Matot and Masai

A day late and a dollar short yet again, folks. Matot and Masai were last week’s double-header parsha game, ending last night, when the rest of my family did Havdalah and I lay in a tranquilized stupor in my tempurpedic bed. Two parshas, I guess, for those pesky calendrical reasons I can’t wrap my head around; in other news, did you know Hanukkah is like, the week of Thanksgiving this year? It’s a-crazy, man. A-CRAZY.

A couple of weeks ago I complained about Balak to a Rabbi teacher of mine and he said something like “maybe you should skip the next couple of parshas for your blog, because they’re pretty tough to swallow...” But no, I am de-VO-ted to my parsha project, swallowing be damned. Anyway, I ought to know what’s in those scrolls I go to shul each week to hear read out loud in a language I don’t speak. I ought to know what I’m revering as Torah when I revere the Torah. Wait, I’m getting perilously close to having an Alanis Morrisette song stuck in my head, though given what’s been stuck in my head the last few weeks, an Alanis Morrisette song is a distinct improvement, which goes to show how very badly my brain has broken.

So: Matot and Masai.