ וְחָזֵק מְאֹד מֹשֶׁה יְדַבֵּר וְהָאֱלֹהִים יַעֲנֶנּוּ בְקוֹל
The blare of the horn grew louder and louder. As Moses spoke, God answered him in thunder.
The people of Israel approach, come near, hear a loud shofar, and are brought close to God to receive Torah. Revelation, the receiving of Torah, is an intimate moment between each human being and God.
Our tradition teaches that when the Torah was given, all Jews were standing at Sinai. Not only were all those who had just left Egypt present, but all Jews who would come into this world in the future. This moment of revelation, of giving and receiving Torah, is at the core of what being Jewish means.
There is a parable in the midrash (commentary) that teaches us about the ways we can understand and relate to Torah:
There was a king who had two servants, whom he loved very much. To one he gave a measure of wheat and to the other a measure of wheat; to one a bundle of flax, and to the other a bundle of flax.
What did the clever one of the two do? She took the flax, made threads and wove it into a napkin. She took the wheat and made it into fine flour by sifting the grain and grinding it. Then she kneaded the dough and baked it, set the loaf of bread on the table, spread the napkin over the bread, and left it to await the coming of the king.
But the foolish one did not do anything at all.
After a while the king came into his house and said to the two servants: My children: bring me what I gave you. One brought out the table with the loaf of bread baked of fine flour on it, with the napkin spread over the bread. The other brought out their wheat in a basket with a bundle of flax over the wheat grains.
So, too, when the Holy One gave the Torah to Israel, it was given as wheat to be turned into fine flour and as flax to be turned into cloth for garments.
Torah is given to us to find and create meaning, to live meaningfully. Torah and our Jewish tradition are a guide to live creative and intentional lives. We have a choice in what we do with the wheat and flax that is given to us. The wheat and flax that are Torah, and the wheat and the flax that are life.
This is the journey of Torah for me, and this is the journey of life for me. One of living with intention.
During these very difficult times, I invite us to hold onto this teaching, as a reminder that even when things are hard or perhaps especially when things are hard, both personally and collectively, we do our best to transform what is given to us into something that can nurture ourselves and others.
As I am about to take a break and take a breath, I know that to be able to nurture others, I need also to nurture myself. And in a way, the beginning of the parasha teaches that to Moshe. Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, reminds him that he can not do it alone. כִּי־כָבֵד מִמְּךָ הַדָּבָר לֹא־תוּכַל עֲשֹׂהוּ לְבַדֶּךָ (You can not do it alone). Yitro teaches Moshe about delegating (something I have been working on, and I am getting better at every day) and about boundaries and limits. Knowing when to stop and knowing when to take a break. I share this with the intention of also modeling this for others. We live in a world of expectations of production, of never stopping. The more we work, the more we do, supposedly, the more successful we are. I fall into that trap too. But I challenge myself not to stay there for too long.
Tricia Hersey in her book Rest is Resistance, writes:
“Rest disrupts and makes space for invention, imagination, and restoration. Rest is an imagination tool because it makes space to simply be. To be a human being is an ancient miracle that we overlook when we work so hard to prove our worth via exhaustion” (page 161).
I am hoping to return a bit more rested, reminding myself to simply be.
May this Shabbat bring blessings and consolation to all of you and your loved ones. May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity. May all those who are ill find healing.
And my most fervent prayer, each day: May all the hostages come home soon to their families and friends, and may we see peace.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia