In honor of the approach of Tu B’Shvat, I’m going to make a point of recycling–Torah, that is. Here’s something I wrote a year ago for Radical Torah; I know some of you have seen it, but perhaps not everyone has?
I’m cranking hard to get Chapter Eight out of my life (at least for the time being). Hopefully I’ll still have a chance to come up with some fresh 15 Shvat Torah this week, but in any case, here’s some stuff that hasn’t yet been composted.
Oh, and here’s your seasonally-appropriate bonus link. You’ve probably seen it, but have you actually started changing your own actual behavior? Just sayin’. Trees don’t like global warming, after all.
Anyway:
Tu Bishvat is, of course, the new year of the trees, the first hint that winter’s blusters are on the wane and that hope–growth, renewal–is already on the way. Though the original importance of the day was more commercial than ecological (it was about the tithing of fruit) the holiday offers a rich set of associations between our relationship to the land, to the trees, to the fruits for which we say a blessing of thanks every time we eat them. The Kabbalists took this further, using the mysteries of seeds and peels and shells as a way to map our inner world and relationships to the Divine.
In honor of Tu Bishvat, I’d like to discuss a little Torah that is, for many people, deeply troubling. The Mishnah in Pirke Avot tells us, “R. Shimon said, A person who is walking along repeating a teaching (of Torah) and interrupts his learning to say, ‘What a beautiful tree,’ ‘What a beautiful field,’ deserves to lose his life.” (Pirke Avot 3:7)
The sorts of problems that people have with this passage are obvious: it seems to denigrate the appreciation of God’s Creation, to fetishize God’s words, to promote an insular and myopic view of what matters in life and in the world. But none of that takes into consideration the context of the mishnah. The grave sin here is inturrupting the learning of Torah to say these things.
And given that the language here is probably talking about a person engaged in the repetition and memorization of the always-fragile oral tradition, pausing in the wrong place could cause a person to forget or, worse, corrupt the tradition. Which would be nothing short of absolute disaster. The intention here was to exhort the reader to mindfulness in our actions and giving everything we do our full attention. It’s about not being split, partly here and partly there: listen fully when you listen, eat fully when you eat, study fully when you study. Don’t study when you eat. It’s not that admiring trees is bad–rather the opposite–but the time to do it is not when one’s attention must be turned to something else. The time to do it is when one’s attention must be turned to… admiring trees. And sunsets. And fields. And all of the glory of God’s work. There are many times for that, and this season, Tu Bishvat, is one of them.
Another way to honor this holiday is to (also) take a break from one’s studies and to get out there in the big world and do some ma’asim tovim, good works. Acts of righteousness, even. To honor the trees by becoming like them.
For, it is written, “The one whose deeds exceed his wisdom, he is like a tree whose branches are few, but whose roots are many, so that even if all the winds of the world were to come and blow against it, it could not be budged from its place, as it is said in the Torah: ‘For you shall be as a tree planted by waters, that spreads its roots by the river, and it shall not notice the heat’s arrival, but its foliage shall be green; it shall not dread the year of drought, neither shall it cease yielding fruit.’” (Pirke Avot 3:17)
I’ve had a little voyage into the bowels of socialized medicine recently, and it never ceases to amaze me. The amount of paperwork and forms and things that need to be faxed back and forth is dizzying (but then, oops, the thing is classified as the wrong kind of appointment, so you have to call everybody back and try to re-classify it, but then you need the other form, which you can’t get until the other form is sent around, but you can’t get that form until the first form is approved–and so forth). But then–magic. No money, no scary surprises, of course you get to have your health issue taken care of, why wouldn’t you?
Or, in my case, due to the fact that the right classification of appointment would have meant an appt. date past when I’m supposed to be in Israel, I decided to pay out of pocket. It was minor outpatient surgery and lab tests (and yes, I’m totally fine). Which cost me–wait for it, Americans–a whopping $131. For surgery, doctor visit, local anasthetic, stitching up, nurse helping out, diagnostic tests, everything. Now, I recognize that that’s some groceries or a good contribution towards rent, but really? Chump change for those of us used to terrifying bills from insurance companies even when we are covered by insurance. It’s neat when health care is not a for-profit industry.
To wit, GoingJesus’ contest to find out how much it costs to have a premature baby in America today. Not sure the answer yet, but most of the guesses in the comments (including by other parents with preemies) run between a quarter mil. and a million bucks. And you’ll note that (and the implied how much) the parents of this cute kid have to pay over and above what’s covered by insurance.
ETA: The cost has been revealed, it’s almost half a million dollars. Dang, that’s a lot of money.
There is, of course, a list of countries that do have universal health care. Quite a few, I’d say.
Also on the list of things that are free, This is a very cute idea–bookswapping for points. I generally just prefer to give away books to people who I suspect will enjoy them, but it’s a nice way to take that globally or to use your read books as a way to levy specific other titles you might want.
This is the first year in many that I haven’t been on an academic schedule–ramping up at the beginning of the semester, beginning to work hard, buckling down seriously with papers, midterms, etc., digging in to finals, then having a break, switching gears (to work, usually), de-caffinating, and then starting the whole cycle over again. The year before rabbinical school I worked as a teacher, and then I had 4 years of being a student (and, sometimes, also a teacher.)
It’s very strange to notice that it’s almost the month of Shvat and to realize that my life doesn’t have these familiar puntuation marks. It’s nice that I’m doing something concrete, so that I can see that I actually am doing something as the time passes (as of yesterday I was 75% done with the rough draft of this thing–and, of course, had the immediate reaction of, “What?? ONLY 75%?” I think I can I think I can.) And still, the fact that it’s already close to February is a little disconcerting. I have got to finish this thing so that I can start hacking away at revisions. This chapter and then two more to go–I guess I have a while.
In totally unrelated news, am I the only one to notice that the “status” message in IM chat formats have replaced the .sig file as the forum for the random message people feel like they must share with the world? Technology is fascinating.
Sort of, anyway. AKMA dug up one of these pieces recently, and it got me thinking about the other. Here’s some thinky-funny-thinky-maybe-a-little-too-poignant viewing from the archives of classic Saturday Night Live for your Monday.
First, the eternally relevant skit in which Eddie Murphy goes white. Then, Ray Charles has a song rendered commercially viable by the Young Caucasians. And as a bonus, there are some great other performances by Charles on the rest of the tape.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.
Have you actually ever listened to the “I Have a Dream” speech–rather than just quoting the bits you know? It really is astonishing for its bravery and truth, and for the amount that it glows with God’s love and desire for justice.
Here’s the link to the video, but really? Download it and listen to it sometime when you have very little in the way of other kinds of stimulation going on–out taking a walk, maybe–so that you can actually let it penetrate you. Here’s an MP3.
I’ve chosen to post the picture of Rev. Dr. King with Malcolm X because I think that, towards the end of each of their lives, they had begun to find each other in their work, though we only have glimmers of what that might have looked like.
Brother Malcolm had been highly critical of the March on Washington (and King) when he was with the Nation of Islam, but eventually he underwent a profound transformation that changed how he understood the world, and race. On X’s hajj to Mecca, he began to see things as much less polarized than he once had. He wrote,
“Throngs of people, obviously Muslims from everywhere, bound on the pilgrimage, were hugging and embracing. They were of all complexions, the whole atmosphere was of warmth and friendliness. The feeling hit me that there really wasn’t any color problem here. The effect was as though I had just stepped out of prison.”
This caused him to come forth with statements one might much more expect to hear from King, like: “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it is for or against. I’m a human being first and foremost, and as such I’m for whoever and whatever benefits humanity as a whole.”
King, for his part, became increasingly radical over the course of time, speaking out increasingly against the Vietnam War and about the larger problems of the American economic system (I’ve heard that his trip to Sweden to receive the Nobel Peace Prize was a turning point–that being in a democratic socialist state gave him new ideas about what was necessary and what was possible for people economically). I’m under the impression that he began to make more people more uncomfortable as his messages got sharper and as he began to ask for more and more in the way of change.
I suspect that had they both lived, Dr. King and Brother Malcolm would have eventually found much common ground and, perhaps, become a combined force with which to reckon.
Sadly, we’ll never know. May both of their memories be for a blessing.
A few more words from Rev. Dr. King, from his Nobel acceptance speech:
I accept this award today with an abiding faith in America and an audacious faith in the future of mankind. I refuse to accept despair as the final response to the ambiguities of history. I refuse to accept the idea that the “isness” of man’s present nature makes him morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal “oughtness” that forever confronts him. I refuse to accept the idea that man is mere flotsom and jetsom in the river of life, unable to influence the unfolding events which surround him. I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality. I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of thermonuclear destruction. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant.
Butch is a Noun author S. Bear Bergman is an extraordinarily talented writer and performer, and this flyer is too cute not to post. If you live in the area, you should definitely go.
