micha-phone

writing about the parsha and maybe other things too

[micha-phone]

Tzav

Today for our community siyyum our Rabbi talked about Horayot at what happens when our leaders make mistakes. Who is responsible and what are the characteristics we want when we choose a leader? This parsha continues to describe the types of offerings made at the alter with reparation offerings to thanksgiving offerings. But how do we decide when to offer retribution offerings and when is for thanksgiving offerings when we are not just living for ourselves but as part of a community. Jewish prayer is said in the plural “forgive us, listen to us¸ we have erred.” When someone asks me how I am, how do I distinguish between my personal life which is going quite well and has many elements on the upswing, with the broader political reality we live in which feels so bad and helpless. “yeah I’m great but whenever I read the news I want to cry for everyone being detained and deported without due process” or “I am terrified of the rhetoric and executive orders coming down about trans people every day, but also I am thriving as a trans person today.” What is the line between staying informed and doom scrolling? When our leaders err who is responsible? And what do we do moving forward?   

[micha-phone]

Vayikra

This parsha begins with “וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה”, “and Hashem called to Moshe.” This looks like the pattern we see so many times throughout Tanakh. Hashem said to Moshe or instructed Moshe. But in fact, this precise phrase, “וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה” only appears one other time, in Shemot 24:16 after the presence of Hashem settled on Mount Sinai. And if we look back on last weeks parsha we end with the Presence of Hashem filling the Mishkan. I read this as a deliberate parallel describing the Mishkan the work of the Israelites as just as important as Sinai. And I read it as an injunction to keep creating sacred space and time today. The process of revelation didn’t end when the Israelites left Sinai. They didn’t have one revelation and then it was done. Hashem entered the Mishkan and traveled with them and kept calling out to Moshe to listen.

[micha-phone]

Pekudei

I’m late this week. And mostly it is because I didn’t know what to say. The Mishkan has come together, and the book is over. Hazak. Just as Hashem commanded, they did. This phrase repeats many times throughout the parsha. Some times clarifying that it was as Hashem commanded Moshe. I’ve been thinking about the repetition in the Torah, or the repetition in prayer. Why do we repeat things so much? Even beyond the prayers being the same week after week, there is repetition in the service, Mi Chamocha said three times in Shachrit, or even the repetition of the Amida. Is it that we need to have it drilled into our heads to understand, or is it that repetition itself is holy? I do know that there is a comfort in being in a minyan and the call and response. In knowing that we are in this together. Maybe that is why we have to describe everyone’s shekles becoming part of the mishkan here. This is a moment where the people are unified. It doesn’t seem to happen often in the story. More often the Israelites are erring. But regardless, this home for Hashem, they built together. And here is its loving description, repeated again for us. And maybe the same home is built when we repeat ourselves, week after week.  

[ofshivelight]

"But remember that an "angel" is anything that carries out a mission for God. This includes forces of nature. An angel doesn't have to be an intimidating, fiery being... Photosynthesis? That's an angel. Gravity? An angel. Magnetism? Angel. The Midrash in Bereishis Rabbah (chapter 1) says than an angel only performs one job. That job doesn't have to be destroying Sodom; it could be peristalsis, centripetal force or condensation."

- Rabbi Jack Abramowitz, The God Papers

[micha-phone]

Vayakhel

“So, the people stopped bringing. Their efforts had been more than enough for all the tasks to be done.” Here it is clear what needs to be done. The plans are given by Hashem and the artisans know the amount needed to complete the task. But so often when doing work there is a dream and then a plan and the work is done but how do we know when it is good enough. I run into this in my work as a researcher all of the time. You could always add more data to the paper, more figures to the dissertation, more, more, more. But eventually we have to say “enough, we have enough. This will be a finished project. We can do more later, but this is enough for now.” And I think that is part of the value. It is not a coincidence that this parsha begins with the reintroduction of Shabbat. “On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a sabbath of complete rest, holy to Hashem; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death.” We have to have stopping points, to say this is enough for now, it is time to rest. We build a society piece by piece. We build knowledge one research study at a time. If we waited for the work to be complete it would never be published and others wouldn’t be able to use it as a jumping off point. Unlike the work of the Mishkan, the work of building a society will never be completed in its entirety. We have to recognize stopping places to build to those and let others carry the work forward. As it is said in Pirkei Avot, “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”

[micha-phone]

Ki Tisa

I have to remind myself to live in the present. I am between jobs right now and when applying also fantasize about what life would be like if I got the job. I’m also moving soon and continue to imagine what adventures I will have in my new town. But I have to keep reminding myself that I’m still living now. I have to enjoy the last bit of time I have in this moment. To not pre-emptively grieve what I might lose by keeping myself away from it. Ki Tisa is many things. It is the story of the golden calf, of the people being so afraid that they have been abandoned that they forage themselves an idol, just to have something in front of them. But it is also a story about Hashem daydreaming with Moshe about the future, while ignoring the people that are there right now. Hashem has spent the last few parshiot describing the mishkan that will be build, the robes the priests will wear, they payment each Israelite will bring. Dreaming of a future. Then reality does not look like the plan. It is harsher, there are more disagreements. People behave poorly and the plan has to be adjusted. My plans have rarely been as I imagined them. There have been diversions or redirections, people have behaved poorly. But at the same time people have behaved better, and opportunities arose I couldn’t have imagined.

I’m not saying dreaming isn’t important. We have to imagine better worlds so that we can create them. But we also have to do the work to create them. Life happens every day. I say this as a reminder to myself as much as anything else. It’s time to live, to live, to live.

[micha-phone]

Tetzaveh

I’m thinking about the burden of being a representative this week. Much of this Parsha is describing vestments of the priesthood. The fontlet and breastplates carved with distinction. Every aspect of the outfit laced with symbolism or the names of the sons of Israel so that Aharon can represent the community before Hashem. The burden of representing the people must fall so heavy, claiming that responsibility for saying, “this is who we are.” And it leads me to thinking about how members of minoritized communities are forced to do that every day. You’re not just a person – you are the representation of trans people. Your errors do not simply reflect on your but can confirm stereotypes, and further other people may judge you for the actions of your fellows and not your own. It feels especially ominous that this comes just before the golden calf. We do not see the mistakes of the Israelites yet, but they are coming, and we know how this story ends.

It's collectivism: Kol yisrael arevim zeh bazeh. How do we take responsibility for each other when we disagree? Or when we don’t want to claim association with another’s beliefs or actions? How can we be representatives for each other? What are the limits of being a community? How can we build coalitions when we know we don’t agree on everything, but are still working towards a common cause? What if we don’t agree with those elected to represent us? I think I've been left with more questions than answers but I think that's also life.

[micha-phone]

Terumah

I’ll admit, I get lost in the details here. The mishkan sounds so fantastical with gold and copper, and fabrics of all colors, with sculpted cherubim – all creating a portable home for God so that they may “dwell among them.” It seems a far cry from what was said earlier “in every place where I cause my name to be mentioned I will come to you and bless you” and it seems in contrast Heschel’s idea of Shabbat as a “palace in time” rather than one of space. All of this splendor when now all we need is a minyan of ten Jews in the garage of an old water utility building. And yet, I love the idea of making a space for God so that when they are among us, they are comfortable and feel appreciated. So, then I started thinking about how we make space for our friends or family. How when my friends visit I want to give them the most comfortable place on my couch, ask “do you want anything to drink,” or in general to make them think that my home is for them too. And I think that’s why it’s so important that this parsha starts with God saying, “Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved.” This offering is one from the heart. Now it might be easy to think that God saying that and then giving this precise description is a kind of guild trip, but I think it is God telling us how they would like to be loved. It is sometimes easier to help a friend when they say what they need or want. It is frustrating to try and guess what someone wants to eat when they just say “oh whatever is fine.” So, I think in someways the lesson from this parsha is that sometimes we can be better friends by saying “this is what I need right now.” Sometimes, love is in the details.

[micha-phone]

Mishpatim

I defended my PhD dissertation last week and through the process of writing it, I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling (this will relate to the parsha eventually I promise). You might ask, “but your PhD is in Chemical Engineering, what could that possibly have to do with storytelling? Science is data you are just learning something about the world and reporting it.” And in theory that is true. But science is all about theories, the theory of relativity, the model of the cell. We are getting closer and closer to understanding how the universe works, constantly modifying what we thought and updating it with new information. So, in my dissertation I may say, “my therapy increased the immunostimulatory effect, creating a better cancer therapy.” Okay, what immunostimulatory effect? Well, I increased T cell activation. Okay, what’s a T cell? Well, a T cell is a type of immune cell that kills infected or mutated cells. Okay, how do you know it’s a T cell? T cells have markers on their surface that we can detect through a technique called flow cytometry. We can know it’s a T cell because it expresses a surface protein called CD8. We can observe how many cells there are with that protein using little glowing chemicals that attach to that protein and shooting them with a laser. By looking at all the cells in a tumor and how many have different markers we can see which ones are immune cells and what they are doing. Science is about getting more and more granular to see specific changes and then fitting that into paradigms that have been established to try and explain something about the world. But at some point, that granularity shifts into jargon. Some people might understand what I would mean when I talk about CD44 expression on CD8 T cells, but most people would have no idea.

So, storytelling. There is the results section of a scientific paper where you put in the flow cytometry data, or the ELISA or whatever other technique you used. But there is also an introduction to place your work into context and introduce the reader to what they need to know. There is a conclusion to say why it is important and what the data means together. Science is about the data – yes. But it is also about how we are co-creating a way of looking at the world, of interpreting what is all around us. That understanding changes over time. It doesn’t mean our ancestors were wrong, just that they didn’t have some tools that are available to us now. And we will be wrong, our theories will be changed with new information, that’s life and part of living in the world.

Which I think finally sets the stage to return to our parsha (bet you thought I forgot). Mishpatim, the continuation of the revelation at Sinai. “Moshe alone shall come near יהוה; but the others shall not come near, nor shall the people come up with him.” The word of God is transferred through Moshe, through the prophets to the people. We have the written Torah, and the process of creating the Torah is still ongoing. We wrestle with the parsha every week. We ask ourselves, “what does this mean today.” We take our knowledge and step forward, taking what those that came before us thought, all trying to get closer to the truth.

[micha-phone]

Yitro

Today is Tu Bishvat, the new year for trees and there is snow on the ground and more on the way. There are very few signs of life in the trees. The maple sap is solid and will hopefully begin to flow soon when the days are warm, but the nights are cold. The weather is so far from what the Israelites could have imagined wandering the wilderness. Yet it is there as they stand below Sinai that Hashem says, “in every place where I cause my name to be mentioned I will come to you and bless you.” Ibn Ezra says “Its meaning and interpretation is, in every place where I will set a memorial for My name, that is, in every place where My glory dwells such as Shilo and Nob where the ark stood. If you come to the aforementioned place for the sake of My name to visit Me, I too will come unto you and bless you.” Implying there are specific places to worship. Rashi says something similar, that the proper name of Hashem can only be spoken in certain places. And these places are lost to us now. But instead of those interpretations which imply that Hashem is limited to certain places, usually in Eretz Yisrael, I take the side of Sforno who says, “you do not need to employ artificial means made from silver or gold to attract My benevolent providence, for I can come to you anywhere and bless you when you but mention My name in prayer.”

I am a Jew who lives in Diaspora. My customs are informed by tradition but also by living in America, and even more specifically where I live on a communal level (no I will not be telling the internet where I live). Americana Judaism as my friends and I have said. And I don’t want that to change. I want my life in diaspora to be just as fulfilling and ritually rich as possible. Hashem is everywhere, throughout world, from the lowest abyss to the highest mountain. So much of our politics as Jews has centered around Israel, Zionism or anti-Zionism, when for me the simple truth is that I don’t want it to be the center of my thoughts. This is not to say that we should put our heads in the sand and ignore moral crises, but rather that it is more beneficial to build up our own communities. It’s time to build up autonomous Jewish communities that are made stronger by our relationships with our neighbors and to plug ourselves deeply into the communities in which we live.

[micha-phone]

Beshalach

I’m thinking about the mana today. “But when they measured it by the omer, anyone who had gathered much had no excess, and anyone who had gathered little had no deficiency: each household had gathered as much as it needed to eat” After the Israelites leave Mitzrayim they are wandering in the desert, they are worried about food, and starting their complaining that is a characteristic of theirs for the next 40 years. But Hashem provides mana from the sky. Just enough for everyone, and a double portion so that they can rest on Shabbat. I’m thinking about forced equity. Those that try and take too much are pared down to just what they need, and those that underestimate their needs find they have more than they thought.

We don’t get mana from the sky anymore. We have left our wanderings in the desert. We are now living in the world as it is rather than the world that is provided for us. We have to create our own bread and food. Human beings have become partners to Hashem rather than simply dependents. They provide the wheat and what grows directly from the ground but it is our job to make the bread (https://www.transrabbi.org/post/the-one-who-makes-peace-a-prayer). So how can we mimic Hashem in this? How can we make sure everyone has enough, and that no one takes too much?

Here in the US we are watching as a billionaire tries to defund USAID, an organization which provides food and other foreign aid (there is a long discussion that could be had about how USAID has been used to advance US foreign policy goals and is not a neutral good, but the taking away of aid wholesale is not the immediate solution here).

I take the mana as a challenge, “this is what the world should be” says Hashem, “food for all, in the quantities they need, and suited to their tastes.” But the wanderings in the desert are over, now we have to figure out how to make it.

[micha-phone]

Bo

How do we plan for the future? In the middle of the action, just before the killing of the first born begins, Gd stops the action and says to Moshe and Aharon “This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you.” They then proceed to outline how we will remember Passover. We haven’t left Mitzrayim, but we are told how we will tell our children about it. I think a lot about the power of narrative. What stories do we tell ourselves and how does that help us see the world? Do we use the Passover narrative to align ourselves with the oppressed today, to have empathy and compassion and to spur us into action? How do we move into doing good? Over the past week and a half (it’s only been a week and a half) I have felt so overwhelmed. Paralyzed with the weight of everything. How can we imagine a future when it seems like we are surrounded by darkness? How can we leave a narrow, trapping place when those in power want everyone to fit into tighter and tighter boxes? We are now trapped, but we have to look forward and think about the future we want. To dream big and then imagine how we will tell the story of how we got there. It’s not easy, and I feel stuck, but maybe this is where Torah can give us hope. The plagues are the worst thing there ever was, and even then, the night ended.  

[micha-phone]

Va’era

I used to not understand how Pharaoh’s heart could continue to be hardened. Last year I was struck by the fact that it was Gd who hardened Pharoah’s heart in the later plagues. How could he not see? How could the goal of staying in power be more important than not only the lives and happinesses of the Israelites, but also of his own people?

I feel like I don’t have to wonder anymore. It has been a bad week in US politics. It’s been a bad year for the state of the world. Problems like climate change seem to be escalating every year, fires that are still uncontained in Los Angeles, ten inches of snow in Florida, the hot and getting hotter summers, and the “once in a generation” storms that seem to happen every year. Then, instead of actually fixing any of the problems, the new person in power decides to withdraw from the WHO, halt all communications from health organizations, and pause funding distribution for scientific research. Not to mention the violence against immigrant communities that echoes the start of the book of Shemot “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them, so that they may not increase; otherwise in the event of war they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.” The plagues are reigning down and Pharoah’s head is in the sand, heart hard. But this time there is no sparing of the Israelite people, we are all in this boat together, there is no escape from the climate crisis when we all share a planet.

I don’t want things to get so bad that those in power have to admit defeat. Because by the time that happens it will be too late for so many. I am starting by keeping my heart soft, by not letting myself become numb to the tragedies that face our communities. By standing up like Moshe and Aharon and saying, “we deserve to be free of this.”

[micha-phone]

Shemot

What is there to say about this parsha? What isn’t there to say about this parsha? Everything seems to be happening all at once. We go from seventy people to thousands in a single line. Moshe goes from a baby saved by his mother and sister to a man in less than a chapter. And then there’s a pause. Moshe sees a burning bush and turns aside to look at it.

I want to talk about a specific section of the conversation between Moshe and God, specifically about names. When God first introduces themselves, they say אֱלֹהֵ֣י אָבִ֔יךָ אֱלֹהֵ֧י אַבְרָהָ֛ם אֱלֹהֵ֥י יִצְחָ֖ק וֵאלֹהֵ֣י יַעֲקֹ֑ב. It is a relational statement but also אֱלֹהֵ֣י has contexts of rulers or might. But then Moshe asks how he should introduce God to the people of Israel, and they say אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה. Or HaChaim suggests that this is God revealing which aspect he is using when speaking to Moshe. Referencing the Kabbalistic idea that there are many attributes to God that are all wound up in one being but one or more may be forward facing at any moment. I am not a Kabbalist, but I do think a lot about the power of names. And I think this is a section of the Torah where perhaps God is the most relatable. (Of course, this is then followed by promising to smite the Egyptians which is not as relatable). When I was visiting my mom, there was someone coming over to do some work on the house, and she pulled me aside and asked, “how do you want me to talk about you, as a son or as a child?” Being trans is constantly negotiating how we are seen in the world and how we want others to perceive or interact with us. Putting one face forward. Choosing which name to be known by. And we do similar things throughout our lives. Maybe you go by a nickname with your friends but would never use it at work. Or you speak differently to strangers than to your cousins. It’s not that one version of you is a lie (most of the time) but rather that you bring different parts of yourself forward. And then thinking about names again, people are changing names constantly throughout Tanakh, Jacob becomes Israel, Naomi says to call her Mara, Avram and Sarai become Avraham and Sarah. It’s everywhere. When you convert to Judaism you get to choose a new name, you get to say, “this is an aspect of myself or my family or my life I would like to represent”, or just “this is something I think sounds cool.” Anyway, I love this moment of Moshe looking at God inside of a burning bush and saying “how do you want to be known?”

[micha-phone]

Vayechi

How do we break out of cycles? Early in this part of the story it seems like the same mistakes will keep happening Jacob goes to bless Joseph’s children and places his hands such that the younger is over the older. A mirror of him stealing Esau’s blessing so many years ago. “But his father objected, saying, “I know, my son, I know. He too shall become a people, and he too shall be great. Yet his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his offspring shall be plentiful enough for nations.”” We see Joseph try to protest this, but ultimately the blessing still goes forward. The family’s problem of favoring some children over others seems destined to continue for another generation. But then something surprising happens, Jacob then proceeds to bless all of his children (and if some of these blessings seem more like curses or rebukes, well that’s there too). Joseph also rejects his position as special among his brothers. He passes the word of Gd onto them, saying that they will be brought up from Egypt and the family drama becomes the drama of a people. Here is the transition to B’nei Israel.

So what do we learn from this? Maybe the lesson is that becoming a people means rejecting the mistakes of our ancestors. It means that we have to reject the raising of one part of the family as superior, deserving of the blessing over the other. Instead we are to be blessed in a way that reflects our actions in life.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about dominoes. You know when you spend all this time setting them up in a line, creating some broad thing, only to knock one domino over and then relish in the fall of everything you’ve created. How one small action creates big impact. I’m thinking about how we set up our lives and work at things maybe making little progress going step by step until something big happens and you look back and see all that has changed.

I’m also thinking about how to survive and thrive in the coming years when the specter of fascism lies heavy over the horizon and so many institutions think that giving in is the right action. Universities adopting “Policies of political neutrality” because they are afraid to risk being de-funded. Companies like Meta removing fact checking from their policies. So what do we do? It feels overwhelming, too large for anyone to fix, but then I think about how everything is done one step at a top, slowly setting up the dominoes before the full picture is there and we can nock them over. I think maybe I lost the plot here. I don’t know if this ending paragraph is really connected to blessings or saying we are all one. But maybe it is, maybe the bravest thing we can do right now is to reject the idea that a blessing for one means no blessings for anyone else. Reject the idea that we are in a zero-sum game and to instead build up a people.

[apresmoi]

“israel,” d.w.m.

[gaymrow-deactivated20210812]

[Text ID: “I do not know how to explain gender to people who have never wrestled with it like Jacob wrestled with God. How do you explain long hours of fighting, suffering, wondering if you would survive the toil, wondering all the way up and until the end? How do you explain, somehow, winning the fight? How do you explain its euphoria, riddled with holes, the ever-present doubt that lays in wait within those holes, and God considered unbearable, beaten? // You take a new name (you are given a new name). You are no longer Jacob. Do your mother cry when you tell her? Do it even matter to her that you fought God and won?” End ID]

[micha-phone]

Vayigash

Our lives are filled with stories we tell ourselves. We tell ourselves stories to make sense of our lives. Some stories come to teach lessons, Torah could be in this category; some stories are for fun, think movies or campfire tales; but some are stories we tell about our own lives. These stories are ways to make our lives have meaning and narrative. Humans love narrative. There has to be a reason things happen. We often cast ourselves as the heroes of our stories where things are meant to happen, bad things either resulting in a greater good or as part of a dastardly plot. Here we see Joseph narrativizing his own life. He says to his brothers, “Now, do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me hither; it was to save life that Hashem sent me ahead of you…. Hashem has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance.”

Joseph tells himself this story after seeing Judah stand up for Benjamin and refusing to let his youngest brother be taken captive. He see’s that his brothers have finally learned the lesson to take care of their own – after it was too late for him. It is seeing this care that has him finally break and cry in front of his brothers. I can only imagine that there must have been some thought of “I’m glad Benjamin is cared for, but why wasn’t I enough to deserve this care. What about me was so bad that I had to be sent away?” And then remembering his dreams as a child – the stars, his family – bowing to him. Joseph now has power, he can save his family, it was all for a reason.

It is natural to try and construct narratives of our lives, but it is also dangerous. It can cause us to make other people two-dimensional villains, who seek only to destroy us rather than people with complex lives and motivations. We may all be the heroes of our own stories, but that doesn’t mean everyone we meet thinks that we are the most important person. Suffering does not make people just; it is just suffering. In an age where we are being pushed to see the other as the enemy, we have to reject that narrativization and deal with complex reality. What is really there instead of what is easy to believe.