Never Alone


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Click For Podcast This week, Leviticus goes medical, delving into intimate and sometimes troubling details that have to do with human discharges, general mutilations and genital mutations. There is nothing profane about the wonders of nature, especially when the miracle of birth is discussed, and even when things go wrong in the body, but honestly, not everybody wants to discuss this stuff in the middle of Synagogue. But the Torah goes there – and especially this week – when the Supreme Court of the one of the world's leading democracies has taken a painful stand on the rights of humans to determine what is holy and sacred – a stand inspired in no small part by a narrow reading of biblical ethics – it is important to note the this ancient text addresses the human experience in ways that may hold the keys to a much better system of human health and dignity. We just need to read closer, and perhaps, Tazria – Metzora – this double whammy torah portion that has challenged rabbinic sermons for generations, calls for precisely this careful re-view of what is or isn't sacred, gross, or worthy of public discourse. In some ways, this text demands that we deal with all that life – and death - has to offer – in the noblest and most humane way possible.

One of the challenges to human wellbeing that is discussed here is an
ailment commonely referred to as 'leprosy.' This is probably not the
condition that modern medicine recognizes as such (still prevalent in parts of the world) but is some kind of a general biblical prognosis for an overall bad state of skin disfigurement – although it can also be found on houses or inanimate objects. The real issue with leprosy, however, goes beyond skin deep.
Over time, lepers have been identified not only as persons with a specific physical illness, but also as metaphoric carriers of alienation, disfigurement, and 'Otherness'. The one key feature about lepers is the keen interest of society to keep them isolated – out of sight, and out of mind. This is a healthy precaution perhaps, but also a human cruelty. A random Google search for 'leprosy' yields an astonishingly high number of associations with HIV/AIDS - and never kindly.

We can't argue with the medical demand for sterility and the prevention of spreading disease –– but we can read closer and challenge the notion that the random carriers of such conditions are to be subjects of estrangement and loneliness. When translating one verse in this torah episode, several translators tackle this challenge and offer subtle solutionst:

Leviticus chapter 13, verse 46 describes the fate of the leper: "All the days in which the plague is in him he shall be unclean; he shall dwell alone; outside the camp shall his dwelling be."

The Hebrew word for ALONE is 'Badad' – translated elsewhere as 'solitary', 'separately', 'in isolation', 'kept by himself', or 'dwell apart'.

The classic Aramaic translation, the Pseudo Jonathan, goes even further - adding another prohibition that increases the leper's
loneliness: 'he shall dwell alone by himself, to the side of his wife he must not come near.'

These translations are similar – but not identical – offering different treatments and varying degrees of human dignity. They seem to suggest that 'alone' does not have to mean 'lonely'.

It's difficult to translate this Biblical verse and transcend its necessary but cruel implications, but maybe we can do what one is supposed to do with this text – read it carefully, challenged it, translate it anew. Maybe this is a reminder for us to take every measure possible to honor 'other' in our midst and alleviate the emotional and physical pain of suffering in every way possible. Can we find which is the part in our selves, in our community, which is a temporary, lonely leper and do something to ease the pain and increase the intimacy so much yearned for by all who plagued by life?

Remember how Princess Diana kissed kids with AIDS back in the 80's?
Here's to more of that.

Playing With Fire


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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With Passover now over, we return to the weekly installment of the sacred saga, and this week takes us into the fire, literally, retelling a tragedy that engulfed, like flames, an auspicious day awaited with much anticipation.

The name of this week’s Torah episode is Shmini – the Eighth Day – and it refers to the day on which the Tabernacle was to be officially inaugurated, following seven days of intricate rituals. In chapter 9 of Leviticus, Aaron and his sons successfully perform their required duties, and right on cue the heavenly fire descends from heaven and consumes the offerings. The Hebrews love the fireworks, "and all the people saw, shouted, and fell on their faces." But playing with fire is tricky business, even for Levites, and the joy quickly turned to horror as something went terribly wrong: the Eighth Day of celebration turned into the first day of seven days of mourning for two young priests, the sons of Aaron. Were they victims, martyrs or sinners? Different translations shed different light on what exactly happens here, altering their actions, motives and consequences – giving us various options to comprehend an otherwise totally mysterious and heartbreaking event:

Leviticus 10:1-2 Now Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered alien fire before the LORD, which he had not enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from the Lord and consumed them. (JPS)

The key word here is the one used to describe the fire – JPS uses ‘Alien’ to translate the Hebrew Zara, while the King James prefers ‘unholy’, and others opt for ‘outside fire’ or ‘strange fire’.

The Hebrew root - ZOOR carries the suggestion of the estranged, the profane, even the abnormal, and there are other synonyms—excessive, deviant or perverse---which suggest something about the character and motivation of the two sons. On the other hand in some classic commentaries, their trespass is viewed as an excess of zeal and their deaths a kind of holy ecstasy. The Zohar, for instance, sees their death not as a sign of profane behavior but simply as a warning for the importance of timing and preparation when matters of the mystical are at hand.

In the end their motives remain a mystery, but Nadab and Abihu are remembered as boundary crossers, guilty of excess. Their deaths remain a warning of what it means to play with divine fire. How thin the line between being ‘fired up’ and being ‘fired’…

Those of us who play with the sacred fires of our tradition---the white fire and the black---find in these two sons of Aaron a cautionary tale. How much is too much? When are we - as individuals or a community - guilty of bringing too much ‘other’ into our inherited legacy, and is there a measure for that ‘otherness’? The eighth day looms over the book of Leviticus, smoke trailing off into the Sinai sky, etching question marks that linger on:

Where and when are we playing with fire in our lives? (Think Don Imus…)

Hide and Seek


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

The special torah reading for the Shabbat of Passover continues the telling of the Passover saga where the Seder leaves off: the day after the crossing of the sea, and the day after that: forty years of wandering on the way to the promised land. Dayenu, they say, the tired ex slaves, on their eternal journey to freedom - enough already! but the story (like some seders) persists, and, fed by manna, torn by ongoing strife, the children of Israel trudge on through the wilderness on their way home. But not really. None of the 'children' who left Egypt will actually make it there, their children, the next generation, born in Sinai will inherit the promise. Residues of how bitterly this story ends for so many are still in our teeth this post seder morning – left over horseradish, bits of matza – yes, we won and here we are, but at what price freedom? Would they have left Egypt knowing that they will die in unmarked graves in the middle of nowhere? Given the same opportunity today, would any one of us make that sacrifice? Would any of us have this level of FAITH in the unknown?

Faith is a big deal in this Passover story. Perhaps that's why our ancient sages chose the "post golden calf" scenario for the weekly torah telling that falls on Passover – telling us something about hindsight and perspective, teasing our endless fascination with wanting to believe and know what comes ahead. Even Moses, the greatest prophet, is eager to know what's ahead, not only that – he wants to SEE the head---the very face of the boss for whom he labors. In a famous passage in Exodus 33 – the bulk of this week's tale – he pleads with the Divine for forgiveness for the cattle worshipping Hebrews (granted, sort of), and demands to see or know who God is. What follows is a cryptic description of a revelation far more intimate than Sinai – for most translators render the event as 'God showing Moses God's behind', quite literally. Some translators surprise us by taking this metaphor deeper – addressing the human demand for empirical knowledge that will enhance faith AND the seemingly Divine reluctance to supply this 'proof'.

In chapter 33 God instructs Moses to stand inside the cleft of a rock, eyes covered by God's hands, until the following happens:

33:23 And I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts: but my face shall not be seen. (King James Bible)

Here the translators added a footnote to the word 'back': 'As much of my glory as in this mortal life you are able to see'

Most translators render the Hebrew word 'Achorai" as 'God's back parts', breezing through this shocking striptease without a flinch. Michelangelo went as far as depicting the very muscular behind of the Lord on the very ceiling of the Sistine Chapel – two panels away from that famous finger (how did he get away with THAT??) But the classic Jewish translators simply couldn't bring themselves to portray God in such human and disturbingly mundane terms, going out on a limb to translate this verse as allegory:

The Aramaic Pseudo Jonathan translation provides one amazing image based on lore – God showing Moses the Divine (and possibly feminine ) nape – adorned with the leather phylacteries – Tefilin shel rosh, a blurred vision amid a mob of angels:

"And I will make the host of angels who stand and minister before Me to pass by, and you shall see the edge of the tephillin of My glorious Presence ; but the face of the glory of My Presence you can not be able to see. "

Meanwhile Onkelos, the other premiere Aramaic translator, usually quite literal, goes all philosophical:

'and I will take away the word of My Glory, and you shall see that which is after Me, but My Aspect shall not be seen.'

There is a lot of hide and seek going on during a Passover seder – broken matzas traded in for expectations and prizes. But maybe the real hide and seek is more internal, echoed in this mysterious passage. If even the greatest of prophets gets to only know the true meaning of the past, but not the future, what of us mere mortals? And perhaps the seeking is even deeper – the search for faith – for the ultimate proof of God, the possibility of hope in narrow places and hard times, the promise of redemption, something to hold on to during the long way home. It may not be much, but for us at Lauviticus Headquarters, seeing God's ass is plenty of comfort, and we walk on, single file, all the way to the next part of the story.

Bread of Hope


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Last week we ventured into the mysterious terrain of the Leviticus sacrificial cult and its possible modern application - obviously a subject of some interest since we got some great comments and discussions. This week we are delving deeper into the small print of the priestly procedures, focusing on one element that has a lot to do with the upcoming holiday of Passover: the mysterious matza.


If you pause to think of it, Passover is a product of an elegant evolution – what started 2,000 years ago or so as a ceremonial BBQ conducted outdoors under a full moon, with greasy hands, freshly slaughtered lamb and quick words of praise has turned into an elaborate feast full of obligatory nuance. We may have lost the BBQ but we did retain some of the key ingredients, including a carbohydrate much loved, loathed, and possibly lost in translation. What is interesting about this week's Torah episode, Tzav, is that it shows us how matza was not a food item exclusively reserved for Passover – rather, it is a sacred food item identified with the priestly privilege and with the boundaries of what is or is not 'kosher' or 'holy' all year round. Chapter 6 in Leviticus describes the procedure of the 'gift offering' – a donation of flour or grain handled by the sons of Aaron the high priest themselves. Verses 7 and 8 describe what they do with the leftovers:


'What is left of the offering shall be eaten by Aaron and his sons; it shall be eaten as unleavened cakes in the sacred precinct, they shall eat it in the enclosure of the tent of meeting… It shall not be baked with leaven."


The Hebrew for 'unleavened cakes' is 'Matzot', translated elsewhere as 'bread without yeast', 'unleavened bread', 'flat baked goods' or 'holy things'. The focus is on a type of bread that did not involve the natural process of 'rising' – yeastless, basic, the simplest form of nutrition. Matzot appear all thru Leviticus – a familiar item on several other sacrificial procedures that have nothing to do with Passover. So how did they become the icon most recognized with this holiday?



We know Matza from the story of the hurried escape from Egypt – the original fast food on the run, sanctified and commoditized. While this may be true history and Judeo Gastronomic mythology, it is also possible that the practice of eating this symbolic bread existed separately, as a way to honor life's basic sanctity and nutrition. The priests had to eat the leftover matzot at a specific time and place – much like our modern obligation regarding Passover. Symbolic and still unleavened, this is one tough cracker that has made it into history and rose to the top of the Jewish food list – yeast or no yeast. Ultimately, the matza became an icon of potential, of hopeful possibilities yet to come. It is the bread of hope.

This Passover, as you take your first bite of this biblical bread, we invite you to take your time, appreciate the sacredness of the moment, the amazing history of what you are about to ingest, and the transmitted half-baked mystery that helps keep some nights more exciting and special than all others.



Have a delicious and meaningful Passover!

Give it Some Thought.


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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This week Lauviticus does Leviticus – the third book of the five opens with a divine call to worship, followed by endless instructions and recipes for specifics of this complex worship – the appropriate operational maintenance of the holy tent. Other than serving as the resting place for God’s presence on earth, the tabernacle functioned as the nerve center of the newly formed Hebraic Cult – focusing on the ongoing exchange of human gifts and Divine favor. The technical term for this exchange system is known in English as ‘sacrifice’ derived from the Latin word for ‘sacred’. Throughout the ancient world, sacrifices (mostly of animals and vegetation, though is some cases of humans) were the primal and primary method of celebrating the connection between earth and heaven, life and death. The food would be most often divided between the people present, the rest would burn on the altar as the smoke would rise vertically and reach heaven, and a visceral, sensory experience offered divine consolations, expiation, and healing to the person in need.
What of this ancient technology lingers today? And what of the semantics of this discontinued praxis continues to play a role in our contemporary
forms of worship and social interaction? As usual, we find that some of
the intricate meaning of this concept is lost in translation, and in this case the word in question is the very root of the matter. The word ‘Korban’
– most often translated as ‘offering’, appears at the very top of the book, Chapter 1, verse 2:

Speak to the people of Israel and say to them: When any of you bring an offering of livestock to the LORD, you shall bring your offering from the herd or from the flock. (JPS)

‘Offering’ is the most popular way of translating ‘Korban’, followed by ‘sacrifice’. The Targum, gives us the old fashioned "oblation," and Everett Fox gives us "near-offering," which captures the root meaning in the word korban, which means "to come near."

Clearly all this offering of grain and animal was in part the practical
means by which the priests, who did not work otherwise, were fed, and the
God they served was propitiated. But it was also the means by which the common person experienced some connection to the sacrificial cult, some drawing near. The offering was a sacrifice in part because it meant giving up some part of your capital, maybe even a part of your very being – a substitution for self.

What might be the equivalent for us in the modern world of the act of korban? What might we do that could cost us something and bring us closer to the mystery of life, death, past and future? What other words may best address this system of spiritual intimacy – succeeding where ‘offering’ or ‘sacrifice’ simply seem too archaic and bloody?

In the late 19th century, a German Jewish scholar by the name of Samson Raphael Hirsch wrestled with the German translation of the sacrificial concept, concluding that ‘ It is most regrettable that we have no word which really reproduces the idea which lies in the expression Korban… this term is used exclusively with reference to man's relation to God and can only be understood from the meaning which lies in its root, KRV: to approach, to come near, and so to get into close relationship with the Divine.’

So what do you call the act of meditation, or a gym work out, or a fundraising campaign, or volunteering at a soup kitchen – all valid ways of dealing with one’s issues and coming closer to one’s self, and one’s community, via an active performance of sorts. Maybe the key here is the word ‘give’, in all its ramifications. And so Lauviticus would like to
suggest: ‘You shall bring your Giving’.

We’d LOVE feedback on this one. GIVE IT SOME THOUGHT!

Smoke and Mirrors


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Exodus exits this week, mission accomplished: the Hebrew Nation is born and
on its way home. The book ends with the last moments of preparation for
cutting the ribbon – activation of the brand new sanctuary to the Deity who
delivered deliverance. Poetically, the saga that started with slaves
building bricks of bitterness concludes with a community of artisans
erecting a home for God. Another book-end motif of the birth-myth of the
Hebrews is the profound, but underplayed role of the women. In this weekly
double Torah Episode 'Vakhel Pekudei' – lost in the lists of generous
contributions to the tabernacle, hides a word – and hides a story about
survival, sexual arousal, and feminine intelligence – hinting at the erotic
and mystical dimensions of the sacred.

It all begins innocently enough; when it was time for the construction of
the Sacred Sink – a washing station for the tabernacle employees – the
Levites. This is the only plumbing device featured in the plans for the
mishkan, and the construction called for brass or copper, but the source of
this donated metal proved to be a source of some contention.

Exodus chapter 38:8
And he made the laver of brass, and the base thereof of brass, of the
mirrors of the serving women that did service at the door of the tent of
meeting. (JPS)

Who are these women and what are they doing at the tent's threshold and
what's with the mirrors? The Hebrew ' b'marot hatzov'ot' does not
explicitly mention women, but the verse identifies the keepers of the
mirrors as 'feminine' and 'assembled' leading to multiple translations:
"mirrors of the women who assembled," " mirrors of the ministering women
that ministered at the door of the tent of meeting.", " women who performed
tasks," "women who served at the entrance," "mirrors of the
women-work-force" or "crowds of women who crowded before the tent".
The Pseudo Jonathan delivers a curious version – covering up a bigger story:


'And he made the brazen Laver, and its foundation of brass, from the brazen
mirrors of the pious women, who, at the season, came to pray at the door of
the tabernacle of appointment, standing with their oblations, giving thanks
and confession, and returning to their husbands, the mothers of righteous
children, who had been purified from the uncleanness of their blood.'

Brazen mirrors?? What this translation alludes to is a lesser known legend,
quoted by Rashi – tracing the mirrors all the way back to Egypt, where they
served as sex toys – raising the oppressed and repressed Hebraic libido and
bumping up the population surveys: 'When their husbands were weary from the
hard labor, they would bring them food and drink, give them to eat and take
the mirrors. Each one would look into the mirror together with her husband
and tease him with words saying: "I am more beautiful than you." In the
course of this they would arouse their husbands' desire and copulate.'

Moses, according to the legend, did not want those 'brazen mirrors' in his
new tent, but the Holy One, intervened, instructing the inclusion of these
sacred objects of vanity in the very place where bodies would be sanctified
for divine service.

The Hebrew word for 'mirror' is very similar 'mar-aa' and is also related to
the Hebrew word for 'vision'. Thus, as the second book of Moses ends, amid
smoke and mirrors, the visionaries, midwives, artists and freed slaves join
to tell the hopeful tale of freedom over oppression – political, sexual,
religious and aesthetic. Just in time for Passover.

Next time you wash your hands in your bathroom sink, ponder, where in your
personal sanctuary is the erotic elevated into the sacred?

Next week – Leviticus: welcome to God's kitchen.

Revel


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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The weekly Torah episode is Ki Tisa – Hebrew for 'The Census' – in which, among other special guests, the infamous Golden Calf shows up. Moses, up on the mountain is downloading revelation, while his brother Aaron is down below – in charge of the impatient masses - hungry for their fix of the divine dose. The gods they know from Egypt are tangible and sensory – they have faces, eyes, and glitzy substance you can dance around. They have no patience for an abstract faceless God. And so, the first religious fundraising campaign takes place, and one sacred young bull emerges from the fires, a product of countless earrings. The people are ecstatic and they point at the idol exclaiming ‘This IS your deity, Israel!’ – the ancient predecessor to ‘IN GOD WE TRUST’. This would have been a funny story had it not ended so tragically, what with the wrath of Moses, the breaking of the Ten Commandments, and a civil war with 3,000 casualties. What are we make of this story, and what possible relevance may it have for modern times, when worship, money, idolatry and fundamentalism all seem to be so hopelessly interwoven? The Israelites really believed they were celebrating the divine, but how far do good intentions go? All they wanted was fast food and instant gratification – don’t we all? One key to help untangle this theological mess may be hidden in the one Hebrew word used to describe what exactly they did on that day – a word, not surprisingly, translated in a variety of different ways.

Ex 32:6 And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt-offerings, and brought peace-offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to make merry.

The Hebrew word used here is LETZACHEK meaning to laugh, mock, or play. It is, famously, the word that gives Isaac his name – ‘the one who will laugh’. It is also a word repeated through the Bible to denote sexual play, general foolery, and, possibly, bloodshed.

In this case, the translators give us ‘rose to make merry’, while the King James and JPS offers ‘rose to dance’ and Artscroll likes "got up to revel;" The Pseudo-Jonathan translation uses the quaint "rose up to disport themselves with strange service’.

The fact is that , as usual, no single word in English will serve up the array of meanings in the Hebrew from the innocent to the erotic, from the pagan to the playful. In the end we like "revel" because this word both stands alone and appears inside the English word "revelation." Revel makes a connection between what is occurring on the top of the mountain and what is happening at its base. This almost reminds us of the holiday we just celebrated – Purim – where the instruction is to celebrate the divine truth by being completely intoxicated –a sacred paradox, a fusion transcending what is top and bottom, mind and body, right and wrong.

Lauviticus would like to suggest: ‘ And eagerly they woke up early on the next day, and lit the fires, and offered the meat; and the people sat down to eat and to drink and rose to revel. ‘

Tell us, honestly, had you been there, at the foot of Sinai, with no Moses in sight, would you have reveled??

Oracle


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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This week’s Torah tale, ‘Tetzave’ – Hebrew for ‘Command’ describes the couture of the tabernacle team, just in case you haven’t had enough of the red carpet coverage of the Oscars. This year, the text is linked to yet another high drama – the scroll of Queen Esther, which will be publicly chanted on Saturday nights to the sound of groggers. Purim, the Jewish Carnival, owes its name to the Babylonian word ‘Puru’ – ‘lottery’, an etymological and historical nod to the pagan origin of the holiday and its namesake. Originally marked as Babylonian New Year, Puru was celebrated with drinking, masks, and a ritualized lottery in which the fates of the coming year were divined, presided over by Ishtar and Marduk – top ranking deities. Intriguing elements of fate, lottery, and the seemingly random turn of events are part of the Purim story, where Esther and Mordechai preside (replacing Ishatr and Marduk) But as fate would have it - Esther has more to do with this week’s torah text, and especially to the lost Hebraic art of fortune-telling, a skill conducted by the High Priest using a weird an oracular object whose precise purpose may have been lost in translation.

Chapter 28 in Exodus describes the High Priests’ elaborate uniform, complete with a golden breastplate, decorated with twelve gemstones for the twelve tribes of Israel. This device is not just decorative – it is a functional, wearable, very expensive and very beautiful communication device:

"Place in the breastplate the Urim and Tummim, and they will be over Aaron's heart when he comes before God. Aaron will carry the judgment of the Children of Israel."

‘Urim and Thummim’ is not translated into any of the known English versions of the Bible, leaving the reader to rely on footnotes and classic commentary. Most opinions agree that this is the name for a fortune telling apparatus, used by the High Priest as vehicle to determine major policy decisions, straight from God. Various oracles are not unusual in religious societies, then and now – Tibetan practices, for instance, comes to mind. Literally translated, ‘Urim’ means ‘Lights’ and ‘Thummim’ may mean ‘Perfect’ or ‘Truth’. In the Biblical book of Samuel, for instance, the device is used as a binary oracle – responding to people’s questions with a ‘yes or no’ output – activating several of the gemstones to ‘light up the truth’. Do we go to war? Who is the next leader? Questions like these and others seem to have been reserved for the oracle’s usage though it is possible that more mundane issues of mass appeal were addressed as well (‘who will win best actor?’) Eventually, mysteriously, the device vanished and its usage discontinued. But the obscure technology lingers, surprisingly, The Urim and Thummin have become an essential part of Mormon symbolism, supposedly used by Joseph Smith to received revelation and translate unknown tongues. And they also showed up in New Haven - prominently displayed on the Yale Universality Shield – where, since 1736 the Hebrew motto has been translated in Latin as ‘Lux et Veritas’ – ‘Light and Truth’.

High priest, Mormon prophet, Persian Queen, or Yale grad, all share the human desire to meet – or to become - the oracle – to know what’s ahead. But then comes Purim, an obligatory non-sense driven holiday, on which we are instructed to precisely not know – not know what is ahead or behind, right or wrong, good or bad. Purim is a rude holiday, marking the ‘as if’ lottery of existence, the randomness of life, the chaos which is the ups and downs of reality – come what may. Maybe.

The moon if full this coming weekend, the oracle of the High Priest meets the mask of Queen Esther: a sacred arsenal of truth seeking tools, conveniently packaged for efficient use. Go for it, and have someone drive you home

Sister Act


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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The weekly Torah episode is T’eruma – Hebrew for ‘The Donation’ – in which fundraising is born, blueprints are drawn, and the first Jewish synagogue comes into being, detail by detailed detail, down to the hem of the priestly gowns. If you are not interested in interior design, the next few Torah portions are a challenge as they basically describe the erection of the Mishkan – Hebrew for ‘Tabernacle’, the mobile dwelling home for the Divine, down to the last crimson stitch, golden bolt and donor listing. But there’s more here than meets the eye. Modern synagogues may look nothing like this biblical ancestor but many of the basic patterns that constitute the symbols, symmetry, and mystery of sacred Jewish architecture at this time, owe their origin to this desert tent, covered with goat skins. And one of the elements that link the modern temple to the original Mishkan is the often overlooked, lovingly mocked, and secretly feared perennial pillar of religious society: the Sisterhood.

Women’s wisdom, artistry, and generosity are mentioned several times in the description of the Tabernacle, but it is ultimately an all male operation run by a hierarchy of the sons of Levi. Or is it? One verse in this week’s episode presents a literal ‘cover up’ of one interesting detail of the holy tent, revealing a glimpse into the repressed origins of the sisterhood societies. The verse describes the walls of the tent, billowing curtains of purple and blue linen:

The five curtains shall be coupled together one to another; and other five curtains shall be coupled one to another. (Exodus 26:3 King James Bible)

Some translators substitute ‘curtains’ for ‘cloths’, ‘drapes’ or ‘tapestries’, and they also differ on the word ‘coupled’ – often preferring ‘joined’.

But we find it very curious that none of the known translators into English (or Aramaic) pick on the real translation challenge in this verse – the unusual Hebrew words that can only be literally translated as; ‘ And the five curtains will link together, ‘AS A WOMAN TO HER SISTER.’
That’s right – the original sisterhood - and no credit due. The image is startling – the walls of the home for the Shekina – Hebrew for ‘The Divine Presence’, is depicted in the image of the protective feminine: sister holding sister.
Perhaps this is an instance where there are shadings of words in the original that just will not come into English, challenging the translators to render the intimate and erotic sense of these seemingly dry details of construction.

The translation of the sister-eros into a mere mechanical joining of the curtains raises an even larger issue. What other traces of the divine feminine are hidden in the furniture and furnishings of the original Hebrew home for Divine Love?
Behind these curtains, we suspect, more surprises await in the following chapters. It’s always in the small print and where you are least expected. Stay tuned.

Mishpatim: The Charge to Recharge


verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Remember when your cell phone ran out of power just as you needed it most? Or worse – your car out of gas in the middle of nowhere, or worse yet – you, on any given day of overload, experiencing ‘major burn out’? These may seem like modern problems, but they’ve been addressed thousands of years ago, and in this week’s Torah episode, Mishpatim – Hebrew for ‘Laws’, the vital law for anti-burn-out is reiterated, among a motley crew of laws and regulations for kosher (aka holistic) living.

The one law that grabs our attention is the one that, perhaps, we need the most: how to take time out, and refresh, or recharge, or recreate. These are all synonyms for one mysterious word that appears here in relation to the keeping of the Sabbath – a word that means both the human soul AND the action that is required for ongoing maintenance of the soul. Somewhere in this linguistic puzzle is, perhaps, a key to sustainable living.

Exodus 23:12

Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall rest, so that your ox and your donkey may have relief, and your home-born slave and the resident alien may be refreshed. (JPS)

The word translated as refreshed is the Hebrew word naphash, translated elsewhere as ‘rest’, ‘quiet’, ‘pause’, or ‘may-pause-for-breath’.

The word Nephesh makes its first appearance in the creation narratives -Genesis 2:7: ‘And God blew into his nostrils the breath of life and adam became a living being. The word translated here as being is nephesh, which shares the same root consonants as the word naphash for which our translators give us refreshed. The words in Hebrew are akin, but in English that kinship between ‘soul’ and ‘rest’ disappears.

For modern creatures craving sacred time, and effective time management, this word/law retrieves the concept of Re:Creation – another word that has lost its original force (re-creation) and now suggests everything from golf to drugs.

And so Lauviticus would like to suggest:

For six days you will work, and on the seventh day have rest, so that your household rests, and all who work for you, and with you may re-create.

How do you recreate? And is it enough to recharge your batteries?