Lessons of leadership can be found throughout the Torah, and this week’s portion, Shlach Lecha, is no exception.  As the portion begins, the people of Israel are wandering in the wilderness between Egypt and Canaan.  They have looked forward to entering the Promised Land, and this portion tells the story of their first opportunity to do so.  Moses, at God’s command, selects one scout from each tribe, 12 in all, and gave the group the assignment to assess the land of Canaan and then report back on what they found.  Here, already, we can draw a lesson on leadership.  Moses selects 12 individual chieftains from 12 different tribes who presumably do not know one another, and gave them a task.  Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell writes, “Can a collection of individuals, however gifted or talented, act together if they do not know one another? One of the lessons of history that we learn again and again is that even “all stars” need to practice together, learning one another’s strengths and weaknesses in order to achieve a shared goal. The text reveals nothing about the scouts’ process or their work to become an effective search and assessment team. Without shared time and experience, how can these men choose the future home for the Israelites’ settlement?” We know today that the most successful teams become so only after creating a shared sense of purpose, where the objective is clearly articulated and the assignment, from beginning to end, is carefully planned by the leaders.  When I was a consultant, my most successful projects were those where I had the opportunity to bring team members together before the project began.  Often, these were individuals who had not necessarily worked together before.  It was vital that they got to know one another on a personal level and learn about each other’s experiences and what they were each bringing to the team, and that they had the chance to participate in the process of determining how the project’s objectives would be met.  Unfortunately, Moses did not have the luxury of time or modern management theory at his disposal.

After 40 days the scouts return.  They go straight to Moses, Aaron and the whole Israelite community and immediately deliver their report.  Here is lesson number two.  As the leader who was charged by God to lead the people into the Promised Land, Moses was responsible for the messaging of the report to the community by ensuring that it was not only delivered accurately, but also in a manner to instill confidence and excitement amongst the people, not fear.  The scouts could have been instructed to report back to him and Aaron privately on what they discovered, encouraged them to share all the facts as well as their opinions, engaged with them in productive debate, and then drawn conclusions only after listening to the different points of view.  He could have then worked with them as a team to craft a message that considered the audience and the ultimate long-term objective of entering and conquering the land.  Again, Moses did not have the luxury of modern day tools such as a PR consultant at his disposal.  Instead, the report was simply delivered.  Numbers, chapter 13, verses 27 – 29 reads, “This is what they told him: “We came to the land you sent us to; it does indeed flow with milk and honey, and this is the fruit.  However, the people who inhabit the country are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large; moreover, we saw the Anakites there.  Amelekites dwell in the Negeb region; Hittites, Jebusites, and Amorites inhabit the hill country; and Canannites dwell by the Sea and along the Jordan.”  This message, which continues with reports that the inhabitants are stronger than them, and that the country they traversed devours its settlers, causes the people to begin to panic and create doubt in their faith that God will deliver for them. This is despite Caleb and later Joshua, 2 of the 12 scouts, who attempted to reassure the community with messages of hope. With such conflicting messages, and setting aside the assurances that God would deliver them, it is understandable that the people would have doubt and question their ability to succeed in conquering the land.  It is important for us as leaders to consider perspectives and shared experiences.  The scouts needed to capture the broader view and long-term perspective, but only 2 were able.  The other 10 focused on the details that represented immediate challenges.  We must pay attention to how we tell a story and listen for interpretations that inspire and sustain, not cast doubt or create fear.  When the future is uncertain, we, as leaders, have a responsibility to recognize human nature and the fears that derive from it, but also to not pander to those fears. 

The people continued to question God’s promise, and they called for a return Egypt, a place that they at least knew.  While God pardoned Caleb, Joshua and the children, he punished the doubters by condemning them to wander in the desert for 40 years, one year for each day that the scouts were away.  They were to perish in the desert and not enter the Promised Land.  God recognized that this generation was not ready for the challenges that lie ahead, and that a new generation was necessary for the people to achieve the objective of conquering the land.  And here is our final lesson for today.  Leaders should inspire others to not live in the past.  We need to draw on it for lessons and experiences, but remember to always look forward with excitement and anticipation and to remind ourselves that with no risk, comes no reward. Ultimately, after 40 years, the Israelites did enter the land and conquered it because of their faith in God and in themselves.

Michael Kimmel, Executive Director, Rodeph Sholom Board Meeting, June 15, 2011

This week’s parasha, Bamidbar, begins the book of Numbers.  In fact, Bamidbar begins with a discussion of numbers. Moses was told to count the Jewish people. “Take acensus of the entire assembly of the Children of Israel according to their families, according to their fathers’ household, by number of the names, every male according to their head count. From twenty years of age and up — everyone who goes out to the legion in Israel — you shall count them according to their legions, you and Aaron.” (Numbers 1:2-3). This total, a little over 600,000, included every tribe except that of Levi. The Levites were reserved for a separate count and they were also reserved for special jobs.  The Levites are not to be soldiers.  The Levites are assigned to be attendants to the priests, and then are chosen by God to be replacements for the firstborn.  

Unlike the census of the rest of the Israelites, the Levite count included males from the age of 1 month. (Counting from the age of 1 month is used to insure that the child would survive before counting him, but this means that essentially all males were included.)

There then follows a second census of Levites, those between the ages of 30 and 50, to determine the workforce available to transport the Tabernacle through the desert.

Now to me, some questions are obvious. Why did the Levite babies, one month and older, get counted?  And why were the infant Levites counted and not the babies of the other tribes?    

The answers must lie in the fact that the Levites had different roles than the rest of the Israelites – they were not to be soldiers, but rather assistants to the priests and guardians of the Tabernacle.  But does that start at one month old?  Really, can you imagine a one month old baby guarding the Tabernacle?  It’s pretty funny to contemplate.

A midrash describes the Levite’s responsibilities as a reward for their not having worshipped the golden calf.  So, perhaps, because the reward comes to the Levites based on the actions of others, it does not matter how old they are.  Because the prestigious roles come to the Levites due to the merit of their ancestors, this inherited merit is enjoyed by the babies as well as the adults.

But I prefer a more metaphorical interpretation.  Because despite the funny image, perhaps it really is the children who are the guardians.  They guard the Jewish future.

Robin Block, Ritual Committee, May 25 2011

I have two sisters, one older and one younger. We are quite close, and regularly call one another.

Here is a typical conversation.

Sister #1 to Sister #2: “Hi. Before I ask you how you are, whether your husband has returned home safely from Liberia, or if your dog is still in the ICU, I have something VERY IMPORTANT to tell you.”

Sister #1 thereupon discloses the VERY IMPORTANT thing. She then immediately offers the following disclaimer. “I am telling you this because I am afraid I will forget it. Please call Sister #3 and tell her. It is much more likely to be remembered if all three of us know it.”

Normal sisterly conversation then ensues.

After good-byes, Sister #2 calls Sister #3. “Hi,” she says. “Before I ask you how you are, whether your first born is engaged, or if your dishwasher has been repaired, I have something VERY IMPORTANT to tell you.”

Sister #2 thereupon discloses the VERY IMPORTANT thing… if she can remember it… or who told it to her… or which sister she is talking to.

Each sister maintains that her memory is degrading at a faster clip than that of the other two. But if you ask me, it’s a pretty fair fight.

Because the human brain works in mysterious ways, such thoughts naturally led me directly to today’s parsha, B’midbar. I started to think about the frequency with which God dials up Moses to communicate matters of great urgency involving the Israelites as they travel through the Wilderness. In fact, I believe that a close reading of the Torah even reveals God’s ringtone. If I am correct, it is this… “Vayidaber Adonai el Moshe Laymor.”

When one considers the number of times one hears that ringtone when Torah is chanted, it becomes a pretty good proxy for the enormity of the task facing Moses and the Israelites on their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. There was so much to assimilate and remember… how they were to organize themselves in camp, what duties were assigned to them, how they were to build the Mishkan, what, when and how to sacrifice, how to distinguish the pure from the impure, and on and on.

Perhaps the most challenging piece of all for the Israelites to absorb was why they were where they were in the first place, and just where it was that they were headed. For as much as their journey was toward a physical destination, it was also at its heart, a spiritual journey, a journey of becoming Am Yisrael.

The physical space we inhabit is a world away and many lifetimes removed from that of our ancestors, but the challenges that bombard and distract us on our spiritual journeys are no less real or complicated. Piercing through it all to remember just where it is we are headed and what is important along the way is no easy task.

Without Moses to guide us, where can we look for help? I believe we come together each week to find it here, in the words and the music in which we immerse ourselves.

Elohai n’tzor l’shoni meira… God, keep my tongue from speaking evil…

Da lefnei mi atah omed… Know before whom you stand…

Moda ani l’fanecha… I give thanks before You, Adonai…

Be kind, be humble, be grateful.

I believe that the ringtones of our service in fact are our destinations, markers on our journeys in search of our better selves.

My memory being what it is, I am grateful beyond measure to have the opportunity to hear and say these words week after week in the company of this community, to help me remember the important things that are all too easily forgotten.

The great contemporary Torah scholar Yogi Berra once said, “If you don’t know where you are going, you shouldn’t be surprised if you end up someplace else.”

May we continue to help one another remember that our journey, like that of our ancestors, is one of becoming the people we were meant to be: people worthy of God’s blessing. Shabbat Shalom.

Marilyn Mauler, Chapel Service, May 28, 2011

This portion is about shmita: Once every seven years, dwellers in Israel are obliged to let their lands lie fallow, and they are obliged to forgive debts. Although the land must lie fallow, one is allowed to eat anything that grows naturally on the land, except the grapes of the untrimmed vines or the after-growth of the harvest. It can’t simply be smart agronomy, just as the laws of kashrut are not about health. One standard explanation is that it is a reminder that the “the earth is the Lord’s”, and while we are here to take care of the earth, it does not really belong to us. Another possible explanation is suggested by the notion that one is not to prune one’s vines. The land is to be allowed to regress to a ‘state of nature’. That is, the state in which it existed on the very first Sabbath, after God had created everything in the world, but before humans had assumed dominion over it. In this state of nature, there are no rules about when and how to grow and harvest. As a result, the yield of the fields was likely to be less than when man actually cultivated the fields.

For this week’s parsha, Emor, our congregant Andrea Kretchmer shared with me:

I had planned to talk to the kids tomorrow night about the admittedly obvious “fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth” aliyah in the context of Osama Bin Laden’s demise.

Another congregant, Walter Weiss, mentioned at our Physicians’ Study Group that the following piece had resonated with him, on the same theme:

Rejoicing Over the Downfall of Our Enemies by Rabbi Brian Besser (Jewish Community of Greater Stowe)

What was your initial reaction when you turned on your computer Monday morning and saw the earthshaking news caption running across the screen? What was your subsequent reaction? Many American citizens streamed into Ground Zero and laid wreaths in sober commemoration and reflection. Others partied wildly in front of the White House, passing out cigars and shouting “USA! USA!” Time magazine featured the face of Bin Laden with a bloody red X scrawled over it. The last time the magazine exhibited the same layout on its front cover was 1945—and the face was Hitler’s.  

Because of the supreme sanctity of human life, Jewish tradition generally condemns victory celebrations over slayings, even necessary slayings. “Do not exult when your enemy falls; do not let your heart rejoice when your enemy stumbles.” (Proverbs 24:17) However, there is one notable exception: Amalek. With regard to Amalek, the Biblical paragon of pure evil, the Torah commands obliteration: “You shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under the heavens.” (Deutereonomy 25:19) For this reason, we  drown out the name of Haman with the blare of groggers on Purim—because Haman descended from Amalek. Indeed, Amalek is said to reappear throughout history: “in every generation, they rise up against us and seek to destroy us.” (Vehi She’amdah, from the Passover Haggadah) For many in the middle of the 20^th century, the incarnation of Amalek was Hitler. Perhaps in our day, the incarnation of Amalek is Bin Laden. If that is the case, we are not only permitted to rejoice over his death, we are commanded to do so.  

Does unadulterated evil actually exist in the real world, any more than unadulterated good? A well-known Midrash describes the scene in heaven at the same time that Moses and Miriam led the Children of Israel in their victory dance at the shore of the Red Sea, after the defeat of the Egyptians: “At the time, the angels wanted to sing a song of hallelujah, but the Holy One rebuked them, saying: ‘My children are drowning in the sea, and you want to sing praises??’” (bSanhedrin 39b) Now, I have read this Midrash dozens of times, and I have always taken it to mean one thing: “Do not exult when your enemy falls.” This time, however, I noticed something obvious, which I had nevertheless always overlooked. God rebukes the angels for their merrymaking, not the human beings in the story (i.e. not Moses and Miriam). Taking angels as a symbolic representation for moral conscience, my new observation leads to a subtler lesson. Exultation over the downfall of our enemies is an understandable human response, and we should not blame ourselves for indulging in it. However, if we are to reach for higher ground, if we are to rise above our baser instincts, if we are to take the path of the angels, as it were, then we must reject the natural tendency to rejoice. Instead, we must reflect with sadness on the necessary evil of slaying the enemy. Ultimately, we ennoble ourselves by reacting from a place of compassion, rather than from a place of revenge. 

Last but not least, for a short online video about Emor, focusing on Judaism and people with disabilities, click here to see Rabbi Grushcow in Torah Treasures.

Lev 19:18: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people. Love your fellow [Israelite] as yourself: I am the Eternal.
Sifra is an early collection of halachic midrashim on the book of Leviticus. Here is Sifra on verse 18: “What is the difference between bearing a grudge and taking revenge? If Abe says to Ben: lend to me your sickle and Ben does not lend, and on the next day Ben says to Abe lend me your spade, and Abe says, I will not lend you the spade, because you did not lend to me your sickle. Thus it is said: you shall not take revenge.

One should not bear a grudge. Where is the force of a grudge? When Abe says to Ben: I asked to borrow your sickle, but you did not lend it. The next day Ben said to Abe lend me your spade, and Abe says: I am not like you: you did not lend your sickle [but here, take the spade]. Thus it is said: do not bear a grudge.

You should not seek vengeance and you should not bear a grudge against the members of your own people. But you may take vengeance and bear a grudge against others. Love your fellow man as yourself. Rabbi Akiva says: this is the entire greatness of the Torah. Ben Azzai says: this is the book of the generations of Adam. This is the greater principle. Here Ben Azzai is referring to the notion that man is created in the image of God. Leviticus 19:2 “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am Holy” is a restatement of this notion, here in this chapel, right above the ark, and underlies all of the specific commandments in the Holiness Code.

Dr. Carl Mankowitz, Chapel Service, April 30, 2011

This week’s parsha is Kedoshim. “You shall be holy, for I, the L-rd, your G-d, am holy”.

Everywhere in the Torah we are presented with guidelines of what or what Not to do. In this portion we are told what to BE. It emphasizes that EVERY Jew can attain even the highest and noblest principles of Judaism and that is why this is given to us as a people, not as individuals.

It then follows when to be “holy”. I understand this to mean that we should not only be holy now but also in the future. This is our daily struggle and, with hope and promise, we shall persevere.

Here at CRS, it is our clergy and our educators that help us in this endeavor.

Next, is the “why” to be holy. We are to act as G-d would, in His image. We must act in concert with G-d, a partnership if you will. G-d has given us mitzvoth as a path to building this relationship with Him.

And, of course, there comes the “how” to be Holy. We are given a series of wide-ranging ethical laws. Within this range are the ones we all know, such as, honor thy parents, justice for the stranger, deference to our elders, how to grow our crops, how to deal fairly with others. And, of course, there are some, we do not know as well or even like, “man lying with another man”, “adultery of various forms” and the punishments involved.

To paraphrase Lawrence Kushner, ultimately, we cannot tear out the segments of the Torah of which we don’t approve. We must confront everything and, hopefully, find ways and interpretations that deal with them, wisely, in the here and now.

The definition of Kadosh is also a lengthy discussion. Rashi and Rambam interpret it as “you shall be separate”. For them, it means standing apart as Jews, with a firm set of boundaries. To others, it is a state of being. Within this parsha, G-d tells us that He as set us apart from other people to be His people, in His image.

We must each find our own way to this state of being and separateness. Personally, I cannot imagine trying to find either or both without the help of this holy place and our incredible clergy.

At some point, we must look inward to determine if we are meeting our own goals of holiness. As this is our final Board meeting of the year before the Annual Meeting, it is a good time to acknowledge a few highlights and, at the same time, to also recognize that there remains much for us to do.

One of our challenges is to connect with the families that believe there is nothing here for them other than once a year, if that. But, we know, our doors are always open and we must find the different ways to make our congregants aware of this. We also must have the financial ability to make all this happen. Again, no easy task. We are fortunate to have so many capable Board members and staff to help in this endeavor.

Through Community-Based Organizing, we have connected with many members, who have shared their stories. From this (thank you, Gina Levine), arose 4 Special Needs services this year, High Holydays, Chanukah, Purim and Pesach. We created a holy space for a group of people (congregants and others) that would not or could not come here, because their children, parents, friends, siblings or whatever, suffer from some type of disability or challenge that prevents their participation. These services were extraordinary. To see children and adults participate, touch a Torah, some for the very first time ever, is more that words can describe. To provide them the opportunity to feel fully invested in CRS, to provide a safe-haven, THIS makes us holy.

CBCO has also provided us the opportunity to touch members and see what else we need to do. How we can reach out to our community and help open our doors so that all those who want to, can enter and find their holy space, no matter that they cannot afford the dues or cannot climb stairs or see or hear what surrounds them. And, for those that do leave us for whatever reason, it is our job to make sure that the leave here in better shape than when they arrived. We are constantly reviewing, tweaking and revising in order to accommodate as many as we can in whatever way possible.

We are reviewing our Cemetery Rules and Regulations to ensure that we can fully serve and honor our membership in death as in life.

This year, we have also invited congregants to study with our clergy and educators, in smaller groups. Thus providing us with smaller and more private ways to connect with each other and with G-d.

From a Baby Boomer dinner, we now have 12-15 people of all ages, who come together monthly to play Mah Jongg. Almost every month there is a new person who is welcomed into this group. More people connecting and opening doors to others. Another time to share and care and build on the camaraderie and community-building that is vital to CRS.

Holy, does not happen by accident, nor is it easy to come by. Being holy is what we wish Mitzvoth to make of us.

So: go forth, and BE HOLY. And, may we all continue together, to not only touch each other but, also, perhaps, come closer to G-d and be a Holy People unto Him.

Linda Vogel Kaplan, Congregation Rodeph Sholom Board meeting, April 27, 2011

As a Chapel Service regular and occasional Torah chanter, I had been looking for a way to engage more deeply with the Torah. In one of those free associations in which inspiration sometimes springs forth, I found my pathway after reading Julie and Julia, in which the author cooks and blogs her way through Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Taking a page from Julie Powell, I have embarked on a project to chant my way through all 54 portions of the Torah. What follows is the Dvar Torah I gave before chanting my second portion on Shabbat Chol HaMoed Pesach.

Shabbat shalom. A Passover story:

Several weeks ago I attended a concert of Ladino music, which featured a young Israeli singer named Yasmin Levy. Yasmin is the daughter of Yitzchak Levy, a musicologist who grew up in Turkey, steeped in Ladino melodies. Yitzchak came to believe that the language that he loved, which had survived for hundreds of years in the Diaspora, was headed for extinction in Israel as Hebrew replaced it in Sephardic households. He made it his life’s work to collect and record Ladino songs, guarding them for posterity. Yasmin grew up sharing her father’s passion for Ladino music. At one point during the concert, Yasmin, pregnant with her first child, invited Yitzchak to perform with her on stage. Their duet was sublime. Yitzchak’s voice was strong and supple, with a beautiful, youthful timbre. But Yitzchak was present only as a voice in a recording. He had died when Yasmin was a baby.

So why, you may ask, is this a Passover story? I will tell you……only a little bit later.

First, I would like to go someplace else entirely, and that is to today’s portion, Shabbat Chol HaMoed Pesach, and consider how it contrasts with the story we tell around our seder table.

Today’s parsha is undoubtedly one of the most dramatic and action-filled in the Torah. We see Moses at his most elevated….receiving the ten commandments from God, not once, but twice, and interceding with God to prevent the destruction of the Jewish people. We have the calling out of Bezalel and Oholiav and their great artistic gifts in the building of the Mishkan. We experience Moses’ anger as he smashes the tablets, and of course, we learn of Aaron’s collaboration in building the Golden Calf. Individual human action, informed by both its best and most troubling qualities, is critical to the unfolding of these events. In fact, without it, there is no narrative in today’s portion.

In contrast, at our seder table, we read a story almost entirely devoid of individual human imprint. We understand the exclusion to be a deliberate choice by our Rabbis to remind us in no uncertain terms that it was God, not Moses, who led us out of Egypt with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.

But here is the question. If even Moses is absent from the retelling of the Exodus story, how are we to understand the meaning of our own individual actions in the grand scheme of things? Do they count for anything at all?

To address this question, I would like to look at the Passover holiday itself. The commandment is that WE teach our children and our children’s children the Passover story. We do this not only when we read the Haggadah, but through our investment of time and care in the meticulous cleaning of the house, the laying of the table with our best china and freshly polished silver, the hours of shopping and cooking for family and friends, and by inviting into our homes those who may simply be in need of a seat at a Passover table. The story we tell is refracted through the prism of our individual lives, and invested with personal meaning. We bring our own family traditions, recipes, stories and above all our own life experience and values to the table on that night. The story we tell is one of divine redemption, but without the human component – without Moses and without us – the story is not complete. Each of us plays a crucial part.

Yet even as we move through the order of the evening, there is another story playing out at our seder table, one that transcends both the individuals present and the events of the evening. For with us at the seder table are those whom we have loved most dearly and lost, who sat with us every year at Passover until one year they didn’t, and the ones who came before them. They sit alongside our belief and our hope that long after we are gone, when our own names have vanished even from memory, there will be new generations sitting at other seder tables recounting the story of the Exodus of our ancestors from Egypt.

Shabbat Chol HaMoed Pesach and the Haggadah, the personal and the transcendent, they come together at Passover.

So now I am ready to return to my story of Yasmin Levy and her concert of Ladino melodies and tell you why it is a Passover story. With her father, of blessed memory, and her unborn child present with her on the concert stage, Yasmin joined together past, present and future in what Heschel would call “the embrace of an eternal moment.” That, I believe, is precisely what happens at our seder table. And maybe, just maybe, this is what makes that night different from all other nights.

Marilyn Mauler, Chapel Service, April 23, 2011

Months ago, Rabbi Laufer remarked to me that this was a difficult portion of the Torah. Naturally, I asked to meet with her immediately. She was kind and helpful and in retrospect, I realize how timid I had been about tackling the most personal aspects of this portion. But as I have studied and read more, I see that the Torah is personal for everyone.

My question for today is: How do you devote yourself to God, to Torah and to living an ethical life when Torah tells you that your behavior is an abomination?

“Do not lie with a male as one lies with a woman; it is an abhorrence” (Leviticus 18:22).

I should be “in the clear” since it has been some years since I did lie with a male as I lie with a woman. Nonetheless, for the purposes of my D’var Torah, I will be assuming God did not sanction lesbianism.

Certainly our Torah study thus far has informed my approach to understanding the sexual limit laws, specifically that of homosexuality, but it is driven more by a personal need to reconcile the irreconcilable. I have resisted reading commentary on this portion much as I have tried to forestall the impact of the directive itself.

God says prescriptive, God says proscriptive—but we can’t call the whole thing off. Commandments by their very nature, tell us what to do and what not to do. Within the Torah and I contend, within the Divine, and within each of us exists a state of dialectical tension, an attempt toward progress through grappling with ideas and their opposites. There may not be a resolution to the opposing viewpoints but each is influenced by the other.

It is not simply that there are so many dyads of opposition: sacred/profane, pure/impure, male/female, a loving God/ a vengeful God, God says come close/God smites those who come too near, you may enter the tent and you may not. It is that through these opposing forces, through this dialectical tension, that the experiences of devotion to Torah and God are understood. The Torah and the Talmud need women to behave as women so that men can behave as men. Sinners must sin so we can understand what is holy.

While many synagogues openly welcome the LGBTQ community, it is necessary to address Leviticus not by dismissing it as from antiquity but by embracing the attendant tensions and contradictions it invokes. For me, it has never seemed sufficient to say that in “our synagogue” or in “our brand of Judaism,” it is okay to sidestep Leviticus. This is not internalized homophobia on my part, quite to the contrary.

Instead, I am arguing that the prohibition against homosexuality serves a critical function, just like the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. Abraham is tested twice, once as a father and again in his faithfulness to God. Although Jews don’t use the term Holy Father, we could consider that Abraham is both father and son in this story. Although we know the reprieve received both by Isaac, the actual son, and Abraham, the spiritual son, we must still face the dilemma over and again: What would we do? And we wonder: Why does God create such a horrible test?

For decades now, I have been wrestling with what feels like a test by God. What can it mean that I am not who God wants me to be? If I go against God, if what I do is, “an abhorrence?” If I do not “kill [my] Isaac?” If I love a woman how can I be devoted to Torah and to God? The tests create opportunity not only to reexamine our devotion to God but to each other. At one and the same time, contradictory behaviors are demanded of us: building community and remaining pure may be at odds; our progression toward a holy life is not linear, nor is it meant to be. It is in the struggle that we get closer to the holy.

Last week, we learned about external borders and interior boundaries. The prohibition against homosexuality addresses both. Neither should the body’s physical borders be breached between two of the same sex nor are we to designate holy such a union. In fact, in the portion’s entirety, not much is said about the holiness of any sexual union. When it comes to sex, there is little said in the affirmative–that, it seems–is left to the imagination. As a man, should your imagination run away with you, female relatives are pretty much off-limits and as a woman, you must forego intimate relations with your livestock. I now finally understand the fear that homosexuality leads to bestiality: bestiality literally follows homosexuality in this Torah portion.

So how would the Torah incorporate lesbians and gay men who, respectively, make use of sperm donation and surrogacy, thereby obeying the commandments not to let seed or ova…go to seed? Does this going forth to multiply, shift their status from outsider to insider? Does a bisexual individual enjoy both insider and outsider statuses? Does God perceive them as committing a less “disgusting perversion” (Leviticus 20:13). Will they get a mere pebbling, rather than be stoned to death? And how does God view the gender variant individual?

I ask myself these questions and again, I am determined to view them not exactly as conundrums but as part of the process of, to borrow the phrase, wrestling with God. From what I have read thus far in Torah, we witness God’s own inner wrestling and equivocation. The representation of the Divine is complex and I think we get to be complex, too.

A final thought.

Having formulated my own comments, I looked at the essay by Bernard J. Bamberger that opens the book of Leviticus in the Plaut commentary.

I quote: “In this one book of Leviticus, there are a few passages where the word kadosh (usually rendered “holy”) has the force of “taboo,” and there are others where it designates the highest level of ethical and spiritual aspiration.”

This beautifully answers the question I began with: My behavior, and myself, and by extension, homosexuality, all exist in a realm both holy and taboo. Not one, not the other.

Jamie Greenfield, Adult B’nei Mitzvah Class, April 12, 2011