No Place Like Home

In a conversation with another rabbinic colleague a few years back, we got talking about places we've lived. It turns out, this colleague, who now resides in Georgia, had lived previously in Richmond, Virginia, where I grew up. 

"Where in Richmond?" I asked. "Henrico County, the Short Pump area," he responded. "Wait, what neighborhood?" I proceeded. "Wellesley subdivision." That's weird; I lived in Wellesley, I thought to myself...And as the conversation progressed, we determined that not only did we live on the same street, but we lived in the exact same House. Just months apart. When his family moved out, ours moved in. What were the odds?! Two rabbis. Same exact house. And trust me, the fact that two rabbis both lived on Trinity Court isn't lost on me. 

And as we were having this conversation, I couldn't help but reflect on the years I spent living in that house. The holidays when my cousins would drive down from Maryland. Sleepovers with friends. Shabbat Dinners. Sick days laying in the living room watching Bob Barker's the Price is Right. The sunroom where my mother used to leave out a jug to make tea on Saturdays. All these intimate, personal experiences. These formative years - all of them inextricably associated with this structure. A place I called not just a house, but my home - my home. Which brings me back to my colleague. Because when all of those memories rushed to the forefront of my mind- when we had discovered this coincidence - something had irked me. Made me uncomfortable. Because in my head, I knew that this house wasn't exactly mine, per se. But on Trinity Ct. in Richmond, Virginia, another family gathered together for Shabbat. They, too, sat in the same living room. Watched perhaps the exact same movies. 

Which really pushed me to think about the meaning of a house. About the word “house” itself. Because what I would ultimately have to reconcile is that the word "house" is a home for more than just one family. That a home doesn’t mean just a living space for one’s own household or family.

Further, I say all this in light of what we've all come to learn over the last year. That the physical structure called a house has evolved and adjusted to meet the needs of our lives in 2020. Our homes aren't merely accommodating our sleeping and eating habits anymore. Like my own home in Richmond, we now share our homes in ways we never imagined. Our spare bedrooms are the backdrops of our office Zoom calls. Our kitchens are science labs for our children. Our living rooms have become sanctuaries for prayer. Our bed sets are now board rooms. Our homes are an all-in, one-stop-shop for life - in every sense of the word. And to further this idea about the notion of a home, think about Thanksgiving. A holiday that revolves around the house. We spend stressful, frantic days preparing for guests to come and gather - stay and eat. But this year, our homes didn't serve that purpose. Which is to say that the word house is somewhat elastic. Sometimes it shrinks, and sometimes it expands. 

But let's step back and think about this word, house, or in Hebrew, "bayit.” As an aside, I typically explain to students that the way to remember the word "bayit" called “house” in Hebrew because you have to "buy it." And that would be funny, but the reality is that most of us millennials can't afford one. Which is a much sadder joke - it's probably because of all the avocado toast and cold coffee we buy...But it goes to show that a house was once perceived as something that we owned. That's not so much the case now. 

In Torah, the word bayit has always traversed meanings and definitions. To just run through the list, a bayit can mean not only a "house" or "home, but a school, college, a receptacle, an abode of animals, a township, a palace,” and even a “Temple.” Most notably, the Second Temple – the “Western Wall.” One example how this term gets used is in parshat Noah. God says:

“Make yourself an ark of gopher wood; make it an ark with compartments (בַּיִת), and cover it inside and out with pitch.” [1]

One could go so far as to say that God says to Noah, don't just construct an ark, devise a home - just make sure it floats…But the next time we see this word, it refers not to physicality but to people:

“Then the LORD said to Noah, “Go into the ark, with all your household (בֵּיתְךָ), for you alone have I found righteous before Me in this generation.” [2]

One commentator notes that "Noach was permitted to take with him his servants and animals," [3] not just his immediate family. While it is a stretch of the text, one could posit that the animals, too, were even part of Noah's household. And if we're making fun of Millennials, we're well known for referring to our pets as pseudo children. But it goes to show that the word home isn't static - it's expansive. In fact, one of the broadest definitions is one of my favorite terms of the bible. Through the Torah, we often refer to the "Nation of Israel" (בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל). But there are many different times when we use another term. The "House of Israel" (בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל) when referring not just to a location or piece of land, but the enormity of an entire nation. 

But to be fair, it wasn't always that way in the bible. The word home in the book of Exodus appears to symbolize one's own immediate household. The first line of the book of Exodus says:

“These are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each coming with his household.” [4] (וּבֵית)

Only later, beginning in Leviticus's book, after trials and misfortune, plagues, birth, death, and everything in between, do we begin to see the nation of Israel not referred to as separate homes. But of “Biet Yisrael," - the Nation of Israel. 

“And Moses said to Aaron and to his sons Eleazar and Ithamar, ‘Do not bare your heads and do not rend your clothes, lest you die and anger strike the whole community. But your kinsmen, all the house of Israel (בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל), shall bewail the burning that the LORD has wrought.’” [5]

In this context, we see a vast scope of this idea of a house. These aren't just nuclear homes or physical locations, a bayit is a nation. They're kinsmen. And they mourn together just as they celebrate together. 

What this word bayit in Judaism really means is that our homes are more than just the physical walls that surround us. A home is a family. A home is a Temple. A home is all of the above. But a home, more than anything else, can be an entire community. On this Shabbat, in the season of Thanksgiving, may we strive to let the doors of our homes be wide enough to fit not just those we are related to; but welcome our entire community in. And these days. Letting 3,000 people in your House over a zoom call has never been easier.