Juliet the Rabbi; Coming from love, Keeping things real.

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Black, Jewish, Religious, Gay & Lech Lecha

Everyone wants to be famous.

Or at least be recognized for their gifts and contributions.

Last week, I threw myself entirely into Instagram. In a really big way.

This is very unlike me.

Until now, I have refused, especially during the pandemic, to be sucked into the vortex of social media.

I have protested when told I needed to get moving on Tik Tok and Instagram to get my name out there.

Not only was I intimidated by it, I also didn’t want to have to play this game everyone is playing! It feels like you’re in this impossible sea, all vying for the big fish.

Not to mention—it’s a lot of work, and for very little return.

But last week, I spent hours studying it, watching intently to understand the types of content people post.

I was appalled at the end of the week when I got my screen-time report from my phone!

Exactly when I wrote, “put away the iphone, close out Instagram, Facebook…” I was doing exactly the opposite—even when I was with family! (Are you laughing now?)

“For what?” I protested to my daughters.

“To get a lot of viewers.”

“But why?

“To become famous.”

“What for?” I insisted.

Finally, all they could do was laugh at me.

Back in September, I was visiting a friend on the Long Island Sound, enjoying the sand and the sea.

There were mounds of shells washed up on the beach, and I decided to try walking in them.

Yes, it was painful. But a good massage, as they say.

My friend, amazed, said, “let me film this!"

So I did a cute little walk for her through the shells.

Then I posted it on Instagram for the fun of it.

And I’ve gotten over 9,000 views! I was shocked! Here I was, just being my silly self, not trying at all!

Last week in Torah, before Abraham appeared on the scene, the people built a tower reaching all the way to the heavens. They wanted to “make a name” for themselves.

In this week’s Torah portion, God tells Abraham (still going by Abram), to go forth (Lech Lecha), leave his family and the place of his birth—and God will make his name great; and like the stars in the sky—or grains of sand on a beach—Abraham’s offspring will be so numerous, they are beyond counting.

But as soon as God singles Abram out, Abram proceeds to act in a way that no leader should act.

He goes down to Egypt and, for his own personal gain, wrongs his wife Sarai (soon to be Sarah), by asking her to tell a lie for him; she is so pretty, he fears the Egyptians will kill him—and keep her. Thus, she poses as his sister, and ends up in Pharaoh’s palace (for purposes we can easily imagine) for what might be years; it is enough time for Abram to become a very wealthy man.

Abram’s ego, and his disregard for another’s—a woman/his wife’s (!) life, are so great that he only cares for his own welfare (his name!), never thinking of the suffering he is causing—not even, it seems, when God brings a plague upon Pharaoh’s house, and Abram is forced to take Sarai and leave—with all his wealth! (Has he learned anything??)

Later, Sarai, unable to conceive, falls into a competition with her maidservant, Hagar. Hagar becomes pregnant by Abram, and Sarai fears she will lose recognition—her name—as the woman of the house, which leads her to treat Hagar cruelly. 

She understands how society is set up, and she falls into the same game as Abram, but on a woman’s level.

Further on, there is a battle between various kings, and Abram triumphs.

After the battle, they break bread, drink wine, and the king of Sodom offers Abram spoils of war in exchange for “the soul.” תֶּן־לִ֣י הַנֶּ֔פֶשׁ וְהָרְכֻ֖שׁ קַֽח־לָֽךְ׃/ten-li ha’nefesh v’harkhush kakh lakh/Give me the soul and you take the riches (Gen.14:21).

The “soul” often refers to a “person” in Hebrew. While being translated in the plural, as in “Give me the persons,” it actually appears in the singular, as shown above.

Previous commentary on this has suggested that the singular, “nefesh/soul,” implies that Abram would be selling his soul in exchange for wealth.

Abram absolutely refuses, saying, God forbid the king should be known as the one who made Abram rich.

In this instance, as opposed to earlier, Abram makes the right decision.

Later, when Abram is ninety-nine years old, God comes to solidify the covenant with the Israelites. God says to Abram, “walk before me and you will be tamim.” (Gen.17:1) הִתְהַלֵּ֥ךְ לְפָנַ֖י וֶהְיֵ֥ה תָמִֽים/hit’halekh l’fanai ve’h’ye tamim.

The word tamim can be understood as “pure,” or “blameless.”

But it also carries the understanding of “wholeness”—meaning walk before me with all of youthe good and the less desirable parts.

Perhaps Torah’s message is that we are not expected to be perfect, but to walk before God completely and fully as we are: our authentic selves.

Yet, what we mostly see on social media is not this. Each one out there is trying to make their name great, appearing beautiful, young, and purely happy, fulfilled, and confident. I see millions of people, strangers to me, dancing in front of the camera, trying desperately to be noticed in the sea of people.

Their ability to perform makes the rest of us feel like we shouldn’t even try; we could never live up to such a thing.

I don’t think many would deny that they’re selling an image—and sometimes willing to sell their soul in exchange.

I recently came across a guy named Tony Westbrook on Instagram who goes by the name of “Frum Jewish Black Boy.” Being Black and gay as an Orthodox Jew makes him very unusual. One can imagine his struggles walking in the world.

Yet he has made it his mission to put his whole, authentic self out there for everyone to see.

I heard him talking on a podcast about authenticity and how important it is to fight against the desire to hide behind a facade. Interestingly, he became famous on Tik Tok, just wanting to connect with others during the pandemic by lightening up the heaviness. He became famous by being his authentic self—and he wasn’t even trying!

He was just being his authentic self.

In exploring social media as a way to publicize my wares, I’ve had to really ask myself, what is it I actually want from all this? Why do it? How do I remain authentic while also getting my name out there?

How do I bring my whole self along, and not sell my soul while I’m at it?

The answer I've come up with is, I’m doing it because I’m passionate. I’m passionate about Judaism.

I have spent many years now developing myself in the spiritual realm, and it has saved me from despair, and so, I want to bring this to other people.

Also true is that I want to be noticed so I can make a living on this new path.

Remember Zach Bush? I talked him about last week. The “non-empathic presence” doctor who wants to save the world?

Well, he told of this amazing experience of swimming in the sea and being surrounded by a huge school of sardines. The sardines were clearly able to see him and sense his every movement as they moved in perfect harmony.

Suddenly, bubbles appeared, and as they cleared, he could see that some pelicans had plunged into the water for a meal.

Zach’s first reaction was “Oh, no, they’ve come to eat my friends!”

But then he heard and sensed from the fish, “NOOO! Wrong!”

He realized in that moment that the sardines had a knowing that they are an integral part of the cycle of life, and that all together, they make a contribution to life on Earth; they understand that they are part of a much larger cause.

Capitalism has caused us to forget our collective responsibility to each other and our environment. Our society is set up so that we are all scrambling for a living—and a name.

In order to make it, we need to compete and be better, funnier, more known, more beautiful, than the next person.

One of our greatest assets as humans is our individual ability to make unique contributions to society. But we need to remember that we are like the sardines in the sea, here to help our greater society flourish—to contribute to the whole.

We each need to ask ourselves what messages we are sending out into the world with our work. Is it for a cause that is authentically us?

And what is the impact on the whole?

So, when we say, Lekh lekha—go out into the world—let’s make sure we mean: find your own way, but with the greater good in mind.

My blessing for the week is, may we humans be like one big school of sardines, learning from and teaching each other, recognizing each other’s individual gifts, yet moving in synchronicity, making our individual contributions for the sake of the collective and all of Creation.

And say Amen.