Well here’s your chance …

Welcome to a bug’s life.

“Numbers” is a clear choice for the English title of this parsha. In the beginning of the pasrha, as Bnei Yisrael ore preparing for war, the tribes take a census. This action exemplifies human action and organization. Counting the people is a move toward stability and order: each tribe is given a place in the camp and the populations of each of the tribes are counted. The purpose of these actions is communal protection. Given the dangers of the desert, the traveling camp of Israelites must be secured and ready to protect itself. Numbers tells the story of control and the need for security.

“Bamidbar” is entirely self-explanatory. This book recounts the tale of Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the midbar- the desert. Unlike the control and security of Numbers, Bamidbar associates disorder and chaos. The very definition of a wilderness is that it is untamed. Additionally, it indicates an interim space, a ‘knowing where you want to go but not yet there” period of transformation.  Generations earlier, Avraham embarked on a similar journey, away from the place he knew and toward one he would be shown. G-d sent him on this revolutionary journey, telling him that his descendants would be “a blessing to all the families of the earth,”

“Bamidmar,” “in the wilderness,” represents the situation of the Israelites: they are escaped Egyptian slaves moving toward physical and spiritual freedom.  Their roundabout detour throughout the wilderness provides opportunities for them to learn how to become that blessing in the world.

In addition to the first, military counting in the beginning of the parsha, there is another toward the end. It seems that each census corresponds to one of these names given to the book. As stated earlier, the military census is connected with “Numbers,” focusing on the physical security of Bnei Yisrael. The second census, a count of the Levi tribe, is concerned with the carrying of the “Ohel Moed, (Tent of Meeting), which serves as a place for G-d’s presence.  This “Tent” serves as a movable, responsive, dynamic Torah.  This “Tent” caused Bnei Yisrael to ask themselves, “How can we move the Torah forward?  How can we travel with it into a strange, new and difficult land?”  The “Bamidbar” counting focuses not, on physical security, but on spiritual progress.

From the time that Avraham received the promise that his descendants would be a blessing to the families of the earth, we have understood that our mission as Jews transcends the needs of our own community.  The two names of this penultimate book of the Torah together create a whole.  The order and strategy of “Numbers” may have helped save our people from the dangers of the wilderness, yet it is that very experience of the Midbar, the wilderness, that taught us to carry the blessing of God forward.

written by Carmel Langer

After traveling to the developing Global South on an AJWS service trip, I was often asked by people in the Jewish community, “Why Nicaragua?  Why not Israel?  Why not your local Jewish community?” This is a question that concerns me.

Our challenge, in today’s global community, is to both safeguard our community and move the Torah forward.  How can we travel with our ancient teachings into the strange, new, interconnected land where we now live?  As Jews of both Numbers and Bamidbar, we both step forward and stand fast.  Torah may be a blessing for us, but, according to the promise given to Avraham, it exists to make us a blessing for others, as well.

I’ve been keeping a secret: until recently, I was one of those haters. For those who don’t know, this winter break I went to Nicaragua. I thought it was a fun learning experience, but something about the trip just didn’t feel right at first. I felt my involvement in Nicaragua was more about me when it should have been about the people we were there to help. But as it turns out, that’s exactly the point of alternative break trips—to learn about others in order to feel personally connected to a cause and motivated to act on it.

My trip to Nicaragua not only allowed me to meet incredible people, but pushed me to act. On Sunday March 3rd and 4th, two of my friends and I went off to DC to lobby about the Farm Bill. No, we weren’t there to see AIPAC.  We spent Sunday learning the process of lobbying, and Monday we got to speak to our senators’ aids and put what we learned from Nicaragua to action. We explained that we wanted the Farm Bill to improve international food aid programs. The Farm Bill was passed by Congress to implement various agricultural regulations. We asked our Congressman to push for more flexibility in the Farm Bill with regard to shipping processes, local procurement of food, and increased distribution food vouchers.

I’ve always been slightly cynical, but going to Capitol Hill really made an impression on me, and made me thankful for democracy (#proudtobeanamerican). Though the nature of democracy is slow and bureaucratic, I got to feel that I was making a difference. I was showing support for something I believed in, and the government was listening. That’s when I had my breakthrough. Alternative winter break isn’t about going to another country and helping them build houses. Let’s face it; they can build much better than over-privileged American kids can. Rather, these trips are meant to educate students so that they will continue to help those countries once they’re back home. Without this experience I may have never felt so passionate about this issue. Now I find myself going out of my way to educate people about the Farm Bill and how we can help countries like Nicaragua.

Now I bet you’re thinking, you don’t have to go to Nicaragua to understand why the Farm Bill needs to be more flexible. If America distributes foreign food aid more flexibly it would save money, time and potentially millions more lives.  Obviously, we’re not all going to run to D.C. now and go lobbying, but there are other ways to help. Letting other people know about this issue is a great start, and if you want to let your senators know you care, handwritten letters are pretty convincing.

As Americans, we wield the power to drastically change people’s lives. We live in one of the most powerful countries, and sometimes we don’t realize how much our actions affect the rest of the world. Democracy may be slow but if we use it correctly we can make a difference.

written by Yvette Deane

Additionally, since these girls are culturally and racially different from typical Israelis, it has been difficult for them to develop friendships with their non-Ethiopian classmates. The girls realize that the quality of life is better on average in Israel than in Ethiopia due to Israel’s medical, civil, and technological advances; however, the inequality they face in Israel inflames their desire to return to Ethiopia. I was shocked to hear how dissatisfied they were with their lives in Israel. Before speaking with these girls, I knew very little about Ethiopian Jewry. I had heard that Ethiopians fled to Israel to avoid persecution, and I did not realize that they were allowed to stay in Ethiopia. I was also under the impression that most Ethiopian-Israelis preferred their current lives in Israel over their past lives in Ethiopia. I never imagined that anyone would prefer to live in a developing country over a developed one under any circumstances. It made me realize just how out of place the girls must have felt in Israel.

The Israeli government has passed many acts in order to assist Ethiopians in assimilating into Israeli society. However, these laws only help to an extent. Many Ethiopians came from homes where they did not have basic amenities such as running water. Coming to Israel was an extreme culture shock for them. The gap between Ethiopian and Israeli cultures is so wide that it may take centuries until Ethiopian-Israelis will feel fully comfortable calling Israel their home.

written by Rachel Mann

What is this?

A title of a Poem?

Is this your poem?

written by Moshe Esquenazi

Tuesday, May 7 @ 4:45 PM – I am pretty confident that all will go well at my 6:30 PM event.

Tuesday, May 7 @ 5:45 PM – I start to get worried about my event.

Tuesday, May 7 @ 6:30 PM – Uh oh… what’s going to happen?

Break down.

As my frequent readers know, though I am a freshman here at Queens College, I have become extremely active on campus – especially in Hillel, the Jewish organization for students.  I am also the intern for Koach on Campus, a Conservative Jewish program for college students.  As an intern, I am responsible to create monthly events that foster Jewish experiences.  As a perfectionist and an anxiety-prone individual, I tend to get nervous when planning and executing said events or programs.  Often times I only end up hosting about five students, and sometimes my goals aren’t even reached.  It really is a learning process!

For my last event this semester, I wanted to create something that would get Koach’s name on the map.  Women of the Wall, a very important organization and one that has been in the news recently, was sending a speaker my way to talk about the issue of women praying at the Western Wall in Israel.  I had everything organized – the room, the food, the flyers, the guest list, and even the projector!  A lot of people seemed to be interested in the topic and though I don’t trust Facebook Event RSVP statistics, I was getting pretty excited about the prospective turnout!  What could POSSIBLY go wrong?  I had everything covered!

Some things are just out of your control.  Being a control freak and someone who likes to be on top of everything, this is a hard and difficult fact to grasp.  But tonight, I had to come face to face with this unfortunate truth.  As the above timeline shows, things were deteriorating before my eyes.  The clock neared the hour of show time, and the Woman of the Wall speaker was nowhere to be seen.  At least it was a bit comforting that I was able to converse with her over the phone.  6:30 PM came along and people started filing into the room – a lot of people!  The group was great, including people from totally different backgrounds – there were Jews and non-Jews, and within those two categories, so many varieties!  But what could I do?  I had invited a speaker to talk about Women of the Wall because I personally have no expertise in the subject and I was interested in learning more!  I couldn’t possibly run a lecture or presentation on my own.

I couldn’t take it.  After calling the presenter who had lost her way to campus and just couldn’t get there soon enough, I broke down in tears.  I tried to calm myself down, but drying my eyes and splashing my face with water did nothing.  As soon as I left the bathroom and was met by the Hillel staff, club president, and some other active Hillel members, I crumbled.  After all of this anxiety in planning the event, it had fallen through!  I even was seen crying in front of my advisor who had come back to help me with the technology!  And on top of this, I was disappointing a whole room of interested individuals!!!  I can’t thank Uri Cohen, Jenna Citron, and Ariel Shapiro enough for coming to my rescue, as they comforted me and then went in the room to foster conversation with the audience.  I returned to the bathroom, still not able to control my tears.  It wasn’t until my good friends Alex and Randi came in to comfort me that I felt well enough to return to my event and listen and partake in conversation.

This has definitely been a learning experience for me.  Even though things didn’t go as planned, and even though I did break down and probably overreacted to the situation at hand, in the end, my event was really successful.  Ariel Shapiro, the president of Hillel, took it upon herself to lead a discussion about Women of the Wall and facilitated conversation with those who stayed.  Topics related to this issue were also brought up, such as denominational movements within Judaism and the problems they face – a prime example being Reform Judaism and intermarriage.  After the event was over, people stayed around to chat.  My two friends, Alex and Randi, aren’t even Jewish but the event intrigued them so much that they stayed until 9:00 PM conversing with various Jewish students about Jewish customs and practices.

I’m not saying that if this whole ordeal happened again I wouldn’t cry – I probably would.  I’m still an anxious control freak at heart and won’t be able to change that so easily.  But, I do need to remember that life doesn’t go as planned and sometimes, beautiful things come from mistakes and unfortunate events.  From this conversation and dialogue between Jewish and non-Jewish students, I’ve come up with ideas for future events in my coming years here on campus and as part of Hillel‘s leadership.  Yes, I was discouraged this evening, and I think I still have a bit of said discouragement in me at this point, but I think overcoming the problems I faced tonight will make me a much stronger leader and individual.  We grow from our struggles.

I would like to thank everyone who did come to my event, and especially everyone who decided to stay even after the planned lecture was canceled.  I hope the conversation was meaningful and enjoyable, and I hope the cookies and brownies were delicious!

written by Marina Nebro

Parshat B’har

The Sefer HaChinnuch explains the Torah’s comparison of Shabbat and shemita. Resting on Shabbat is a way for us to recount that G-d created the world out of nothing in six days and then rested on the seventh day. Our observance of Shabbat is essentially us mimicking God’s actions after He created the world. However, according to the Sefer HaChinnuch, remembering ma’aseh bereishit (the creation of the world) in this capacity is not enough. The mitzvah of shemita is not only needed to heighten our remembrance of creation, but to teach us a critical lesson about our faith and service of G-d.

Similar to our Shabbat observance, we work the field for six years and then rest during the seventh year. What exactly is the meaning behind resting during the seventh year? Why are we commanded to leave the land untouched? To understand this commandment, we must get into the mentality of any worker. Imagine your boss tells you that you should come to the office for six years, but stay at home for the seventh year. He assures you that he will provide you with all you need, but he does not tell you how much money he will give you and no contract is signed. All you have is his word. Would you trust him? Would it be easy for you to believe that you would have enough to support your family? Most people would rightfully be skeptical, and would probably find an alternative source of income for that seventh year.

Asking a landowner to leave his land fallow for an entire year is no simple commandment to observe. The only assurance he is given comes from one pasuk where G-d says, “I will ordain My blessing for you in the sixth year, so that it shall yield a crop sufficient for three years.” (25:21). Here G-d is making a promise to provide landowners with not only enough food the seventh year, but additionally for the eighth year! G-d is obviously incomparable to any supervisor we will encounter, but a tremendous amount of faith is still required to believe that God will provide for landowners during and even after the shemita year.

Our observance of shemita is undoubtedly meant to engrain the fundamentals of faith within us, because we have to believe that G-d will provide for us while we leave the land fallow. Additionally, it also teaches us the importance of humility and to recognize our place in G-d’s world. It forces us to completely detach from our work and understand that our fields only yield produce in the first place because G-d is the true planter. No matter how skilled a farmer you are, you did not produce those crops. G-d is the one who gives you the tools to work the land and He can easily take them away.

Though we do not live in Israel and therefore, are not obligated in the laws of shemita, the lessons behind it are timeless and applicable to our daily service of G-d. G-d has given every strength and skill we have to us. Any good grade we receive or internship we secure is because of G-d. Our ability to hear, see, walk, write, paint, run, speak etc., all come from G-d. Each of these abilities is a gift and they can be taken away from us in an instant. Of course we still work hard to polish these abilities and achieve our best, but it is critical to distinguish that at the end of the day, no matter how hard we work and how great we think we are, our success is not something we can call our own. It is only when we attain this understanding that we can have true faith in God.

written by Rebecca Berger

The Birkas Avraham quotes a Gemara in Bava Kamma (65b) which states that when an ox is born, it is called an ox and not given a baby name like a calf is given to a cow. He explains this to mean that the nature of an ox is to never evolve into a higher level of existence. This is the exact opposite of a person; whereas an ox never chews grass while contemplating the question, “How do I become a better ox?” a person’s purpose in this world is to forever strive to grow and achieve greater and greater heights.

Interestingly, the Maharal points out that there is a limit attributed to human growth. He says that the number eight represents the supernatural and incomprehensible, “From the eighth day and on,” is the point where a person can no longer grow. And if a person does reach ‘level eight’ then he actually needs to bring a korban. Why? Because someone no longer involved in growth is able to become close to God.

In the same vein, the torah portion this week contributes great insight to this view of growth. The pasuk states “And the one who strikes the soul of an animal shall pay for it.” ‘To pay,’ is transliterated as ‘yeshalmena,’ which can also be read as ‘yeshlimena,’ meaning ‘to perfect it. This pasuk can refer to someone who fights and beats his animalistic faculties and conquers his evil inclination. If one is able to knock down the influence of his physical nature and desires, he will then be able to perfect himself in his service of God.

Every Shabbat Mincha we say the verse “H-shem saves man and animal.” The Chafetz Chaim believes that man has both an animalistic and a divine soul. The Chatzaag takes this further and explains that when a person works on himself he is able to calibrate between these two dichotomous forces, and he will find the perfect spot between his two souls. Instead of doing away with our primal nature completely, the Chatzaag tries to find the golden path between these two natures, wherein, it is in that place that God’s help is near.

This may be a bit too esoteric to understand, so the Chafetz Chaim helps us explain this concept with a story:

There was once a man who needed to travel from one town to another, so he hired a wagon driver to take him to his destination.  After a little bit of time on his journey, the traveler turned to the wagon driver and tells him he is going to take a little bit of a nap, and that the driver should make sure the horses keep walking straight. An hour or so after the traveler fell asleep, he was awoken by the carriage tipping over with the driver asleep next to him!  He turned to the driver and said, “What did you do?!” The driver responded that he had watched the horses for around an hour and they seemed to be walking straight the entire time so he decided it was also ok for him to take a short nap. The traveler said back to the driver: “How stupid can you be? The horses are just animals and so the only reason they were able to walk straight was because you were holding the reins and directing them.  Once you let go of the reins, they do not know how to direct themselves.”

The Chafetz Chaim said every person has two souls; if one is not careful to watch over and keep an eye on his animal soul, it will start to follow its own sense of direction.

written by Shmulie Schwartz

Filed under: Torah ]]> http://hilleltribe.com/2013/04/29/the-nature-of-growth/feed/ 0 hilleltribe http://hilleltribe.com/2013/04/25/after-i-broke-off-my-engagement/ http://hilleltribe.com/2013/04/25/after-i-broke-off-my-engagement/#comments Thu, 25 Apr 2013 17:21:07 +0000 hilleltribe http://hilleltribe.com/?p=1776 ]]> One day I was engaged to be married. The next day I was single. I am 21 years old. During my engagement period, my life was hyper-focused. Everything that I did—from planning my career, to figuring out where I would live—fit neatly into the scheme of my life as part of a couple. There were no real decisions to make anymore. Things either worked within the script of “engaged life” or they didn’t. My life was defined from the top-down. But after I broke off my engagement, my sense of direction was in turmoil. I no longer had clarity of purpose. I couldn’t stop asking myself, what now?

When I first broke off my engagement, I hit a brick wall. Frankly, I was overwhelmed and confused. How did this happen, I asked myself. How will I explain things to people? Will I ever get used to this? I had this idea percolating in my mind that things could only get better as time progressed. But that thought was only minimally comforting. I just wanted an escape. I wanted to leave my house; I wanted to get in the car and drive as fast and as far as possible. At the same time, I already felt like an outcast. In fact, I was so beside myself that, for a month afterwards, when people would ask about how my fiancé and I were doing, I didn’t bother telling them the news. I tried avoiding the awkwardness of admitting my failure. I also believed that I was protecting those innocent people asking from the awkwardness that an honest response would bring. My response would likely prove more awkward for them than for me; such is the way of these things.

To get back on my feet, it occurred to me, I needed a new plan. I would need a new sense of direction, and would need to stop dwelling on the past. The prospect of getting married at 21—with law school ahead of me—was not a sound objective for my financial and career security. Working a part-time job, while finishing up my bachelors, was not the ideal way to support a family. With this event as a starting point, I relished the opportunity of being able to start again, single. I was no longer imminently beholden to supporting a wife. I was given the chance to achieve financial stability and career success unhindered.

Necessarily, then, I cast aside the notion of re-entering the dating-for-marriage scene as something that could wait a few years. While only a few months prior I had considered myself ready to marry, I now realized that being ready to get married was more than just a psychological readiness. If one were to think of readiness to marry as a recipe, then one of the ingredients would be finish school. Some may say that I am doing little more than stating the obvious. They may contend that everyone knows the importance of finishing school as a prerequisite to tying the knot. However, the emotions that are present in a relationship can blind people from seeing salient facts. It was only through my experience that this message hit home.

Meanwhile, another part of constructing a plan forward was to ascertain whether being single changed my philosophy on life. This was important to me because I am a person who is driven by my core ideologies. Being in a relationship has a major impact on one’s thinking. Instead of mulling things over independently, a couple’s thought processes are subject to a unique two-person group-think. For me, I considered it necessary to re-think the existential questions—which, when I was in a relationship, I deemed settled. The biggest question for me was how my relationship affected my views on Judaism. I needed to see whether or not my thinking on the subject was my own—or merely a composite of the thoughts I had as part of a couple. Much to my surprise, I realized that my core beliefs were unchanged. The ideas that I maintained to be true while in my relationship still remain the same. In an otherwise turbulent period for me, this constant was comforting. It gave me a fundamental sense of purpose when nothing else could. I felt I had a blueprint for my future.

Months later, I find that the jury is still out on my future. On a certain level, I find that I am relieved. Most significantly, in this regard, I am relieved from the pressure and responsibility that the commitment of marriage brings. Responsibility is a good thing and relationships are positive in many ways, but they should only be entrusted to those whom life has brought to a certain juncture. I feel hopeful now. I have been given a second chance at an opportunity for which many people are only given one shot. In this regard, I am doing my best to capitalize on this turn of fortune. I am making decisions to insure that when I am again ready to get married, I will be in a position to do so. This includes developing my career and mapping out a clear life plan. Ultimately, though, I face uncertainty in my future. I do not know how my decisions will become manifest. I do not know where I will live. I do not know who my friends will be. I do not know all that much about the journey ahead. Yet, I think that these uncertainties are the same uncertainties my peers face. My situation is not unique.

For some of you, what I wrote above might sound calloused—as if my experience was not a sad one. It might sound as if I am minimizing the trial that breaking off an engagement can be. However, I am writing to help those of you who may be experiencing similar situations. My point is that dwelling on the past will not take a person very far. In order to overcome momentous setbacks, one has to look forward.

written by Yitzy Sobel