Two-Minute Torah: How Beautiful Are Your Feet in Their Shoes

While we tend to think of Yom Kippur as simply the continuation of the period of teshuvah which starts with Rosh Hashanah, rabbinic tradition holds that Yom Kippur is the date that Moses came down from Sinai with the second set of Tablets after the sin of the Golden Calf.

Right after Moses came down the second time, the Torah describes the construction of the Tabernacle. The people had experienced a spiritual high at Mt. Sinai but shortly thereafter they built the Golden Calf. God then realized that the people needed something more concrete. We cannot live in a permanent state of spiritual ecstasy, so God gave us instructions to build a place of worship. This is much more concrete and prosaic than God’s appearance at Sinai.

R. Akiva Eiger in Itturei Torah connects the building of the Tabernacle to a verse in Song of Songs. Song of Songs is a love song but it is understood allegorically as the “love affair” between God and the Jewish people. There is a line where the male lover – understood as God – says to the female lover – i.e., the Jews “mah navu raglayich ba’min’alim” – how beautiful are your feet in their shoes. What does this mean?

One of the prohibitions of Yom Kippur is the wearing of shoes – today we understand this to mean the prohibition only of leather shoes but back then they didn’t have sneakers. So “in your shoes” means the day after Yom Kippur.

Everyone is righteous and pious on Yom Kippur. It’s not such a big deal that you are a good    Jew and a good person on Yom Kippur. The question is what kind of person you are the day after.

The Tent of Meeting was a way for the Israelites to continue the spiritual high of Yom Kippur. “OK, now you have the tablets and they are a visible sign of reconciliation, now go and do concrete acts.”

What concrete acts will you perform on the day after Yom Kippur?

Rosh Hashanah Sermon: The Story of Congregation Anshei Chazon

Anshei Chazon is a different kind of synagogue. For one thing, it has no fixed dues. To be considered a full member with all that implies, you have to donate something; but the amount is left up to each member. Every year, the synagogue publishes a detailed budget which explains exactly how much will be spent in the coming year and for what. Everything, from clergy and staff salaries to the cost of paper clips and coffee filters, is itemized and accessible to any member. The total budget is divided by 52 weeks, and every member knows how much has to be raised every week for the synagogue to stay solvent. Each week, both the weekly and year-to-date figures for income and expenses are published in the synagogue bulletin.

The members of Anshei Chazon know what it costs to run the synagogue and each member knows how much they can afford. The board trusts the members, and the members trust the board. Everyone gives what they can afford or what they think the synagogue is worth to them. No one has to apply for reduced dues and no one contacts the office to complain that they are being billed in the wrong dues category. And somehow, it all works; some years the synagogue raises a little more than it spends, and some years a little less, but for the last five years or so the books have been more-or-less in balance.

At Anshei Chazon, committees are kept to a minimum. There is a Board of Directors which meets monthly and a smaller Steering Committee which meets once a month as well. Besides these, there are only three standing committees. The Nominating Committee makes sure that there is always new leadership in the pipeline, and sees to it that up-and-coming leaders are not only identified but also given the training they need to succeed in their roles. The Finance Committee comes up with the annual budget, explains it to the members, oversees the synagogue’s accounting and manages the small reserve fund.

And finally, there is an envisioneering committee which meets quarterly. Besides the rabbi, the cantor, and the chairs of the standing committees, the envisioneering committee includes Anshei Chazon congregants who are not necessarily the most Jewishly knowledgeable or the most pious, but have a good sense of what’s going on in the larger world outside the walls of the synagogue. They help Anshei Chazon position itself to meet the ever-changing Jewish and secular worlds in which the shul operates. Among the members of the envisioneering committee are a fundraiser for a Jewish charity, a journalist, a congregant who is involved in local politics, and a single young woman who works for a small non-profit. The committee tries to make sure to include members who have non-Jewish spouses, Jews of color, Jews by Choice, and gay and lesbian Jews. By being as inclusive as possible, the committee reminds the congregation leadership that there are lots of types of Jews with lots of different interests and needs.

Aside from these standing committees, there are special Task Forces that take charge of specific events -- a Shabbat dinner, a concert, a special guest lecture or whatever else might be going on. Anshei Chazon realizes that people are reluctant to commit to something if they think it means endless meetings, an open-ended time commitment and lots of bureaucracy. At Anshei Chazon, project or event chairs are given certain general parameters -- like a budget or a time frame -- and then they are trusted to do their job with minimal oversight. And they’ve discovered that when people are treated as trustworthy, they tend to actually be trustworthy. If a project fails, it fails; lessons can be learned from our failures and not only our successes.

Spiritual life at Anshei Chazon is guided by two overarching principles:

1.) Every Jew connects to God in different and truly unique ways, and

2.) Someone else’s spiritual life is none of your business.

What this means is that Anshei Chazon is open to a variety of different expressions of Jewish spirituality, both in terms of prayer services and in classes. If a group of Anshei Chazon members want to organize a certain class or a certain type of service, Anshei Chazon will provide a space and publicity and maybe a budget. The only rule is this: the initiative has to come from the members, not the board or the staff. It’s not the job of the rabbi or the board to guess what members might be interested in; but it is their job to help facilitate it once the need has been expressed. There is more than one way to “do” Judaism, and Anshei Chazon is open to the entire range of Jewish practice and learning. Although Anshei Chazon is a member of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, and its main sanctuary service is mainstream Conservative, Anshei Chazon is open to an incredible variety of Jewish expression, recognizing that each Jewish soul is unique and precious in God’s sight. Anshei Chazon practices radical hospitality, just like our ancestors Abraham and Sarah.

Because of its recognition that every Jewish spiritual journey is unique, Anshei Chazon has a minimum of rules and regulations. Most children attend either a Jewish day school or Anshei Chazon’s excellent religious school, but some parents choose other alternatives for their children. When Anshei Chazon’s rabbi suggested several years ago that Anshei Chazon look the other way if parents chose not to send their children to its religious school, there was some fear expressed. Maybe everyone would stop sending their kids, since the other alternatives were easier and cheaper. But this turned out not to be the case. Parents appreciated the opportunity to choose Anshei Chazon’s religious school rather than be coerced into sending their children; most children attend, because the quality of the program is high and the kids feel a part of the overall community. The teachers are delighted; the kids are there because they want to be, the parents are supportive because they believe in the school, and it’s no longer a struggle to maintain attendance or discipline.

Because of Anshei Chazon’s unique style and culture, the rabbi and cantor play different roles than they do in most other synagogues. The rabbi is not the CEO of the synagogue, nor is he the chief priest. He functions as a resource person, connecting Jews to Jewish wisdom, Jewish text, Jewish practice and Jewish values. Of course he counsels individuals and groups, visits the sick, and comforts the mourners. But the community understands that while the rabbi should do all these things, it is not only the rabbi who does these things. Visiting the sick and comforting mourners are mitzvot, they are the responsibility of every Jew.

The rabbi is also the community’s resource person on halacha, but he is not the “God cop.” The rabbi is knowledgeable enough to answer questions which are straightforward, black-and-white. But he also knows his community, that while some members will indeed do something simply because the halacha says so, most won’t. The rabbi sees his role as teaching people what the Jewish tradition says and helping them to figure out the best way to apply the wisdom of Judaism in their lives.

The synagogue’s cantor, too, serves as a resource person. While she sometimes chants the liturgy -- indeed, she probably does that more often than anyone else in the congregation -- she is not seen as primarily a performer. As the rabbi is the teacher of Jewish text and Jewish wisdom, the cantor is the teacher of Jewish music. She has taught the congregants to understand how the different types of nusach indicate as much as the words what’s going on at any particular point in the service or day. Congregants now know the difference between weekday and Shabbat and High Holidays tunes and why the tune used for Shabbat mincha is unique, different than that for any other service. The cantor is passionate about helping the congregation be a more tuneful place, teaching congregants how to lead services, chant Torah and hafarah, and with the rabbi exploring ways to make the sanctuary service more spiritual and participatory while preserving its essentially traditional nature.

But what is most unique about Anshei Chazon is not the role of the board or committees, the rabbi or the cantor. It is not the religious school or the dues structure. Rather, it is the communal culture of the congregation.

Anshei Chazon lives out a theology of Relational Judaism. Almost one hundred years ago, the great Jewish thinker Martin Buber taught us that there are two types of relationship in the world: I- It and I- Thou. An “I-It” relationship means we relate to the other primarily in terms of of how we use or experience him or her. Our question in an “I-It” relationship is, essentially, what’s in it for me?

By contrast, in an “I-Thou” relationship the other is seen as a person with worth beyond the purely instrumental. By relating to the other fully, in truth and love and respect, I help him or her fulfill his or her role in this world. At the same time, I also grow as a person and a Jew. By embracing the other in all of his or her uniqueness, I myself grow as well.

The members of Anshei Chazon also understand and live by the Talmudic teaching in Kiddushin 70a that the traits we despise in others, we despise precisely because we know that we ourselves possess them. The Talmud calls this “ha posel b’mumo posel” and psychologists call it “projection.” Through lived experience, the members of Anshei Chazon have come to realize that everyone is frail, no one is perfect, and everyone is struggling with a burden that may not be obvious. At Anshei Chazon, the feeling is “I don’t have to agree with you to love and respect you.” At Anshei Chazon, no one feels judged. Everyone is loved and valued. Everyone is treated as a “thou” and not an “it.”

This commitment to relationship is not always easy. It’s so much easier to go off and do your own thing, to associate only with people who feel exactly as you do and share your perspective, your interests, your economic and social background. But the people of Anshei Chazon have internalized two truths:

1.) Judaism is lived in community, and

2.) I don’t have to like you to love you. God commanded us to love our neighbors; we aren’t commanded to like them. But we still have to treat them with respect.

Anshei Chazon stands as a counterbalance to the American cult of individualism. Its members understand that it’s easy to encounter God in the sunset at the beach or a walk in the woods. It’s much harder to encounter God in your neighbor who voted for the wrong political party and has a baby who’s crying through the sermon. But at Anshei Chazon they understand that community is where the religious rubber meets the road. Where we are challenged, where folks ask hard questions, disagree, need things from us, require our forgiveness. It’s where we get to live the teachings of the Torah and not just study them. Anshei Chazon is certainly not perfect, but it constantly strives to be and to become what Martin Luther King called “The Beloved Community.” And in order to Be Loved, we must love.

Truth be told, Anshei Chazon was not always this way. In fact, Anshei Chazon was not always known as Anshei Chazon, which means “People of the Vision.” The congregation was founded around 50 years ago as Jews started moving into the outer suburbs. A Jewish couple put an ad in the local paper looking for other Jews interested in founding a synagogue. They got a lot bigger response than they anticipated. Soon the congregation was formally established; they had regular Friday night and occasional Saturday morning services, renting space in schools, libraries, and community centers. The needs of the community were modest, as were the resources. If something needed to be done, the members pitched in and did it.

As the community grew, a building was built. Staff were hired. A lot more money was needed, but getting the necessary funds wasn’t that difficult. Lots of Jews were moving into the area, and almost all of them felt that they needed to send their kids to Hebrew school so that they could have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah. The synagogue was the gatekeeper for this lifecycle event -- if you wanted a Bar Mitzvah for your kids, the synagogue was the only place this could happen so synagogue membership, a building fund pledge and five years of Hebrew school were pretty much givens.

As the synagogue grew, the culture changed. While there was always a core of members who were deeply committed and involved, there were also a lot of peripheral members who mainly joined when it came time to send their children to Hebrew school to prepare for Bar and Bat Mitzvah, and mostly resigned or let their membership lapse after their youngest child’s Bat Mitzvah or Confirmation. This wasn’t such a big problem since Jewish families with children were still moving into the area and still felt they needed the synagogue for Hebrew school and Bar Mitzvah, so the congregation generally gained as many new members a year as it lost.

But as time went on this equilibrium could not be maintained. The demographics of the neighborhood changed -- fewer Jewish families with children were moving in. And the demographics of the American Jewish community also changed. Jewish families didn’t always feel the need to send their kids to religious school, or to have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah. And even if they did, other alternatives were now available which were less expensive and more convenient. The congregation and its religious school and youth programs began to shrink; the budget began to show a deficit year after year.

The leadership of the congregation did their best to cope with these changes and challenges. They tried some new programs, they brought in some consultants, they invested more in advertising. But in retrospect it must also be said that there was quite a bit of fear in the leadership’s reaction. The true extent of the synagogue’s financial difficulties was not shared with the congregation at large, for fear that congregants might begin to doubt the viability of their synagogue and join other congregations in the general area.

Eventually the synagogue leadership came up with a plan but it was not acceptable to a significant segment of the members. After an angry debate, the suggested plan was rejected. A lot of angry and hurtful words were exchanged on both sides. Many people -- including some of those who had played prominent roles in the synagogue for many years -- left. The rabbi and the executive director, each of whom had served for many years, both retired on the same day. It wasn’t clear that the synagogue would survive.

But it’s almost a decade since all of that happened, and now Anshei Chazon is thriving. It’s smaller than it used to be, but it doesn’t measure success by how many members it has. Anshei Chazon measures its success by a completely different set of metrics: how do its members treat each other? How many members have a deep and meaningful connection to God, to Torah, to the Land of Israel and the State of Israel? How many members engage regularly in acts of gemilut chasadim, acts of loving kindness? How many members study Torah regularly? How many members view Judaism as a joy and not a burden?

How did this remarkable transformation occur? Frankly, it was not easy. When times are tough, there is a natural tendency to circle the wagons, to draw red lines and create litmus tests, to blame others. But eventually, the transformation did occur.

The new rabbi had a lot of creative ideas but he was also a little bit afraid to push his agenda. Like many who go into the helping professions, he wanted to be liked by everyone, so he was afraid to articulate and push for his vision, because he did not want to say things that some people might not agree with. But the rabbi was fortunate in that one of his congregants was a leadership coach. She constantly asked him: “what would you do if you knew you could not fail?” Finally, the rabbi realized that trying to satisfy everyone was a recipe for disaster. He grew bolder in articulating his vision, and the congregation bought in.

At the same time, the members of the congregation grew to realize that in the end all of those who had chosen to remain with the congregation were on the same team. They understood that being angry at those who were no longer around didn’t accomplish anything. That gossip and talking about who did this to that one and who said this thing about somebody else, was lots of fun in the short run, but utterly destructive in the long run. They took to heart one of the key messages of the Days of Awe -- that as we ask forgiveness, so we must grant it. That we must remember the past but not dwell in the past. We will never move on until we leave behind anger and resentment and fully embrace the fierce urgency of now.

Is Anshei Chazon the product of a vision, or only a pipe dream? As Theodor Herzl said, “if you wish it, it is no dream.”

Something Different: A Blog Post About Whiskey

As a whiskey aficionado I’m often asked “what’s the best bourbon?” It’s an impossible question to answer. There is so much variety, so many different types of bourbon and so many different budgets. You can buy a very decent bottle of bourbon for less than $10 and you can buy a bottle of bourbon for $250 or more.

If you’re just starting to drink whiskey and want to learn more about it I don’t suggest you go out and buy a $100 bottle. Everyone is talking about the various Van Winkle bourbons but because they are so popular they are very hard if not impossible to find at any price. Remember that the youngest Van Winkle bourbon is 10 years old and the oldest is 23; you can’t just make more of it overnight.

Herewith my suggestions for three “bang for the buck” bourbons as well as one Canadian which I can recommend to beginners:

Bargain bourbon, low end: Evan Williams black label ($8.99 at Montgomery County DLC Stores): 86 proof (43% alcohol) and aged 5 to 7 years. It’s bottled in batches of hundreds or thousands of barrels mixed together so it is pretty consistent from one bottle to the next. It has a nicely assertive nose of oak, corn, and char but a short finish. Very dependable, great in mixed drinks (there is no point in spending $75 on a bottle of bourbon to mix with Coke or ginger ale) but can be enjoyed on the rocks as well.

Bargain bourbon, mid-range: Old Weller Antique ($18.99 at MoCo DLC); 107 proof and aged around 7 years. Bourbon by law is made from at least 51% corn but a typical bourbon “mash bill” is around 75% corn and 12.5% each of rye and malted barley. Old Weller, like Maker’s Mark and Pappy Van Winkle, is a “wheated bourbon” which means it uses wheat instead of rye. This produces a somewhat sweeter and less spicy whiskey. Old Weller Antique is significantly cheaper than Maker’s Mark, much higher in proof and more assertive. If you like Maker’s you might like this better, but if you drink your bourbon with water or ice you might want to add a little more to compensate for the higher proof. This is the very same whiskey which is aged a few more years to become Pappy Van Winkle.

Bargain bourbon, high-end: Knob Creek Single Barrel ($31.59 at MoCo DLC): 120 proof, 9 years old. “Single barrel” means that the bourbon in your bottle comes from one particular barrel rather than being a mixture of several barrels. Single barrel bourbons are not automatically better just because they come from one barrel; but they tend to be pretty good because you can’t cover up an “off” tasting barrel simply by diluting it in a larger batch. The flip side is that there is some natural variation from barrel to barrel so the bottle you buy today might not be exactly like the one you bought six months ago.

Knob Creek starts out as the same bourbon which becomes Jim Beam but it is aged for nine years (as opposed to four for the standard Jim Beam) and selected from particular warehouse areas which are known to yield outstanding barrels. Knob Creek “small batch” (a mingling of 100 barrels or so) has been around for a couple of decades at 100 proof; but recently the Beam folks added a “single barrel” at 120 proof for only about $5 more and well worth the extra cost. At 120 proof very little water is added at the bottling plant (Beam bourbons tend to come out of the barrel at 125 to 130 proof) and the nose of this bourbon is almost like being inside the bourbon warehouse. The flavors of vanilla, cinnamon, maple and fruit are very intense but for such a high proof bourbon the alcohol burn is not overpowering. Can be consumed neat or with a little ice or water. Don’t waste this in a bourbon and Coke though if you are making a cocktail where the whiskey is prominent (like a Manhattan) this would be a good choice.

Bonus “Bang for the Buck” Canadian Whisky

Forty Creek Barrel Select ($18.55 at MoCo DLC): Canada is the only major whiskey-producing nation that produces only blends. We often call Canadian whisky (their preferred spelling) “rye” although in fact, like bourbon it has corn as the predominant ingredient. When whiskey is produced, the higher proof it comes off the still, the less flavorful it is (think vodka); if you buy a bottle of 80 proof bourbon it came off the still at around 125 proof but then was cut with water so it is still pretty flavorful. Most Canadian blends mix very flavorful low-proof rye whisky with cheap, high-proof but low flavor base whisky made mostly from corn. This is why Canadian blends are relatively cheap and fairly mild in flavor.

Forty Creek is produced in a way which as far as I know is unique to this distillery. Like bourbon, their whisky is made from corn, rye and malted barley. But whereas American distillers ferment and then distill a mash of all three grains, Forty Creek’s John Hall separately produces whiskies made of 100% corn, rye, and malted barley, and ages each in the specific barrel and for the length of time he thinks is appropriate to that particular spirit. Then he blends them and re-barrels them for another six months or so to marry the flavors.

The result is a spectacular whisky for the price. Forty Creek Barrel Select is not as sweet or as woody as most bourbons(since it is aged in used barrels whereas bourbon barrels must be new) but overall it has a similar profile. If you think bourbon is too sweet, Scotch too peaty but Canadian whisky lacks flavor, you will probably love Forty Creek.

Two-Minute Torah: Early Israelite Feminists

According to Torah law, inheritance of land and property went only to sons and not daughters. Presumably, the daughter would be supported by her eventual husband, and of course, that husband would be heir to his father.

But in this week's Torah portion, Pinchas, a man (Tzelofchad) dies who has five daughters and no sons. The daughters find it unfair that they cannot inherit and that their father's property will pass on instead to their uncles and cousins. They bring their case to Moses, who seems to agree with their concern but also be powerless to do anything about it, since he has already received the law from God. He agrees, however, to discuss their case with God.

The Sifrei, a late Midrash from the Land of Israel, explains how it was that the daughters of Tzelofchad felt they had a chance of changing a law they thought unjust: When the daughters of Tzelofchad heard that the Land of Israel was to be divided among the tribes, and not among the daughters, they took counsel together and said: “The mercy of God is not like the mercy of human beings. Human beings treat better than their daughters, but the Holy One, Blessed be He’s mercy is equally distributed to all, male and female, as it says (Psalms 145): ‘His mercies are on all of his creations’“

I find this recognition that the tradition's non-egalitarian nature reflects human tendencies and not divine desires to be quite interesting. As it happens, God ultimately agrees with the daughters of Tzelofchad, and they are allowed to inherit their father’s property.

Two-Minute Torah: Holiness Throwdown

The Food Network has a show called "Throwdown" where chef Bobby Flay shows up, unannounced and unexpected, to challenge another chef on his or her own turf. Flay and his opponent both make the dish for which the challenged chef is known, be it fajitas or Pad Thai or pizza or matzah ball soup. Often the challenger wins, but not always.

Perhaps the producers got the idea for "Throwdown" from this week's parasha.

Briefly, Korach -- a relative of Moses and Aaron, and a Levite -- calls Moses and Aaron to task for exalting themselves above the rest of the congregation. After all, Korach says, all the congregation is holy and God dwells in their midst.

Moses responds by challenging Korach and his followers to what is in essence a holiness throwdown. Everyone is to bring incense and fire pans, and God will show who is holy and who not. But the result is not what Korach expected; the earth opens up, swallows him and his followers, and they go down to Sheol alive. End of challenge.

For those of us who have imbibed our country's democratic and meritocratic ethos, the story of Korach is a challenging one. The sages are aware of the problem. Because after all, we are in fact taught that all of the congregation is holy and God resides in and among each one of us. Shouldn't we have a meritocratic system? Rabbinic Judaism evolved at least in part to answer Korach's challenge by affirming its validity. You get to be a rabbi not because of inherited status but because of education and devotion to certain ideals. You get to be a synagogue lay leader the same way, by willingness to roll up your sleeves and do the job.

This is why the rabbinic tradition found it necessary to portray Korach as a demagogue. One can uphold the right ideals for the wrong reason. Korach used the language of democracy and equality. But that was not really what he was after -- he saw the use of such rhetoric as an opportunity to get himself and his buddies in a position of power instead of Moses and Aaron. He was the Willy Long of his generation.

In a later parasha, Shoftim (Deut. 16:20) we are taught tzedek tzedek tirdof -- "justice, justice shall you pursue." Why "justice, justice"? Because the pursuit of justice must be through just means and for a just cause. You can be right and still be a demagogue.

Two-Minute Torah: Espionage Fail

When I studied international relations as an undergraduate a long time ago, I learned that there are two different aspects of foreign intelligence. The first is gathering information, the second is analyzing that information. They are two distinct tasks, though related. It is not enough for me to know what my potential adversary is doing. I also have to know why he is doing it and what it means. My intelligence-gathering effort can be highly accurate, but if I analyze my data wrong, I am still likely to blunder.

In this weeks Parasha, Shelach-Lecha, Moses sends 12 spies to scout out the Land of Israel. They come back, and their report throws the populace into a panic. They've concluded -- well, ten out of the 12 have concluded -- that the current inhabitants of the Land are strong and thus the Land is unconquerable.

How do they know this? Because, they report, the cities are well-fortified. Well-fortified cities mean a strong population.

Rashi points out that the spies were successful in gathering information but performed very poorly in the analysis section. Well-fortified cities are not the sign of a strong populace, he says. Quite the opposite. Cities are surrounded by high walls because their inhabitants are fearful, not because they are strong. And we know from elsewhere in the Bible that the inhabitants of Canaan feared the Israelites. We read this in Exodus at the Song of the Sea, and we will see this again almost 40 years later, when the Israelites finally conquer the Land in the haftarah which we will read Shabbat morning.

Strong, self-confident people do not need to live behind walls. We often project onto others the characteristics we most dislike about ourselves. Ten of the twelve spies lacked self-confidence. Describing their sighting of the "giant" inhabitants of the Land, "we were in our own eyes as grasshoppers, and thus we were in their eyes as well." How did they know that the Canaanites saw them as "grasshoppers"? They didn't, but because that is how they felt about themselves, they assumed that that is how they were perceived by others.

Robert Burns wrote a poem asking for the blessing of seeing ourselves as others see us. Perhaps no less important is to hope that others not see us as we see ourselves!

Two-Minute Torah: Learning by Doing or Seeing

There is a curiosity in this week's Torah portion, B'haalot'cha, right at the beginning. God instructs Moses concerning how the Menorah, the lampstand for the holy tabernacle, is to be lit. Then we find this statement: ”Now this is how the lampstand was made: it was hammered work of gold, hammered from base to petal. According to the pattern that the Lord had shown Moses, so was the lampstand made. ”

In other words, God did not give instructions to Moses on how to construct the Menorah; instead, in some mystical way that commentators have struggled to understand over the centuries, he showed him what the Menorah should look like.

There are some things that cannot be described, they have to be experienced. For me, the classic example is baseball; if you've ever tried to explain the infield fly rule to someone who grew up in a country where baseball isn't played, or who never watched or played baseball as a child, you know what I'm talking about.

I believe the Torah in this small vignette is talking about Jewish education as well. In some sense, God was the first Jewish educator and Moses his student. Much of what God wanted to teach Moses could be taught frontally, through words, but some things just had to be experienced.

Many things in Jewish life are this way. Most people who know how to lead services learned to do so by attending services regularly. I have never successfully explained to someone how to wrap tefillin but if you have a pair of tefillin, I can show you how to wrap them.

Throughout most of Jewish history, Judaism was transmitted mimetically -- you learned how to do Jewish things by observing your parents and other adults. For all kinds of reasons, that mimetic tradition has been disrupted, and now we rely on formal and informal Jewish education (day schools, supplementary Hebrew schools, Jewish camps and campus Hillel Foundations) to transmit Jewish knowledge and identity. But sometimes, there is simply no substitute for learning by doing.