The 1st Commandment – DeColonizing Time

“Nothing new happens to the sun; only to the light of the moon does something new occur.”
– Ibn Ezra on Shemot 12:2

We start in the middle. Terrifying plagues are still building. Even the Egyptians are begging the Hebrew enslaved be released, all while Pharaoh’s hardened heart refuses to yield. We have come to the darkest and most illuminating point in the Exodus escape from narrowness.

There are 3 plagues left : the locusts, the darkness, and the killing of the first born. Initially these plagues don’t seem connected – one plague of food-destroying bugs, one plague of several days without sun, and the ultimate suffering of divine mass murder. And yet these plagues will draw us into the secret moment of redemption, that time cautiously stated as around midnight “כַּחֲצֹ֣ת” kachatzot.

The locusts come first, Moshe warning the swarm “will cover the visible land and none will be able to see the earth.” And when Pharoah refuses they may leave with their children, the locusts are driven in by winds in a dense mass “כָּבֵ֣ד מְאֹ֔ד” – kaveid m’od, echoing one of the root verbs used to describe Pharoah’s too heavy heart. They darken the land “וַתֶּחְשַׁ֣ךְ הָאָ֒רֶץ֒” vtech’shakh ha’aretz with their heavy and ravenous presence.

The next time Pharaoh vacillates, rescinding another possibility of the people to leave, g-d declares a palpable darkness “וְיָמֵ֖שׁ חֹֽשֶׁךְ” v’yameish chosekh – a deep dark thick enough to feel. The Egyptians can’t see each other and can’t even move, so pitch black and unlit is it even at the mid day. For three days, and Rashi says six days!, the Egyptians suffer as stiff and unbending as their king.

The last plague is shockingly announced by g-d in Pharaoh’s own courtroom. Thus far haShem has announced plagues and predictions to Their prophets and left message delivery to them. G-d leaps suddenly into the moment, right after Pharaoh’s angry prediction that “the day you see my face, you will die!”, right after Moshe turns to leave, anger flaring between. HaShem warns of the final plague, the “loudest cry” in all of Egypt – the death of the first born. This plague will arrive “around midnight,” “כַּחֲצֹ֣ת” kachatzot.

These last three plagues increase darkness over the land; physically they block the view of the land, immobilize the sight of the citizens, and bring us deeper and deeper into the very midst of midnight, into the focal point of darkness and our tale. The plagues have been a show of divine power and an assault on Egypt’s land and citizens. Pharoah was a source of man’s control over nature, but these torments show that no human “god” controls natural and seemingly super natural events. These last three increasing shifts into darkness cloud Pharoah’s assumed embodiment as the sun.

After every locust in Egypt has been hurled into the yam suf – a not so subtle reminder of what awaits the chariots in next week’s parsha – and Moshe announces the final plague, the people are given instructions for what this night of guarding “לֵ֣יל שִׁמֻּרִ֥ים” leil shimurim, will be. This is the moment, before the parting of the Reed Sea, before the thundering revelation of mountainous weight, we receive our first commandment. It’s so small and easy to miss, followed as it is by such a Pesach-dik litany of To-Dos. And yet, there it is.

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְאֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֔ן בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לֵאמֹֽר׃
הַחֹ֧דֶשׁ הַזֶּ֛ה לָכֶ֖ם רֹ֣אשׁ חֳדָשִׁ֑ים רִאשׁ֥וֹן הוּא֙ לָכֶ֔ם לְחׇדְשֵׁ֖י הַשָּׁנָֽה׃
And haShem spoke to Moshe and to Aaron in the land of Egypt saying, “This month will be to you all the head of months, it is the first of the months of the year to you all.”

G-d announces to both Moshe and Aaron this first powerful mitzvah, Their first commandment to us, Their first צוותא “connection.” This storied and soon to be famous month, the month of Nisan, will be the start of a new calendar. The Ancient Egyptian calendar tied intrinsically to the flood status of the Nile can no longer serve as our time keeper as we go out to another land. This commandment comes explicitly in the midst of Egypt, before the final plague.

The sun, such an ancient symbol of power. Like Pharoah, the son of Ra, steady and solitary, unchanging in form, always vacillating between savior and destroyer, between the warmth necessary for growth and the burning heat that harms. But haShem and Moshe bring moon power. They bring the creation of Rosh Chodesh, a calendar of The Moon with its stable yet ever-changing nature. Pharaoh hardens, brittle and unyielding, unable to shift and change as he stiffens in strength, drowning in the weight of heavy glory. The Hebrew people accept the shifting nature of the wilderness desert and a calendar that lives by a waxing waning sign.

Our first commandment on surface is a calendar, but what is its root? We must mark our time separately from the time of our oppressors.

The imperial sun that never sets. An economy of ever increasing productivity and capital. The sun burns when allowed to shine too long. We have colonized even the night, but the night also must have its time to rest. Our first commandment is that we are a moon people, aware of night’s rhythms, able to change. Not just able, but commanded. Not just commanded, but shown the moon to follow in its ever-shifting sign.

This story arrives now as we move toward Tu bShevet, two months before Pesah’s full moon, like a primer. It comes in the still-dark winter, like that moment “around midnight” when freedom opens wide. Pesach will be that great event when we go out in the daylight. But this parasha comes bringing the night, darkening the Great House’s – Pharoah’s – doorstep. We need the reminder. The current dark is still too dark. The cold too cold. This little taste of freedom arrives textually when our natural calendar has the trees beginning their eventual unfurling. It reminds us joy is possible before Adar rolls in, it reminds us that we too can unfurl.

This first commandment is ever present to “you all,” firmly in the plural. We still live in a system that shares the sins of Egypt, that uses slavery to make its world run, that demands constant ever-busying labor. How can we fight a system that has colonized even time? Not only boxed it into clocks, but micro managed our supposed joys into calculated increments? Where hobbies are hustles?

I can’t help but recognize the difficulty of connecting in our own plague times. And yet somehow, we must. We must make our own time with each other outside of the systems of power. We must recognize the shifting nature of freedom under the rule of another, fight when possible, live as necessary, love in hope and hard times. There is no way but forward into the darkness, until we finally reach that unknown moment round about midnight where g-d pesach leaps, uneven and unsure as a new lamb into the spring air.

Demand Avoidance and Asking

Something about g-d telling us to ask Egyptians for gold and silver before leaving.

Something about bringing forth travel-able treasures when you must depart.

Something about it being integral to the act of leaving those narrows.

Something about not just taking, but in having to ask, having to request the desire.

Shvat Playlist

The Sap is Rising

Shvat is here to remind us Spring is on the way! An eclectic list, featuring songs about trees (Happy Tree New Year), food (the month of taste), the letter צ, and a focus on Native / Indigenous artists.

Land Back! Make America Turtle Island again!

Tevet’s Anger and Shvat’s Joy

As we’re moving away from the anger of Tevet, let’s remember what’s on the other side of anger work – joy. We should recognize and respect our anger because shoving emotions down flattens all of them. Though it may seem paradoxical, to work through and with our anger means easier and more free access to joy.

Always remember: happiness is not a side matter in your spiritual journey – it is essential.
‘זכור תמיד: השמחה איננה עניין שולי במסעך הרוחני – היא חיונית

R. Nachman of Breslov

Anger and Crying Out against Empire

From “As Quick as Unrisen Matzah” https://wp.me/p3LGJb-fG
“There’s something about the process of freedom, where it starts, that keeps arising for me. We suffered. And suffered and suffered until … we cried out. Then the g-d remembered us. We mock this now – how could God /not/ know? Psht. But g-d is us and if we communally/socially think something is acceptable, the g-d image of the age will reflect it.

Until we cry out against it.

[…] Freedom, after all, is a verb. What starts this freedom? How does this entire Exodus begins?! A people cried out.”

— — — –

Just a couple of days ago, I made a post (and even a TikTok!) that Tu bTevet – the 15th of Tevet – was clearly meant to be the Jewish occasion of Trans Day of Screaming. The Sefer Yetzirah lists anger as a defining trait of Tevet, though there are other manuscript options for the month as well. The 15th of every Jewish month brings the full moon and the open downflow energy from that. And midrash tells the story of Leviathan surfacing once a year in Tevet, letting their mighty roar scare off larger predatory fish so others can flourish. Clearly Big Trans Energy! But after making my posts and sharing the enjoyment with friends, I realized that the vibe I’m ascribing to Trans Day of Screaming Jewish edition is also exactly the energy we need as we move into the Exodus story.

This Shabbat last we finished our beginnings in Bereshit – chazak, chazak, vnitchazek חזק חזק ונתחזק be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened – and are now moving into the next creation phase of our peoplehood. We move from Vayechi וַיְחִי‎ “and he lived” to Shemot שְׁמוֹת “names.” And yet the titles could be switched, could they not? The last parasha of Bereshit/Genesis is the blessings of the tribes, a listing of names. And the first parasha of Shemot/Exodus gives us “and he lived,” Moshe the one who survives and all the survivor’s guilt that comes with.

In Exodus 2:23-24 we read:
וַיְהִי֩ בַיָּמִ֨ים הָֽרַבִּ֜ים הָהֵ֗ם וַיָּ֙מׇת֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרַ֔יִם וַיֵּאָנְח֧וּ בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל מִן־הָעֲבֹדָ֖ה וַיִּזְעָ֑קוּ וַתַּ֧עַל שַׁוְעָתָ֛ם אֶל־הָאֱלֹהִ֖ים מִן־הָעֲבֹדָֽה׃
A long time after that, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites were sighing from the labor and called out; and their cry for help from the labor rose up to God.
וַיִּשְׁמַ֥ע אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶת־נַאֲקָתָ֑ם
God heard their moaning …

There are four types of noise we make in theses verses, letting ourselves physically recognize the suffering – both verbally and non-verbally – and each has its own flavor.

1. וַיֵּאָנְח֧וּ : from אָנַח : this is its only use in the Torah, though it is used in Tanakh and frequently in Lamentations.
   – to groan, to sigh – connected to physical distress and the groan of cattle
2. וַיִּזְעָ֑קוּ : from זָעַק : this is its only use in the Torah, though it is used in Tanakh
   – to exclaim; it has an undertow of calling to assembly, as well as complaining to someone
3. שַׁוְעָתָ֛ם : from שָׁוַע : this is its only use in the Torah in both verb and noun form!, though it is used in Tanakh frequently in Job and Psalms
   – to cry out, to shout specifically for help or aid
4. נַאֲקָתָ֑ם : from נָאַק : Used twice in Torah specifically in Exodus with the “groans” that g-d hears
   – to groan, to moan with anguish or sorrow

We can almost see the growing of our pain, even in these short verses that cover wide swaths of our enslaved time. We start merely sighing at the labor, a word even connected to cattle as if the animal part of us knows; we seem subconsciously or unconsciously suffering, unaware beyond general *sigh* malaise. So we call out, we complain, we vent, we gather others in this suffering. Complaining to each other also does not stop the pain, and so we cry out; loudly declaring we require help, we need aid!
And when even this doesn’t seem to help, words fail again with the disappointment of unmet needs and we slide back into groaning, this time fully cognizant of the suffering we endure.

But g-d is already waiting in the wings. As soon as we specifically use a root calling for help, our requests alight – עָלָה like an olah sacrifice that goes up – upwards, hearing not just the words of protest and plea, but even non-verbal groans after. We’re answered with four divine verbs of notice.

Exodus 2:24-25 :
וַיִּשְׁמַ֥ע אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶת־נַאֲקָתָ֑ם וַיִּזְכֹּ֤ר אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶת־בְּרִית֔וֹ אֶת־אַבְרָהָ֖ם אֶת־יִצְחָ֥ק וְאֶֽת־יַעֲקֹֽב׃
God heard their moaning, and God remembered the covenant with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.
וַיַּ֥רְא אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וַיֵּ֖דַע אֱלֹהִֽים׃ {ס} 
God looked upon the Israelites, and God took notice of them.

G-d answers our four cries with four ways of perceiving : hearing, remembering, seeing, and knowing. And later g-d brings us up from the narrows with four verbs : I will free (you) , I will deliver (you), I will redeem (you), and I will take (you).

This month of Tevet and its anger lead us into Shemot and into the spark of Getting Free. Anger is something many of us find frightening. We have been hurt by others lashing out and even injured by our own uncontrolled flares. Many in power use their anger as a blunt weapon against others. And yet, anger has great potential as a tool when seen as an emotion instead of the action of rampage that too often follows. Anger shows us where we feel boundaries being trampled and the places we may long for greater protection.

Crying out when hurt, when boundaries are ignored, when we are harmed – allowing ourselves to name these pains – is the first spark of freedom. In the beginning of Shemot, g-d only arrives with those actively against Pharaoh. Briefly g-d arrives for Shifra and Puah, the delivering doulas, and “made houses for them” before disappearing again until the verses above when the people cry out emphatically. All of Moshe’s childhood and even his early time in Yitro’s tents, g-d is no where in the text. It is only when Israelites fight their oppression that g-d arrives. In proof of fact, Moshe’s encounter with the burning bush happens immediately after g-d responds to our cries; without our calling out their is no g-d call to Moshe.

Like our ancestors, we are trapped under an empire. We suffer and those in power are unconcerned, perhaps lending empty words but few resources and fewer changes to the system. Like our ancestors, we struggle against enforced unnecessary labor. Like our ancestors, the empire’s control and power structures trickle down into the very smallest corners and crevices of our lives, causing us to recreate and replicate them across relationships.

And we should be angry about this.
We must be angry about this.
To not cry out, to not acknowledge the pain and hurt, is to be subsumed in it, to allow mute silence to shroud the depths of our devastation.
We must rise up, like the Leviathan, and let out a mighty roar! Whether its a cry of pain, a warning to the powerful, or both – we owe ourselves to not allow power’s pain to flatten our emotional connection to the world.

Let yourself be hurt. Let yourself name it. Let yourself fight. And let yourself heal.

Shavua tov, a good new week! May you be strengthened. May I be strengthened. May we all be strengthened moving towards Freedom.

PS – There is a hidden crying out before these more obvious narrations, the crying out of the babies saved by Puah and Shifrah – the midwives who defied orders to kill all assigned male infants. The lived crying of those saved children and Moshe’s own strangely mature weeping in the reed basket – וְהִנֵּה־נַעַר בֹּכֶה – are the first cryings out to g-d. And the silence of the cries that should exist are their shadow.

Jewish Trans Day of Screaming

So some of you may know Trans Day of Screaming meme and how it arose, but I don’t recall an official date because it often organically arises after some bullshit.
But! … Tevet is the month of anger, the month when the Leviathan roars. And the 15th, the full moon is when there is the greatest divine downflow shefa, because the moon is at the fullest.

Ergo the 15th of Tevet is when Jewish Trans Day of Screaming should commence.

I recommend havdallah, a shehecheyanu, and then screaming yelling pot-banging clapping hooting and other general noise making devices to remind ourselves to call out. Once Shabbat ends, it’s parasha Shemot where we first remember to cry out about our own pain, first remember that we should not suffer silently, and in that we bring the first glimmer of redemption.

Beginnings embedded in Ends

The first word Bereshit
As unpaired as g-d alone
The last? Yisrael
Kol Yisrael completes
The smichut of our g-d’s
“In the beginning of …”

The Fast of Loss in Gain

Psalms 119:92 – תהילים קי״ט צב
לוּלֵ֣י ת֭וֹרָתְךָ שַׁעֲשֻׁעָ֑י אָ֝֗ז אָבַ֥דְתִּי בְעׇנְיִֽי׃
If not for your Torah, my delight; Then I would have perished in my lack.

Tevet’s half-moon growing toward full moon joy brings our first fast day since The Fast – Yom Kippur. Asarah beTevet -שרה בטבת- the Tenth of Tevet is a minor fast day marking the start of Nebuchadnezer’s siege of Jerusalem which ultimately destroyed the first Beit haMikdash and led to the Babylonian exile. Two days before this minor fast is another siege on a smaller but far more insidious scale, a blockade whose ultimate collapse still affects the everyday of all Jews and each human – the translation of Torah into Greek.

Megillah 9a tells us of King Ptolemy gathering 72 elders and using the powerful tool of separation – each elder was placed in an individual location and each individually asked “כִּתְבוּ לִי תּוֹרַת מֹשֶׁה רַבְּכֶם” “Write to me the Torah of Moshe your teacher.” G-d combated this attempt to break communal power and oral transmission of text by supposedly having the 72 Greek translations magically be “לְדַעַת אַחַת” to one understanding. In one voice the elders dealt with theologically complicated Hebrew passages, translating it into the flatter words of Greek without creating textual discrepancies between versions.
A Hellenistic work of 2-3 BCE entitled “The Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates” tells the same story, in what can only be described as propaganda for friendly Judeo-Pagan relations. Ptolomy II Philadelphus commissions the translation for the library of Alexandria. Jewish religious authorities gather the most learned people of each tribe to become translators, answering philosophical questions for the king’s court and being lavishly rewarded for their wisdom. Fun fact – this work is also our oldest historical mention of that famed library!

Storytelling aside, the translation of Torah into Greek is one of those historical moments that irrevocably shaped our modern world. Some medieval Jews viewed the eighth of Tevet as another minor fast day. The Shulchan Arukh shares that this translation brought about three days of darkness after it! This translation, the Septuagint, leads to a world where the Christian Bible is one of the most printed and translated books in the world.

Ultimately I am the descendant of this siege, an unwilling child of the Christian hegemony drawn by deeper layers that I could only dream of understanding when younger. While others worshiped, I sat alone in a darkened room devouring English translations of translations with a thousand layers of cultural shellac. And much like the pintele yid – the inextinguishable point of light in each Jew, as unbreakable as the luz bone of resurrection – something even then settled its sparks within me from the behemoth Book.
And yet, I also weep at the translation. I feel the loss of Hebrew’s playful power. The deep never-ending swell of Torah comes from the infinite dancing of white fire and black fire and the meaning our minds make from those flickering shadows. Even translations our tradition prizes such as the Aramaic Onkelos are tinged with the sadness of how many Hebrew meanings are known only because the adaptation exists.

Do I fast? Do I cheer? Without the translation, I do not exist. With it, I feel the edges where my parts meet.

These first weeks’ of Tevet brings the story of Yoseph and of our first Jewish family to a close. Yoseph too would understand this predicament. The ancestor unrecognized from years of Egyptian living, who was also forced into an exile from the land, who could only completely returned to that “homeland” after death. Yoseph and their complicated multiplicity of loss and gain holds just these spaces.

This last parasha in particular brings Yaacov’s complicated blessings to his inheriting children, some of which may not read as blessings. Reuven is labelled unstable, Levi and Simeon’s violence is called out, natural metaphors hint at chaos and power struggles. Yoseph is blessed with the most overarching and complicated invocation – of Yaacov’s might and Yisrael’s shepherding protection, of heaven and deep, of womb and breast. And the difficult “blessing” unspoken, that the end of this book marks the slide into enslavement and its defining effect on our history.

The narrow start of this parasha with so little space between it and the end of vayisgash hints at the constriction already beginning. Bereshit Rabbah tells us this closure is both because of and leads to “closure of the eyes,” a symptom that undermines the people’s freedom. Yoseph is, like me and you, a child born of disaporas little and large, personal and communal. We understand the difficult balance of openness and closure, of creating boundaries not borders, that gates are just human constructions. This month asks us to open our eyes, to prioritize our blessings and recognize our shortcomings. It demands we see the power and be wary, keeping our anger sharpened and eyes open. This fast asks us to hold the complicated totality of loss and joy, of power’s dynamics and the people caught in its narrows.

Today I fast, holding the joy of a world that I can be a Jew, grasping the sadness of a world that I can be a Jew.