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 week'd portion begins the book of Numbers. Interestingly, the Hebrew name for the book is "In the Desert," not "Numbers." The portion, which happens to be my bar mitzvah portion, focuses almost as much on the names of the princes of each tribe as the number of soldiers it fielded. It also focuses on the configuration of the tribal camps around the central Tabernacle and the Levites.
So why "Numbers" instead of "Names" or "Places"? The numbers are, to be sure, a unique feature of the opening of this Biblical book -- but they are not the focus of the rest of the narrative. The Hebrew focuses on the place where the events in the book take place, because essentially this is the narrative of the Israelites' wanderings from Egypt to Israel, across 40 years. We move from the giving of the Torah and the construction of the Tabernacle in Exodus and Leviticus, to the final valediction of Moses in Deuteronomy -- Bamidbar is the story of wandering that happened in between.
The question of ...
This week's portion begins with the laws of the Sabbath and the Sabbatical year, and the Jubilee year that restores all land to its original (tribal) owners. It also explores laws of property and labor that will apply in the Land of Israel, and the laws of vows and inheritance.
The Israelites are presented -- not for the last time -- with the essential moral choice that they must face, and the rewards for choosing well, along with the consequences for choosing poorly.
We learn that doing good things will earn God's protection from enemies. That does not mean that victims of terror, God forbid, were sinful. But it does mean that we can respond to evil by committing ourselves to a higher path.
This week's portion describes the major sacrifices that are to be offered by the Jewish people, including those that are offered only by the priestly Kohen class, and physical requirements of the people (men) who serve in that role.
Inter alia, there are interesting commandments -- such as an injection to treat animals with respect and care, first, by letting a mother animal nurse her offspring for a week before being offered in any sacrifice; and second, by refraining from slaughtering an animal and its offspring on the same day.
The commandments regarding animals remind us of the purpose of those regarding human beings: to uphold a divine connection, through ritual.
https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/111878/jewish/Rabbi-Isaac-Luria-The-Ari-Hakodosh.htm
