matot—masai

tribes journeys

vows

Jump to About this Menu

This dvar is a bit of a journey in itself, but I recommend the investment in time, if I may be so bold to do so.

Jump to Menu

This week we’re reading a double parashot, Matot and Masai.

After forty years, after all the struggles and all the triumphs, the Israelites are about to say goodbye to the wilderness and cross the Jordan River into the Promised Land.

And we’re about to say goodbye to the book of  Bamidbar.

There are a lot of themes we could focus on, but here I am, stuck at the beginning of the reading …

When a man makes a vow it’s sacrosanct, but when a woman makes a vow it’s only binding if her father or husband allows it.

Any time something so blatantly sexist pops up in the Torah, it raises my hackles.

There was a time when it would have caused me to close the book.

I’ve since learned that when something is so disturbing, it’s time to open it wider.

I do get it, on a certain level. At a time in history when roles were clearly defined, a woman could not be held responsible for a vow that could interfere with her duties or compromise a situation that she might not have knowledge of. Often, there were financial considerations behind the man’s decision to annul the woman’s vows.

But, when an autonomous woman, such as a divorcee or a widow, made a vow, it was binding. So the issue wasn’t gender, it was one’s place in the community.

Kinda makes those two states sound more than a little appealing…

We make a grave mistake when we judge the past through the lens of the present. Sometimes, something that sounds outrageous to us made perfect sense to people who lived millennia ago.

We need to consider the structure of the society as it was when the Torah was written down.

But still! Grrrrrr!

Let’s set this topic aside for the moment, but only for the moment, and talk about vows themselves.

Most of the vows we make are flippant.

I swear, I’m going to call Louise once a week from now on.

From now on, I’m going to work out every morning before work.

Going forward, I’m going to stop eating sweets after dinner.

I say flippant because we make them without thinking it through.

The vows we make are often things we think we should do, and we hope that if we turn it into a vow, it will give us the strength to keep it. 

Our intentions are good. But, do we stop to think—am I really going to keep this up?  Often, life circumstances or our own weaknesses prevent us from keeping our vows.

Then, there are the ugly vows—

I swear, if that guy blasts that &%$*# music one more time, I’m going to punch him in the face!

I swear, if you break curfew again, you’ll be grounded for life!

Even as we make them, we know we’re not going to keep them.

These are words that are blurted out in anger. But, looked at from another perspective, these are also, in a twisted way, coming from a place of love of some sort.

As a species, we’re complicated.

Because most of us are not saints, and we make vows that we should never have made, we need a system that can get us out of the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.

On Erev Rosh Hashanah we perform “Hatarat Nedarim” (annulment of vows.)

Hatarat Nedarim annuls any personal unfulfilled vows.

Then on Erev Yom Kippur we chant “Kol Nidre” (all vows.)

There was a time when I thought, as do many, that Kol Nidre annuls our past vows, the ones we made between last Yom Kippur and this one, but that’s not the case. We already did that with Hatarat Nedarim.

So, what is Kol Nidre for? One teaching says that its purpose is to annul in advance any vows that we will make from this Yom Kippur to the next. But that makes me wonder—if this is so, why do we need Hatarat Nedarim? Didn’t Kol Nidre already annul those vows in advance?

God also makes vows.

Just as our vows are binding, God’s vows to punish us, as a people, for our transgressions are also binding.

Another teaching, and this one resonates better with me, says that Kol Nidre is us imploring God to annul God’s vows—vows of judgement which we well deserve—and instead look upon us with mercy. This is why it’s such an intensely moving prayer. Chanted three times, in a lamenting melody that can make one’s spine tingle, what we’re doing is begging for our lives, with no merits to stand on.

Philosophically this is all very interesting.

But, is it real?

Or is it a bunch of religious gobbledygook?

I want the science!

Before we can answer, we need to back up and first ask, what, exactly is a vow? Let’s break it down.

Essentially a vow is a collection of words, specifically words that state an intention. Words are extraordinary things and we usually take them for granted.

We’re the only creature gifted with words, and still, rather than being awed by our ability to speak, we let words run out of our mouths like water from a faucet, with no regard for what they can do. And I’m not talking about the obvious. I’m not talking about how our words can affect others, giving emotional comfort or causing pain.

I’m talking about the primal power that’s compressed and locked into every word.

Every child knows that for a magician’s trick to work, one has to say the magic words.

Fun Fact:

Abracadabra is a corrupted version of the Hebrew, ebrah k’dabri. I will create as I speak.

But here’s the thing—

All words are magic words.

An entire universe can be squished up and shoved into a word, ready to spring out the moment it’s spoken. We have empirical evidence for that.

Take our universe, for example.

What was the defining moment at the beginning of God’s creating?

And God said!

Existence itself was spoken into being.

Words are the building blocks of creation. “God said: Let there be light!”  

Or – the Hebrew word for light, the prime act of creating, begins with Aleph, the first letter of the aleph-bet.

God Spoke! and with this first sound, this vibration, the creative energy of God—God Light—shot out into the void. Then came more sounds, more vibrations, more energy. Fast forward a bit and the energy starts to slow down. And energy slowed down becomes matter. (Scientists have a word for this phenomenon—they call it The Big Bang.)

Considers this: We’ve been given speech, not for the purpose of flailing our egos about, but rather so that we may be partners in creation, so that we may have an intellectual and emotional relationship with The Name.

Whatever part of speech any given word is used for, all words are themselves, nouns. Words are things. Things are made up of energy or matter.

Energy and matter are of the same essence.

The universe is in constant motion, with electrons slipping in and out, from energy to matter and back again in the Great Dance.

Now you see ’em, now you don’t.

Words released from our mouths come forth as energy and they materialize whether we’ve thought them through before releasing them, or not.

Think about that! If every one of us spoke the right words, and only the right words, we could repair the whole world!

The following is based on a teaching from Live Kabbalah.

The quotes are from their page…

A Neder (vow) is actually a natural law, the natural law of cause and effect. The Zohar teaches that the purpose of the Kol Nidre prayer is to nullify vows from the upper worlds.

What happens on one plane affects other planes—as above, so below—what goes around, comes around—cause and effect.

What Nidre does is it cleans up the mess we’ve made here, in other worlds.

So, which is true, this teaching, or the one that says we’re asking God to nullify God’s vows against us?

Both are true. They’re essentially the same thing.

We beseech God to nullify the judgement that is the natural result of the words we’ve spoken; we’re imploring God to lift the law of cause and effect.

Now that we’ve explored the word, vows, let’s circle back to the gender discrimination that Matot opens with. Let’s consider the plain meaning of the text, as it applied to our ancestors of thousands of years ago. The plain meaning, the p’shat, doesn’t really relate to modern life.

Since Torah is timeless, we need to ask, “what does this mean to us, living in this time, with the knowledge and understanding that we currently have?”

The Zohar asks us to look behind the plain meaning of the text and find the deeper meaning.

Kabbalah teaches that Torah is black fire (ink) on white fire (parchment).

Let’s see if we can read the white fire. Let’s go deeper. Let’s dissect the characters in our story.

Now, we’re talking about archetypes and energy, rather than literal women and men. Each of these “persons” represents elemental energies that exist within us all.

Within each of us are both the wife/daughter and the husband/father.

The woman represents the vessel that receives, the world of substance.

The man represents the element of giving.

We are both the one who gives and the one who receives.

We don’t have to accept everything that comes at us from other sources, or even everything that we throw at ourselves. “We often forget that we are the master of our body and soul, and have the right not to allow emotions to enter that do not serve us or our purpose. We must hold on to the belief and knowledge that we have the power to redirect our fate…”

Just because we’re selling ourselves an emotion or a thought doesn’t mean we have to buy it and own it. We have the power to choose. Change your mind, change your life.

“If we bear a vow of adversity from previous reincarnations or past years, we can disavow it and change it…

Parashat Matot endows us with the power of Kol Nidrei.”

and

“The way to attain “Mituk HaDinim” (mitigation of verdicts), is by awareness and mindfulness that all our deeds come from an intent of love, tolerance and giving, rather than judgmentalism and criticism. In this way we can change and redirect the course of destiny…”

So, what shall we eat?

Leaving the topic of vows behind, let’s talk about the most monumental event of the reading.

The Israelites are, at last, about to cross the Jordan River and take possession of the Promised Land!

These two parashot are the climax of the entire Torah, from creation to this very moment.

I was mulling over the concept of crossing a river and it brought to mind an old riddle about a river crossing. It’s an analytical brain-teaser that could make for engaging dinner conversation. Children, and even adults who are hearing it for the first time, will be intrigued. Those at the table who know the answer should keep it hidden while the others try to solve it.

I’m talking about the wolf, the goat, and the cabbage.

For this menu, I’ve traded the goat for a chicken.

Here’s the riddle:

You need to cross the river with a chicken, a wolf, and a cabbage. The boat can only hold two at a time—you, and one other. The problem is that, if the chicken is left alone with the cabbage, it will eat the cabbage, and if the wolf is left alone with the chicken, it will eat the chicken. How can you get them all safely across the river?

Let’s say you take the chicken first and leave the other two. They’re fine alone. You go back for the next passenger. But whichever one you take will result in disaster when you go back for the third.

The solution is a lesson in problem solving and thinking outside the box. What could be more Jewish than that?

Even young children who are not yet up to abstract thinking can participate when the objects in the riddle are represented on the plate.

So, let’s set the stage:

(Hang in there, vegetarians. There’s a delicious version of this recipe for you.)

One of my most beloved dishes from childhood was my paternal grandmother’s Chicken Fricassee. She didn’t make it often, but when she did it was wonderful.

If you’re familiar with chicken fricassee, you’ll know that it’s a classic French dish consisting of cut-up chicken browned in the pan and then braised in a creamy white wine and mushroom sauce.

Chicken + cream = not kosher.

There’s a cajun version that dredges the chicken in flour, eliminates the cream, replaces the mushrooms with green peppers, and adds cajun seasonings.

The Jewish version of this dish differs quite a lot from the original French recipe and is unrecognizable from the Cajun . Like so many wonderful dishes, its beginnings are humble; Jewish chicken fricassee started out as peasant food. The chicken in the dish consisted of necks, a few wings, oftentimes chicken feet (which adds collagen and creates a silky sauce), and giblets (not including the livers). Little meatballs were added to the stew, which were made using stale bread to stretch the meat. The sauce had no cream, of course. Often, this dish was served in small portions as an appetizer for Shabbat or holidays, to be followed by chicken soup, possibly gefilte fish, and then a main course.

There are so many versions of Jewish fricassee out there that it’s impossible to trace the origin. Some include tomatoes. Some include bell peppers. Some add white wine to the sauce. Some leave out the meatballs. Most contain paprika.

My Grandma’s version was an all-afternoon affair and was served as an entrée. She used wings, thighs, and drumsticks in addition to the giblets. No chicken feet. The bread in the meatballs was less about stretching the meat and more about making them light and fluffy. Of course, the best part was the sauce. Her’s was made a tad sweet with the addition of dried apricots and the warm Middle Eastern flavors of allspice and cinnamon. The sweet was offset by a squeeze of lemon juice. Grandma usually served it over egg noodles to sop up every delicious drop of gravy.

As I said, Grandma’s Chicken Fricassee was always a special treat, but I was envisioning the dish differently. I wanted something more savory.

So, here’s what I did.

I borrowed the Cajun idea of dredging the chicken in flour before browning it, and I brought back the mushrooms from the original French recipe. Yes to wine in the sauce. I’m going to veer away from Grandma’s sweet and sour version and base the sauce on white wine, herbs, aromatics, and a generous amount of garlic. I served it with some plain steamed rice to soak up the sauce.

I was very satisfied with the way it turned out … as was everyone else who ate it.

I’m going to forgo soup this week. Soup would feel redundant because stews are kind of soupy. Instead, I’m starting with gefilte fish and this crisp and refreshing summer salad treat: Belgian Endive and Nectarine Salad. With the fricassee, I’m serving Whole Roasted Carrots, which look impressive, taste delicious, and are super fast and easy to make. I’m also serving wedges of Braised Cabbage, over which I’ll spoon some of the fricassee sauce. By the way, when you navigate to the recipe for Braised Cabbage, you’ll see that I include carrots in the dish. Since we’re roasting whole carrots, you can leave them out here. Or, keep the carrots and forgo the whole roasted carrots. It’s your meal!

We’ll finish with a slice of Blueberry Pie, with a twist from Chef Seth, topped with a squirt of coconut whipped cream.

And now, for the players in our drama…

The Chicken, The Cabbage, and The Wolf

The river will be played by “Egg Noodles”

The part of the boat will be played by “Whole Roasted Carrots”

The part of the chicken will be played by “Chicken Fricassee”

The part of the Cabbage will be played by “Cabbage” herself

Tonight, filling in for the part of the wolf, will be “Little Meatballs”

Don’t think I’m leaving the vegetarians out this week. As you know if you follow me, half my family is vegetarian, so I need to have an entree for them, as well. I didn’t want to cheat them out of this yummy dish. I looked for a way to make it work for them and I didn’t have to look far—in fact, veganizing the dish was easy.

For a vegetarian version, use a meat alternative, such as Beyond™ or Impossible™ ground “beef” for the meatballs. Replace the chicken with seitan “chicken.” There are various commercial versions of this, but for the best taste and texture, I recommend you make your own. It’s easier than you may think. This one, from Nora Cooks, is excellent. It’s the one I use.

Once you have your Impossible™ meatballs and your seitan chicken, continue with the recipe as written.

menu for matot—masai

golden shabbat challah

Salad of Belgian Endive and Stone Fruits

(Optional) Gefilte Fish, cheater’s or from scratch

with horseradish

Jewish-Style Chicken Fricassee with Little Meatballs

(Vegetarian/vegan Version available)

steamed Rice

Braised Cabbage

Whole Roasted Carrots with Warm Spices

Fresh Blueberry Pie

shabbat shalom!