Deuteronomy Cycle Four Ki Thavo

Ki Thavo

There’s a new phenomenon in Judaism. Or maybe not-so-new.

It has been called Wilderness Torah. As a rabbinic student I am privy to a whole plethora of terminology that celebrates it. There’s OrganicTorah. TorahTrek. I could go on. I am waiting (not eagerly) to hear about similar cultures around Talmud. One day, I am half-expecting, I will receive an email about Lollipop Talmud (a new way to understand the idiosyncrasies of our sages through excessive sugar). Or perhaps Fisherman Mishnah (the in-depth study while in a little dingy on a lake in the Pacific Northwest). I apologize in advance if I am offending anyone here. This is what’s happening though. It’s the craze, these oh-so-new ideas and for whatever reason, Reform Judaism feels a need to be brave and welcoming. I know some professionals who are ready and willing to dump the denominations altogether for an inoculation of the shamanistic advantages involved and even for a small whiff of what they call our primal roots.

But what is Wilderness Torah really? First, and this is important, it is in capitals. This means it distinguishes itself from Torah-As-We-Know-It. Second (and this is why I am discussing this during a Ki Thavo week) it emphasizes a coming-in to spirit, a re-awakening of God-soul, the intensive offering-up of prayer-fire and not any prayer-fire…but that within us that is most sacred…that feels like it could even be lined with gold…that which is the most purified…the bocher…the first-born… of the virgin-womb-of-soul. And all of this is propelled and enabled by intimate contact with nature.

Ki Thavo is all about such a coming-in to God. It begins with the first fruits. In fact, in Mishnah Bikkurim (3:2-6) we read about the fantastic coming-in of the pilgrims to Jerusalem. Those near the city bring fresh figs and grapes. Those farther bring dried figs and raisins. Leading the procession is an ox with horns overlaid with gold and a crown of olive leaves. Sounds of the flute announce the pilgrims coming. Messengers arrange for the first fruits presentation. They approach the Temple Mount. The rhythm increases. The horns sound. And as the Levites chant from Psalms 30:2 (I will praise you God for you have raised me up and have not suffered my enemies to rejoice over me) and while the pilgrims recite My father was an Aramean…the Priests place their hands beneath the baskets and do a wave offering.

It doesn’t take an expert in metaphor (or even the Sfas Emet) to understand that these first fruits symbolize prayer. They are a way of giving the first prayer of each day…each moment…to God. The long trip, the journey can easily symbolize the work involved in the offering and the decorated ox can infer the appreciation for the very yoke that we all suffer in order to satisfy that same connection. Ironically, the work involved is paralleled by the work involved in studying Torah. R Eleazar in Kethuboth 111b says that he who makes use of the light of Torah will the light of Torah revive.

More on the subject of work…..Rabbi Hiyya b. Joseph says (also in Kethuboth 111b) a time will come when the just will break through the soil and rise up in Jerusalem for it is written in Scripture… “and they will blossom out of the city like grass of the earth.” ( Psalms 72:26) There’s work involved in breaking through soil though. It all isn’t light and easy. There are curses to move through, wade through, push through like thick mud and there are tangles of vines beneath the surface. It isn’t a smooth-trip or a joy-break-through. Song, chanting, nature…deep meditation on light…all of this can reflect our first fruits but they can’t manifest the offering itself. The offering takes sweat, birth-screams, power, fear and focus. Does Wilderness Torah go to this level? I don’t know. Torah does though. Torah definitely does. And it isn’t always that grueling kind of labor. It’s the small hurdles that seem to taunt us day after day.

I think of my daughter in Ein Gedy. I had the opportunity to visit the spa (well known for its healing mud baths) just a few weeks ago. It was hot. And the objective…according to my 16 year old daughter…was to blanket herself, every cell, with the healing gooey minerals of this lowest-place-on-earth. She jumped into the tub smile plastered to her face and soon even her hair strands were inundated. I did the same thing and we both sat or stood or walked about to dry off before going into the sulfur shower. Once that was finished we decided to take the trolley to the beach and float in the Dead Sea. This was the problem though. Lilly’s flip-flops were gone. I was not happy. How could she walk on the burning pavement without shoes? She pointed out the drains in the sulfur showers. I saw them go down, Lilly said, they twirled about a bit and I tried to catch them. And then they were…eaten. Trying to ignore the sign near the trolley stop (shoes required) we sat and waited. The driver ignored my daughter…who had managed to wrap towels under the souls of her feet so she could hobble down to the beach. That evening on the way out (at the gift shop)…Lilly received a new pair of flip-flops.

She came through though. She figured a way to move more into the depths of the experience. She wasn’t going to give up. I also wasn’t about to call this happening anything but Torah. It wasn’t Dead Sea Torah. Or Mud Torah. Or Flip-flop Torah. It was simply Torah in all its wholeness.

In fact, as we grow and attempt to bring wholeness to the world the first order of business is ourselves. How, we want to ask ourselves, can we all be standing here today…and listen to the one voice…and reflect the one voice as we walk in God’s ways? Is it by creating new…or not so new...sub-cultures within the already fragmented whole of Judaism? Or is it by trying to find some synchronicity and symbiosis within Judaism…all the denominations…so that yes, I (not an orthodox woman) can talk and laugh with the orthodox man (with ear-locks and hat) who is also covered in mud but who, just like us, has the mitzvoth of Torah written, engraved on the mud itself, that mud that dries on our bodies and on our hearts. If so, if we can speak mitzvah to mitzvah, heart to heart, then we can deliver that one voice to other religions and no doubt, peace will be that much closer. Ten voices though turn any attempt for peace into a schizophrenic activity, one almost impossible to accomplish.

How to apply this to today?. If we really want to transmit, the way is through the earth, not by trying to fly way above, nor by fragmenting what we already have. Realize that coming-in is very much in Torah, as well as the spiritual, as well as God. It’s all there. If we think that an idea is beyond Torah then it shows our need to study (Torah). Think of the great prophets, the great sages. Know that we are a rabbinic tradition. Realize that the greatest prophets worked on accessibility and not putting their own names in lights. Bring your first fruits to the Holy of Holies. Be the first fruit. Be the Holy of Holies. Don’t make something big out of it. Don’t even give it a name. Just do it. Know who you are.