Sukkot, First Day, Leviticus 22:26 - 23:44

The sukkah is a symbol both of God's protection and of our insecurity

Some of the more memorable characters in the arts are also the least happy. While dramas are full of tragic leads, it is often in comedy that these individuals stand out. You don't have to go too far back in time to find examples. For Marvin the robot from The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy every cloud was dark, and if perchance there was a silver lining, it was inevitably tarnished. Four decades before Marvin charmed us, North Americans were introduced to the character of Joe Btfsplk in L'il Abner. Poor Joe was a well meaning shmo (Yiddish for a fool), who literally went around with a cloud over his head, leaving bad luck in his wake.

Another character who is under a cloud, both figuratively and literally, is Jonah, he of the eponymous biblical book that we just read on Yom Kippur. We normally don't think of Jonah as a side-splitting tale, but look at it closely and you will see that is quite funny.

Jonah's comic predicament forms a transition between Yom Kippur and Sukkot. At the very end of the tale Jonah is upset because a merciful God has forgiven the citizens of Nineveh. Now Jonah had left the city and found a place east of the city. He made a booth (sukkah) there and sat under it in the shade… (Jonah 4:5)

The Talmudic discussion in tractate Sukkah begins by informing us that a sukkah must provide more shade than sunlight. The defining characteristic of the sukkah is that it provides shade. The sukkah as a booth that provides protection from the sun may be derived from the festival's connection to the Fall harvest. After the ingathering from your threshing floor and your vat, you shall hold the Feast of Booths for seven days. (Deuteronomy 16:13) What better protection is there from the scorching Middle Eastern sun than a temporary booth set up for those labouring to gather the harvest?

Jonah wasn't exactly harvesting crops. His sukkah may have reflected the understanding of this symbol found in the portion read on the first day of Sukkot:

You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths, in order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I the Lord your God.

Leviticus 23:42-43

The irony in Jonah is that God demonstrated to Jonah the flimsiness of this structure. Jonah built the structure; God caused a plant to grow next to it to provide shade and then made the plant wither. Then God brought strong winds that rattled the sukkah. Throughout the story Jonah is under a cloud and never moreso that in his sukkah. God was demonstrating to Jonah how precarious such a structure really is unless protected by the Almighty.

The Book of Jonah's view of the sukkah as a physical booth is similar to the interpretation given by Rabbi Akiva in the Talmud (Sukkah 11b). A completely different take is provided by Rabbi Eliezer, who gives us an inkling of what God is trying to teach Jonah: For Rabbi Eliezer, the sukkah is nothing less than the divine clouds of glory (ananei kavod). If Jonah would come out from under his personal cloud, he might actually end up on cloud nine.

Rabbi Eliezer didn't have his head in the clouds when he associated the sukkah with clouds and Divine protection. Such a connection exists in the Bible (Psalms 18:12, Job 36:29) where a dense cloud covering is associated with God's "pavilion."

It is quite odd that the most powerful connection between clouds, God's protective presence, and the sukkah does not appear in the Torah readings for Sukkot. When our ancestors tasted freedom after the Exodus, they were guided by God in a pillar of cloud by day, to guide them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, that they might travel day and night. The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people. (Exodus 13:21-22) Where did we first encounter this pillar of cloud? In a place called Sukkot (Exodus 12:37).

What a contrast: Jonah tried to flee from God and found his booth to be a flimsy shelter providing little protection. Our ancestors, guided by God, found freedom.

The real achievement of freedom does not come in one day; there is no quick cure for slavery. The liberated person is the one who learns to accept the daily challenges of existence as the expression of self-fulfillment and responsibility. Sukkot commemorates the maturation of the Israelites, achieved not in crossing the Red Sea but in walking the long way to freedom.

The Jewish Way: Living the Holidays, Rabbi Irving Greenberg, p. 97

Which is it: Jonah or the Exodus? The sukkah is a symbol both of God's protection and of our insecurity; no wonder it is such a delicate structure. Are we entering a structure that is constructed of the dark cloud of human frailty, or one that encompasses the clouds of glory and Divine potential? The choice is ours and has been since our ancestors stepped into freedom when they set foot in the ancient city of Sukkot.

Chag sameach and Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Ha'azinu, Deuteronomy 32:1 - 32:52, Shabbat Shuvah

Can a song be both joyous and sad at the same time?

Ever get a tune stuck in your head? Advertisers love this because it means their message gets heard repeatedly at no extra cost. The technical term for this phenomenon is "earworm." Despite the somewhat stomach-churning imagery, it has nothing to do with creepy-crawlers and everything to do with a German word, Ohrwurm, meaning that little bit of music that plays endlessly in your mind. (Helpful hint: A musically gifted friend claims that humming the bossa nova classic Girl from Ipanema will clear any song out of your mind.)

During this time of year I find that many liturgical pieces stay with me. I am not the only one. People have told me that they catch themselves humming Avinu Malkeinu or Kol Nidre. My particular earworm is somewhat more obscure and it has been with me since Selichot. It is one of the first pieces in that service: Lishmoa El Ha-rina Ve'el Ha-tefilah. The line comes from Solomon's prayer in First Kings 8:28 and is translated as hear my cry and prayer. However, the entire time this earworm is humming in one ear, a voice in the other ear is mumbling, perplexed at the meaning of this verse, specifically the word rina. Translated here as "cry," it is most often used to mean a glad song. Such is the case in the Hallel where rina is translated as joyous sounds (Psalms 118:15).

Can a song be both joyous and sad at the same time? Well, some of the best loved songs are also the most melancholic. Just ask any country music fan, opera lover, musical theater aficionado, or blues connoisseur.

This week's parasha is a song. Moses' final words to the people of Israel in Ha'azinu are in the form of a poem – it may have been spoken or sung, but it was meant to get stuck in our heads. Ha'azinu – listen Moses sings. He goes through the good times and the bad. If it were a music video it, would be called Mo's Better Blues . The highs were great, the lows abysmal; he warns us that things could get a lot worse. Just as easily, they can get much better; it is all up to us: Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this Teaching. For this is not a trifling thing for you: it is your very life… (Deuteronomy 32:46-7)

Moses’ song helps me understand how the word rina applies to us at this season. How can this song be joyous if we are being admonished? It is in my power to modify the music that that little earworm is humming to me. I can alter the melancholic melody into a song of jubilation, and that is not a trifling thing.

From the time we hear the music of Selichot until the last note of the shofar ending Yom Kippur, we are being encouraged to do teshuvah, to repent, return, change our attitude and our behaviour. This Shabbat is called Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of Repentance, and is meant to bring the issue of teshuvah (repentance) into greater focus. Boy, that earworm has really turned up the volume!

There are different ways of doing teshuvah (see Yoma 86b). There is the repentance accompanied by the melancholic melody. Such teshuvah is called teshuvah me-yira – repentance done out of fear. That's not a bad thing. Fear can be a great motivator. The problem is that once the motivation is gone, so too is the improved behaviour. The second type of repentance is called teshuvah me-ahava, repentance out of love. This goes beyond a change in action; it is a deep internal change in attitude. Can't you just hear Patti LaBelle singing:

I'm feeling good from my hat to my shoe,
know where I am going and I know what to do,
I've tidied up my point of view,
I've got a new attitude.

New Attitude by Sharon Teresa Robinson, Jon Gilutin, and Bunny Hull

Teshuvah me-ahava is the life-changing repentance. It is contagious. How can it not be accompanied by joyful music, by rina? Perhaps that is the message the earworm was giving me back in the month of Elul: When you do teshuvah, strive for the highest goal. This is the message that Moses was conveying, calling on heaven and earth to witness his poem for us: ha'azinu, listen. The words that he sings may seem harsh, but the music is uplifting.

Teshuvah me-ahava is the challenge we face on Shabbat Shuvah as we head to Yom Kippur. We've messed up, maybe big time. We shouldn't settle for a patch–up job but aim for a complete restoration. Approach the task joyously: Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go. Or to put it Jewishly: My lips shall be jubilant as I sing a hymn to You, my whole being, which you have redeemed. (Psalms 71:23)

Shabbat shalom and g'mar hatima tova,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Rosh HaShanah, First Day

Spoken words are the building blocks of creation.

Remember the old joke about two Jews and three synagogues? Turns out the pattern repeats itself with Torah readings. The Torah portion most often associated with Rosh Hashanah is the Akedah, the binding of Isaac (Genesis 22), traditionally read on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. This Shabbat is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, when it is traditional to read Genesis 21, which recounts the birth of Isaac as well as the story of Hagar and Ishmael. If, however, you happen to attend a Reform congregation, you might read the Akedah on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Then again, there is also a possibility that you will be in a Reform synagogue in which the story of creation (Genesis 1:1-2:3) is read, since tradition informs us that the world was created on Rosh Hashanah.

The common element in all these three selections is words and the power they carry. Fans of Harry Potter will be familiar with the power of words, since words are used as incantations by wizards and magicians. Avada Kedavra, is fatal to the person being addressed. JK Rowling admits to borrowing that incantation from the magician’s favorite abra-cadabra:

Does anyone know where avada kedavra came from? It is an ancient spell in Aramaic, and it is the original of abracadabra, which means "let the thing be destroyed". Originally, it was used to cure illness and the "thing" was the illness, but I decided to make it the "thing" as in the person standing in front of me. I take a lot of liberties with things like that. I twist them round and make them mine.

(In answer to the question

"There is a lot of Latin in the spells in your books. Do you speak Latin" )

Among the liberties she takes is explaining the meaning of the Aramaic abra-cadabra which is better translated as "I will create as I speak." Creation through speech is what God does in Genesis chapter 1, where we find the words vayomer elohim (God said) over and over.

Once we get to Genesis 21, God is fulfilling promises made, words uttered to the patriarch Abraham. Sarah conceived and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the set time of which God had spoken. (Genesis 21:2) Later God urges Abraham to heed Sarah's words. …whatever Sarah tells you, do as she says… (Genesis 21:12). In the same chapter God responds to Ishmael, not because his mother Hagar is crying, but because God hears the voice of the youth (Genesis 21:17).

In the story of the Akedah the power of words is evident. The entire episode can be encapsulated in the Divine call and the human response: God said to him, "Abraham," and he answered, "Here I am." (Genesis 22:1). Abra-cadabra: A few short words can have a life-changing impact.

Some of us are fortunate to learn the power of words at an early age:

Words could be sudden, like jolt, or slow, like meandering. Words could be sharp or smooth, cool, silvery, prickly to touch, blaring like a trumpet call, fluid, pitter-pattered in rhythm. And, by magic, words could create scenes and emotions. When my grandfather died, I buried my grief in writing a poem, which I showed to my grandmother a month later. She cradled my face with her veined hands and said, "It’s beautiful," and then began weeping all over again. How could marks on a white sheet of paper contain such power and force?

A Sense of the Mysterious: Science and the Human Spirit, Alan Lightman, p. 3

Years before he delved into analyzing the forces of physics, scientist and writer Alan Lightman understood the energy contained in words. This verbal energy does more than bond the three Torah readings. Its pull is still felt ten days later on Yom Kippur. Words can build and they can destroy. Spoken words are the building blocks of creation; they can wound and they can heal. No wonder words of apology and reconciliation are a necessary part of repentance.

Jewish thought and practice is very concerned with the right use of speech because it recognizes that, like any powerful resource, speech can be both creative and healing and dangerous and destructive. …
… There is a positive power inherent in speech.
But the word also contains a menacing power—speech is judged more powerful than the sword because a physical weapon can injure only those in proximity, while speech can kill at a distance. "Death and life are in the power of the tongue." [Proverbs 18:21]
So much of the trouble in our lives and the trouble we cause others is rooted in our idle, accidental, or even destructive use of words.

Everyday Holiness, Alan Morinis, p. 141

Let us begin the year with a renewed sensitivity to the effect of our words. Once spoken, they are beyond our control. It is our responsibility to harness their power before we set them free. May the first words we speak this New Year be ones of reconciliation, peace, hope, and blessing.

Shana tova and shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech, Deuteronomy 29:9-31:30

Choosing is a holy task.

In the 1984 film Moscow on the Hudson Robin Williams plays a defecting Russian musician who must acclimate to life in the United States after his defection. In one scene, as he shops in a grocery store, he is overwhelmed by the selection of products. He joyfully repeats the word "coffee" as he tries to decide which brand to purchase. The variety is simply breath-taking for someone who has never had such a selection before. My parents, who lived through years of rationing, understood the joy felt by the character in this scene. My reaction was completely different. If there is too much choice, how does one decide?

Apparently my reaction is a very modern Western one, plaguing those of us cursed with good fortune. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. Too much choice leaves us unable to decide. Coffee may be a minor example of choice, there are more significant ones we make in life: Where to go to school, which car to purchase, which mortgage to sign up for, how to invest for retirement, which treatment to undergo for an illness, etc.

Choice architecture narrows the selection by manipulating or eliminating variables. Chances are that Robin William's character settled on a coffee jar located on a shelf at eye-level. Or perhaps he remembered a coffee ad. Maybe he saw a number of people buying a particular brand. All these are factors in decision-making and can be manipulated by people who use what is known as choice architecture. This little bit of help pushing us unconsciously to make a decision is called a nudge:

A nudge, as we will use the term, is any aspect of the choice architecture that alters people’s behavior in a predictable way without forbidding any options or significantly changing their economic incentives. To count as a mere nudge, the intervention must be easy and cheap to avoid. Nudges are not mandates. Putting the fruit at eye level counts as a nudge. Banning junk food does not.

Nudge: Improving Decisions About Health, Wealth, and Happiness,

Richard H. Thaler and Cass R. Sunstein, p. 6

The Torah can be viewed as the "Big Book of Nudges," especially the book of Deuteronomy (see this year's commentary on parashat Devarim ) and nowhere more so than in this week's first parasha, Nitzavim:

See, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity. For I command you this day, to love the Lord your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, His laws, and His rules, that you may thrive and increase, and that the Lord your God may bless you in the land that you are about to enter and possess. But if your heart turns away and you give no heed, and are lured into the worship and service of other gods, I declare to you this day that you shall certainly perish; you shall not long endure on the soil that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life — if you and your offspring would live — by loving the Lord your God, heeding His commands, and holding fast to Him. For thereby you shall have life and shall long endure upon the soil that the Lord swore to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to them.

Deuteronomy 30:15-20

What could be clearer than that? Follow God's instructions and all will go well; ignore the commandments and suffer the consequences. We've seen the results throughout the Torah; they've been reiterated in Deuteronomy. This should be a no-brainer. Why then, do we need a hint, this little nudge, when given this choice: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life… (Deuteronomy 30:19)

As Thaler and Sunstein point out in their book, important decisions are downright difficult to make. We procrastinate, we need limited choices, and we need incentives. God so wants us to get it right that the nudge is provided in our text: Choose life; the incentive is there as well: For thereby you shall have life and shall long endure upon the soil that the Lord swore to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to them. (Deuteronomy 30:20) Still, human nature being what it is, we procrastinate, we hesitate, we backslide. If this is beginning to sound like a High Holy Day confession, you get the point.

We're almost at the end of the month of Elul. When Shabbat ends this week, many of us will be attending Selichot services, further preparation for our yearly accounting of our deeds. This yearly soul-searching begins slowly, a gentle nudge as the month of Elul begins, a further push at Selichot, and then a jolt once the High Holy Days are here. The message is the same every year; we look back at what we've done and there's plenty of room for improvement. The "how to" is in the Torah: We've got choices, but here's a divine hint: choose wisely, choose life.

Beyond that, we need to embrace the blessing of choice and choose wholeheartedly. It is difficult to change who we are or how we behave. Every year at this time, we are once more seeking ways to become better individuals. None of this is new. The second parasha we read this week, Vayelech, warns us that we are more than capable of backsliding once we feel things are going well and become complacent: When I bring them into the land flowing with milk and honey that I promised on oath to their fathers, and they eat their fill and grow fat and turn to other gods and serve them, spurning Me and breaking My covenant… For I know what plans they are devising even now, before I bring them into the land that I promised on oath. (Deuteronomy 31:20, 21)

Here is where things get tough. Moral behavioral choices fall prey to laziness, procrastination, and social pressures. There is no little nudge to keep us from changing our mind. This has to come from within, call it fortitude or stick-to-it-ness. Only wholehearted, passionate choices are lasting choices:

Desire and passion are not words we usually associate with religious virtue. Yet our High Holy Day liturgy praises God, who chafetz chayim “desires life.” The Book of Ecclesiastes bids us to live passionately, proclaiming: “Whatever it is in your power to do, do with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10). Along these lines, Rabbi Mordechai Joseph Leiner of Izbica interpreted the verse "Then the Lord your God will open up your heart and the hearts of your offspring to love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, in order that you may live" (Deuteronomy 30:6) to indicate that God doesn’t want us to neutralize our passion, but to channel it into the service of committed, ethical, godly living.

"A Few Choice Gifts", Rabbi Howard Avruhm Addison,

The Modern Men's Torah Commentary edited by Rabbi Jeffrey K. Salkin p. 297

Too much choice may be overwhelming, but the freedom to choose is a blessing. This blessing only comes to fruition if we embrace it completely. Choosing is a holy task. If we do so wisely and passionately, we experience a sanctified life.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel