Miryam's Space

Today was a sort of grandparents’ day in my Hebrew school. The kids, grades K-2, were to learn about welcoming guests. I invited many of our senior congregants to visit and tell a story from their childhood. We made place mats, prepared a welcome song, set dishes and cups, and decorated a cake to be served with green and blue sparkly gel. We acted out the Torah drama of an elderly Sarah and Abraham running to serve travelers who were really Messengers on high, delivering news of impending parenthood. Their laughter turned real with the birth of their son, Isaac. We read a story of a boy and spider traveling to Israel, welcomed upon arrival and return. And then our guests began to arrive, and the excitement was in the air. Each child greeted adults, showed them to a chair, served them refreshments, and listened to stories of another generation. One guest shared a photo of her own grandmother with whom she lived in a small apartment shared by many. Another was born in Palestine, before it was Israel, and grew up in Buffalo NY, where a rite of passage for the boys in his synagogue was to climb a nearby church spire. Many shared warm memories of Shabbat meals and afternoons. And a connection was made across generations that I will remember well.  I really miss my own grandparents, they were my messengers on high. Telling stories, creating holiday meals, making me feel like a princess, like the world was for me. My own daughters are approaching an age that makes grandparenthood a potentiality in my own life, and it’s a sea change in prespective…

I did not realize when I set this program up, that the Torah portion for the week is about grandparents, parents and children. The parashah, Veyechi, opens with Jacob/Israel’s second life, the one in Egypt, after he’s found out that Joseph was alive, and his soul was restored by knowing this. He lived in Egypt for seventeen years, (same number as Joseph’s years when he was abducted) when the days of his death were drawing near. He not only has found his beloved, favored son again, but now has two grandsons by Joseph: Ephraim and Menasheh, and he tells Joseph he is adopting them as his own(!) and will bless them.  It must be happiness squared for Jacob who never expected to see Joseph again. Jacob has many other grandchildren, but none are accorded this honor.

Among all Jacob’s grandchildren, one girl is listed, Serah, daughter of Asher. The legend of Serah is extraordinary: it is said she is the one who told Jacob that Joseph was alive by creating lyrics and playing the harp so the shock would not be too great. She was then blessed by her grandfather, with the blessing of immortality! She moved to Egypt with her family, saw Joseph’s bones buried in the mud beneath the Nile, and then when the generation freed by Moses 400 years later needed to exhume Joseph’s bones to fulfill that promise to return him to Canaan, it was Serah who told Moses where to find the casket.

So after grandparents’ day, I tried to imagine what that scene in the tent was like, with Serah playing the harp. I imagined she was a favorite of her sad grandpa, playing to soothe the demons of this man with only half a spirit left. Perhaps she had already known that Joseph was still alive, but feared to tell him. Perhaps there were scraps of rainbow cloth for her. As she began her song that day what did it sound like? A minor start, falling melody, changing to a gentle major?

A favorite son has father Jacob, fair or form, but he did part from us. Stronger even than death’s angel, a dreamer, alive within our hearts; Yes, Joseph our beloved dreamer was to Egypt swept. He rose and told the dreams of Pharoah, in majesty was kept. He rules the kingdom, saves from famine, and calls us to his side. Arise grandfather and rejoice, beloved Joseph is alive.

Slowly grandfather Jacob lifts his eyes, accustomed to only looking down. What is this you say, Serah, is your song true? I know you would not break my heart, little Serah, you have always served me well. Can it be? Oh my beautiful girl, (how did I never see that before) it is too incredible to believe! You have restored my very soul. You know once I was open to the voice and the ear of the Almighty – I saw a ladder where heaven and earth touched. By that power I bless you , a life for a life returned, may you live and never die, my Serah.

Next week I am singing in an interfaith Thanksgiving service. The pastor of the host church has asked for members of the various faith communities to step forward in expressing Thanks Giving of an unusual kind: being thankful for their faith tradition itself. The assignment is to answer in just 2 or three sentences. The request was greeted at first with silence of the choir members. “That’s really hard to do, especially to explain to outsiders,” commented one singer. It reminds me of the challenge to Rabbi’s Hillel and Shamai: “if you can explain your tradition to me while standing on one foot, I will convert,” announced the seeker. Shammai sent the stranger away, annoyed, but Hillel accepted the challenge. “What is hateful to you do not do to another. The rest is commentary: go and study,” responded Rav Hillel. I decided to give this challenge a try, so, while standing on one foot, here is why I’m thankful:

I am so very grateful for this Jewish tradition, it has given me my life
It is a time machine: memories of delicious and melodic Holidays at Grandma’s bless my children’s lives as I teach them of their heritage
It’s treasury of wisdom gives me roots & grounds me, informing me how to give, and love, and see with eyes of radical amazement (in the words of Rav Heschel)
And In Becoming a part of its music I have found my voice and my heart’s wings.
Thank You
(I will put my foot back down now)

Jacob is finally going home. It’s been twenty years since he fled a brother swearing vengeance, and that same brother is approaching with 400 soldiers. Jacob must literally come face to face with his past as trickster, lier and thief. It is getting dark, and his entourage has made camp. Herds of animals, four wives, twelve children, riches, guards and servants. He calls for Rachel and Leah and his eldest sons. “Pick up stakes, move out across the river. Right now!” he commands. “Also, we must split up for safety into two groups. I am staying behind tonight, and will cross the river to meet you all in the morning.” As the boys leave to orchestrate the night crossing, Rachel and Leah linger. “Jacob, it’s the hour of the wolf and the ruffian. If you stay alone tonight who knows what will emerge from the night to consume you?” they whispered in fear. “I cannot keep you safe until I emerge from this darkness that weighs my spirit. I need to find some insight this night, I need to find…some strength. I know I cannot cross until I face….” his voice trailed. The women nodded, departing.
Perhaps this was the scene that preceded the Torah’s famous wrestling match. Jacob remained alone, and yet a man wrestled with him until the dawn was beginning to rise. The desperate wrestler displaced Jacob’s hip from his socket, but Jacob would not release his hold. Jacob will limp his whole life now. The mysterious stranger begs to be let go because dawn is rising (a river demon? an angel? his brother? himself?) “I won’t release you unless you bless me!” is Jake’s response. The man not only blesses him but renames him Yisrael, “wrestler with God” and so Jacob releases the man. He names the place of the struggle Pineal: face of God, and declares that his soul has been saved. He now is able to cross a river and find the road home, confront and enable reconciliation with his twin brother.
A song by Dave Wilcox, “Farthest Shore” puts into reality a need to be alone before crossing the rivers in our path. In this alone-ness we have the potential to find our values, our self. Jacob separates himself from all his possessions, his powerful sons, his defenses. Interestingly he fails to mention his daughter Dina in the list of things sent across. This dismissal, this lack, is mirrored in Dina’s being alone soon, and hurt, and then disappearing from this family. In this song, “Farthest Shore” the composer loses a home to fire. In this past year many on the Jersey and New York shore were similarly displaced from their possessions. Those I know found strength in family and community, in the aftermath of disaster.
Farthest Shore by David Wilcox

We were there in the wood by the water.
Left our pack up against the willow tree.
We dove right in keeping just what we were born with,
Our memories, knowledge and our dreams.
As I swam far away from our possessions,
I imagined they were gone forever more.
And for once I was glad that all I treasured
would still be with me as I reached the other shore
So let me dive into the water, leave behind all that I’ve worked for, except what I remember and believe.
And when I stand on the farthest shore, I will have all I need.
When the blaze turned our cabin into ashes,
where we slept warm now the sky lets in the rain
I found the strings and the frets and rusted latches,
but I will never hear that old guitar again.
These four walls are only in my memory,
these stone steps rise to nothing in the air
One last look and I’m headed to the river,
to wash my hands and try to say this prayer:
Let me dive into the water, leave behind all that I’ve worked for, except what I remember and believe.
And when I stand on the farthest shore, I will have all I need….

sound file and complete lyric

My student Manny (name changed) spoke up from the back row. We were discussing mental health issues in a Biology course. “I have PTSD”, he quietly shared with us. “I’m a Marine, and I was in Afghanistan.”
PTSD: post traumatic stress disorder. Memories are strongly linked to emotion. From the zillion moments we experience each day, memory of those that impact our emotions serves to help us avoid danger and remember the pathways to paradise. But sometimes we’re overwhelmed and re-live memories too intense to handle.
A fearful journey my young student has undertaken. Can God be in those horrific places, in the darkness of terror?” The kid is going through a really rough time. It’s a hard question to answer. Another journey from ancient times:

Running from Beersheva to Haran, from a watered oasis to return to the place Grandfather left so long ago, Jacob lies down for the sun has gone, to dream a dream.  And Behold there is a ladder with its feet in the earth and it’s head in the heavens, and there are messengers/angels going up and going down. And God stood over Jacob and spoke to him! Promises. “I am with you” Jacob awoke. Truly God is in this place and I, i did not know.
Awaken.
Each place in time and space can be filled with God.
If we dream and let the dream inspire so that we become aware.
And we are ladders. Our feet rooted in this good earth. And there are angels of God in us – messages that originate in our rootedness and make their way to our loftiest hopes and ideals, if we let them.  We need to be rooted, and to be angels for one another, that we must dream and reach for the heavens….
And Jacob felt fear and awe when he awoke.
And my student, Manny felt fear, and is struggling to find the angels, and to know that God is with him. Though the universe hums with potential, and God’s presence can be in any place or time we allow divinity to enter,  maybe war and cruelty drive that away.
Jacob eventually returns from his exile to the promised land. He is with his own family now: to face his demons, to wrestle and to become humble. Broken, and limping, but he can return.  I wish Manny victory over the demons he wrestles with, to return, to make space for the divine in his life (and I wish we would stop making overwhelming situations into which we send our sons and daughters).

Music for this parashah: Noah Aronson’s This place: it’s stunning! or my own: Between  Archives: Between, Nov 2012

I am writing this on Halloween, as the Torah portion involves costumes, and tricks and perhaps a treat.

“Listen to my voice” whispers the mother of twins to her youngest, Yaakov. She is talking to a son she loves without qualifications. “Dad is blind, you are the one that must be blessed by him. You are the one prophesied to carry on in this family and rule” “But Dad will know it’s not me, and he will curse me…” And so Momma Rivka gives her son a costume: Hairy arms, and her other twin’s best robe, and a meal to ply Dad with. Father Isaac hears: The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the Hands are the hands of Esau. Who are you, my son?! Jacob lies, “It’s me, Dad, your oldest son, the one you love. and Isaac ignores the voice of truth, of Jacob and is tricked.  And so is Big Brother Esav “Don’t you have a blessing for me too father?!!! “Your brother stole your blessing, and he’ll stay blessed” Seriously?  I will kill him, vows big brother Esav. (This is a vow the very first brother, Cain kept). Always grabbing, pretending to be what we are not. And it wasn’t even Halloween!  Isn’t honesty best – this could easily have led to murder! And yet in spite of their parents’ mistakes, in spite of lies and tricks, Brothers do not kill each other.  To whose voice do we listen. Only to the voice of love.
A story: A farmer raised two sons in the way of the field – plowing and planting and harvesting – always together, and of supporting one another. The boys grew to men, and the oldest married and had a family, and the younger remained single. Sadly, the father died, but he left the farm to both sons equally. The older son lived in the house with his family, and the younger in a cabin on the far side of the farm. They did all the farm work together: plowing, weeding and harvesting. And they always split each harvest exactly in even halves.  One night the younger could not sleep: It’s really not fair to my brother to share the harvest equally,he thought, he has a family to feed, he needs so much more. So, in the black of night, he carried bundles of grain across the field, as much as his arms to carry, and sneaked them into his big brother’s silo.  On that same night, big brother could not sleep either.  I have so much, I’m blessed!  he thought.  A family to help me and take care of me when I grow old. My little brother has nobody! It’s not fair that we divide the harvest equally.  And so, can you guess? He also sneaked out and carried as much as his arms could to place precious harvest in his brother’s silo.  Each brother, the next morning was shocked and confused to find their stores still full. And so the next night this sneaking around at night was repeated. And the third night. And on the fourth night, somehow, in the dark they ran into one another. What are you doing here! each asked, but then light dawned on them, and not just from their lanterns! When each realized that his brother had been doing the same as he, they dropped their bundles, embraced and cried tears of love and gratefulness! And the legends of our people say that it is on that hill, in the place that would one day become Jerusalem, that God instructed Solomon to construct the Temple, so that rules of love and kindness could spread through the world. Because of the love of two brothers. Going back to our trickster, Esav will not kill his brat kid brother, love will triumph, that’s the treat.

Each morning blessing, in the T’filah, the prayer so important its name means prayer, I praise God as the hero who gives life to the dead. I don’t believe that those who’ve died can rise and walk the earth again. I do know that we are dead materials come to the miracle of life. That each day we breathe and eat materials and this becomes our living body, miraculously. I do believe that those who are dead in spirit can be inspired again and find hope again.

This week’s Torah portion is about new life coming from death. From an old, withered couple the miraculous conception and nursing of a son. From a slave woman, the bearing of a prince of nations. In the Haftarah, the death of a boy being reversed by mouth to mouth – by a man of God, a prophet. And climaxing in the near sacrifice of Ishmael and the Isaac. Ishmael (his name means God will hear) is sent with this mother with a skin of water, doomed to die in the wilderness. A messenger/ angel lifts the mom’s eyes to find water (vision and hearing are tangled as in Sinai’s lightening and thunder). But Abraham doesn’t know his son lives when he is called to sacrifice “his only one”. But God knows. It is curious. Here is an opportunity: Abraham’s escape from the command to sacrifice his son. Here is a lie, like Sarah’s (who says she’s laughed because she is too old, but really laughed because she thinks Abe is too old to impregnate), but it is God who is withholding the truth.
Like serpent twisting God’s command in the garden, a lie is the highway for chaos to enter the paradise of new life coming to an aged couple. And the midrash says Isaac dies on that mountain and is resurrected. The angel/messenger rewards Abe “because you have DONE THIS THING and not withheld your precious one”.  And father and son do not continue together as they started out this journey. Sarah will die, perhaps of a broken heart) immediately following the sacrifice of her son. Life and death and resurrection. We name our children after those we’ve loved, and hope that each loved one’s spirit is eternal. Death, mortality, is the elephant in the room. Yet our tradition speaks of values and songs and hopes that are eternal. Science hints that each moment may be eternal, we have just lost that access

This piece of a poem by R. Rachel Barenblat spoke to me powerfully this week:
Every birth is also a death: the end
of the life that used to be.
Every separation is also a rupture.
Read not “good” but “God:” God saw
that creation was constantly changing
just like its creator, dividing and torn.

Read the full poem here

I end with an excerpt from song, a Modim I wrote using E.E. Cummings Most Amazing day:
and I who have died am alive again this day
and this is the sun’s birth day
and the birth day of life and love and wings…
I thank You God for most this amazing day,
Modim anachnu lach…

Years ago, my Rabbi advised his teachers, (I was among them), “years from now, the children may not remember the subject you teach, but they’ll always remember the way you taught them.” Whether we smiled or scolded, were enthusiastic or annoyed, attentive or dismissive. And I told two students yesterday: “I know you are doing the best you can, and that there is so much going on that I cannot see..” “You have no idea how stressful my life is right now”, he said, “I am sorry that I have fallen behind in my work, I am really interested in this stuff.”  “I know. Just do the best you can. Let me know if I can help.” In the rush to do my jobs, to get the responsibilities off my back, I always try to stop, to encourage, smile, show a little love to them all.  Avram and Sarai in the Torah plunge into the unknown, escaping from what’s bogus. Ironically, though in search of truth, Avram will lie: “she is my sister”. In search of a home, they will be homeless for a long time. In search of God, God will predict “it is you that shall BE a blessing” My blessing: Baruch Atah: Holy One, source of being and blessings, thank you for the students in my life and the chance to teach them. They are the best blessings of all.

Remember swim wings on little children? One of my scariest memories as Momma involves those wings. We were visiting great grandma in Florida, and my little girl was only 3, and we were “swimming” together, but the air was kind of cold. We were on the pool steps, taking off those bright orange wings. “Wait,” I said, “I’ll grab that towel.” But when I turned away, she climbed back into the water. Accustomed to the wings, she thought she’d float again. I turned back to see her walking and under. Snatched her right out and she was fine. “I called for you Momma, and you came” But I hadn’t heard her. The sight of her under the water and helpless is one I’ll never forget. How fragile our little ones are, and so deeply dependent on our imperfect selves for protection is also a feeling I’ll connect with that image. “All that had the breath of life in its nostrils died” in Noah’s flood. Water is life, and in a flood of amniotic waters we, mostly made of water, are ushered into this world. The very fact that we can be done in by water out of balance and in the wrong place scares me. Noah is a scary read. I don’t believe G-d has a temper. I think that’s us making G-d in our image.
But our actions all have karma, and there is much in our human nature that is terrifying – that makes me wonder if people are worth it. I wish the bad guys would just disappear – you know, the ones that torture and rape, and rape this planet…. The possibility that flood waters (perhaps the waters of G-d’s tears) could wash clean the slaughter in human nature is comforting, at the same time as terrifying. And our salvation comes one human being at a time, and Noah’s name means comfort. I imagine Noah today living in the south Bronx – the way it was when I was a kid. All around him is violence and burning. But this simple kid has the guts to be good amid the terror, to walk in G-d’s ways. To be kind even to animals, because it is G-d’s command. To live even though other’s think you’re crazy. Not perfect, but courageous in terrible circumstances. One soul at a time – the future of the world. Hope emerging from chaos. And from all of this destruction and slaughter emerges covenant – sacred promises.

These musings about Genesis come from my perspective, with one foot in science teaching and one in Jewish spirituality. In my life I’ve found each deepens the other and assists in our understanding and awareness of this incredible universe. This understanding will always be beyond our grasp, but we are a part of it, and so we can always strive to grasp a bit of the mystery, which as Einstein said is the most beautiful thing we can experience….
This past week we began reading the Torah from the beginning, well, actually, from the end right into the beginning again, which implies timelessness, or no beginning….? So is the universe and time finite or infinite? And is God? Kaballah calls God ‘ain sof’ or infinite. According to physics today, there is no “before the universe” because the universe includes both space and time, and the big bang singularity (a horrible term, apparently) was the start of both.
Consider this: In all of this chaos, God is the creative power within this energy and chaos. And when parts of this universe combine to be much more than the sum of their parts, from quarks to atoms to molecules to cells, to organisms, that creative power, operating in opposition to entropy, the powerful tendency of the universe to Disorder (tohu va vohu in Hebrew) is where God is found. For me Genesis is a guidebook of where to find God in this universe, our spiritual origins, and value judgements of creation. We find God in the light (which took about 400,000 years to emerge after the big bang ). That light of opening our eyes and our hearts, after birth, and after darkness of spirit, is the light of God. So that’s day one. We find God in the beautiful oceans, that exist both on the shore, and within our physical bodies, which are mostly water. So that’s day two. We find God in beautiful forests (day 3) in Blue whales, and sparrows, and sea horses, coral, dragonflies and imaginary flying dragons! (day four) Our minds are blown open as we ponder the galaxies of the night sky (i cannot even stretch my mind far enough to match the numbers of galaxies out there!!!) and the powerful nuclear fusion of the sun which heats us as E=mc2 turns its material into the energy of our lives from 93,000,000 miles distant, into animals which evolved naturally and powerfully into our ancestors and into each other. We know the value God puts on each of these – they are GOODNESS! which itself is an anti-entropy judgement. And as for the animals and humans on that sixth day, very, or powerfully good. And that is why we are b’tzelem Elohim, in God’s shadow. That spark of creativity and potential for goodness is in the spirit of each of us. We are in the protective shadow of God as well, when we become as a community, more than the sum of each person alone can ever be. We are midrashically formed of this earth, a part of her, from earth of the four corners, of each color – from white sands, black volcanic ash, red mud and yellow clay. And in truth each human being is 99.9 percent genetically identical to every other, and a child of the universe. As much as the trees and the sky, we have a right to be here
and Love is the reflection of God, for it is parts in relationship which add up to more than the sum.  Perhaps Love is the answer (by Dan England).
And Adam and Eve left the perfection from which they were born to go to work and create new life, because we are all broken, and so must cling to one another to create shadows of the perfection from which we originated. And Cayin (whose name bizarrely means “Yes, I’ve created a man, with God’s help) slays “Hevel” whose name means “breath” becomes insubtantial, as death enters the world. Or did it enter when Hevel slew his sheep and offered it as a sacrifice, or when God accepted this sacrifice, showing favoritism to Hevel over his brother’s offering? I feel for Cayin, who pioneered sacrifice, only to be overwhelmingly rejected by God, tested to see if he could master his emotions, and failing this test. Failing the test of mastery is happening now to us. We are commanded to guard and serve this earth in mastery, and are messing it up royally. We’ll see in Noach next week, that the command to master is rescinded. But let us never forget the command to ovdah v’shomrah, serve and guard this precious planet – it’s where we find God. Again, perhaps Love is the answer

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Why?  I urge my students to ask me why they should care about the stuff we’re learning – why it should matter in their lives!  I tell them it’s my favorite question, asked with respect, of course!  And why? is so much fun to ask!  In the Mark Brothers movie “The Cocoanuts”, before the Why a Duck? quip (about 3:20 in this clip http://www.metacafe.com/watch/4493024/the_cocoanuts_why_a_duck/ ) Chico asks Groucho about the  Levees: is that the Jewish neighborhood? Groucho asides: I’ll Passover that remark. Then Groucho points out the viaduct and Chico asks Why a duck? So, to build on Chico’s question, why a Sukkah? In these days of huge worries, and technology, it’s so primitive, seems so out of place in the world. For me, it’s magic, one of my favorite times.  Just after Yom Kippur, I stop at the farm stand to buy a bunch of corn stalks, trim some evergreens for the branches, go into the basement to dig out the bags of decorations and strings of lights, laminate my New Years Cards and tote it all to the back yard.  I’ve had several types of Sukkot over the years, but 14 years ago, after building my kids’ swing set and tree house, It occurred to me that it would make an amazing sukkah! Just take off the roof, replace with branches, decorate up, and you can climb up and slide down – so much fun!

So, it’s fun, but still, why a sukkah?  Well, it’s autumn, the leaves are beginning to turn, the winds begin to blow. I do love autumn, the leaf colors and the crisp weather. Those leaves: a friend, native of California, who’d never seen the colors ’till she moved to NJ, she was blown away by the psychedelic flamboyant leaves. So I often try to see the leaves her way. But, at the same time, I hate the death of summer, the coming of the cold.  During the week of Sukkot we read Ecclesiastes, written, perhaps, by an older, ambivalent, wise, King Solomon, it speaks of life being in vain, or Hevel, in Hebrew, a breath (same name as the Brother Cayn killed), reminding us how fleeting youth, and health and life are, but hinting at the deep meaning and the timeless things beyond the vanity. The  Torah portion reminds us mistakes have been made in vanity: the Israelites have despaired and built a Golden Calf in Moses’ (and therefore God’s) absence. But as this portion begins, Moses goes up to Sinai for a second try at encounter with Divine, and carries down a new set of tablets, and is rendered radiant! Historically, we are wandering in the wilderness during this period.  All the Israelites will die, and their children must become the parents, and the inhabiters of the Promised land in spite of their losses. And all of this informs my personal answer to “why a Sukkah?”

In the Sukkah, I find an escape from the frenzy, as the sights of birds and decorations and leaves and moon and stars rule my vision. The quiet is startling, and then I become aware it’s not really quiet, but filled with he sounds of the wind through the leaves of the roof, music of a sort. Then I can sing quietly and add my heart’s sounds too, and it harmonizes right in! Waving the lulav, so primal, connects me to earth and sky and to my body: the etrog’s my heart, the lulav my spine, the myrtle, eyes, the willow leaves are lips. I am made of the stuff of earth too. The shakiness and the helicoptering leaves remind me of the passing of this season,  of the fragility of my life. The fruit reminds how sweet and beautiful it is in spite of impermanence. But amid this fragility come friends I’ve invited, reminding me how I get through those wilderness times in my life and the worries                         . And the children remind me that it can be timeless. And besides, it’s fun. Chag Sukkot Sameach.