Finding Balance When The World Feels Out of Control

A D’var Torah in memory of Rabbi Dr. Andrea Weiss

Tzohorayim tov - good afternoon. We may not know each other, but thank you for inviting me here, especially in this agonizing week, v'nahafoch hu, when Existence feels upended (Esther 9:1). I actually wrote a different D’var Torah last week, but the world changed, so I threw that one down and carved out time to write a second one anew. May it be enough. 

There are moments when, after climbing in the heights of the tallest mountains, it all comes crashing down. We come crashing down. When like Moshe, having communed in the clouds with the Holy One, having carved out for ourselves a clear way forward, we find that while we were contemplating, the world was spinning out of control. 

In Ki Tissa, Exodus 32, Moshe’s experience is just that. The people cavorting with a golden calf led him to lose control, to smash the tablets that told him the way forward, shaking once again the foundation that was his life, and his life’s work. 

Moshe saw - in Exodus 32:25 - that the people, Ki faru’a hu, that they were “unrestrained, disordered, uncertain.” Out of control. Our commentators play with the root of faru’a, Pey–Resh–Ayin, trying to pry perspective from those three letters. 

Ibn Ezra connects paru’a with yip-pare’a, “cast of restraints,” suggesting - based on Psalm 28:18 - that “where there is no vision, the people cast off restraint.”

And Ramban - Nachmanides - connects paru’ah with hiphria - to “cause disorder,” “to let loose,” as in 2 Chronicles 28:19, “he had caused disorder in Judah…” Ramban wants to pin the problem on leadership, that “Aaron had let the people loose, leaving them without any … instruction, so they became like sheep scattered upon the mountaintops without … a guide.”  

And Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg blessedly intuits that the people’s behavior reflects spiritual panic. The chaos described by paru’a, she suggests, reflects the people’s inability to tolerate the uncertainty of Moses’ absence. That the Israelites’ wildness in the wilderness is anxiety unleashed when faith feels fragile. 

I think Moshe sensed that, whether from fear or loss, from being leaderless or faithless, the people had broken loose. Or perhaps, they were just … broken. 

And what about Moshe himself? The one who struggled daily to pave a path to propel the people to the Promised Land, where he hoped harmony with the Holy One would help his people hear and find hope? What of him? 

Ki faru’a hu. Might the Hebrew “hu” point to the English “he,” meaning Moshe? Might he - Moshe - have felt faru’a too, out of control, as everything crumbled along with that first set of tablets. 

And what about us, leaders who might feel like we’re losing our grounding? What do we do when the stones upon which we stood are shaking? When the Shechinah, who spread over us her sukkat shalom, her protective cover, seems to have taken leave from us once again?  

When I feel this way: Sometimes I’m like Yitzchak - in Genesis 24:63 - lasu’ach basadeh, I try to meditate to find my grounding. Sometimes it’s hitbodedut. I’m like Chana at Shilo - in 1 Samuel 1:9 - talking to God, or having it out with the Holy One, or even yelling at God, so loudly that my wife runs in from the other room to check in on me. Sometimes I’m like Rivkah - in Genesis 25:22 - I just sit and cry, Im kein, lama zeh anochi - why why why? - convinced that no matter what I try, the people and I will be faru’a. 

And then, once I gather myself, usually after God enwraps me in an embrace, and offers me a chance to carve a second set of tablets targeted to talking about the pain of today, I wipe away my tears - of loss, of frustration, of anger, of being set adrift - and I try to return to Source(s). 

I grab God’s “green book” (Torah: A Women’s Commentary) and flip furiously through its pages, seeking wisdom from my teacher Rabbi Dr. Tamara Cohn Eskenazi. And seeking stability of study proffered by my professorial friend, Rabbi Dr. Andrea Weiss. 

And right there, baked in between beautiful commentaries by the best collection of scholars, are found Tamara and Andrea, standing like Moshe at the gates of the camp, encouraging us. It’s there in Exodus 32:26 - “Mi ladonai? Ay-lah!”, “Whoever is for [seeking] God [in the midst of this mess], “come to me…” “to us,” they say… “learn with us.” “V’yay-ahs-foo ay-lav…” And their words, and their teachings, gathered us together. 

And while others took up swords - Exodus 32:27 - to slay their fellow human siblings, Andrea slayed it differently, turning us again and again back to the word, for the “pen [the word] is mightier than the sword,” said someone - an Englishman, putting those words in the mouth of a cardinal, a midrashic shift that was kinda…Jewish. 

Oh, how desperately we seek the power of the pen, the tenacious teachings of the tablets to tell us that amidst the turmoil thrust upon us, we still have the words to find a way through this mess. 

But it’s all so “f…faru’a’ed” up! 

In this world, there’s a war, that I’m not prepared to condemn, though you might be. And our country’s adrift or worse aflame, though you might not agree. 

And then there’s Andrea, dear Andrea, who, even as rampaging cells were ruining her insides, she was still inspiring us with her Torah. Andrea, dear Andrea, Ayeka? Where have you gone? 

Moreinu, our teacher, who cowrote the Torah. Rabbeinu, our rabbi, who crafted an interfaith collaboration to confront the farua surrounding us, not once but twice. Our Mara D'Atra, who was to lay her hands on our heads, to anoint us as rabbis, educators, leaders, cantors… to steady us as faculty for the future. Andrea, Andrea, where are you? And without you, where are we? 

Yet another one taken too young. 

Oh, again, the world feels broken. How will we repair it, and first, how will we repair ourselves? 

Perhaps like with Torat Moshe, we can still turn to the Wisdom of Weiss, of blessed memory. Right here at the gates of the Beit Midrash, her teachings and her green book can ground us while the earth shakes beneath us. 

We might feel her in here, before the aron of our hearts, diminutive in size, towering in teaching, reaching up her hands, preparing to place them upon our heads or around our shoulders. Like the absent God who the rabbis found hiding in the Megillah’s meaningful moments, we too might find the hidden Andrea still, and as we imagine her raising up her hands above each moment, we shall grasp onto them, and onto Torat Moshe, and to each other, to steady ourselves, and steady each other, so we may find our way through. 

Ki anu ladonai, for we encloth ourselves in the teaching of the Holy One, of holiness, and ay-lai, coming together, we shall, in her memory, still shine - and divine - a way through. 

Ken yehi ratzon. Yes, may the Source of All show us a way through. Amen. 

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NOTE: With"When the World Feels Out of Control," I thank HUC-JIR Rabbinic Student Lisa Friedman, who helped edit the previous d’var Torah, and who, maybe with some trepidation, suggested to her rabbi that perhaps I might add a sentence mentioning the passing of Rabbi Dr. Andrea Weiss. Her “chutzpadik” suggestion quickly clued me in to the pain that would be permeating the community. By speaking up, Lisa allowed me to read the room ahead of time and write a new d’var Torah. (Thank you, Lisa!)