up for grabs

One of my favorite things about West Philly are the many “free” things. Little free libraries. “Free table,” etc. I have this sense that anything I need can be acquired just by walking around the neighborhood. And more importantly, that anything I no longer need can be rehomed by simply placing it on my neighbor’s stone wall on my corner. This week alone I dropped off an old architect's drafting table (where the california raisin man once was conceived), cleats my kids had outgrown, 2 glass vases, and a bird bath I never managed to install. It was all gone by evening. There is a current in our neighborhood that allows things to travel without currency or tariff from home to home. West Philly’s great river of stuff!

There is a wonderful hebrew word that captures this sense of freedom – hefker. I first encountered the word hefker in rabbinical school when I came upon a table of snack remnants. A half eaten package of oreos. A platter of vegetable crudite with an unopened hummus. Some pretzels and a bit of soda. With a sign that read: ‘hefker’. Which is to say, up for grabs! In a more secular context you might have seen a “free” sign. But it meant something to me that there was a rabbinic term for this kind of exchange. 

This week we begin reading the book of Bemidbar - best translated as “in the wilderness.” The chapters resume the narrative of our ancestors wandering through the wilderness, uncertain, unhappy, unsatisfied. 

In just a week’s time we will celebrate the festival of Shavuot. In the Torah it is purely an agricultural holiday. But the rabbis later attached deeper meaning, describing it as zman matan torateinu - the time that commemorates the giving of the Torah in the wilderness of Sinai. 

Our parsha begins, 

וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהֹוָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י
“And God spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai…”

So the rabbis obviously ask and graciously answer the next obvious question: Why was Torah given in the wilderness? Why not in a more accessible place? Why would it be that in the place of greatest uncertainty (and greatest irritability), would we also receive wisdom and insight?

We learn in midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 1), 

“Why does it say ‘And God spoke to Moses in the Sinai Wilderness’?

Because anyone who does not make themselves ownerless, hefker, like the wilderness cannot acquire the wisdom and the Torah…" 

Which is to say, if we do make ourselves hefker, we can acquire the wisdom of Torah. Insight and understanding arise when our minds and hearts are more available, open, even unsure. 

I must admit, I need this instruction right now. 

In the last week or so, I noticed that I am finally beginning to thaw from the deep freeze of winter. In this case, I don’t really mean the winter weather (or not just the weather), so much as the harsh events that transpired. It was a hard winter. As my shoulders unclench and I allow myself some barefoot moments, I am noticing that my heart is more judgemental than I would like. There has been a narrowing within me. I think the best way to describe the feeling is defensive. And while I know it comes from a place of care for myself, even a form of protection, it doesn’t feel very good to be so quick to judge. The impact is subtle, but I can feel that my heart is less open, less available, less up for grabs. 

This year I am hearing the rabbis whisper, “Come on’ make yourself like a little free library - where ideas and stories can come and go. Make yourself available to the current of wisdom and unexpected connections. Free yourself to not know, to wonder, to be curious, to be willing to hear things differently. Take down all your lawn signs (after the election is over) and allow yourself to be undecided.” 

So this Shabbat, in preparation for shavuot, I am inviting myself to soften, to let down my defenses, to feel my own vulnerability and trust that will make more room in me for curiosity, for wild seeds to land, for insight, for Torah.