My textual transformation

By Adina Re’em Temple Beth El

As a transplant to the Lehigh Valley without family nearby, I often experience holidays as a time of memories. A particular one from my high school years strikes me now as we mark graduations and the holiday of Shavuot.

My friends and I, at the first hint of dawn, hurried to wrap up our activities and get on our way. A moment earlier you could hear conversations spinning text study into passionate arguments. There were verses quoted, statements of one Talmudic sage or another, and opinions of prominent intellectuals, the “influencers” of the day. Everything was at stake and everything was ideological. But from the distance of an ocean and the years, I tell you, social status, friends, even selfworth were on the line those nights.

Eventually, a long, slow stroll to the Kotel (Western Wall) began. Individuals and couples, like drops of water, soon joined the river of people, through streets, neighborhoods. We passed the small triangle of our downtown center and continued onward to the Old City through the Jaffa Gate.

Some first timers, some veterans like us, all pilgrims of the night. Do not mistake all this as solely sacred. Mostly we were teenagers trying to maximize our social time together.

In this way we combined two of the many aspects of Shavuot, Temple and text. Ours was a pilgrimage in the footsteps of the ancient Judahites who ascended the Jerusalem hills carrying the first fruit of the season. Aptly the book of Numbers refers to Shavuot as “Yom Habikurim” (Day of the First Fruits), for the fruit brought to the Temple as an offering. On our walk, of course, there were no baskets of fruit in sight. The story of how Shavuot almost entirely shed its agricultural identity and came to be associated with the pivotal moment at Sinai is somewhat convoluted. Suffice to say it was a postbiblical development when Shavuot evolved to be celebrated chiefly as Z’man Matan Torateinu (the Time of the Giving of Our Torah).

Have you ever been part of a crowd in motion on a mission? There is a palpable thrill, an emotional charge. Yet my crowd, dressed in their holiday best, knew well that what we had just experienced when engag- to impress on the JDS kids the importance of treating people the right way.

Mariska van Aalst, deputy district director of the U.S. House, was there to represent U.S. Rep. Susan Wild. She read a statement from Wild. “The story of Jewish America is the story of America itself,” she said. Like Schlossberg, she brought up antisemitism, thanking the Jewish Federation for all it has done and is doing to combat it.

Rabbi Moshe Re’em of Temple Beth El invited the JDS kids up in front of the speakers’ podium. “Democracy is something we cherish as Americans and we cherish as Jews,” he said. Rabbi Seth Phillips (retired) offered a prayer in Hebrew along with its translation into English.

Rabbi Yaacov Halperin of Chabad of the Lehigh Valley said he was humbled to be part of the ceremony, with its message of togetherness. He shared a memory of unity from his youth in Israel. “I remember walking to the Western Wall on ing with words of Torah was the-real-thing. Coming to the Kotel was symbolic of times long gone. We no longer bring first fruit or sacrifices, but we do daily engage with Torah, the text.

In the subculture in which I grew up, Israeli Religious Zionism, nothing held greater value than engaging with the text of Torah. What do we talk about when we talk about Torah?

It seems to be one of those words that can mean many things to many people. Our ancient texts encompass the vast sea of biblical and rabbinic literature. Referred to as the written and oral Torah, it is all made of letters and words.

Diverse in genres, at times conflicting and often confounding, it was all largely inaccessible to me. Obstacles turned into barriers that I carried in my heart and mind. I learned calligraphy and drew the letters I loved, letting the lines of ink lead the way to a form or flow. I held on to their physicality knowing there was so much more hiding within.

Few texts are more intimidating than Torah, with its ancient language, jargon and compact style. No text is more welcoming than Torah, inviting one and all into a conversation about what matters most. I cannot tell you the moment I was ready to reenter the text again. Like most good things, it was a long process. At some point I committed to meeting a new friend weekly over text over Zoom. Knowing that texts have a way of hiding their agenda, even telling lies to produce “truths,” I was ready. If I once struggled with the meaning of the text, my middle-aged self was looking for multiple points of view, more than one meaning, even flat-out conflicting “truths.” Like returning home, returning to the text is not uncomplicated. There are challenges — possibly competition hangs in the air — and there are doors that still may be closed.

Yet, where the power

Shabbat mornings with our Arab neighbors,” he said.

Tuerk moved back to the front and invited Zimmerman to join him in sending the colors up the pole. “We are going to raise the flag for the first time in years,” he announced.

When the flag reached the top, the JDS kids sang the Israeli national anthem, accompanied by their music teacher, Sumer Noel, on violin. The ceremony concluded with the crowd turning to the Stars and Stripes and the kids leading the singing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” of my youthful crowd was once, now there was an intimate study space: two people and one text. A setting perfect for an ongoing process of discovery: Who am I? Who are we? Who do we want to be? Don’t look for a clear line between the text and the conversation, both called Torah. It rises in multigenerational voices, many paths taken and so many yet to be trod, it pulses with possibility.

Adina Re’em is an Israeli American who has been part of the Temple Beth El community for 20 years. She leads a weekly Shabbat study group there that is open to all, this year exploring Parsha with Prophets. She works as an RN Good Shepherd Rehabilitation Hospital, Raker Center.