Studying Torah in serach of a really ripe tomato

It's Friday, time yet again for another posting of Interesting Jewish Stories & Facts (IJS&F). Torah is at the heart of Judaism and study is at the heart of Torah. Here's why.

Sometimes there are three of us, sometimes a half dozen or so. We stay busy delving into the mysteries of the Torah, led by our guide in search of “tomatoes”.

On this weekly journey, Rabbi Pamela Gottfried – brilliant, witty and always fun – helps us dig our way through the weekly parashah, ignoring the greens that spill across the pages of the holy text, looking for at least one ripe tomato, a nugget of absolute truth hidden in Judaism’s spiritual salad.

It’s actually in the digging that one of the core beliefs of Judaism can be found. Other religions ask their faithful to spend much time and effort focusing on things cosmic and divine. Jews, at least the Conservative movement I follow, lets God pretty much take care of God, suggesting instead that the faithful attempt to lead really good lives – help the poor, the sick, those in need – and spend just as much time as possible in study.

This effort to understand the Torah can be traced back at least 2,000 years to a famous story found in the Talmud about Rabbi Hillel. Apparently a pagan approached the sage and told him he would be willing to convert to Judaism if the rabbi could teach him the whole of the Torah in the time he could stand on one foot.

Hillel replied, “What is hateful to yourself, do not do to your fellow man. That is the whole Torah; the rest is just commentary.” If the line sounds familiar, that’s probably because the concept has its roots in a wide range of world cultures and in its most familiar form – Therefore all things whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you even so to them – is commonly known as the Golden Rule and attributed to that other famous rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth. It all becomes even clearer when we update the rule to modern English: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you!

But I digress. What is often lost in the translation of Rabbi Hillel’s charge is the final line. After saying that most of the Torah is simply commentary, he then tells his pagan questioner to “Go and study it (the Torah).”

And that’s what generations of Jews have been doing for centuries, digging deeply into the moral and ethical teachings that some believe were written by the hand of God. Of course, there are many who believe the divine words of the Torah is the collective wisdom of our ancient ancestors, men and women attempting to create a people and nation from scratch.

Today the work and study continue, for us here in the Land of Cotton at classes offered by local shuls, held at synagogues, private homes, conference rooms in offices buildings and retail shops in shopping centers.

Rabbi Gottfried’s class is both sponsored and held in the offices of a smart physician, a mensch who knows how to heal the body and is pretty certain, I think, that Torah is all about healing the spirit. So once a week we gather, schmooze a bit about life and snack on the tasty goodies provided by pharmaceutical companies hoping to grab a bit of the doctor’s business.

Eventually we get around to the heavy lifting, pushing aside the leafy greens filling the week’s parashah, looking hard for one really ripe tomato, a bit of spiritual truth that connects us with our ancient traditions and beliefs.

SPIRITUAL QUEST: Jews in funny hats and side curls have been studying Torah (photo above) for centuries, exploring the text closely to unearth the hidden secrets found in the ancient words of God. Today we wear jeans and feast on fruit and cheesecake while studying. It’s a different time and different vibe, but the words of Hillel still rest quietly above our study hall.

Artsy container important for what it holds

It's almost Friday and you know what that means. Yes, it's time for another posting of "Interesting Jewish Stories & Facts" (IJS&F). Today, let's take a peek inside the Torah and explore one of Judaism's oldest commandments.

Okay, so you're visiting some new friends and as you're walking into their lovely home, you notice a beautiful little ornament nailed to the doorpost of the house.

You figure your friends are into edgy art, but still think it somewhat weird that they would be displaying something so delicate outdoors. Then again, there's a good chance you give little thought to the matter, quite probably don't even notice the little thingy hanging there.

Well, the delicate box isn't about art, but religion. And, truth to tell, the box isn't what's important. It's what's inside the container that counts in this case.

Jews are commanded by the Torah to place a "sign" on the doorpost of their homes. The why of it all is detailed in Deuteronomy 6:9, when the Torah commands that a mezuzah (Hebrew for doorpost) be affixed to the door frame of Jewish homes to fulfill the mitzvah (Hebrew for commandment) to write the words of the Shema "on the doorposts of your house."

The Shema is the ancient seminal statement of Jewish belief that runs on for several paragraphs. But even Jews who have only a passing understanding of the faith, generally know the opening line of the prayer: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One!"

It remains an open question exactly what the Torah means by doorpost -- some Jews simply place a mezuzah just outside the front door of their homes, others place additional mezuzot (that would be the plural of mezuzah) on door frames throughout their houses, except for bathrooms and closets. Go figure.

It was once a simple matter of taking the prescribed text -- always prepared by a specially trained scribe, using black indelible ink and a quill pen -- and stuffing it into some sort of container. Quite often -- at least thousands of years ago -- a simple niche was cut into a doorpost, the text placed inside and a small covering nailed into place to protect the contents from the elements.

In the last century, give or take a century or two, artists have turned the production of mezuzah containers into high art, producing a wide assortment of pieces from an endless variety of materials -- precious metals, stone, wood, and glass. So often, the focus is on the artsy container. Big mistake. The only purpose of the container -- artsy or simple -- is to hold the sacred text of the Torah.

A tradition among many Jews is to gently touch a mezuzah when entering a home or room, then kiss their fingers. During a trip to Israel, I noticed a teen doing just that. Each time we passed a mezuzah, he would reach up, touch the icon, then kiss his hand. I knew his parents weren't religious, so I was curious why he had picked up this tradition.

"Are you religious," I asked him. "No," he responded. "Then why kiss the mezuzah," I wondered. "Superstition," he said. And that, my friends and readers, is a topic for another day.

IT'S TRADITION: Many Jews gently touch a mezuzah (photo above) when entering a home or room, then kiss their fingers as a sign of respect.