Friday Shabbat Shalom

This week, we entered into the Hebrew month of Elul. In most years, Elul is month of promise and renewal, carrying the energy of hope. This year, our hearts and souls are cracked and grieving. We need to leave space for the sorrow, and know that, as heavy as it feels, and as often as our eyes fill throughout the day, we are not alone in carrying this pain. The world feels so incredibly broken. In so many places. I don't believe we can skip over the grief, force ourselves to put on a good face and paper over the deep sadness. It's there, and there is good reason for its presence, and we need to invite it into the circle, so to speak.

“I ain’t no false prophet - I just know what I know. I go where only the lonely can go,” sings Bob Dylan in his song “False Prophet.” A false prophet makes claims to have secret knowledge that others cannot access. The false prophet uses this information to persuade followers to a particular agenda. Dylan warns against making him into this kind of person: “What are you lookin’ at - there’s nothing to see. Just a cool breeze encircling me.” A false prophet can only exert the authority others give him.

It is a paradox, really. People of real worth tend to have worth, because of their belief in their unworthiness. That's one of Moses's messages to the Israelites in this week's Torah portion, Eikev. Much of the book of Deuteronomy is Moses speaking to the people, giving them a pep talk if you will, attempting to relay the most important messages of the Israelite story so that they can take the wisdom learned with them as they enter the Promised Land.

This week we observed Tisha b’Av, commemorating all the destructions, forced conversions, expulsions, and massacres in our history, culminating in the Shoah. This year, we had yet another disaster to add to this pageant of pain and loss: Hamas’ attack on October 7th. Just as in other times we composed elegies of lament, or kinot, recited every Tisha b’Av, so some have stepped forward with new lamentations.

This Shabbat we begin the last of the Five Books, the Book of Deuteronomy or Devarim ("words" in Hebrew). The Book is primarily a review (Deutero – Greek for “repetition”) of the previous 4 books, with Moses exhorting the Israelites to remember what was set down over the previous 40 years. Clearly, this is a new generation that was not present at Mt. Sinai and is now being commanded to recall the moment as if they had been there themselves. This is the beginning of the unique Jewish concept of passing on the heritage of collective revelation – as if we had all been there. Moses, at the age of 120 years, reviews what the “children of Israel” have been through. He rebukes the people, admonishes them for some of their derelictions, and charges them to keep the Torah in the future.

For 40 years, after narrowly escaping Pharaoh’s pursuing army at the Sea of Reeds, the Israelites roamed this unforgiving land, crisscrossing its hills and ravines, beset by challenges, struggling to find ways to live together and obey the dictates of God. Masei opens with a list of 42 spots in the wilderness where the Israelites camped along the way — 42 phases of their epic trek from slavery toward the ever-elusive Promised Land.

In Parshat Pinchas, this week’s Torah portion, we are flooded with names. The Parsha recounts a census that highlights the most important names from each of the tribes of Israel. Among them are seven names of women, remarkable and regrettably, the greatest number found in any one Torah portion. Prominent in this list are the five “Daughters of Zelophehad” -- Mahla, Noa, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirza… We must wonder why these five women got so much attention in the Torah.

It’s 2AM and I can’t sleep. I’ve got a trip planned tomorrow to the Gaza Envelope and I’m scared. Not for my personal safety. I’m scared for my psyche and the pain I will be putting it through. My group plans to visit the site of the Nova festival and Kibbutz Kfar Aza. I’ve seen footage from these places; I wonder what it will mean to see them in person. The atrocities our people endured there on October 7th are incomprehensible and I don’t really want to stare them in the face.