I struggle with my faith -- I think every religious person does, which is often a surprise to secular people, who may presume struggle indicates lack of faith.
There are a few things I find particularly difficult, especially this time of year:
The Nine Days -- the traditional period of mourning, right now, in the first nine days of the month of Av, leading up to the fast of Tisha B'Av, commemorating the destruction of the two Holy Temples and many other tragedies besides. I am fine with mourning the Temples etc.; why must we make ourselves sad in a time which is often the best time of summer? I can't stand the traditional restrictions, and I've noticed myself and other people bending the rules a bit.
Niddah -- the traditional period of separation between husband and wife during the wife's period and for a week thereafter. I love the laws of family purity; I do not mind the period of abstinence, and I think the ritual of bathing in a mikvah (ritual bath, with natural water) before reuniting is one of the most beautiful traditions in any religion. Yet I find the enforced separation infuriating, because it interferes with the need for tenderness and touch between a married couple.
Sefirah -- another period of mourning, from the second day of Passover until the Jewish holiday of Lag B'Omer. Again, I get why we do this; it's sort of the Jewish version of Lent. Yet I don't know why we have to make ourselves unhappy for so long; I just want to enjoy life and think about positive things. I guess life is full of tragedy, and this tames that a bit, perhaps preparing us for the unanticipated losses that everyone experiences from time to time.
Tachanun -- the traditional prayer of regret and mourning, offered during weekday services. The first time I saw people doing this -- putting their heads down on their arms, mumbling prayers of lament -- I could not stand it. I guess I'm sensing a common theme in my own complaints: I don't like periods of enforced sadness. I don't like being made to feel mournful in collective circumstances. I want to live life freely. This is what I wrestle with in my faith.
That's... about it.
Things I find easier than I imagined they would be, before I became more or less fully observant: keeping the Sabbath; keeping kosher (with a few exceptions, like fruit and vegetables, and occasionally fish, at non-kosher restaurants); keeping the holidays generally; putting on my tefillin for daily morning prayers.
This is the portion that all journalists should love: the Torah tells the story of the 12 spies, only two of whom tell the truth when the other ten shade it in a negative away (perhaps to suit a political agenda that is opposed to Moses).
It's not that the ten "lying" spies misconstrue the facts about the Land of Israel; rather, they interject their opinions that the land is impossible to conquer, which strikes unnecessary terror into the hearts of the people.
We have many examples of such fake news today -- from the Iranian propaganda outlets spreading false claims that they are winning the war, to California politicians spreading false horror stories about ICE raids in L.A.
The people realize, too late, that they have been fooled, and once they are condemned to die in the desert, they try to rush into Israel -- only to be defeated by the inhabitants, as the spies predicted that they would be.
But as consolation, God gives the people new commandments -- focused on things they must ...
This week's portion discusses the procedure for lighting the menorah, the holy seven-branched lamp, in the Tabernacle (and later the Temple). It also describes an episode where the people crave meat, and God punishes them by giving it to them in excess. We also read the story of Miriam, Moses's sister, who is punished with the spiritual skin blemish of tzara'at for speaking about her brother, thus violating the prohibition against lashon hara (evil tongue).
I heard a fantastic sermon this week about the lighting of the menorah: that while only the priests were qualified to clean and purify the menorah, anyone could light it. A reminder that each of us can inspire others along the way.
This week we study the vow of the Nazirite; a reminder that sometimes trying to be too holy is excessive, and the best we can do is to be the best that we are.
https://www.chabad.org/parshah/torahreading_cdo/aid/2495720/p/complete/jewish/Naso-Torah-Reading.htm