Vayikra

Last week we closed the door on the book of Exodus. We uttered the words said at the end of each of the five books of the Torah – “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek – be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened.” The narraties of Genesis and Exodus led us from Cration to destruction, and back to creation. From the confinement of slavery to freedom. From doubt and despair to promise. Yes, chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek – be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened.

This week as we open Vayikra, or Leviticus, we also settle in to the new reality in our current world. Cars stand idly in driveways. Neighbors remain behind closed doors. The song, “Happy Birthday” is sung to no one in particular, multiple times a day by people near and far, as bars of soap are shrinking. Everyday foods and supplies that we but a week ago took for granted are empty from shelves. And the list goes on. A week ago we were strong, chazak, but how long can we endure before our durability gives way?

In these days during which we and many of our loved ones struggle, we still yearn for human touch. Celebrities and commoners alike are allowing us into their homes thanks to platforms such as modern technology. We are getting phone calls from friends who we may not have heard from in awhile. Virtual family reunions are being held. We are planning for the inevitable private seder two weeks from now. And we are “reaching out and touching someone” like we’ve never done before. We are certainly drawing on our inner creativity to fill our souls as we welcome this Shabbat.

Tradition teaches that on Shabbat we are given an extra soul, a neshama yeteira. Having that extra soul is meant to give us peace of mind and heart, and comfort. We breathe in the joy of the day with our neshima, our breath, and try to hold onto it as long as possible. We long for a time when we will enjoy a world of eternal peace. And yet, right now, it may just be good enough to have one day in the week that we can disengage from the reality of what’s going on “out there.”

Our parasha this week goes into detail about five kinds of sacrifices – a real uplifting way to start a book of the Torah! And yet, those sacrifices are part of the foundation of ritual practice that continues today, albeit not with animals, grains, and the like. The Hebrew word for sacrifice, korban, has the same root as the word for “close,” karov. Rather than physical sacrifice, we use prayer to bring us closer to God. But in times like this, what words can we draw from, that will bring God’s presence into our midst? While we are commanded not to ask for favors on Shabbat, but to give thanks and praise, how can we elevate our souls and find that which is a blessing in our lives? Here are a few things that I am blessed with this week:

*I’ve been reading bedtime stories to my grandchildren using Facetime.

*My refrigerator and freezer are full

*I have a roof over my head

*I am surrounded by my fur-babies

*I have been able to connect with family, friends, and colleagues via phone, email, and other media

*I can see the buds of spring emerging in my back yard, and I can spend time in the sunshine

*I am in good health, and everyone in my immediate circle of friends and family are also healthy.

Yes, we need the reassurance that God is near, and that we will be strong enough to do what needs to be done in order to squelch this plague that threatens the destruction of countless lives. How can we pray through our tears, our fears, and our own feelings of inadequacy?

The late Debbie Friedman is quoted as saying: “Because music is in a familiar genre, people ar able to make the connection between music and text. The real power is in the poetry of the liturgy, how moving and stirring it can be, connecting us to our deepest and most precious ideas, hopes, and fears.”

The year was 1985. Harry Belafonte had thought for some time to have a song recorded by the most well-known artists in the music industry with proceeds donated to a new organization called United Support of Artists for Africa. The non-profit foundation would then feed and relieve starving people in Africa, specifically Ethiopia, where around one million people died during the country’s 1983-85 famine. Thousands, if not millions of people, gathered around the country in an effort to hold hands across the country. My husband, my daughter and I stood under a bridge to participate. It remains one of the most memorable tikkun olam (healing the world) experiences of my life. We sang the song, we felt our souls connect with others, and together we did what we could to conquer. If ever there was a song that could be transformed into  prayer, this was the one. I invite you to sing along with the voices of those who carried the melody through us to God. May we, by the time we finish this book of our Torah, be able to stand physically together, strong and resolute, hand in hand, having saved our own lives and the world:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9BNoNFKCBI