Poet Ruth Brin describes Winter this way:
Falling, deeply fallen, the snow,
continuous, silent, covers the ground,
the roots of plants and trees, seeds, spores,
cocoons, the various multitude of living cells,
covers completely, persistently
the white face of earth,
spreading relentlessly,
continuously,
as we who are masking, always masking,
deeply masking ourselves.

This is Shabbat Terumah. It is also Rosh Hodesh Adar 1, Chinese New Year’s, a black moon and my birthday. That is a lot of celebrating. It was also a snow day, in itself a gift. No where to go. No Shabbat services to lead. Just quiet. Breakfast in bed. Long run on the elliptical. Shoveling. Long bubble bath in the late afternoon light, enjoying the view of snow laden evergreens. It was beautiful.

I am intrigued by this confluence of events. I learned that a black moon is when two new moons appear in the same month. It is an auspicious time. It is also a SuperMoon, appearing 14% bigger, even though it is a new moon.

In Judaism, we can’t have a “black moon” since all of our months start with a  new moon. We have a lunar calendar and because there are only 28 or 29 days in a lunar month periodically we need to adjust the calendar so that holidays continue to appear in their seasons. (Remember how crazy it seemed to have Chanukah before Thanksgiving?) Every so often we correct and add not just a day but an entire leap month–Adar 1. This is one of those years.

I always think that Adar 1 is a gift, a gift of a whole month. But not everyone feels that way. Some see Adar 1 as the invisible month, representing the invisible Dinah, maybe the masking, the hiding of ourselves as Brin described. Maybe that is a gift of winter, as we hide.

Yesterday I met with the seniors at the Victory Center and explained this odd calendaring. They knew Dinah only from “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and a song I had never heard (written in 1925) about Dinah in Carolina. I read them the story of Dinah in the Bible. It is not a pretty one. Chapter 34 outlines it: “And Dinah, the daughter of Leah, whom she bore to Jacob, went out to see the daughters of the land. And Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, the prince of the land, saw her, and he took her, and he lay with her by force and he humbled her…Now Jacob heard that he had defiled Dinah his daughter, and his sons were with his cattle in the field, and he was silent until they came.”

The text is not explicitly clear what happened to Dinah and then she disappears. She is invisible. Jacob is silent. Jacob cares more that the sons created a problem for him rather than caring for Dinah. Anita Diamant wrote a whole book, the Red Tent, on the New York Times bestseller list for years, to tell the story from Dinah’s point of view. One of the women yesterday said, “He raped her.” She then went on to say, “I was raped when I was 12 and I was invisible. I never talked about it again.”  And that is the gift of Adar 1, to make the invisible, visible. To feel safe to say the unspeakable. To gather strength and courage in the dark of winter. To be able to see the new moon.  It is a gift.

The women understood the importance of gifts. It is about life, health, children, education, kindness. A doll, a drum, a soccer ball are less important. Fleeting.

Our Torah portion today begins, “G-d spoke Moses, saying, Speak to the children of Israel, have them bring Me an offering, a gift. Take My offering from everyone whose heart compels him to give.” What are these gifts? Does G-d require gifts? The Torah mentions gold, silver, copper, fine linen, ram’s skins, purple, crimson, blue yarn, jewels, even dolphin skins. Where did they ever find dolphin skins in the desert? Why the detail?

Sometimes I have students try to build a model of the mishkan. They read the text, give me a shopping list and I go to Michael’s. I buy leather, “jewels”, gold and brass rings, balsa wood. I’ve never found dolphin skins. Sometimes they build a model out of legos. This year the kids seem to want to build it in MineCraft.

Ruth Brin in her poem “Building” has it right:
Out of the cedars of the forests
the ores of the mountains
the stones of the hills
the copper of the desert,
from the earth itself,
the metals hidden in the earth
and the life that springs from the earth,
they built the Temple
where they came to worship
the Creator of the earth.
The Temple was a psalm of stone.

Building a tabernacle is about making holy space. It is about the gift of the spirit. Our homes are to be a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary, a little tabernacle. I am grateful for the gift of my home. How lovely are our dwelling places, “mishkanotecha Yisrael.” It has heat and light and warmth and that wonderful spa tub with a view of the evergreens.  I admit I am not much of a builder. But every year we would build a Lincoln Log cabin for Lincoln’s birthday (also in February). We would make a cherry pie for Washington’s birthday. It was a tradition; a ritual. Of course we used to joke if we did it once it became a tradition. You try it. Those rituals are about making holy space too.

Today I received a gift. Not a material gift. It was a bright red cardinal that perched outside in the snow. It seemed to watch me while I was running on the elliptical. I remember the first year after my mother died, Simon and I were in Ogunquit for my birthday, and a bright red cardinal appeared against the bright blue sky. They have appeared other times too. Earlier today someone had said, “A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them. They also make an appearance during times of celebration as well as despair to let you know they will always be with you. Look for them, they’ll appear.” My mother was a cardinal. She grew up in Saint Louis. She rooted for the Cardinals all her life. She collected cardinals. I have one that peeps in my office. And here it was, a perfect gift on a snowy morning.

My mother tried to celebrate every day, especially in February. My birthday, ground hog’s day, Lincoln’s Birthday, Valentine’s Day, her anniversary, Washington’s Birthday, Girl Scout Thinking Day. And then, the days would be longer, March would be here and spring would arrive. That was a gift too.

Life itself is a gift. Again, from Ruth Brin, her translation/poem of Shehiyahnu:

We thank You, Eternal G-d
for telling us,
“My love around you,
My blessings on you
have surely brought you to this day.”

Someone told me yesterday that birthdays are to be celebrated, because they mark the day you came into the world, that you enriched the world, just by being born. May we each hear the Divine telling us, “My love around you. My blessing on you.” That love is a gift. May it be so for each of us.