I have to admit that I feel almost giddy about the feeling of beginning the last parasha of Sefer VaYikra. Not because I am ready to move on - no, not at all. Rather, because of a sense of pride that I made it through reading this entire sefer - a book which I thought would be dreadfully boring but, in all actuality, holds some of the greatest secrets of Torah. Hidden in plain sight, but in a place that is apparently so hard to relate to and incomprehensible that, and I say this with no pride or boastfulness, most gloss over it (sacrifices, priestly rituals, ailments of the skin, clothes, and house). I know see why the old school rabbis supposedly start with VaYikra when teaching their children Torah and place a dab of honey on the corner of each page to both motivate study and remind the child of the sweetness of Torah.
Turning to the parasha, the first aliyah of Bechukotai is a scant five verses. But, like I've said before, I feel like compacted into here are five verses you could spend weeks if not more learning. Why does the Torah describe "going" by G-d's "decrees" but "observing and performing" the "commandments"? What's the difference? Why are grapes mentioned specifically, out of all the produce to be grown, in a verse in which no other produce is, in fact, mentioned?
Since every word matters, one phrase that I will surely be meditating on is the giving or "rain in its right time" should the decrees be . . . gone by . . . and the commandments observed and performed. I don't think, and I could be wrong, that we see another mention of something "in its right time" anywhere else other than in reference to rain.
There are some blessings which we'd always welcome - health, perhaps financial well-being, certainly family, friends, and a place to stay. There are some, however, which would only be welcome in certain times - to think un-creatively here, such as rain. Rain in the winter may be nice in that it perhaps replenishes the water table, but we really want rain in the spring and summer when we're trying to grow crops. Or even food, for example - if we're hungry, we need the blessing of material sustenance. But if the cupboards and fridge are, thank G-d, full, then food can not be a blessing, especially if it goes to waste.
The Torah always wants us to think critically about our lives and our needs. It's not enough to ask for something (or to receive it) - it's to ask for something when we actually need it, and recognize it when we do. I can certainly think of times when I prayed for something "good " when I actually did not need it - and, moving past the disappointment I know I felt then, am now not surprised at all with the lack of "response." Receiving it may have actually been a curse.
I hope to stay more attuned to my real and actual - not fictional or unnecessary - needs. Rain - but only in its right time.
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