Tu Bishvat: When Evolution Meets Religion [יתרו/ Exodus 18:1-20:23]

B”H

This week’s parshah is Yitro (יתרו, lit. “Jethro” who is Moses’ father-in-law). It’s a family reunion of sorts in which Jethro, Moses’ wife Tziporah, and her kids Eliezer and Gershom, meets up with Moses. Jethro tells Moses that he needs to make a system of magistrates to assist him in various judicial affairs. And then, Jethro departs.

Three months of wandering the desert has finally let Moses and his people to the Sinai desert. G-D tells Moses that his people will be a “kingdom of princes and a holy nation,” so long as they obey the word of G-D. As the entire people stand trembling at the base of Mt. Sinai, the shofar’s blast beckons Moses to climb the mountain and approach G-D. The famous Ten Commandments are revealed to Moses. The pomp and circumstance of G-D’s presence, however, frightens the Jews, who ask Moses to speak to G-D on their behalf for the rest of the revelation. And so ends this week’s Torah section.

Yitro coincides with the celebration of a very interesting holiday: Tu Bishvat (ט"ו בשבט, literally, the fifteenth of Shvat). Colloquially, it’s been deemed the Birthday or New Year of the Trees…a Jewish Arbor Day of sorts (literally so in Israel)! Tu Bishvat is an odd holiday, even in Jewish circles. If asked about the holiday, most Jews would probably do one of three things: (1) quite frankly admit they have never heard of the holiday (or vaguely remember it from religious school but have NO idea about it), (2) confidently (but mistakenly) confuse it for Tisha Be’av—one of the most solemn days on the Jewish calendar a few months down the road that has nothing to do with trees, or (3) say “it’s the Birthday of the Trees,” and leave it at that.

Well, I say, that’s not very fair…especially for such a vibrant, relevant holiday, even in today’s time.

A bit of history on the holiday: Tu Bishvat is actually one of four “new years” celebrated in the Hebrew calendar. The most famous of “new years” is Rosh Hashanah, on 1 Tishrei, as the “new year of seasons” for the civil calendar. 1 Nisan refers to the season of remembering the exodus from Egypt, and a few legal accoutrements surrounding house rental and vows. Finally, 1 Elul is the fiscal “new year” for tithing cattle.

Tu Bishvat, between Rosh Hashanah and 1 Nisan, marks the “new year” for labeling fruits for tithing and, in some rabbinic opinions, as orlah – (literally “ uncircumcised,” referring to a prohibition that fruit that may not be eaten in the first three years of the tree’s planting). Ecologically, Tu Bishvat typically comes at a time when trees finally begin to bear their fruits in the warmer climates of the Holy Land. It marks a time of offering fourth-year fruits (the first year which they are edible legally) as sacrifices, and of a tithe given to the poor.

In “contemporary” times by Jewish standards (i.e.: during the 16^th century CE), the famous Kabbalist Rabbi Luria created a Tu Bishvat meal, in which ten fruits and four cups of wine were consumed in a specific order so to bring people towards spiritual harmony. Such sederim (lit. “orders,” but refers to the meals and prayer associated with certain occasions) are a trending avenue for revived celebration of this agricultural new year. Additionally, in the tradition Mizrachi Rabbi Ze’ev Yavetz, many will plant trees for reforestation efforts and ecological awareness.

Great, I’ve bombarded you with information about Jewish Arbor Day….but Herbert, you ask, how does Yitro link to Tu Bishvat?!?!

Tu Bishvat revolves around the handling of fruit. So what is a fruit? Biologically speaking, it is the ripened ovary or ovaries of a flowering plant. The seeds of the fruit are the potential descendants of the plant, assuming its environment is optimal for growth. This fruit contains the DNA of its parental roots, and, in a way, is the plant’s offspring. Thus, a fruit can be seen as the child product of a particular plant. But a fruit isn’t always the same. That is to say, an apple, try as it might, cannot be 100% genetically identical to its parental counterpart. Even self-pollenizing plants have some genetic mismatch due to random genetic events, such as homologous recombination. (Well, in nature at least...sadly, we’ve corrupted the beauty of nature in the creation of genetically modified foods).

But, the point is…the fruits are a new organism with a different genetic makeup.

Like these fruits, Jewish traditions and customs are finding new “phenotypic expressions” as the religion evolves over time. It’s interesting that such a holiday like Tu Bishvat has taken on such new meaning and great traditions in the sederim and planting of trees. And politically, Tu Bishvat is a wonderful time to think about one of the most pressing issues of our generation: global warming and natural preservation. Many a Tu Bishvat sermon has discussed the concept of rebuilding nature (often accompanied with “Plant a Tree in Israel” donation cards through the Jewish National Fund).

Yitro is a period of evolution for the Jewish people, namely in the establishment of the legal magistrate system which codifies an early sociopolitical system for the newly-freed Jews and in the revelation of the Ten Commandments. In such way, the Jews in the Sinai desert are the fruits of their descendants. G-D promised to free the Jews from enslavement and establish them as a nation. Finally, in this generation of Jews depicted in Yitro, we finally begin to see the creation of a more established and autonomous society. Thus, I find a great spiritual connection between the biological, physical, and cultural ties to fruit on Tu Bishvat and the metaphorical evolution of the newest seeds of the Jewish people in this week’s parshah.

In this season of growth, may you and your loved ones find happiness in the joy of new adventures and allow these journeys to permeate your soul. And may life always change you for the better. 

To Sing a Song: The Collective Power of a Niggun [בשלח/ Exodus 13:17-17:16]

B"H

Parshat Beshalach (בשלח, literally, "when he let go"), as the name implies, recounts the release of Moses and the Hebrews from enslavement. But, G-D doesn't really make the journey so easy. G-D tells Moses that, oh by the way, Pharaoh's heart will be hardened, and thus will pursue them...and that is precisely what Pharaoh does. The Egyptians amass a huge army to squander the Hebrews, who are trapped geographically between the desert (where the Egyptians reside) and the sea. The Hebrews see Pharaoh's army out in the distance, and freak out to Moses in saying, "Hey Moses, not cool. We'd rather be alive and under Egyptian rule than dead in the desert." Moses reminds his people not to worry and to wait for the salvation of G-D.

G-D instructs Moses to raise his staff across the sea to split it and thus create a passageway for the Hebrews to escape. The Egyptian army will follow. True to fact, the sea splits and the Egyptians follow the Hebrews. G-D instructs Moses finally to return the waters and drown the Egyptian army (and so, he does). Safe on the shorelines, the Hebrews praise G-D in song.

Moses and his wandering brethren find themselves in Marah (מרה), where the water is too bitter for consumption. (Marah is Hebrew for bile or bitter). Upon the complaints of the community, Moses taps G-D for suggestions. G-D sweetens the waters and tells Moses that if his people obey the commandments and statutes of G-D, they will be healed. But, alas, in the desert, there's no food or bread! The people rebel, Moses bothers G-D again, and G-D tells Moses that he is testing his people for fidelity. For six days, the skies will rain bread in the morning and the land will have quail aplenty in the evening. But, on the seventh day, they may not gather food or bread, because it is a day of rest; thus, G-D advises they take a double portion on Day Six. Some disobeyed and sought out for more food, only to find that G-D wasn't kidding. No bread. No quail. G-D expresses his frustration and disappointment to Moses that his people still aren't following the commandments. As a reminder of G-D's sustaining power, Aaron made a symbolic testimony of sorts: a jar of manna. They will eat manna for 40 years in the desert.

The portion ends with a skirmish, as the Amalekite army sought to plunder the Jews, but the children of Israel proved too powerful through Moses' prayer and Joshua's army.

This parshah holds special importance to me, as it was the first section that I really analyzed (well, beyond my Bar-Mitzvah portion). My Jewish journey has certainly not been smooth, but one of the highlights in my life was the ability to rekindle my relationship with Torah, and grapple with the text. One year ago, I gave my analysis of the song of the triumphant Jews said today in daily prayer, known commonly as Mi Khamokhah (מי כמוך, "Who is like You?"). In it, I discussed the interesting phenomenon that the second iteration of the phrase changed the letter slightly to read Mi Kamokhah, not Mi Khamokhah. The dot in the letter khaf hardens the letter to make a "K" sound. In context of the song, it is interesting to think that perhaps this change arose from the peoples' throats filling with sea water such that the softer "KH" sound is not pronounceable. Such an analysis was derived from a previous sermon I had heard on this section of Torah many years ago. But it was my first...nay, the first time I dared challenge others and state my own opinions on this text. And it represents a HUGE step in my Jewish journey. It is now my challenge is to CONTINUE my study of Torah, to find new ways of approaching this ancient work, and find new meaning in each pass. I find that this repetitive look at material from different perspectives allows me to experience life in many perspectives as well, to better connect with people around me, and to find passion in my everyday activities. It's all so hard to explain...but my one year reflection shows that I've grown immensely, conquered some great demons, and find great joy in this adventure.

This week, I continue to focus on an element close to my heart found in this week's parshah: the music.

After finally crossing the Sea and the defeat of the Egyptians, the Jews all suddenly burst out into song. No decisions on what to sing, or how to praise G-D, but it just...well...organically happens! It's a long, specific song too...not a generalized prayer of praise...how is this even possible?

I've been thinking about this concept for awhile, and I can't help but think about times when I'm not sure how the lyrics go to a song, but I can hum the tune ... or when I fudge my way through the verses so that I can sing the chorus line with gusto. Admit it, we've ALL faked knowing a song or two. In synagogue, I've noticed that some congregants who don't know the words will utter the niggun (ניגון, literally "tune"), or, many times, the entire congregation bursts out in these niggunim towards the beginning or end of prayer. A niggun is a series of syllables such as "lai-di-dai" or "na-na-na" that are sung in concert with the melody in lieu of the real lyrics. Niggunim are important in many Jewish communities, but are worthy of particular within the Chasidic movement in invoking the higher joys of prayer. That said, I find their spiritual value in my own community too, and niggunim are certainly NOT restricted to the Orthodox or Chasidic communities.

My vision of the Jews singing praises in Beshalach takes on perhaps a unique form. In many ways, I see the Jews each saying one of these lines, while the others hum or utter a niggun to the tune. Why? Because each line is so radically different from the next, despite expressing the same basic point of praising G-D. The metaphors or imagery are so immensely diverse that only a group of people, who bring different experiences to the song, could create such a piece. Furthermore, I argue that the intensity of this song is heightened in synthesizing the individual prayer, the community prayer, and the prayer of an entire people in one display of devotion. Together, these people have allowed, through their shared experience, the creation of a great song that came together in a piecemeal fashion but was supported by the entire community in the embrace and continuity of the niggun.

In many ways, the niggun brings together community over something shared...something relatable among all of its members. And in Beshalach, we find a fusion of ideas coming together in the ultimate praise of G-D perhaps accompanied by the first niggun ever recorded! In such way, the message of this section of Torah enlightens the amazing power of different people coming together with a similar idea. Each person brings a slightly different experience to the table, and with the right intentions, the whole can truly be greater than the sum of its parts.

In truth, no one utters the same syllables or even necessarily the exact same tune when uttering a niggun, but, despite the lyrics of a niggun being just short of gibberish, the intention of coming together as a community arises from the spirit of niggunim. Even in the great cacophony in nonsensical syllables, the ruach ("spirit/wind" in Hebrew) can be felt in any Jewish religious service in the utterance of these tunes. My hope is that we can all take this parshah as a decree...to come together with all the experiences we carry, find the similarities we have, and engage in dialogue that promotes tikkun olam (literally, "healing/repairing the world" in Hebrew). Each of us can learn from the essence of niggunim to make the world a better place by focusing on our similarities, our common goals, and our shared desires.

May you be blessed to discover your inner niggun, sing it loudly, and rejoice in the company of others who share your worldly passions.

Wrap It Around Seven Times: A Personal Reflection [בא/ Exodus 10:1-13:16]

B"H

This week's portion, Parshat Bo (בא), translating as "Come," remembers the final three plagues experienced in the land of Pharaoh: locusts, darkness, and the eminent death of the Egyptian firstborn sons. A calendrical system of sorts is established, and the details of the Passover sacrifice are detailed. Through this sacrifice, the Hebrew people's firstborn sons are spared as G-D carried through with his final plague. Finally, Pharaoh frees Moses and the Hebrew people from slavery. Without a second to spare, the Hebrews pack up their belongings (and borrow treasures from the Egyptians), the firstborn Hebrew children are consecrated before G-D, and the tradition of Passover is established in ridding one's house of leavened goods, i.e.: the holiday of...you guessed it - Passover (פסח, Pesach). The commandment of wearing tefillin (תפילין) is codified as a reminder of G-D's actions in freeing the Jews from Egypt.

G-D gives to the Jewish people the first of many commandments this week (interesting timing with the secular calendar this year given this week also commemorates New Years), and the final commandment  involving tefillin is of particular interest to me. For my non-Jewish readers, tefillin are unfortunately a bit difficult for me to describe...the English equivalent I've heard is "phylacteries," which is also not a particularly useful word. For a visual, just do an image search for "tefillin..." ... they are those black doohickies. Basically, they are black leather boxes containing a prayer written on a piece of parchment, and they are attached to long straps. A person has a pair of tefillin--one wraps seven times on your arm and the other on your head. A specific order is associated with the action and special prayers are said in accordance with this ritual. Jews who observe this custom will wrap the tefillin (more colloquially, the action is called "laying" tefillin) during weekday morning prayer.

In a prayer that I say when I wake up and go to sleep called the Shema (שמע), there is clear reference to G-D's commandment to lay tefillin, with the English translating something like: "And you shall bind [the tefillin] as a sign on your hand and they shall be a symbol upon your forehead." Although, I would be lying if I attest that I fulfill this commandment each and every day. People who know me, my customs, and my spirituality would readily recognize that I'm DEFINITELY not the stereotypical picture of an "observant Jew." Sure, some customs I do observe very strictly, but laying tefillin... honestly, I think the last time I laid tefillin was on my Birthright trip with Hillel at the George Washington University (three years ago today upon looking at some old photos I have from the trip...wow how time flies)! Laying tefillin is a tradition my dad introduced to me in conversation, but my synagogue's congregants didn't have a lot of people who readily observed this custom...as I recall in the few times I actually attended weekday morning service. However, in the times I can probably count that I have laid tefillin, I can certainly say, somehow in the complexity and meticulous nature of the ritual, it instills a very powerful spiritual connection to G-D.

While I cannot reconcile the fact I don't lay tefillin daily, I can say that my intention behind the act is present everyday. Let me elaborate: this commandment requires one's total focus. Actually, it is forbidden to speak or be distracted when one allows themselves in the embrace of tefillin. Another tradition is that the arm-tefillah (tefillah is the proper singular for tefillin) is placed on the weaker arm (so right-handed people put it on their left arm, and left-handed people put it on their right arm). This custom symbolically allows us to recognize that our strength is derived from our connection with G-D in the fulfillment of this mitzvah (commandment). In my very abbreviated, and technically non-complete act of daily prayer, when I make these prayers, I dedicate all that I am, in the minutes I give, in my prayer to G-D. For me, especially in morning prayer, I praise G-D for the strength G-D gives to me, my friends, and my family, for I recognize G-D's contribution to my life each and everyday.

So, the big take away from Bo and the act of laying tefillin: find a way to reflect daily on the good in your life. Forget the stress, the anxiety, the worry...and be thankful for all of the wonderful things in your life. Many religions, faiths, and cultures have somewhere in their texts this isolation and introspection. However you personally wish to express that satisfaction: through tefillin, meditation, daily prayer...whatever is meaningful to you, may it be a blessing for you.

As for me, I pray that I continue to foster my connection to my faith in daily prayer and that perhaps I find the personal strength to one day approach the humble act of laying tefillin.