It's there. It lurks. It waits. It rains all winter, snows just as a tease, and then it hits. Growing up in New York and never seeing so much of it, I am always surprised when it happens each spring here in Seattle. But right on time, it rears its ugly head: slippery and slimy mold. It covers everything in different ways and layers in the Northwest. It is almost like the eleventh plague. And what is the remedy? Armed with glorified bleach cleaner, a garden sprayer and a garden hose, you can have the cleanest pavement, trim, steps, and decks. But as I was conquering different parts of the outdoor wood today, it hit me that what is so relevant about this mold and this week's parasha is this: given the right conditions, environment and host, both mold and tzara'at ("leprosy") have the ability to grow and afflict the host in a number of unsavory ways. And what is the cure? In both cases, separation is the remedy. As the item with the mold is tamei (unclean), so too is the metzora (the afflicted person) and the niddah (menstruating woman). In order for both to come to a state of tehorah, or cleanliness, they both must undergo a separation from that which makes them unclean. And it is precisely in embracing separation and the process towards tehorah that deliverance and restoration are found.
You fill up my senses Like a night in the forest Like the mountains in springtime Like a walk in the rain Like a storm in the desert Like a sleepy blue ocean You fill up my senses Come fill me again...
Lyrics by John Denver
There are several ways that one can feel welcome or cozy inside one's own dwelling. Perhaps it is the smell of a lovingly prepared meal, or a fragrant dessert or candle filling the air with sweetness. Or maybe, it is that fire in the living room giving off the faint scent of burning wood, beckoning us to draw near and soak in the familiar welcoming smells of relaxation and comfort. Even the Havdalah spices take us to a place within the soul that cannot be reached in any other fashion. When the Golden Mizbeach (the Incense Altar) was constructed, its placement and purpose were crucial. Upon entering the Holy Place, the first element encountered would be the incense altar. This pleasing aroma of incense was not only present to welcome the King and show honor, but its purpose was also to place the Kohanim in an elevated state of mind for proper service. Only within the Holy Place would they be surrounded with this very unique scent, filling the morning and evening air. This pleasing aroma went far beyond a commandment however: it would be the very vehicle to take the soul to the various levels of repentance, shuvah and salvation.
This year Tu BeShvat (Shevat 15) comes to us on the night of February 9th. This is the Jewish "New Year for Trees." Marking much more than the growing cycle of the forest and orchard, this small holiday is filled with profound intention. With four cups of wine ranging from white to red we reflect upon the four seasons of the year and four worlds of tradition. We also consume various kind of nuts and fruits. All of this speaks of a return to the Garden of Eden and a connection to The Tree of Life. Below I have included a short reflection for the holiday.
In The Garden, Adam Harishon (the first man) ate fruit and was satisfied from the trees of Pardes, the orchard (Aramaic). There, trees blossomed in an endless springtime season. Sustenance was found with the extension of an arm. Adam plucked sweetbread from leafy branches and lived in a state of total sheleimut-wholeness.
"I was not looking for my dreams to interpret my life, but for my life to interpret my dreams." - Susan Sontag
During this time of the year all over the upper Northern Hemisphere, everything is hidden. A shell of white encases much of this part of the world, forcing it to rest and wait, until days of verdant spring force the snows to disappear and reveal the earth's potential. In this week's parasha, the snows of Yosef's life are starting to melt away and reveal his future. It is in guiding Mitzrayim through its national crisis that he begins to see the true meaning in the dreams of his youth. The events unfolding around him begin to actively interpret his dreams as his brothers arrive in Mitzrayim and stand before him in search of relief from famine. It is by interpretation through living, and not the reverse, that dreams show their true purpose: they are hidden keys in our lives that lie dormant, beckoning gently for us to walk forward, revealing our destinies at the proper time.
It looks something like this: Esav pulls up to Yaacov's tent exhausted. With reckless ambition, he orders a bowl of lentil stew super-sized, pays with his birthright, and drives off gastronomically satisfied. And there you have it: the first drive-through in history. Sound familiar? While we have Esav to thank for this modern-day invention, more importantly his example is an admonition in preserving our own birthrights : our generations and our destinies. For in casting off his birthright so frivolously, he forfeited not only generational blessing and achievement, but also the chance to merit the world to come. If we can recognize the gravity of preserving and emboldening our present and future toldot (generations) by the very manner in which we feed our lives, not only will our very lives and destinies be impacted, but we will move the Malchut Shamayim (Kingdom of Heaven) ever closer.
As we are coming to end of the season of Elul, we struggle with our own existence, the nature of our desires, and seek to find ourselves in a place that will be deemed righteous on Rosh Hashanah. Thoughts of repentance surround our days and actions. But where does all of this take us as we stand on Rosh Hashanah with the Book of Life opened on the very day when man was created in the Garden of Eden? What does it mean to be alive with our Creator?
"You shall love the L-rd your G-d with all your heart and with all your soul and all your might. Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day. Impress them upon your children. Recite them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up." Devarim 5-7
A lovely week in the Gorge area in Oregon - peaceful farmhouse, ten acres, blackberry picking, a milky-way filled sky sound tracked by crickets. Idyllic by all standards for a family vacation except for the river-rafting scheduled for the middle of the week. Class III-IV rapids complete with website pictures chalked up a guaranteed morning of anxiety for two parents ahead of the rafting. The word "might" would have a new meaning by the end of the day as we would seek to stay in the raft on the path of the river. By the same measure, Moshe's prescription for going down the river of life would provoke many of the same feelings of fear and apprehension in the Children of Israel as they would embark on their new life. However, it is that yirah, fear or awe, that would be pivotal in not only helping them but also our family as well from floating down the river outside of the raft.
by Rebbetzin Malkah
by Tim Layne
by Rebbetzin Malkah
by Rebbetzin Malkah
By Rebbetzin Malkah 
By Rebbetzin Malkah