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Parashat Ekev: Credit Where a Little Credit is Due

The first line of Parashat Ekev is difficult to translate.  It looks like this:  And it will be, ekev you will observe the mishpatim, and take care to do them, then Adonai your God will keep the covenant and the chesed that God swore to your ancestors (Deuteronomy 7:12).  You get the basic idea, but the really important words don't go into English so well.

So for instance, rather than say in Hebrew im for "if" -- if you will observe -- the Torah says ekev.  Rambam delves into the many meanings of this root, which is an unusual but not unheard-of way to say "if."  It is the same Hebrew root as the name Jacob, the word "heel", and the idea of crookedness, a not-straight path.  So Ramban says that God is hinting here:  Even if your path toward keeping faith with God and the covenant is roundabout, if you eventually get there, God credits you as a faithful partner.

Most often, the term mishpatim is taken to mean civil laws, as opposed to ritual laws, or laws derivable by reason as opposed to those that have no explanation.  Usually, the term mishpatim is paired with the term chukim -- the less-intelligible laws.  Rashi takes note of the fact that in our verse we have  mishpatim without chukim, and suggests that God means this:  Even if your path toward keeping faith with God is through the easier laws, easier to follow and easier to understand, God credits you as a faithful partner.

We are reading this parasha during the weeks approaching Rosh Hashanah, and these comments of Ramban and Rashi boil down to the same lessons.  God takes note of the good we do in whatever measure, by whatever motivation, and sees it as a complete vindication of our covenant together.

I think the lesson is even more important toward one another.  Whatever expectations we have of the others in our lives -- even if they are high -- we shouldn't forget to give credit for the small things.  A little effort at change; a small difference in attitude; an occasional kind word when we weren't expecting it... sometimes, these small things should count as everything.  We should take the small changes for the good as indicators of good faith, of trying.  And where someone is changing for us, even if it's just the first step of the many we really hope for -- we should rejoice that the other values the bond, the love, the covenant of friendship or marriage.

And that should trigger something in return.  Encouragement, a thank you, or at least noticing.  There's a time to expect a lot, and there's a time to see the spark revealed in just a little.

Shabbat Nachamu: Beginning the Repair

This week marks the beginning of the season of teshuva, of return and repair in all facets of life before Rosh Hashanah.  The Shabbat after Tisha B'Av is known as Shabbat Nachamu, after the words of the haftarah.  Nachamu nachamu ami -- Comfort, comfort my people.

From the depth of the fast day, recalling so much national tragedy, so much distance of the Jewish people from God, we immediately begin the spiritual climb.  Even the last verses of Megillat Eicha (Lamentations), the graphic poem of destruction which we read on the fast, point this way.  Hashivenu Adonai elecha v'nashuva -- Return us, Adonai, to you and we will return.

And so the Torah reading, Parashat Vaetchanan, brings out the big guns.  We hear from the mouth of Moshe the Ten Commandments, and the Shma.  The parasha is both a loud wakeup call, and a vote of confidence in us.  God says:  You don't need a slow healing, a gradual climb back to spiritual health.  Let me show you the heights.  Let me remind you of who you have been and who you could be again -- who you will be!

Still, we have these seven weeks to put ourselves in order.  To look at our relationships -- in our families, among our friends, with others in our community.  To ask whether we are leading our lives by the values we claim to living by.  To think of any changes of direction.  This is an agenda for weeks, not for the hearing of one reading of the Torah.  The days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, even the single month of Elul is not enough.

So the Torah exhorts us, sets the bar, brings back the wisdom we know is out there.  And the haftarah encourages us, lifts us when the burden of teshuva seems heavy.  May we blessing with both throughout these weeks.  The wisdom and the encouragement we need to repair, to heal, and to begin a new year.

Devarim -- Introducing Your Two Personal Assistants

I hate to say this, but this Shabbat is a signal that the High Holidays are coming.

We turn a page in the Torah cycle and begin reading the book of Dvarim or Deuteronomy, which will be our backdrop from now all through the High Holidays until Simchat Torah in mid-October.  This Shabbat begins the week when we commemorate Tisha B'Av.  That's a fast day, a kind of seasonal book-end matched with Yom Kippur. 

Week by week, we will be guided to the holidays by two voices from the Tanakh, the Bible.  One is the voice of Moshe (Moses).  Deuteronomy is unique among the five books of the Torah.  The other four books come to us via a narrator, who tells us "The Lord spoke to Avraham, to Yaakov, to Moshe...."  This last book is, until the last little bit, in the first-person voice of Moshe.  It presents a series of speeches he delivers to the assembled gathering of Israelites as they get ready to enter their new home.

The other voice belongs to the prophet Yeshayahu (Isaiah).  Each of the haftarah readings comes from the last half of the book of Isaiah, except for this week's which comes from the first chapter.

Moshe and Yeshayahu are our two guides as we get ready for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  It's time to get focused on teshuvah -- on looking into ourselves and at ourselves, on assessing our relationships with others and taking steps to repair them if needed.  Moshe's voice is insistent -- you need to do this!  Yeshayahu's voice is encouraging -- you can do this!

Moshe is concerned that we will forget the things that should guide our life.  He spends the coming weeks reviewing the laws, reminding us where things veered off course, warning us of dangers.  If he could, he might just step in and make sure we don't do the wrong thing, that's how it sounds sometimes!  But he knows he is not going with the people into the new land.  He knows that only we, each of us, can go ahead into the new year.  So Moshe reminds us of the rewards that come from leading our lives in line with God's wisdom.

Yeshayahu is concerned that failure, suffering, and pain will cause us to lose hope that things can ever change for the better.  Historically, he preached when decades of destruction and exile were coming to an end, in the sixth century B.C.E.  He knows that we hear voices that cause us to doubt ourselves and the power of the Divine.  Yeshayahu sees the light at the end of the tunnel, and in his mind's eye we're already there, shining in our glory.

Each week in the synagogue we'll be able to hear these two voices.  These two prophets, from Deuteronomy and Isaiah, are your personal teshuvah assistants in the weeks leading up to the High Holidays.  Pay attention to them, concentrate on them even more than the specific words, laws, exhortations.  It's possible you need to hear one more than the other this year -- more Moshe or more Yeshayahau, more goading or more cheering, more "come on!" or more "you've got it!"  It's possible that will change from week to week.  In any combination, they can help you frame your approach to the season of reflection and change.

Chametz -- Rising Bread, Inflated Souls

The day before yesterday, I wore two unmatching shoes.

I left the house about 9:00 AM, toward a work day that did not end until 8:30 in the evening.  A little after 6:30, I was sitting and talking with a congregant when I looked down and noticed that I had on two different shoes.  I was horrified and self-conscious.  My thoughtful conversation partner, bless his soul, said, "I thought I was the only one who did that!"

My own thoughts included:  In seven-plus hours, how many people must have seen me today and noticed the shoes?  How foolish I must have looked!  How many people did they tell?  I can't even go home and fix this, I'm stuck looking ridiculous for a couple more hours.

But then I thought about a teaching about chametz and self-importance that I had shared on Shabbat:

Chametz -- bread that is leavened or risen -- is a symbol of haughtiness, self-importance.  Think of it this way:  If you start with just flour and water, then mix them together, the resulting dough takes up no more space that what you started with.  That's matzah, which represents humility and a sense of proportion.  Anything that rises is taking up more space than it really deserves.  So chasidic thought teaches us around Pesach that getting rid of chametz means breaking the pattern of puffing ourselves out, thinking we deserve more space than we really take up.

So I realized the best thing was to laugh at myself and move on.  After all, how many people really noticed?  I mean, are my shoes -- even if they are the rabbi's shoes -- really all that important in someone else's day?

Before Pesach begins, we are supposed to search for chametz in our homes and other spaces.  I think one way to apply the chasidic perspective is to go through all the places where we eat, and think about the conversations and relationships that take place there.  In the kitchen and dining room, that's obvious.  But we snack in the bedroom, or in the car while we talk on the cellphone, and we eat in our workplaces as well.

As we push our brooms or brush out crumbs, we should pause to think about who we're with in this place and how we act.  Am I puffed out?  Do I grandstand, show off, perform?  Or am I just right?