A recent exhibit at The Brooklyn Museum reminded me of the potent spiritual power in building things, and how powerful the details can be – like color.

The featured exhibit was Infinite Blue and included diverse works of art – ancient Egyptian blue pottery, a 13th century altarpiece of Madonna draped in blue, and contemporary glass sculpture.  Each work of art demonstrated how the color blue can evoke a spiritual and powerful response.

Perhaps this is why blue is significant in Jewish tradition.  Blue was Creation’s first color: Creation’s first day was just light, but Creation’s second day brought sky and sea, both shining blue.  Blue was God’s first building block.

Blue treads through Jewish spiritual life.  Blue is the color of the thread (t’chelet tzitzit) in the prayer shawl (tallit).  Gazing on the blue thread reminds us to connect with Creation and Creator: the blue dye is an aide-mémoire of the bond between the Jewish people and the Holy One.

Blue’s most beguiling reference comes in Parshat Mishpatim, just after the Ten Commandments of Sinai.  Moses, Aaron, Aaron’s sons and 70 elders ascend the holy mountain. There “they saw the God of Israel: under [God’s] feet there was the likeness of a sapphire brickwork (livnat ha-sapir), like the essence of sky in purity” (Exodus 24:10).

The “brickwork” links back to the Exodus story, with Hebrew slaves stooped in mud pits making bricks to build storehouses for Pharaoh.  Mystics tell us that their muddy bondage was the 49th level of descent, just one level up from being forever lost.  From this low place, their cries drew God’s attention and ultimate liberation.

Ten plagues, three months and twenty-four chapters later, Israel’s leaders now stand in God’s presence.  Beneath God’s “feet” is blue sapphire brickwork.  Pharaoh’s bricks became God’s bricks: mud became light.  All at once, the image reminds them of the depths from which they came and the spiritual heights to which they have risen.

The sapphire brickwork is rigid and fixed in place.  It serves as a liminal boundary, a separation. Yet the sapphire brickwork (livnat ha-sapir) also is translucent, letting in divine light filtered through to us as if through a prism.  In Hebrew, we can readlivnat ha-sapir as l’vanat ha-sapir – the whiteness of the sapphire.  The blue of spiritual building transmits the white light of holiness.

Every activity in this physical universe potentially refracts this divine light.  When living our lives in divine service, we can achieve a satisfaction and pleasure we cannot achieve by our own self-serving efforts.

It was on Sinai that Moses and his cohort gazed on God’s likeness, reminding us also that many find spiritual connection in nature, whether viewing the sky from a mountaintop or watching waves reach the seashore. The challenge is to find spiritual connection in the works of our hands beyond the vistas of mountains, sea and sky.  Torah’s vision of sapphire brickwork urges us to find connection beyond God’s original creations.  Livnat HaSapir reminds us to discover our own transcendent connections in how we fashion Creation’s elements.

Whether our spiritual structures are sapphire stone, wood, metal or brick, every structure can serve – must serve – to remind us of the Source of All, the First Builder, and ancient bricks of mud transformed into bricks of light.

Rabbi Evan Krame

The comedian George Carlin once did a routine about what people consider to be “essential stuff.”  When you go on a trip, you select from among your possessions only what you need for the trip.  If during that trip you decide to take a short overnight excursion, you might pack a day bag with only the items that are truly essential.  Carlin’s humor points us to an important question: what “stuff” is essential in your life?

Oddly, I thought of Carlin’s comedy when reading the parsha this week.  In Parshat Beshalach, we are given a few hints as to what the Israelites carried as they escaped from Egypt.  Keep in mind that they did not travel lightly and they had no SUVs to load for the drive across the dessert.

So what did they carry on their journey? They took livestock with them. They carried materials to make booths or tents. They had “borrowed” jewelry from the Egyptians. Certainly, other things had to be left behind.

Carlin’s comedy foreshadowed the current rage: decluttering. Marie Kondo is the queen of love it or toss it, with a book and now television show on the topic. The Hebrew slaves may have had to declutter to begin their journey. Did they lift up that extra pair of sandals and ask themselves: “love it or leave it?”

While Carlin’s humor and Kondo’s guidance focus on individual needs, they haven’t addressed the spiritual component to de-cluttering. That’s why we need Torah, where we learn Moses’ choices on what to carry. Moses took with him the bones of Joseph. Joseph exacted a promise centuries earlier to be buried in Canaan. Moses was not even alive to have made that promise but he honors it nonetheless.

I wonder what choices Moses had to make in order to make room for a reliquary of bones, instead of essentials like food, building materials, or clothing for the long trip? From his choices, what do we learn about how to value the physical items in our domain to be preserved.

Torah is teaching us we need to honor promises, even if made centuries earlier to a deceased ancestor.  A people that would honor an ancient pledge demonstrate particular characteristics of duty and loyalty that uplift their lives and refine their souls.

Moses knew that carrying forward the past was an important lesson for the future. Moses not only upheld a promise, but also demonstrated the importance of foundational Jewish principles: preserving memory and sustaining a legacy.

As you travel through life, what items are essential for you to bring forward on your journey into the future? The selection of important tangible items can demonstrate a measure of value beyond a price tag. What we find essential to carry forward speaks to the values we choose to espouse in our lives. When it comes to tangible items, the relics of the past we carry with us can be reminders to stay true to important principles.  

Imagine you are about to embark on a journey and you might not ever return: what must you carry with you to protect a promise, preserve memory and sustain a legacy?  Notice that in making those selections, you can be affirming or declaiming important Jewish values. 

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

I don’t think I make it through any given day without some kind of support from others. From reaching out to tech help lines with computer problems to calling a Butterball Hotline to learn how to cook a turkey, much of our support today comes from anonymous persons in short order. 

But what about when we need support to sustain spiritual life? All too often, we wait for a crisis to suddenly look for meaning or spiritual support. But in this case, the call to a spiritual “tech” help line is not likely to yield particularly satisfying results. 

As I read through Parshat Va’eira this week, I’ve been thinking about the nature of supportive relationships. Moses is instructed by God to address Pharaoh in order to demand the release of the oppressed Israelites. Moses responds to God that he is concerned that his speech impediment will get in the way of being an effective advocate for the people.

God advises that Moses’s older brother Aaron can stand by his side and convey his messages, assuring him that “Aaron, your brother shall be your spokesman” (Shemot 7: 1). As the action unfolds in Egypt, Aaron’s ongoing supportive presence makes it possible for Moses to be an effective leader.

Later on, Aaron will take on the role of priest. Aaron, as a spiritual leader, is very warm and attentive to the people. Even though at times he makes flawed choices, the Israelites still love Aaron and seek his guidance. 

When we are unsure of our ability to download an app or cook a turkey we can contact a support line and get quick advice. But what about when we are unsure of how to address our spiritual needs? How can we “download” the transcendent or access what is soulful? What kind of support system do we have in place to make sense of challenges or to move deftly through the arcs of life? 

For many centuries in Jewish history, rabbis traditionally served as the spiritual help line for a community, assisting individuals in navigating their life’s journey. But as the role of religion and its leaders has devolved rapidly in past decades, many Jews have found themselves disconnected from a meaningful spiritual support system.

A new rabbinate is emerging to meet the on-demand needs of a greatly curtailed modern spiritual life. For the majority of Jews who are unaffiliated, their spiritual connection has been reduced to hiring a rabbi to officiate a life cycle event or provide quick emotional support in times of crisis. 

I believe that such limited contact with spiritual leadership is neither fully satisfying nor effective.  Individuals need ongoing meaningful conversation, sustained learning, and regular rituals to help address life’s ups and downs.

Just as Aaron stood by Moses’s side, empowering him with both his availability and his assurance, so too do each of us need an ongoing relationship that provides genuine support. When it comes to spiritual guidance, an ongoing relationship with a fully present, compassionate and empowering religious leader can have more of a positive impact than a brief meeting.

I chose the role of rabbi so that I could support my community, providing guidance to individuals as they navigate the intricacies of their life journey. My invitation is for you to call on me not merely as a “help desk,” but to create a relationship that provides ongoing spiritual growth.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

You are likely angry with someone right now. How long have you been harboring that anger? Anger often persists long after the offense that caused the discord.

Even more damage is caused when we fail to acknowledge, examine, express and resolve our displeasure. Both Torah scholars and medical professionals offer some insights into releasing the toxicity of anger.

Anger can be a positive force if expressed in the context of trying to affect positive change.  When used appropriately we can express anger in a way that calls attention to a problem and points to a solution. Unaddressed, anger becomes more harmful because containment of strong emotions festers and can lead to untimely expressions of ire or even rage. 

In Parshat Vayechi, at the end of the book of Genesis, on his deathbed Jacob calls his sons to task for their past offenses. Many of these events occurred decades earlier: Reuven slept with Bilhah, his father’s concubine. Shimon and Levi massacred the men of Shechem.  Nine brothers conspired to sell Joseph into slavery. They are an undignified lot.

At the end of his life Jacob gives expression to this pent-up anger. Often Jacob’s end of life soliloquy is described as blessing his sons. In fact, Jacob is admonishing his sons. At a time when one might expect reconciliation, the acrimony within Jacob is given full expression. I wonder about the efficacy of the late-in-life rebuke, given the decades since the offenses and the fact that his sons are now mature men. Yet, in this instance, these rebukes serve as admonitions. They portend the tainted legacies these sons will leave but offer a tinge of hope that succeeding generations will learn lessons of civility and responsibility.

For Jacob and for us, the healthier alternative is a calm yet pointed expression of disappointment almost immediately following the offending conduct. Along with expressions of concern should be a discussion of how to repair relationships, restore trust, and build confidence.

There is a concept in transpersonal psychology called “compassionate wrath.”  Compassionate wrath guides the transformation of anger into creative energy. Compassionate wrath is exhibited by leaders like Emma Gonzales survivor of the massacre at her Parkland Florida High School who helped organize the #saveourlives movement to end gun violence. With timely self awareness and focus, we can turn anger into a useful tool for change.

Unlike Jacob, we shouldn’t wait too long to address what angers us. Furthermore, we should seek to release our anger constructively and with compassion.

Both individually and as a nation, we must strive to engage each other on the issues that challenge us, before we erupt in ill timed and unhealthy anger. Both our individual health and perhaps the future of our nation are dependent upon prompt engagement on the conflicts that trouble us most.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

The Torah is full of stories of conflict that echo many of the political issues that we are grappling with today. The more parallels I see while reading through the parsha, the more I realize that every political choice we make is also a moral and ethical choice.

If we read this week’s Torah portion carefully, we can see the applications for our modern national landscape. The Torah presents the following political dilemma in Parshat Miketz, in a meeting between Pharaoh and Joseph:

Joseph is called from prison to interpret a dream for the ruler of Egypt. (Until now, no one else has been able to provide a satisfactory interpretation.) Pharaoh has dreamed of seven fat cows and seven sickly cows that devoured the healthy cows. Then he dreamed of seven healthy ears of corn followed by seven gaunt ears of corn, which in turn devoured the healthy corn.  

Joseph’s interpretation of the dream was that seven years of bountiful harvests would be followed by seven years of famine. He suggests to Pharaoh the following solution:

Now let Pharaoh look for a discerning and wise man and put him in charge of the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh appoint commissioners over the land to take a fifth of the harvest of Egypt during the seven years of abundance . . . This food should be held in reserve for the country, to be used during the seven years of famine that will come upon Egypt, so that the country may not be ruined by the famine. (Genesis 41:33-36)

Pharaoh understands the implications of Joseph’s dream: without a plan and without a “wise” leader to execute this plan, Pharaoh risks his country falling to ruin. With this in mind, he appoints Joseph himself to put a plan into action that will save Egypt from an environmental disaster. 

Where do we see this very dilemma unfolding today? Recent climate change reports predict the disruption of food production. To me, this doesn’t seem very different from Pharaoh’s foreboding dream, except that here we have more of a scientific foundation to stand on.  

From devastating fires to mass flooding, from rising sea levels to lethal hurricanes, it doesn’t take an expert to see that without a plan to address our environmental issues we are at risk to falling into ruin, just like ancient Egypt.

We can’t ignore the signs. To pretend that God’s creation is not at risk, that human lives are not imperiled, is a passivity that should be viewed with moral outrage. We must take responsibility for our environment, with proper planning and wise leadership.

Judaism is not a religion of passivity. When we see something that is not right, we should seek ways to take responsibility and enact a practical plan for success. Pharaoh made the right decision in recognizing the signs and appointing Joseph as a capable leader to save the land before it was too late.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame