This week’s spiritual wisdom comes from Rev. Sarah Ray. She writes about her personal experience with God and gives insight to how we can find love in God, others, and ourselves.

Looking into the Eyes of God

by Sarah Ray

Will the Universe implode if I tell you this? This ultimate secret?

I hope not. Actually, what I think will happen is that you won’t see this if you’re not meant to. Someone will walk in and interrupt you and you will click off the page, the phone will ring, your computer will crash, something like that. There are certain truths that can only be shared when the recipient is ready.

The truth that I want to share is something that must be experienced. I want to share my experience with you, but be forewarned, if you are not ready then what you experience will be terrifying. If you are angry and fearful and want to cling to that anger and fear, read no further. If you cherish your lust, stop right now.

This truth has been shared before, but somehow we manage not to hear. We are like children bent on annoying their mother, running around with our hands over our ears, singing, “La, la, la – I can’t hear you!” And then we crash into the coffee table and cry.

I. Come In Under the Shadow of This Red Rock (or, Shelter in the Wasteland)

Bamidbar 1:1- And Gd spoke to Moshe in the Sinai Desert within the Ohel Moed (the Appointed Tent) on the First of the Second Month in the Second year from the Exodus from Egypt saying…

This week we begin the fourth of the books which comprise the Torah. This book, known most commonly as “Bamidbar”, “In the desert”, is also known as “Homesh Hapequdim” or as it is conveniently translated, as “Numbers”. In general, we have a return to the narrative of the wanderings in the desert of the Israelites, as well as some commandments, most of which, as pointed out by Ramban, are not of normative force today, though as usual we will attempt to derive emotive meaning from them as we encounter them. The opening perasha, which concerns us this week, has very little narrative or ritual, it consists almost entirely of the census taken of the people on the first day of the second month of the second year after the exodus from Egypt. I approached this perasha with great trepidation, given the fear I have of numbers since my grade school days; expounding, for example, on actuarial procedures in antiquity did not seem very inviting (OK, I can’t resist. One day the bookkeeper shows up at the office looking completely worn out. “You must have had had some busy evening”, said one of his co-workers. “It isn’t that”, yawned the bookkeeper. “I couldn’t fall asleep, so I started counting sheep. But I made a mistake somewhere, and it took me all night to find it.”).

This perasha consists primarily of this repeat census. The classical commentators wonder why a census is needed at this time. The Ibn Ezra explains that it was necessary in order to best set up the encampment and the flags. Rashi and the Ramban take a different approach. Rashi states that this census represents a counting of love, coming just after the erection of the Mishkan, as the Divine Presence was to rest upon the people. Ramban disagrees, as a census demonstrating love after the Mishkan was built should have been taken one month earlier, when the Mishkan was erected. Ramban’s conclusion, as stated in 1:45, is, well, that he doesn’t really have a good explanation of why these numbers needed to be related to us. Given this hermeneutic opening, the Hassidic commentators felt the liberty to take these passages in an entirely different direction, not being bound by a “normative” earlier traditional reading. I will present the readings of several authors, among them the Noam Elimelech and two of his disciples, the Or Pnei Moshe and the Maor V’Shemesh.

The opening verse, as presented above, is seemingly a trivial restatement of the date the command for the census was issued. To the mystically oriented, however, there is no such thing as a trivial text; if a time is given, it must come to teach something. Deleuze and Guattari name this kind of relation to time, such an individuation of a time experience as an haecceity; as they explain:

“A season, a winter, a summer, and hour, a date have a perfect individuality lacking nothing…concrete individuations that have a status of their own and direct the metamorphosis of things and subjects.”

There is the usual sort of indefinite physical time, and then there is a determining measured time, a very different relation to temporality, as reflected in a phrase such as “once upon a time”. To the commentators of a mystical bent, it is not only the date per se that is alive and instructive, but also the descriptions and other terms used to identify these times which produce meaning, becoming the source of important messages about how to lead our lives. The Ben Ish Hai in Baghdad, who is contemporary with the Hassidic masters and shares much similarity in approach with them, explains that the actual numbers presented in this verse, the numbers 1, 2, and 2, or in Hebrew aleph, bet, and bet, form the acronym “Bereishit Bara Elokim”, the first three words of the Torah, as well as the Aramaic word “bava”, which means gate. He insists that the narration of these numbers is of cardinal importance, and offers his own Kabbalistic meanings, which we won’t delve into at this time. What matters is the sense that there is a message here.

The Daat Moshe notes a series of superfluities in the text. For example, why does the verse repeat that they were in the Sinai Desert? That would be fairly obvious, where else would they be? This superfluity strengthens his impression that this verse is not merely meant as a caption giving us a time and place. He explains the multiple superfluities in the verse as encoding within it a lesson on how to attain the spiritual heights that Moshe reached. How did Moshe achieve this state of personal dialogue with Gd? The Daat Moshe explains: by virtue of Moshe’s extreme humility, a humility achieved by being in the emotional state of “midbar”, “desert” an annihilation of the ego brought about by a total openness to all, metaphorically as open to all as the wilderness. By virtue of existentially inhabiting this state of desert-hood, he earned “Sinai”, which numerically in Hebrew is equivalent to “sulam”, ladder, the ladder skyward, that is, by virtue of one’s self annihilation one achieves the heights of spiritual transcendence, and earns the “ohel”, which in Hebrew means ‘tent’ but etymologically also relates to “halo” (as in Job 29:3, b’hilo nero), meaning that he achieves transcendence and enlightenment. Ego negation is a prerequisite for openness to spiritual heights and enlightenment. Yet, bodhisattva like, a Moshe’s ohel is not complete, a Moshe resists climbing this ladder and keeps the light limited to this world, as a lesson for those who seek to learn and emulate this path; thus Moshe’s tent is kept “moed”, literally meaning “appointed” or “reserved”. that is, constricted to this world, available to those not yet on a high transcendent state. This lofty spiritual transmission is delivered via “echad lachodesh hasheni”, literally “the first of the second month”, but here, echad, “one” is famously the numerical equivalent of ahava, of love (the letters add up to thirteen, and it is an important meditation when reciting the Shema prayer, for example). It is through love that chidush, hitchadshut, renewal, is consummated, love renews the hearts of the people, because love means the care for the spiritual state of the sheni, of the Other. Love for the Other brings about a spiritual renewal so dramatic that it can transform even time, even time that has passed; the years of the spiritual poverty brought about by the hegemony of Egypt are now “b’shana hashenit”, shenit (second) being similar to the term hishtanut, transfiguration; even the past gets a second chance and is reconstructed in holiness. This verse we are reading ends with the term “laymor”, “saying”, reminding those who seek spiritual heights that they have a responsibility to speak the truths they learn, to teach the people the routes by which he or she gains this enlightenment, to share this love and light.

As an alternative reading to the latter part of the verse, he also suggests that “b’echad lachodesh hasheni” could insinuate that like the Echad, a term which is also a descriptive name for Gd, through Gd the uniquely One, who we are taught “each day mechadesh, recreates with His goodness”, one can become a “mishneh”, Gd’s aide-de-camp, in reconstructing the world toward the good, in tikkun olam. This can be accomplished by “shana hashenit”. Shana numerically is equivalent to “sefira”, similar to the Hebrew word “sapir”, “sapphire”, which glows from within itself (in other places the period of Sefirat HaOmer is thought of as a way to achieve an inner “glow”). Thus, one who is enlightened, through his or her own light, can bring about this same “shinui”, renewal, in others; this shinui is a result of each individual’s exodus from their own “metzarim”, those gnawing inhibitions which keep one from manifesting their own greatest potential.

In a similar approach, the Meor V’Shemesh reads this verse as symbolic of a process, a bildungsroman of spiritual growth. The MVSh notes that this first verse is constructed in a chiastic form. It begins with “dibbur”, traditionally meaning a public speech act, to Moshe in the Sinai Desert, an open space, which the verse then opposes with “in the Ohel Moed”, a covered space, which many Midrashim specify as referring to a more intimate dialogue, concealed within the tent, ending with the term “laymor”, “saying” the saying of “amira” being traditionally contrasted with the more commanding “dibbur” as referring to a more personal, softer address.

The Meor V’shemesh explains all of this by resorting to a central theme in Lurianic mysticism. In Lurianic Kabbala, spiritual growth is not linear but rather dialectic in nature. As explained by the MVSh, the first growth spurt, Katnut Rishon (Kaplan, translates this term as “first constricted consciousness”), is one of childlike, brute thinking, total nonceptualization. When one suddenly becomes “conscious”, achieving “Gadlut Rishon”, First Expanded Consciousness, action are performed with total commitment, in full vigor, prayers and studies in full voice. As the adept becomes more sophisticated and knowledgeable, as life reveals its complexities and doubt becomes a prominent aspect of life, there is a retreat to “katnut sheni”, the Second Restricted Consciousness. Overcoming this, and returning to a Second Expanded Consciousness, one can then encounter spiritual praxis again, this time without the childish shows of force, sans clamor, in sotto voce. All this, according to the Meor V’shemesh, is alluded to within our verse. The verse begins with term Vayidaber, signifying commanding speech, loud and forceful. After the humility that contemplative thought and life experience engender, metaphorized as “midbar”, the desert, the wasteland, one can achieve the state of “chidush hasheni”, this renewal, this evolution into Gadlut Sheni, where all action can be done covertly, intimately, as an “amirah” in the personal space of the “Ohel Moed”.

The Or Penei Moshe, also a student of the Noam Elimelech, puts his focus upon the term “Ohel Moed”. These two words “Ohel” and “Moed”, teach us how to relate to our lives. The reason people are haughty and arrogant, he explains, is that their relationship to time is based on a mistaken sense of immortality. We forget that we are mortal and that death waits for us at some point. The moment the individual realizes that one’s time is limited, that life must end in death, then there is a total transformation of the person’s commitment and being toward life. This is what the phrase “bamidbar Sinai b’ohel moed” means to teach us. “Ohel”, “tent” symbolizes the sky, stretched over the earth like a tent, stretched over, beyond, not-in-this-world, transcendent. “Moed”, on the other hand, translates as “time”, with the full phrase Ohel Moed thus connoting: “there will be a time in which one will be not-in-this-world”, our lives are pointed skyward, beyond or after the world we live in now. Becoming conscious of this, alters life entirely- one achieves the state of “midbar”, recognition of ultimate annihilation leading to a lack of attachment to the ego. Once the immature illusion of immortality is overcome, the individual is open to Sinai, there where the Torah is given. Thus, through conscious awareness of the individual’s transience, new transcendent possibilities of meaning regarding life appear. Interesting how this anticipates by about one hundred years, the following signal paragraph of twentieth century thought:

Death is a possibility of Being that each Dasein must itself take over. With death Dasein stands before itself in its most proper potentiality for Being. What is involved in this possibility is nothing less that the being-in-the-world of Dasein as such…When Dasein stands before itself as this possibility it is fully directed towards its very own potentiality for Being…As potentiality for Being, Dasein cannot surmount the possibility fo death. Death is the possibility of the unqualified impossibility of Dasein. Death thus reveals itself as the most proper nonrelational insurmountable possibility… (M. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, section 50, p. 250).

Both the Meor V’shemesh and the Or Pnei Moshe were students of the Noam Elimelech, R. Elimelech of Lizensk. Thus it is interesting how the Noam Elimelech’s teaching on this verse is much more tragic and radical than those already presented. He explains that in the giving of the Torah specifically at Sinai, we are taught the extreme humility necessary to actualize the Torah’s message. The Torah was deliberately given at Sinai, as the midrash teaches, Sinai being a smaller hill, not the most lofty of hilltops, in order to relay this message. However, this type of extreme humility, this ego annihilation, runs the risk of being a psychologically destabilizing experience, one that can quickly bring on a debilitating depression. Thus, Sinai is linked to Ohel Moed in this verse, meaning that along with the depressive Sinai postion one must surround themselves (thus the term Ohel, tent) with Moed, which here is translated as festival, the combined phrase meaning a “joyful environment”. Here, I believe, in 1788, first appears the phrase more frequently associated with Breslov, that is, that it is a “mitzvsah”, a commandment to be “tamid b’simcha”, to maintain joy (I suppose I should point out that in an earlier source, in Shaar Hakavanot of the Ari, we find that it is forbidden to pray while in depression, because it eventually causes prayer to become unpleasant for the person, and the Likutei Amarim (Tanya, chapt. 26) proposes a form of cognitive psychotherapy, given that depression is of no value, one must create imaginative techniques to get rid of it).

We are commanded, then, to maintain joy as a bulwark against depression, which is so readily a fate for a soul that recognizes the Divine in the world. But the self-punitive soul may ask itself, how can I maintain joy when I know that I have sinned and am not worthy of joy? Thus, the verse continues, “b’echad lachodesh hasheni”- every individual (echad) soul is twice born- the first time at birth, the second renewal (which is like a total rebirth) at the time of repentance, which is a change of life equivalent to the exodus from Mitzrayim, from those inhibitory cathexes which accompany sin.

The Noam Elimelech also presents another reading which to me reveals a level of sensitivity to human suffering, particularly meaningful to those of us who deal with the gravely ill on a daily basis- he points out that even a parent who sees the suffering of their child, may attempt to ameliorate the child’s pain by offering candy or food or whatever they have at their disposition, but they know that they can’t ever really remove the pain and the trauma or undo the loss caused the beloved infant. Gd is aware of the sublime tragedy of the human condition, R. Elimelech explains, and Gd means to inform us that communication to humanity is not from some exalted and removed Olympus, but from within the midbar, from within the desert wasteland of our human existence itself. From within that world, through a relationship with Torah, with Gd’s speech act, we can erect an Ohel Moed, a shelter, an envelopment of joy, within the sad tragic realities of the human condition.

Taking into account the Shem MiShmuel’s explanation for this census, being that is was meant to teach us that each and every individual “counted” is as important as the “people” as a totality, that every individual life is part of the Text, then we find, derived from a seemingly trivial passage, a profound and affecting set of teachings, which are at the core of the Hassidic hermeneutic project.

II. Correspondances

L’homme y passe a travers des forets de symboles

Qui l’observant avec de regards familiers… (Baudelaire)

In this week’s perasha, among all the other actuarial information, we are presented, in 2:2, with the marching orders of the Israelite camp. The tribes are broken up into four, three tribes to a side, not counting the tribe of Levi, forming a large square, with each group maintaining its side of the compass. Noteworthy is the itemization by flags. Each group of three tribes has a flag ( or to some, each tribe). The Abravanel sees in this marching order a proper military administration, thus the stronger tribes such as Yehuda serve as the “avant garde” (his term, spelled out in Hebrew letters!) though he is willing to entertain that this set up may in some way also reflect a more cosmic order.

Order is important, of course, but the Midrash sees more in this segment than a description of martial discipline, particularly when regarding the matter of the flags:

Gd fixed His name in our name and made of us flags, as is written (2:2) ” Man upon his flag”.With great love did God envelop Israel, making for them flags as carried the Angels of the celestial host.When Gd revealed his presence at Sinai, thousands of angels descended with him, and all were with flags; when Israel saw this, they became desirous of flags as well.Great and awesome were Israel with their flags; all the nations stare and wonder: (Shir Hashirim 6:10) Who is this appearing like the dawn. (Midrash Rabba, Bamidbar 2)

It is clear, then, that aside from a proper alignment of tribes, etc, there is a unique message within the flags, which could be seen by the Midrash as being a source for great yearning. The Mei Hashiloach, without too much elaboration, states that the flags symbolize the ideal situation in which everyone is in their proper place, an idea akin to that in Plato’s Republic.

The Netivot Shalom goes in the opposite direction; he suggests that the reason each angel bears an individual flag is that each angel has its own unique mission; this idea, that each individual has a unique purpose, is what the people of Israel wanted to sense at their formative moment.

The reading that attracted my attention is that of the Shem Mishemuel, given the signifying nature he attributes to the flags as such. According to the ShMSh, the flags signify perfected states of holiness, such as pure Mercy, pure Judgement, etc, as stated in the mystical texts. However, until this time they are carried by the angels, who serve as intermediaries in carrying these effluxes from heaven to earth, and vice versa. The Israelites, however, wished to be intermediary free, they wanted to raise their own flags, and the recognition of the propriety of this desire is signified by the people receiving the command to raise flags on their own.

What struck me as interesting in this reading, is that the sign of attaining an unmediated state is the flag. A flag would then be a signifier, which itself is classically considered a mediated symbol, that is, a signifier stands in for an object that is no longer present. To Saussure, and semioticians until recent times, the signifier was itself an empty symbol, devoid of its own meaning and significant for meaning something else. In other words, the priority is given to the signified, with the signifier being only a secondary cipher.

The Shem Mishemuel, giving the signifier flag the status of representing non-mediation, seems to be in lines with the Derrida of “On Grammatology”, who prioritizes the signifier. The signifier, the text, the flag is the sign of unmediated encounter, unmediated thus always present, rather than some event in the past. The signifier is the message; hoisting the signifier gives meaning to the signified, rather than the reverse.

Self-portrait of the artist at work

It turns out that Art Spiegelman’s factually-based graphic novel, Maus, was not the first use of a comic book format relating to the Holocaust. Life? or Theatre? A Play with Music by Charlotte Salomon, a German-Jewish refugee who perished in Auschwitz at the age of 25, consisted of a remarkable series of 1300 vividly colorful frames (known technically as “gouches”). These were based on her life and that of her family, and completed in the year prior to her being arrested by the Gestapo in the south of France in September 1943.

These generally include text (mostly in German, some in French), either as explanatory captions or embedded within the paintings themselves. Salomon advances her tale as well through suggesting that it be staged as an opera, indicating lyrics and tunes. This conceit is perhaps inspired by her step-mother, who was in fact an opera singer, Paula Lindberg (née Paula Levy, a secular Jew, like Charlotte and her physician father, Albert).

Salomon’s work features two love stories, probably unrequited and perhaps fictionalized. One is the Charlotte character’s infatuation with Paula Lindberg’s voice coach, and the other is this same man’s (imagined?) longing for Ms. Lindberg.

What adds poignancy is that her art was a personal triumph over clinical depression, which apparently plagued the women on her mother’s side of the family. Her mother committed suicide during Charlotte’s early childhood

On Friday, May 28, I attended a lecture at St. Paul AME Church in Berkeley, California by Michelle Alexander, author of The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. It was an interesting chance that Alexander’s lecture coincided with the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling to uphold the mandate for California to reduce its prison overcrowding by at least 30,000 prisoners.

While I have been aware of systemic racism within the prison industrial complex thanks in part to the community education efforts of organizations in the S.F. Bay Area and my seminary education at Starr King School for the Ministry, I was alarmed by the facts she offered as well as the links between Jim Crow laws enacted before 1965 institutionalizing social, economic and other disadvantages based on race and today’s mass incarceration. By the end of the lecture, I became acutely aware of what people of faith can gain from understanding racism and mass incarceration as well as sharing with others their reflective milestones. Together, these practices can help to unhinge the moral structuring of white supremacy and identify ways to protect those labeled criminals in the U.S..

Alexander revealed her own process of personal transformation in the midst of political and legal work on racial justice for the American Civil Liberties Union in Oakland, California. Through her story, she showed the development of her consciousness-raising that eventually led her to claim mass incarceration is the “moral equivalent to Jim Crow.” She argues that in the U.S., we have re-created a racial caste system that labels people of color as criminals.

In this video of a lecture previously recorded to the one I saw this past week, Alexander offers a challenge to all those concerned about mass incarceration:

The popular atheist writer/blogger Greta Christina calls one of Hitchens’ ideas about religion a “terrible argument.”

You know that Christopher Hitchens is not a fan of religion. If you had any doubt you can read his best-selling book God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, watch him debate leading Christian and religious theologians (on one occasion four of them at a time) or read any of the numerous articles he’s written on the subject. Yet, despite his public outcry and comparison of religion to child abuse and labeling it a “menace to society” readers may be surprised to discover that he is actually indifferent to religion as long as it produces good behavior. Shocking I know. Furthermore he’s admitted that he’s not arguing “religion should or ever would die out in the world.”

In God is Not Great Hitchens describes a story of how a Muslim cab driver went to great lengths to return a large sum of money that his wife had left in his cab. When the the cab driver told him that it was his religious duty to return the money and refused a generous reward that Hitchens had offered it seems to have sparked a unique moment of shared humanity for Hitchens with a religious person. In response to the Muslim cab driver’s act of selfless service Hitchens makes a shocking admission, “And if all Muslims conducted themselves like the man who gave up more than a week’s salary in order to do the right thing, I could be quite indifferent to the weird exhortations of the Koran” (p. 188). Hitchens is essentially saying that as long as religion produces good behavior the strange and peculiar commandments, beliefs and ideas are not a problem. He could have said as he has said elsewhere that religion is not needed to do good or to know right from wrong. Or he could have acted on his statement, “I think religion should be treated with ridicule, hatred and contempt, and I claim that right.” But he didn’t. There was no ridicule for the cab driver. Instead, like many of us progressive religious people Hitchens demonstrated tolerance and a level of respect to this religious person and his beliefs.

Cairo is covered in celebratory graffiti. “Freedom,” is spray-painted on a brick wall downtown, alongside the image of two hands breaking a chain. “We Rule Egypt,” is scrawled near a grade school and “Enjoy the Revolution” is stenciled in big block letters in Midan Tahrir, Liberation Square. “No to Mubarak,” someone else wrote, “Free Egypt,” “God Bless Egypt,” and “Justice.”

The revolution is fresh in the city’s memory.

At night, the air is cool and the now-historic Tahrir Square is busy; it feels like a street party. You can have your face painted the colors of the Egyptian flag. There’s chanting, singing and a constant chorus of car horns, the steady rumble of the Cairo night. Sweet coffee, fresh popcorn and salted peanuts are for sale. Couples walk arm in arm and families roll out blankets to picnic.

“We’re proud to be Egyptians now,” Omar, a young Egyptian student tells me. He’s tall, wiry, and speaks English well. “Really, really proud. You saw what our country did, right?”

It’s past midnight and Omar is with a group of classmates. Omar is studying to be a pharmacist and his three friends are studying to be engineers. All four of them attend the University of Cairo, not far from here.

“We made history; we took control of the country.” Omar tells me. He gets a faraway look in his eyes when he speaks about the revolution. His voice softens.

Do you want to know more about Islam, but feel too shy to approach the stern-looking Muslims you see in Costco?

Are you tired of hearing about the world’s second-largest religion from hysterical media personalities who themselves have little or no firsthand experience on the subject?

Do you wish you could learn about Muslims without spending too much time or money on it?

There’s an app for that!

The new smartphone app called 365muslim was created specifically for a non-Muslim audience. It provides an interesting (and often entertaining) fact about Islam and Muslims each day for one year.

It’s purpose is to reach across the social barriers that still seem to be separating Muslims from mainstream American society and give simple, easy-to-verify information without proselytizing.

Currently 365muslim is available only for the iPhone, although an Android version is in the works. And yes, it’s FREE.

Here we are, at the close of the book of Vayikra, the book of Holiness, concerned primarily with what was intended to be the highest service, in the Temple, the sacrifices, and the priesthood. However, as the Bet Yaakov points out, this perasha does not begin as do most of the others, with a speech act to Moshe, that is, with the usual “And Gd spoke to Moshe”. Here, the perasha begins with ” Im behulotai tailaichu”, “if only you would walk in my ways and keep my commandments and make them happen”. This “if only”, then, is taken by the Bet Yaakov as describing not a command, but a prayer on Gd’s part, so to speak. It is not a command that is needed after the presentation of so much holiness, for a command can not actualize holiness; what is needed to make holiness happen is a prayer.

This perasha, then, is Gd’s prayer, in which he prays that all people shall listen to his word and embark upon the road to holiness. In this perasha Gd begs us to follow a proper lifestyle, with the blessings described later in this section serving as inducement, accompanied by curses as warning. So what are these blessings offered for living a life of spiritual piety? Oddly, very naturalistic rewards — that the rain will fall, the earth will give forth produce, etc. Very natural, gross physical rewards. Does that not seem a bit of a let down, an anti-climax? After all, we have just concluded an entire volume relating the Temple service seemingly concerned with achieving an other-worldly, transcendent holiness. How then to reconcile these seemingly very material rewards for spiritual achievement?

The Hasidic thinkers were troubled by this discrepancy and worked out several novel solutions with interesting ramifications for an approach to spirituality (some of which we have discussed regarding similar promises to Avraham in the essay on Perashat Lekh Lekha). One approach is to read out the materiality altogether from these material promises. The Noam Elimelech suggests that these blessings do not refer to material rewards at all, but refer to the spiritual essences embedded within nature and all within all things around us. The rewards are not the surface of the material satisfactions, rather the spiritual sparks within all physical things.

A second approach is to state that the blessings enumerated here aren’t meant as rewards at all for following the mitzvoth, rather, they are the natural outcomes of proper living. The Tiferet Shelomo argues that the rewards stated here cannot be rewards for the actual mitzvot done, for we are taught in BT Kiddushin 39:, “schar mitzva b’hai alma leka” “the reward for mitzvot is not in this world”, rather later, in the World to Come. The blessings spoken of here are for the “going” in Gd’s way, the “shmartem” prior to the “va’asitem”, the “concern”, the yearning to fulfil the commandments above and beyond the actual observance. For this yearning we are given physical rewards, but for the reward for the fulfillment of the commandments themselves, there is no material reward, there is much more, but it is on another plane. However, there needs to be, in the material world, a sign, an outcome that supports proper living, if proper living is a cause, there must be an effect in the natural world. What is the outcome that allows us to gauge how closely we are in alignment with the proper way to live? He answers that when we live correctly, our correct manner of living is reflected in a proper order in nature. These aren’t rewards so much as signs of proper living. Our actions, when correct, make the world around us correspondingly correct. Thus, these manifestations of correct order in nature are not actually rewards, but a reciprocal alignment of nature to our actions: If we keep our lives in the proper order, then the world will be maintained in a proper order. The world about us is not so much a gift but a direct consequence of our actions (there is a similar teaching from the Baal Shem Tov regarding Gd’s response to us; the Baal Shem Tov explains the phrase “Hashem Tzilcha”, “Gd is your shadow” as meaning that Gd’s actions are a parallel reflection of our actions, we make choices in how we deal with the world around us and so does Gd “shadow” our choices and actions). A personal anecdote. Several year ago, while leading the Jewish community of Juneau, Alaska, for the High Holidays, we studied the prayers together. I had the traditional prayer texts I brought with me from Seattle, whereas the community had the Wings of Prayer prayerbook, with which I was not previously familiar. I was unaware that in the Wings of Prayer, the sections of the Shema (the central prayer of “Hear O Israel”, specifically the section beginning “v’haya im shamoa”, were condensed, and the verses dealing with reward and punishment (verses which are very similar to the ones in the Torah portion of Behukotai under discussion). At that time I presented a similar reading of those expurgated verses to the one I am presenting here, reading the apparent reward and punishment passages as representing a direct response and corollary to human activity. As Juneau is the state capital of Alaska, many members of the community work as environmental activists and lawyers. “Perhaps in New York City the idea of nature responding to human activity seems primitive”, someone suggested, “but out here we know that if you strip mine the land, and exploit all the natural resources, you will cause acid rain to fall, and destroy the environment”. After these discussions, the community requested that for the Rosh Hashana service, instead of using the abridged text in the Wings of Prayer book, we photocopy the full text of the Shema and at the service, one of the environmental lobbyists in the community read the full text out loud in English and Hebrew.

The Kedushat Levi and the Bat Ayin (student of the Noam Elimelech who setttled in Israel in the 1830s) extend this approach from rewards in the natural world back to the world of human society, so that our verse’s admonition to “walk in Gd’s ways” must lead to a proper and harmonious social system. If we live properly and harmoniously, emulating Gd’s ways, then Gd’s ways will be reflected in a betterment of society — by fulfilling the commandment of giving charity, for example; the blessing will be that we will have adequate food and supplies to be able to give to the poor and improve the lot of all people.

In summary, then, we see how the end goal and purpose of all the spiritual and ritual practices enumerated in the Book of Vayikra, the reward and sign of the spiritual life — is the transformation and rectification, in a corresponding manner, of both the natural order and of human society.

As a “footnote” for those inclined towards the contemporary analysis of the body as embedded geographically and what it implies in terms of “situation”, we find an interesting approach to imagery of walking used in this verse. Our verse (22:3) states:

If in my statutes (“hukim”) you walk, and my commandments you guard, and you shall do them…

The Meor Eynaim links the choice of type of law singled out, that of the “chok”, a mode of law traditionally described as being based on faith, such as the red heifer ceremony, rather than on any commemorative or civil function to the act of “walking”. Faith is described in BT Makkot 24. as being that upon which everything “stands”: Habakuk came and stood everything upon one (principle): “The righteous in their faith shall live” (Habakuk 2:4).

Faith, explains the Meor Eynaim, as that upon which all stands is, then, equivalent to the legs, upon which the individual stands. Hence, one who keeps the chukim, the faith-based statutes, can be described as one who truly walks. Here, then, is an embodied reading of walking as an act of faith.

The Mei Hashiloach, on the other hand, contrasts an embodied “standing” to the non-situated “walking”. When Gds word is not deeply implanted in one’s heart, then one can remain in the state of “standing”, as any challenge, any potential spiritual hurdle, must be avoided, lest it cause one to fall. However, when a person empties his or her heart to all but Gd, when one self-annihilates the ego, then one transcends being “situated”, and thus dis-embodied has the ability to expand into and influence one’s surroundings; the ability to “walk” is the ability to move about and face the world fully without overwhelming fear of the challenges real life places before us.

The Kedushat Levi, in a similar manner, explains this verse with its imagery of walking as a reassurance for attempting spiritual growth even if one is unsure of one’s own abilities. The Kedushat Levi reads our verse in parallel with a teaching from the early midrash known as the Tana Devei Eliyahu:

‘as it states in Tana Devei Eliyahu: one who is “shoneh halachot” (who studies the Torah laws) every day is promised [the world to come]. This refers to the Righteous. And this is the meaning of “shoneh halachot”- one who every day alters (shoneh- the word in Hebrew means both ‘to study’ and ‘to change’) his goings (halichotav- here the word halacha, law, is read as being derived from the infinitive “lalechet”, to walk), that is, every day is “holech”, journeys, to a higher and higher level, then that one is certainly one who earns the World to Come’ (Kedushat Levi, Behukotai)

Thus, here “walking” is seen as the stepping forward in freedom, a progressive “journey towards”, a “way beyond” the fixed condition of spiritual inertia. Embark upon this journey, says the verse, according to the Kedushat Levi’s reading. The second clause of this verse is meant to encourage us- take these steps, take this journey, even if one occasionally stumbles and even sometimes fails upon the route to spiritual growth and world betterment, from the perspective of Gd, it will still be credited as though “v’asitem otam”, as if the goals had been actualized and this praxis achieved. The will to be better already makes the world better, starting upon the journey already brings the end of the journey to realization.

Thus this text, read in this manner, is a sensible and appropriate way to end the Book of Vayikra, the book in which the details of holiness are so central: Holiness, defined as the state in which one journeys through life with the goal of positively transforming both material and spiritual life, is already achieved — by simply taking the first step in that direction.

This week’s perasha begins,

“And Gd spoke to Moshe on Mount Sinai, saying: Speak to the people of Israel and tell them that when they arrive in the land I am giving them, they shall let the land rest as a Sabbath for the Lord”.

Rashi, quoting the Sifra, asks why specifically this mitzvah (commandment) of shemitta, the Sabbatical year in which the land is meant to be left fallow, is linked to Sinai, of all the commandments, and the answer given is a heuristic one — the general statement of the Sabbatical laws was given back in Perashat Mishpatim, while the details are stated here, yet both are linked to Sinai, thus teaching us that all the mitzvot, both their general statement and the exact technical details, were given by Gd on Sinai. Similarly, the Avodat Yisrael uses this same Sifra to teach that all mitzvot must bring one to a state akin to that of being back at Sinai; one should reach as state through the vehicle of mitzvot as though one were once again standing as at the initial revelation of the Torah. In both cases, the teaching is based on the superfluous mention of Sinai here, but the deeper question is still unanswered, that is, why, of all the laws that could have been chosen, is the set of rules dealing with the Sabbatical year, Shemitta, singled out as being linked to Sinai? Is there something unique that we understand in comtemplating the Sabbatical year that merits a special connection to the Revelation at Sinai?

We will argue that there is a lesson contained within the concept of the Shemitta year that merits this linkage to Sinai, that shemitta will define in various ways our relation to the world we live in and the people we live amongst. By way of definition, shemitta is the agricultural Sabbatical year, and Yovel is the Jubilee year, years in which the land is left fallow, slaves are liberated from servitude, and ancestral homes return to their initial owners. Upon first glance, these shemitta laws seem to orient towards an almost nihilistic disregard for the free market, and all forms of commercial activity. All agricultural work comes to a dead halt, and in the Yovel, all real estate transactions are voided.

In order to develop a deeper perception of these laws, I would like to make use of the concepts of commodification, or reification. Marxist influenced thinkers talk about how the human effort behind products, labor, is alienated by the exchange value of the item produced as a thing in itself. Things we need are reduced from their use value, that is, the value of core items in themselves as needed for existence, and their exchange value, meaning an emphasis upon what such an item can be traded for. Commodities thus become “fetishized” as the human cost required for the manufacture of any item is forgotten, and thus, seeing items as removed from human production and need, we become seduced by “laws” and theory. We begin to imagine that economic laws, which are postulates, seem to take on a real existence that in themselves determine trade, etc. As Lukacs explains, there is a reciprocal process whereby objects become fetishized, that is, things become elevated to the level of independent commodities subject to market laws, while at the same time consciousness becomes reified, that is, the human cost behind production drops to the level of things. Objects come “alive” whereas humanity becomes a “thing”. Eventually, even culture and society become mere products of market forces, determined by the dominant forms of production. We think we are desiring and thinking independently, whereas in reality what is driving us is a product of advertising forces and marketing. Our core ideas of our own individual existence are determined for us by market forces. We like to believe that our truest most authentic core is determined freely by our subjectivity, but Althusser defines the term “subject” in a dialectical manner:

“The whole mystery of this effect lies in the ambiguity of the term subject. In the ordinary use of the term, subject in fact means: 1. A free subjectivity, a center of initiative, author of and responsible for its actions; 2. A subjected being, who submits to a higher authority, and therefore is stripped of all freedom except that of accepting freely his submission’ the individual is interpellated as a subject in order that he shall submit freely to the commandments of the Subject; i.e. in order that he shall accept his subjection, i.e. in order that he shall make the gestures and actions of his subjection ‘all by himself’. There are no subjects except by and for their subjection’” (from Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays).

In other words, the apparently free subject, the “subjective”, is in actuality a secondary manifestation of the surrounding society’s norms and desires. One’s thinking is not purely “subjective”, as we like to believe, rather it is to a large degree “subject”, controlled and produced by, the dominant language and beliefs of society. However, it has recently become clear that this model is a bit simplistic. Even the dominant society, the reigning paradigm, can become itself “subject” and thus be altered by new forces which arise. Much of what is labeled “production”, which in the classical Marxist model was believed to drive consumption, to be the force behind demand, is in our society actually driven and altered by the desires of the consumer, a phenomenon called “social demand”. Thus much of the market now, for example, with the concurrent change in emphasis regarding the image and role of women in contemporary society, is driven by the newly felt power of the women’s market; the woman’s needs and situation within the system were entirely overlooked in Marxist thought (the domestic sphere, for example, was not at all taken into account within the framework of the “surplus value” concept; cf. Myers, in The BLOCK Reader in Visual Culture).

Thus we see that even forces which appear to be liberating and transformational can themselves become subjecting forces within society. The Hassidic thinkers on our perasha read Shemitta as being so central to our relation to all that is around us, that it must be linked to Sinai. This mitzvah provides a route by which, to quote Benjamin, “things are liberated from the drudgery of usefulness”.

The Sefat Emet explains how this “liberation from usefulness” can be accomplished: by turning everything we encounter over to Gd, which, for example, is the definition of “rest” on Shabbat — an annihilation of our desire to control our surroundings. However, renunciation is not a simple matter. There remains the risk that instead of a liberation of all things through holiness, we end up with an exploitation of these sacralized objects based on our own needs masquerading as religious praxis. On the surface there may be the appearance of religious renunciation, but in actuality there is an entirely opposite motivation behind, ranging from the desire to appear holy to some deep seated need for self flagellation. To prevent this, the Sefat Emet teaches, we have shemitta, where even those things through which mitzvoth are accomplished, for example, food, etc, we leave alone. Shemitta teaches us that even the will to elevate and sublate all things into the sacred- must sometimes be surrendered! Thus we must desist even from dealing with the land in any instrumental fashion at all. Levinas and Battaille have shown us how even lofty goals, when pursued with disregard for the Other, can lead to disastrous results (we have discussed this in the past with regards to Heidegger). The dangers of an otherwise lofty concept such as nationalism have been played out so frequently that one would think humanity would have learned this lesson by now, yet the refugee problem only seems to be growing worldwide. Crusades for the “good” have in the not too distant past been seen to rapidly transform into the most horrible evil (Nietzche’s critique of Christian history provides an excellent model: “the Christian goal of eradicating Evil has made the world Evil”). Even the will to improve the world must be subject to critique. Thus, even our attempts to harness the world for the sake of the good must be resisted periodically.

Thus, one can say that keeping shemitta serves to realign our relationship to the world, to sever it from mere instrumentality, and demands from us recognition of the Other, even as we think we are acting in that Other’s best interest. The Degel Machane Ephraim reads this. He quotes the summation passage of Vayikra 25:23 — the land shall not be sold because the land is Mine, and you are gerim v’toshavim, dwellers on the land. The DME explains, that the unique situation of the refugee or stranger is that any interaction with the more privileged “normal” inhabitants of the land is by definition strained and based on suspicion or hostility, but when refugees runs into one another, then they immediately can establish a dialogue based on an understanding of each other’s predicament. The DME states that Gd, being unique and unlike anyone “in the world”, and thus existentially lonely (and of course, the central theme of Jewish mysticism is that Gd is in exile, divided, in a sense a refugee from the rectified state of the cosmos) and is thus also a stranger in this world. So really, the path to dialogue with the Other, the ultimate Refugee, is to become ourselves, or at least to somehow identify, with the Refugee. And the state of being a refugee was well described by Hannah Arendt in her work, We Refugees, from 1943:

…For him history is no longer a closed book, and politics ceases to be the privilege of the Gentiles. He knows that the banishment of the Jewish people in Europe was followed immediately by that of the majority of the European peoples. Refugees expelled from one country to the next represent the avant-garde of their people…

The stateless one, the person who finds themselves outside of the “normal” conventions of society, beyond the illusions of stability provided by concepts such as nationalism, who recognizes that at any moment one’s condition might suddenly be that of the refugee, that is the one who can most closely relate to the spiritual, the divine.

This section, dealing with the laws of Shemitta and Yovel, concludes with the following verse, Vayikra 25:55 — “For to me are the Israelites servants, my servants that I have redeemed from Egypt”. The Ohev Yisrael explains that there are no instances where a person referred to as a “servant to a tzaddik”, only a servant to Gd. This is so, he explains, because that state, of servitude to the righteous, cannot exist. A human being can be an “eved Hashem”, a servant of Gd, but never be an “eved hatzadik”, the servant of a tzaddik. Why is this? Because the definition of a servant is one who does something in place of another person. However, there is no spiritual or moral obligation that one person can discharge in the place of another, there is no way to relieve even the tzaddik of his or her responsibility. I cannot give charity, or work towards social justice in someone’s stead; he or she would still be mandated to do everything in their power to improve the lot of humanity. I do not absolve him or her of their responsibilities. However, we can be “servants of Gd”. Gd’s obligation is to feed the poor, promote social justice, and make the world a better place for all beings. This we can be charged to do in Gd’s place, in fact we must do so and not wait for Gd alone to better the world. Since we must, in a sense, stand in for Gd, whose responsibility it is, as it were, to better the world, we can assume the title of Eved Hashem, Gd’s servant, since we are charged to stand in for Gd in ensuring welfare for the other.

The laws of Shemitta and Yovel, then, teach us that we must renounce thinking that we are Gd’s agents when it involves subjugation of the Other, which teaches us to resist using even the good in an instrumental fashion. The only instance in which we can feel that we are acting in a Godlike manner — is when we are involved in making another person’s life better. And for this reason, out of all the commandments, this one is linked to Sinai.

As a postscript, there is an interesting reading by R. Zadok Hacohen of Lublin, in the book Pri Tzadik, which turns our initial question regarding Shemittah and Sinai on its head. This teaching reflects one of the central radicalisms of Hassidic thought, in its sensitivity to the fragile state of humanity even at the highest levels of spirituality, where one would assume a kind of safety. R. Zadok explains that shemitta is a route by which humanity can recover its ideal state of spiritual transcendence by being freed for a period of time from the material needs of the body represented by agriculture. It is the obstacles created by the mundane needs of physical being that obstruct the soul from reaching the spiritual heights one is capable of. The best example of pure spiritual existence unimpeded by material needs is that of the Israelites in the desert, who subsisted upon manna for 40 years; it was in this state that they experienced the revelation at Sinai, prior to their spiritual fall in the sin of the golden calf. Thus our initial question is inverted by R. Zadok — how is it, that while in the ideal state the people attained at Sinai, that shemitta, which represents the way back to that perfected state from a more material state, was taught? Why was the path to a perfected state taught to those already at such spiritual heights? R. Zadok derives from this midrashic question a rather profound lesson on the fragility of spiritual attainment. The reason that shemittah was linked to Sinai was that Gd at the outset recognized that humanity would have its ups and downs, that perfection was not a stable possibility for the people, and that all the dictates and commandments would be necessary to shield humanity from themselves. The example given is that of the archetypical first man, Adam, who mystics portray as having been at the highest level of spirituality, living easily in a world in which all material needs were accounted for. The mystics (such as Luzzatto) state that the physical world of pre-sin Adam was what we’d call now the spiritual, and that his spiritual world is beyond our current capacity of cognition. And that was largely because at that point in time, pre-sin Adam was entirely without sin. However, he did sin, and most importantly — was prepared to sin even at this exalted spiritual state. In other words, reaching great spiritual heights does not prevent great spiritual collapse, it is human to rise and fall, and if one can suddenly find oneself a refugee in the material world, it is also a reality in the spiritual world. One can find oneself dispossessed, a refugee even to one’s self, but the linkage between Sinai and Shemitta reminds us that there is always a way home again.

In the wake of Osama Bin Laden’s killing a very active discussion emerged on the email forum used by the community of trainers certified with the Center for Nonviolent Communication. One thread of this conversation has been about responses to the particular event, and especially how to relate to the people celebrating Bin Laden’s death. This exploration was the primary inspiration for my previous entry (to which I still intend to come back). Another thread has focused on a more general question: can killing in any way be compatible with nonviolence?

This is by far not a new dilemma in human affairs. The Dalai Lama, one of the living icons of nonviolence, also engaged with this same question, citing a Buddhist scripture that suggests killing may sometimes be necessary, so long as it’s done with utmost compassion and in extreme and rare circumstances. Whether or not the stringent criteria implicit in the story were met in this circumstance, the Dalai Lama’s essential claim is that Buddhism, in principle, is not categorically opposed to killing.

Others, including Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist leader who is also deeply associated with peace and nonviolence, and others who embrace a consciousness of nonviolence, are suggesting that killing is never to be done. For some, true nonviolence entails the willingness to die rather than to kill.

Earlier today an NVC trainer from Germany who is also a Sikh posted on the email forum, and included this sentence: “Killing seems to be part of nature – the question to me really is, what is the consciousness behind it.”

With some significant changes and additions, I am posting here my response to this post. This is an invitation to engage with this question, with all questions, with complexity and with love. In our times, with what we are facing, I don’t believe that simple one-dimensional answers will do. I sense that paradox and complexity are essential for our survival.

There is one paid position opening at Tikkun for the Executive Assistant to Rabbi Lerner. This is a one year position starting in late June / early July that involves many various skills and responsibilities as well as an orientation of support, service, and dedication to Rabbi Lerner, his work, and a spiritual progressive worldview. Think you know the right person? Send them to the job posting.

We also have many exciting internship and volunteer opportunities with Tikkun, the Network of Spiritual Progressives, and Rabbi Lerner. Have a couple hours a week to transcribe Rabbi Lerner’s Torah Commentary? Want to help build campaigns for the ESRA and GMP? Want to combine your passion for activism, spirituality, and social networking online? There are many opportunities and ways to help build our presence and spread our spiritual progressive worldview through today’s preferred mediums of communication.

Check out the job and the available internships here on Tikkun.org.

Former managing editor Dave Belden, Associate Editor Peter Gabel, and I were honored to receive the Utne Independent Press Award won by Tikkun Wednesday night at a ceremony attended by staff from some of the most significant magazines in the United States (Managing Editor Alana Price was unable to attend but was with us in spirit). The awardees were selected from some 1,300 magazines reviewed.

Tikkun won in the category of Best Body/Spirit Coverage. The other nominees were: The Christian Century, Commonweal, Geez, Resurgence, Sojourners, Tricycle, and Yes!Magazine. In accepting the award, we want to acknowledge the excellence of the other nominee magazines as well!

The irony: we are unable to afford to print our Summer issue for lack of funds, or to remain in print.

Pres. Obama’s much publicized speech on the Middle East at the State Department on May 19th caused a stir by advocating an Israeli-Palestinian peace agreement based upon the pre-June 1967 borders (the so-called Green Line), with modifications in the form of “land swaps” negotiated between the parties. This has been the general framework that moderate and pro-peace Israelis and Palestinians have promoted since at least 1995, when it was realized that most West Bank settlers live in thickly-populated “settlement blocs” contiguous with the Green Line. Unfortunately, too many people (most importantly, Prime Minister Netanyahu) seized upon Obama’s statement about the pre-June ’67 lines, disregarding his call for trading territory.

That Netanyahu and so many others found this controversial, illustrates how far we’ve come from a peace agreement almost arrived at in 2008. It also indicates that the US needs to be more assertive in helping the parties finally achieve peace.

Jeremy Ben-Ami

I awoke on Friday morning, May 20, to watch Jeremy Ben-Ami, the president of J Street, on Democracy Now, and I’m glad I did. He performed well under difficult circumstances, being double-teamed by anti-Israel author Norman Finkelstein and Palestinian-American human rights lawyer Noura Erakat, who argued that international law and justice demand that Israel simply withdraw to the pre-’67 lines, without requiring an exchange of territories.

The program led me to some insights. For one thing, although he does not advocate Israel’s destruction (as many assume), Norman Finkelstein seems emotionally consumed by hostility toward Israel. (He’s suffered as a result–e.g., not obtaining tenure at a university–but he is a caustic polemicist and not a fair-minded scholar.) He–along with the very articulate and impressive Ms. Erakat–epitomizes doctrinaire and rigid thinking in insisting that Israel totally withdraw to the pre-June ’67 lines.

I thought I would write a possibly farewell post in case any of us are going anywhere on May 21, 2011 that would take us beyond the blogosphere. For those of you who haven’t heard, the Rapture is supposed to occur this Saturday at 6:00 local time. If you think you are going and are worried about left behind pets , there are avowed atheists standing ready to help.

I personally have been much more concerned about the loss of my sense of smell as a result of a lingering sinus infection and/or allergies. It was missing for more than a week, sending me into a perhaps unreasonable panic that it would never return. The last six months have been extremely stressful, but this deprivation tipped me over some edge, as infirmities often will. Think of Job stoically enduring the loss of his family and all his wealth. But when he is afflicted with boils he sits down in the ash pit and begins his famous rant.

Yesterday morning, I smelled my coffee again. Everything fell into perspective. Who cares if we are in the midst of a messy move to High Valley, the yard awash in mud where the septic system remains unfinished? Who cares whether or not we can afford to maintain it or will resolve all the complex issues with our neighbors? Who cares about the toll the economy is taking on us and everyone else, the extreme weather of which we are having our share and which is almost certainly linked to global climate change? (BTW haven’t the tribulations already begun?)

We at Tikkun magazine commend President Obama for his call for the US to align with democratic forces in the Middle East, and for a resumption of negotiations between Israel and Palestine based on the 1967 borders, his recognition that the Palestinian people have the right to govern themselves and reach their potential in a sovereign and contiguous state, and his re-affirmation of Israel’s right to complete security.

However, we share with many in the peace movement a deep disappointment that President Obama is not willing to present a detailed US plan for what a just and lasting agreement would look like, and then spend time selling that plan to the people of Israel and Palestine (even though that will require going over the heads of the leaders of both countries).

Instead, by putting forward only a small fragment of what a genuine peace accord would include, President Obama set himself up for the response that Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu gave: that giving up the West Bank settlements would endanger Israeli security. Only a full blown plan including the details of how to provide security and justice for both sides, will advance the peace process–and the absence of such a plan was precisely what made the Oslo Accord signed under President Clinton ultimately a failure. President Obama must not hide behind the empty slogan that no one but the Israelis and Palestinians can determine the contours of the peace they seek–this merely avoids what the peace movements have asked for, namely his strong intervention to win over the hearts of Israelis and Palestinians to a peace plan that he could propose (e.g. one based on the proposal of Tikkun magazine). Vigorously seeking to build support for such a plan by visiting and presenting it directly to the Israeli and Palestinian people, does not constitute imposing a solution, but introducing concrete ideas that could re-invigorate the voice of the peaceful in both Israel and Palestine.

President Obama was foolish to describe Palestinian attempts to gain recognition at the United Nations this coming September as an attempt to “delegitimate” Israel. That Palestinian strategy is completely non-violent and helps clarify to Israel without any anti-Semitic elements the strong desire of the world community that Israel should return to the pre-’67 boundaries with some minor border changes that will allow Israel to incorporate some of the West Bank settlements closest to Jerusalem.

At a time when people are suffering from the economic downturn, political battles are still raging over how to cut the budget and the nation is still involved in several wars, we believe our nation’s priorities need to change. FY 2011′s military budget is the largest since the end of World War II, even though the Cold War is over and there is no longer the threat of aggression from a major power. The purpose of the “Move the Money” conference is to help change our nation’s priorities by promoting the reduction of military spending by at least 25% and “Moving the Money” from nuclear weapons, their support systems and unnecessary defense items to humanitarian, social and environmental needs. Ultimately all nations will need to greatly reduce their military spending and eliminate nuclear weapons in order to address human needs and make the world safe for our children. Here’s the info:

The Canadian election is two weeks behind us in the rear view mirror of history, perhaps offering enough distance for a sense of perspective. There’s agreement on what happened, pending a few recounts, but questions of why it happened and the future implications are more complex. Start with what we know: this election was the most dramatic in memory, and no one is saying any more that Canadian politics are boring. Once it was only Québec which would swing dramatically from socially conservative to the liberal, or from the most religious to the least. This year Québec lead the way, but there were other changes everywhere.

The logical place to start is by looking at the results. Because there are five national political parties in Canada, it’s possible to win a seat with far less than 50% of the vote. The party with the most seats gets the first shot at forming the government, and the head of that party gets to be Prime Minister. Here are both the number of seats won and the popular vote in this year’s election, and in the 2008 election. There are some fascinating changes, for every party. Here’s the data; analysis after the cut.

by Paul Von Blum

Dominique Moody is a visual griot, an artistic storyteller whose imaginative use of found objects and rubble from the streets of Los Angeles and elsewhere has propelled her into the front ranks of contemporary African American artists in the early years of the twenty-first century. Moody, whose major visual disability makes her legally blind, transforms trash into treasure by assembling the remains from architecture, tree branches, bottles, discarded shoes, and other everyday items into some of the most engaging artworks in the contemporary era. Her three-dimensional pieces explore her personal and family history that reflects her nomadic history from her birth in Germany in a military family through her odyssey of living at more than forty addresses in various locations throughout her fifty-four years.

Telling Stories of the Family Tree. Click on the photo above to see more art by Dominique Moody.

Her works are simultaneously individual and social and make her the heir of some of the most influential African American artists of recent times.

Moody herself is the first to acknowledge the profound influences of her distinguished visual predecessors. Los Angeles is the site of the Watts Towers, perhaps the most famous example of folk art in the world. Simon Rodia’s majestic towers were constructed from steel pipes and rods, wrapped with wire mesh, and decorated with such found objects as bottles, scrap metal, sea shells, broken glass, pottery fragments, and bits of ceramic tile. Known to millions of Southern Californians and countless visitors, the Watts Towers are the quintessential example of turning trash into treasure. But fewer people, including scholars and professional art historians, are fully aware of how Rodia’s monumental achievement helped catalyze an artistic renaissance that has stunning implications for African American and other neglected creative communities well into the twenty-first century.

Jesus teaching ("Sermon on the Mount" by Carl Bloch)

And he said to them: once there was a country, an Evangelical social justice organization, and a Protestant denomination. The country considered passing a law allowing people to be put to death or imprisoned because they loved people of the same sex. The social justice organization refused to run an advertisement supporting full inclusion in churches for same-sex loving people. The denomination, after struggling with the issue, changed its laws so that same-sex loving people could be clergy members if they were of good morality and character, and loved G-d and neighbor. Now, I ask you: which of these three was enacting the Kingdom of G-d?

And one disciple said, the country that was eager to follow to the letter Leviticus 20:13, indicating their utter commitment to G-d’s Law. And he said, the Kingdom is a realm of life, not death; of love, not hatred; of binding up the broken, not breaking the despised. The country was not enacting the Kingdom of G-d. And the disciples muttered among themselves and fell silent.