Most mornings, I can be found walking the streets of my neighborhood, shoes laced up, with a baseball cap firmly in place. Especially in winter, I see this as one of the great gifts of living in Southern California, where weather so often permits such a routine.
I love to witness the lengthening and shortening of days, as well as the changing of seasons, which, as every Angeleno comes to know, may be subtle, but is clearly present. Or, in these days of purple-bloomed jacaranda trees, is advertised brighter than any Sunset Boulevard billboard.
When I walk, I suddenly take in a different view of my neighborhood, from front door colors — orange seems to be (delightfully) trending in Silver Lake — to sidewalk cracks and evidence of drought. I’m quickly connected to a different view of myself, too. I get much of my best thinking done while walking. The acts of moving and mindfully stepping inspire a similar motion in my own reflections.
In this week’s double Torah portion, Behar-Bechukotai, God tells Moses to tell the Israelites, “If you walk [telechu] in my laws and observe my mitzvot [commandments] …,” blessings and goodness will come to you (Leviticus 26:3). Leaving aside the challenging notions of reward, not to mention the fear-inspiring punishments that follow this passage if God’s commandments are not obeyed, we are left with a simple spiritual notion: Our engagement with God, mitzvot and sacred practice is meant to be active. Being an engaged Jew means, as Deuteronomy 28:9 echoes, walking in the ways of God. Jewish life is all about walking. This, of course, is the reason that we call Jewish law “halachah,” which comes from the same Hebrew root word, “to walk.”
This week, though, when considering Torah’s message, it is helpful for us to remember: There are many different walking ways and purposes. Sometimes we meander with no end in sight, and sometimes we move briskly, our destination the only point in mind. There are times for touring and exploring, as well as for exercising. Sometimes our walking is meant to be forward pushing, intentional and rhythmic. Other times it involves stumbling or dragging our feet.
As Vayikra, the Book of Leviticus, comes to a close this week, God finishes delivering the collection of laws that are spoken to Moses at Mount Sinai. Moses begins preparing to move the Israelites to their next destination. The Israelites are in a state of transition. With Sinai’s laws received, the priests ordained, the construction of the mishkan (Tabernacle) complete and the sacrificial system in operation, the Israelites are left considering what will come next for them.
We know, as readers of Torah, that the years to follow will not be easy. As Bamidbar, the Book of Numbers, will soon reveal, the Israelites slip into spaces of doubt and distrust. They will question Moses and God’s authority. They will complain, break into active revolt and invent false memories of Egypt’s bounty. Wandering, we realize, may not be the best backdrop for meaning making, even when it occurs on the heels of incredible miracles and relational moments of awe.
As we read the final words of Leviticus and we, too, prepare to step away from Mount Sinai, we are invited to reflect on the current state of our own Jewish walking. Our ancestors’ missteps provide a cautionary tale for us. The pace we take, the path we choose and our attitude toward our own stepping makes all the difference in the world.
I am currently enrolled in a parent-and-me music class at my synagogue with my 5-month-old daughter. One song we sing, as we all beat in rhythm on a large drum, has a simple refrain, “Walking, walking, walking, walking, walking, walking, walking.” I have found myself singing these words as this week goes by, raising Torah’s critical spiritual questions. I invite you to join me:
What is one spiritual practice with which you are currently struggling? Why? And how might you move the practice forward?
Where are you headed in your relationship with the Sacred in your life? Which aspects of the relationship need to be tended?
With whom are you traveling? What are some steps you might take to care for your fellow travelers?
This morning, as I stepped outside, the scent of night-blooming jasmine lingered. The boomerang effect of a series of hot days followed by cooler ones left the air feeling crisp. My mind drifted quickly toward this walking song, my feet began pumping, and my soul lifted a bit higher. Something tells me a grand adventure awaits us all as we step beyond the foot of the mountain.
Rabbi Jocee Hudson is a rabbi educator at Temple Israel of Hollywood (tioh.org), a Reform congregation.
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