Beginning Parsha Questions

 This Shabbat, we read the first portion of the Torah, B'reisheet ("Genesis"). I have questions. These are not designed as riddles or trivia questions; they are sincere and developed questions seeking real and sourced answers, so if you know something, say something. Thanks.

1. Why did the creation process take 7 days (yes, I count the establishing of rest on Shabbat as part of the creation cycle)? God could have created the entirety of the world in an instant but did not. I have seen that discussed. But why specifically 7 days? Is there something independently important or sacred about the number seven that it fits the process? If we look at the events on each day, some could have been combined, or split apart so the process could have taken ANY number of days.

One idea I heard attached it to the name sheva for seven as sh-v-ayin is related to satiety. But that name is not inherently "seven" and could have been applied to any number that was at the end of the creation process. Had God decided to do the entire thing in 5 days, then he could have called the 6th day "sheva". And the 8th day, shmoneh, which I have, elsewhere, connected to "shamen", fat because it is "over satisfied", could have been used to name the day after those 6!

Someone suggested that 7 has value because, hey, look, it comes up in the shmita cycle. But maybe that's just echoic -- a reference to the 7 DAYs cycle as played out on a grander scale. Is the concept of seven a pre-existing religious and theologically important idea which we then make other things fit to, or do we look at the things and say, "hey they stopped on seven so from now on, seven matters"?

2. Each week, in Kiddush for the Shabbat morning, we are told that the Children of Israel observed the Shabbat as a sign and bond between God and the Jews because it is a weekly reminder of the first Shabbat, when God rested.

But why do we mark this weekly? I don't see it as marker of the end of the creation process because we don't do anything on it to sum up the whole cycle, just to memorialize the resting that happened ON THAT DAY after the cycle ended. Man was created on day 6 -- is there anything we do weekly to mark our own creation? We wait for the year anniversary to mark creation on the whole (and though we mention that many things are rememberances of creation or the Exodus each day, we don't do anything to ritualize that memory until, for example, Passover).

So do we mark our own weekly cycle of coming into existence in our prayers or actions on Fridays?

3. In this Parsha, Adam and Chava make a mistake and have to cover themselves up with leaves. God chastises them but then also decides to make for them better clothing out of skins of some sort. God acts as tailor. There is nothing miraculous about making clothing but God does it for them after they have already started a similar process. Then, throughout the Torah, God does miraculous things -- he confuses human languages, brings plagues, sends down the mon, allows the Children of Israel to pass through the Reed Sea...we have lists of the miraculous things God does and those things are inherently outside the skill set of man.

Jump to the last Parsha, and Moshe's death. In the telling of that event many commentators explain that God, himself, buried Moshe. God was a grave digger. Again, this is not a miracle, but instead a mundane and usually human activity. It just so happened that God was the only one around and so He stepped up and said "fine...I'll do it."

Are there other situations in which God does something that man can and generally does do? (I thought about the circumcision of Avraham, but it seems that the understanding is that Avraham did it himself even though God steadied him - I get this from the Rashi commentary on Bereisheet 17:24 included in brackets in the Artscroll chumash; the Rashi text on Sefaria and on Chabad do NOT have this section of Rashi and I can't find the medrashic source, so if you know it...)

By the way, I do not see "being a warrior" as the same thing because I see no place in the 5 books in which Hashem battles the way a human would or could have. I just see the description of Hashem as warrior.

It is (until I learn better) interesting to me that the 5 books of Moses are bookended by Hashem's doing the mundane.

Trick seals

 So last night, after we finished ne'ilah, I stuck around, as did a huge chunk of men, in order to daven Ma'ariv.

The question people often ask is "why daven ma'ariv in which I ask for forgiveness during my Amidah service? Did I just finish asking forgiveness? What sins could I possibly have done in the 3 and a half minutes between the joyous proclamation of "Next year in Jerusalem" and the saying of my silent prayer?

And, I'm sure, many wise and sage people have written a lot answering this question. I won't try.

But I think that the question is wrong. Shouldn't we be asking, "how dare we ask for forgiveness?" I mean, the gates are closed. The verdict is sealed. What standing do we have once the king has left the field? Yes, yes, some understand that the verdict is not sealed until the end of the Sukkot holiday but we ask for forgiveness the day after that also! So why do we even try? While, sure, we should focus on doing mitzvot, so as to build a case for ourselves next year, why ask for forgiveness if it is all about Yom Kippur and the sealing us in the book of life (or otherwise, God forbid)?

I recall as a youth, having an interest in being fancy. My parents indulged me and I got a calligraphy set. I wasn't horrible at it but there lack situations in which that skill is called for in the modern world. Shopping lists and poems about eating someone else's fruit, hastily scribbled on the back of an envelope do not require calligraphic skill. I also got a wax imprinting kit which, while interesting, was also impractical. I tend to use envelopes with adhesive already applied.

The wax kit included a colorful candle and a stamp with my initials. I don't actually remember if it it had my initials but the idea is that I could melt some wax and imprint on the still soft stuff some symbol that represented me. In the olden days, this was used to close messages and ensure that they were not read by the messenger. I cite Hamlet for this. Somewhere in the act 4 or 5 range. 

But the seal did not always mean "closed." It meant "official." And that's the difference.

God seals his verdict and then closes the book and the gates. He withdraws from the field to his courtyard within. And what are we left with? The possibility of sinning and no ability to do anything about it because things are sealed and shut?

No. Things were just decided and stamped by an official at that moment. The seal has been affixed. But if we learn anything from the story of Purim (other than the importance of sending me candy) it is that once a royal proclamation has been given the king's seal, other proclamations can still be issued! Can God undo the royal verdict given last evening? No one is asking him to. We are asking that he issue a new proclamation today, and another tomorrow.

Yes, the gates are closed but in our communal Modim prayer, we ask that (and I'm lifting this from the Sefaria translation)

"so may You always keep us alive and sustain us, and gather our exiles to the Courtyards of Your Sanctuary to observe Your statutes, and to do Your will, and to serve You wholeheartedly,"

We have to knock on the door. We have to be brought in. But nothing is locked -- all we have to do is ask. On Yom Kippur, there is a sense in the talmud that the day effects a forgiveness even if we don't ask but the rest of the year, we have to make a bit more effort. That's OK -- we got this.

So don't be daunted by the "seal." It looks fancy, and it has an important imprint on it. But it isn't the end all and be all and we need to stand at the gate, three times each weekday, and insist on being let in, demanding that we be given a chance to inspire a new verdict that is just as powerful.

In a sense, everyday is Yom Kippur. The gates are never fully closed and the verdict is never shut. Let's take advantage of the king's willingness to sign off on a merciful verdict on each and every day.

No, I'm not being A cute

 This morning's random thoughts centered on Star Wars -- true fact.

I kept wondering about the scene at the end of The Empire Strikes Back when Darth Vader explains to Luke that Obi Wan lied. He says that Luke's father isn't dead, but indeed, Darth IS Luke's father.

Cue music sting! Right?

But then I asked myself -- when did Darth Vader realize this? Was it some sort of nebulous Force-feeling? After the fiasco at the Death Star, did Darth look up the rosters of rebels? Darth was the ONLY survivor of the Death Star explosion so whom did he have to compare notes with?

At some point, and I don't know when, Darth must have stumbled upon something that mentioned Luke by name because, as has been pointed out, Obi Wan hid this kid with his own family so his name had not changed. If nothing else, this shows a lack of familial spirit by Darth -- had he even once picked up the phone to call his own brother, he would have found out that there was a kid in the house and Aunt Beru never sent out a pregnancy announcement! So he must have been adopted. Uncle Darthie (as he likes to be called) would go and visit and realize that Luke was actually his son and they would end up on an episode of Maury entitled "You raised my son like he's yours, and now I want him back so I can turn him to the Dark Side!" Riveting television.

But I digress. Did hearing Luke's last name conclusively convince Darth that Luke was his son? Maybe "Skywalker" isn't an uncommon name. It could be like the "Smith" of that galaxy. I mean, think about it -- our galaxy is far, far away and yet we have a Skywalker Ranch on this planet so the name clearly exists beyond that one star system.

So Darth figures it out and works towards capturing Luke, but on Cloud City, he doesn't say "Hey, wait Luke, let's not fight -- I just wanna have a sit down!" He waits until he has cut off his own son's hand before breaking the news because, you know, that might help Luke forget about the pain of losing a hand. Then Luke lets go of the platform and instead of catching him via the Force and lifting him back up (like Yoda did with an ENTIRE SPACESHIP) Darth just watches his kid get flushed down a space toilet.

Yeah, so I have questions, the first being "Why can't I think of normal things in the morning?"

Random 9/11 Thoughts at 21

Today, we are to mark, mention and mourn as the 21st anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. And if only that was simple, and "it" was just that simple.

If we were to commemorate every day on which there, historically, was a massacre, would there be any days on which there was no commemoration?

When does the recent past become history? When does pain become the memory of pain?

The “never Forget” of 21 years is part of a tradition of similar commands dating back to the bible. But when does “not forgetting” become the essence of the day instead of the “remembering”?

I wonder if the opposite happens with celebratory anniversaries – we move quickly from “never forget” into “remember”. Sure, we can set off fireworks when we remember the 4^th of July but we have stopped worrying about the “Never forget” of monarchic tyranny. We remember a birthday, less and less concerned about the “never forget the birth.”

And when did “dealing with the aftermath of” turn into “remembering”, anyway?

Then a bizarre sense of moral indignation sets in – “Hey, what gives you the right to only know the day as history? You’re an American and we all hurt.” Except maybe that’s when “remember” becomes “never forget”: when we no longer all and automatically hurt even though we know we have to “never forget.”

So today, when people are getting married and football is being played, when the calendar reminds us that 21 years ago, too many died, and since then, even more, today as we put an X in the box on the calendar because this is just another small bit of printing on a wall reminding us, let’s make sure that we remember and don’t only “never forget”.

  

Take them out of the ballgame

 

Yes, I am a dinosaur. This makes me no less cute, adorable or fossilized, and yet, no more, either. I like things the way they are and am a proud Crabby Old Man.” TM, no doubt.

The object of my most recent cantankerousness (ness) is baseball.

I’m a fan of the game and if you read Shoeless Joe by Kinsella, you will understand why. The geometry of the game with its foul lines heading off into eternity. The exactness of the distances and yet the variability of the various fields. The marathon which is also a sprint of a season, with each pitch being both ultimately inconsequential and yet having the entire season riding on it. The fact that seasoned vets, having watched thousands of games over the years still say, at least once each season “I’ve never seen that before.”

I know that some rules have changed. The height of the mound, adding more games to the season, night games, and reducing the number of balls leading to a walk from 9 to 4, yes, the game has evolved but there are some rule changes that have been introduced recently, and some which are on the horizon, and I don’t like ‘em by gum! So, I shall take a moment to list and explain why they are stupid and should be eliminated. [for the record, I’m against the designated hitter in both leagues – the 9 players on offense play defense and vice versa, also, no aluminum bats…I just hate ‘em]

COVID introduced 2 rules that I can recount off the top of my head:

1.   1.   Double headers are 7 inning games – this was to keep players off the field for the 8^th and 9^th innings of double headers, historically known as “the widowmaker innings.” No, they weren’t and the rule makes no sense. Fortunately, now that we are only wrestling with a variety of other diseases, games are back to the full 9 inning complement.

2.  2.   The automatic runner starting each inning in extra innings – a horrible rule. It screws with every bit of integrity in baseball. There are many ways to get on base in baseball. Why are we adding another one? To speed games along by introducing dishonesty? It puts pressure on the pitcher and means that 2 well placed sacrifices get a run across with no real success and effort by the team to get the guy on second. There are many other problems with it that I’m sure the pundits have pontificated about and I leave it to them, on the condition that they agree with me. I hate this rule and the horse it rode in on. I hope it goes the way of the 7 inning game.

Here are some others I have heard – some may be actually on the way and some might just be rumors and suggestions.

3. 3.   Not allowing the shift (or some other defensive configuration). I have never fully understood rules about illegal formations in football so I haven’t developed a suitably angry response, but when it comes to baseball, a team should have the right to put its players wherever it sees fit. Stacking the right side opens of the left and that’s a risk the manager chooses. Playing a short outfield based on scouting is perfectly reasonable. If you want to get a hit, teach your hitters to hit against type.

4. 4.   Rules about the number of batters a pitcher must face. This is designed to stop managers from putting a pitcher in for a single batter. But what’s wrong with that? You put in the guy you need to get this out and then you put in someone else if you want. The roster is yours to use however you want and if that means that in the 14^th inning, you have a position player come in and pitch or you run out of players because you burned through pinch hitters, then so be it. The question about whether you can flip a pitcher with a position player who also is a pitcher and then back (repeatedly?) in order to exploit the righty-lefty issue with batters is an interesting wrinkle. It means 2 pitchers having to bat, and the possibility that either one, on the mound or in the field is a weak link. That’s the game.

5.5.   The automatic intentional walk. You declare that you want to walk the batter and off he goes. This eliminates the risk of wild pitches, surprise steals, poorly thrown pitches that the batter can reach. It destroys playing the game and pretends that there are foregone conclusions. There aren’t.

6.   6. I have heard that the minor leagues are futzing with rules about how many times a pitcher can throw over to a base to check a base runner. After a couple of throws, any throw which doesn’t get the runner out either leads to a free base or a ball for the batter. Dumb. Baseball is often about unforced mistakes. If the pitcher keeps throwing over and then muffs a throw, that’s the risk. If a batter is finally kept closer to the bag so he can’t go first to third, that’s the game. There is a psychology to holding runners (and baiting pitchers). No foregone conclusions. Let the game happen.

7.   7.  A pitch clock. Baseball isn’t a game on a clock. Does this mean that things can lag? Yes, but some pitchers need the moments between pitches to compose themselves, rethink the situation or agree on a sign. Giving an automatic ball to the batter is ridiculous – it isn’t earned. This isn’t speed chess. And conversely, a batter who steps out too often, or stays out might get an automatic strike added. Uncool. The tempo is part of the mind-game.

 

I don’t know if there are other rules that I have missed or that are pending but I have no doubt that I don’t approve of them.

A Third random Torah thought!

 So to follow up on 

https://rosends.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-random-torah-thought.html

and

https://rosends.blogspot.com/2022/05/another-random-torah-thought.html

I had another thought.

Maybe the statements about happiness point to something even more basic. We know that we say in Shabbos morning davening "yismach Moshe b'mat'nat chelk" that Moshe will be happy with the giving of his portion.

We also know that Pirkei Avos teaches that the one who is happy is happy with his "portion."

Same word. Chelek. But I thought about that word a little this morning and here's something -- there is a well known mishna in the beginning of the 11th chapter of the talmud, tractate Sanhedrin which describes that

Kol yisra'el yesh lahem chelek l'olam haba (though I should probably do some research as to why it says "l'olam" and not "b'olam")

all Israel has a portion in the world to come. Though the chapter discusses the few exceptions to this, the point is that simply by dint of being a "yisrael" one has that portion (I should probably look up why it says "Yisrael" and not "Yehudi").

So we all have a chelek set out for us and therefore, we can all, if we understand that we should be satisfied simply being alive as part of Yisrael, reach the same level of happiness, simcha, as Moshe, and this will be the definition of being ashir, rich. The key is to be comfortable being who we are and that's it!

I'm sure one with more magic in his words could spin this even further. When the muse descends, I shall take another look.

Missing opportunities

 

It isn’t as much about being wanted as it is about being missed. Sure, it is nice to have someone say “Hey, I’m having a party and I want you to be there” and it isn’t even about similar praise to a third party (“I’m having a party and I really hope Dan can be there”)

It is about being missed. That at the party, in the moment, even with all the other sources of amusement or distraction, the person says, “Gee, I miss Dan” and afterwards, when recounting to that third party, the person says “I wish Dan had been there – I really missed his absence.”

We appreciate the mail that solicits our business, but we relish the one sent after we cancel that says “we hate to see you go.” And part of it is, we didn’t have to remind the mailer that we weren’t subscribed anymore. The mailer, UNPROMPTED, misses us. No one has to walk over and say “gee, it would have been great if Dan had been there” to get the host to agree. The host can’t get it out of his mind, on his own, that Dan was missed. Every day, all the time, he remembers a missed opportunity. He has regrets and concerns and everything else is tinged with that.

Look, I love Israel and Jerusalem and the notion of biblical theocracy sits just fine with me but right now, that is just based in “want” and don’t get me wrong – that’s really important. That’s what drives us forward so we can make our “wants” happen.

They say, “you never know what you got till it’s gone” (Yes, I’m quoting Mike & the Mechanics) and maybe that’s true, but the real sad part is that we often forget that it’s gone or assume it will come back so we don’t get that ache of missing.

Now, in relative safety and protection, with good jobs, strong communities and kosher pizza, we are able to make our wants happen. You want a mikvah? Boom…mikvah. And if we talk spiritual wants? Well, we want Moshiach now, right? And yes, we do mitzvot, and we keep that bag packed and we study the laws of the temple and its sacrifices, keeping track of our local Kohen and Schwartz. But want is not enough.

So at the height of our joy, we step on the glass – why? Because we have to remind ourselves not of what we want – that’s what weddings are all about, actualizing want – but because we need to remember what we miss. So we install an external, a reminder, a prompt so we can feel a little sad amidst our happiness. We also take a day and remind ourselves also of what we miss. Of how our lives are actually incomplete.

But the real goal? Remembering that we are missing every day – not just on the day we fast, but even while we are eating our pizza. Not just when I have to sit on the floor and not listen to music, but when I’m enjoying standing by my floor seat at a concert. And not just when we have an external reminder, but all the time.

The loss of the temple and our autonomy is present in our davening, our holiday rituals and in our daily lives (just ask those people who do anything Zecher L’Churvban). Why are we so focused on it? Not just because we have to see what we are working for, but because we have to make it a constant fact that we are really missing something and since we know Moshiach isn’t coming right now, I have to feel sad right now. Every right now.

May we all reach the point of missing the temple without having to be reminded.