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April 19, 2008/14 Nissan, 5768

Acharei Mot

Parashat Acharei Mot speaks in detail about the Yom Kippur service that Aaron performed in the Mishkan.  It opens with G-d giving instructions to Moses for Aaron after the death of Aaron’s two sons.  It seems odd that the Torah would mention this incident again, when it does not appear to have any connection to the parasha.  Additionally, the instructions for atonement seem to be a one-man show, without the participation of the rest of the nation.        

It must have been difficult for Aaron to receive these instructions immediately after the death of his two sons.  He is given the instructions to atone for himself, his household, and the entire community, yet his own children were not given this opportunity.  One would expect that Aaron would be angry at G-d for the death of his two sons.  However, the Torah seems to indicate that Aaron had accepted the will of G-d by keeping quiet after the death of his sons.       

Many people have a tendency to blame G-d when dealing with loss.  It is often hard to understand how G-d could let certain things happen.  I have often wondered how G-d could let something like the Holocaust take place.   How much more so would it have been natural for Aaron to blame G-d, when G-d was directly responsible for the death of his two sons?            

Perhaps the Torah is teaching us the proper way to atone.  It is difficult to atone for your sins if you don’t accept responsibility for your own actions.   Aaron’s acceptance of G-d’s will makes him the ideal person to atone for all of Israel.  We can’t always understand G-d’s will, but by the acceptance of His actions, we can atone for ourselves, for our families, and for all of Israel.  

Shabbat shalom,

Zumi Brody

April 12, 2008/7 Nissan, 5768

Metzorah

     Leprosy, the subject of our parsha, is traditionally associated with the sin of slander. Thus, there is a similarity between the Hebrew word for leprosy -metzora - and the Hebrew words for speaking evil about another - motze shaim ra. The Torah reminds us of the danger of bad speech. The ability to speak has the capacity to raise a human being above the lower animal world. Hence, Rabbi Yehudah Halevi labels the human being as medaber, one who speaks. Speech is what sets the human being apart.  But, the greater the potential to do good, the greater the possibility for that potential to turn into evil. Speech can raise one to the highest level, but if abused, it can sink us to the lowest depth. Indeed, injurious speech has enormous ramifications. Although when we were kids, we would say "sticks and bones can break my bones, but names can never harm me," it is actually not true. Words and name-calling can actually hurt deeply. It also should be remembered that while a word is a word and a deed is a deed, words lead to deeds. Once a word has been said, it is almost impossible to take back, for a spoken word spreads to others in ways that can never be undone.

     A few years back, Charlie Ward, the New York Knickerbockers basketball player, uttered words that really hurt. He repeated the often-heard lie that it was the Jews who murdered Jesus. He compounded his mistake by adding that even today Jews continue to persecute Christians. Not only did those words lead to great pain, they can lead to, and have led to, tragic ramifications. Such comments have been used historically to justify Christian anti-Semitism. When, during the Crusades, Jews were murdered, Christians claimed that it was in retribution for the Jewish murder of Jesus. The Jews, they reasoned, had to be punished. These words not only spread to so many in those times, but their consequences have been felt through the generations. Professor Raul Hilberg in the Destruction of the European Jews, noted the parallel between Nazi anti-Semitism, and anti-Jewish legislation practiced by the Church. Hilberg refers to the churches anti-Jewish legislation as “fifteen hundred years of destructive activity.”

     A rabbinic tale: A rabbi was once asked, what is the most expensive meat. He responded, "tongue." And the next day the rabbi was asked what is the least expensive meat. Here, too, he responded, "tongue." Such is the challenge of speech. One that the Torah reminds us about this week, and one that we should all take to heart.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Avi Weiss

April 5, 2008/29 Adar II, 5768

Tazria

This week’s portion begins with discussing a mother’s ritual status after childbirth. The Torah tells us that she becomes temeiah (commonly translated, spiritually impure) " as at the time of her menstruation (niddah)." (Leviticus 12:2) In the very next sentence, the Torah points out that if the child born is a male, circumcision is to take place on the eighth day.

This is not the only time that the laws of niddah intersect with circumcision. Consider the first time circumcision is mentioned in the Torah. There, God commands Avraham (Abraham) to circumcise all males of his household. (Genesis 17:9-14) Precisely at that time, God also reveals that a child will be born to Sarah, Avraham’s wife. (Genesis 17:19) When Sarah hears the news, she laughs. The Torah explains her laughter by pointing out that Sarah had aged and was no longer menstruating. In the words of the Torah, "Sarah was old, well on in years, the manner of women had ceased to be with Sarah." (Genesis 18:11) Here again, there is a confluence between circumcision and niddah.

Circumcision is also prominent in the Moshe (Moses) narrative. While on his way to Pharaoh to demand that the Jews be freed, Moshe finds himself in a terrible predicament—one of his sons is close to death. Tzipporah, Moshe’s wife, steps in and saves the child by circumcising him. She then declares, " a bridegroom’s bloodshed was because of circumcision." (Exodus 4:26) Note how circumcision is here linked to the blood of bridegroom. By definition, blood, for a groom, hints to the menstrual blood of the bride as well.

Not coincidentally, the circumcision of all of the males in Shechem is in the very same narrative as the sexual violation of Dina. (Genesis 34)

Finally, the sentence from which it is deduced that the blood of circumcision was placed on the door posts of Jewish homes for the Exodus from Egypt deals with blood of birth (dam leidah) which, as noted, is treated as dam niddah—the time of menstruation. (See Rashi on Exodus 12:6 and Ezekiel 16:6)

While circumcision is well known, many wonder what the counterpoint is for circumcision relative to women. These texts seem to teach that the laws of niddah, the laws of family purity, are that counterpoint. Interestingly, milah (circumcision) and niddah are not only mentioned together, but they have similar meanings. The Hebrew for circumcision is milah, which according to Rabbi Sampson Raphael Hirsch comes from the word mul, meaning "opposite." Niddah has a comparable meaning -- "separate."

The repetitive linkage of the male circumcision and the female status of niddah teaches us a clear message. The Torah sanctifies sexuality, whereas, on the other hand, the mores of the greater society often pervert it. The words mul and niddah teach this strong difference and charge male and female alike to sanctify life even in the most powerful and intimate realms.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Avi Weiss

March 29, 2008/22 Adar II, 5768

Shemini

How individuals or representatives of a people might attain holiness during a lifetime is a central thought in the portion of Shemini. This portion considers the time of the consecration of the members of the priesthood for Israelites. Rashi suggests close relationships between the holiness of the Almighty and the holiness of the Israelites. Lev 11:45 reinforces this classic thought, and an idea oft-stated during recent Passover seders: "For I am the Lord that brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be your G-d; ye shall therefore be holy, for I am holy." 

Foremost, the priests and their lineal descendants had to show holiness in observing laws and commandments which contain both positive and negative precepts. In the Tent of Meeting, Aaron follows Moses’ specific commands from the Lord to atone for himself and then to atone for the Israelites. This atonement occurs through bringing the sacrificial offering of the people. An absence of holiness can be a key to unraveling reasons for the death of Nadab and Abihu, sons of Aaron, before the Almighty in the Sanctuary. Commentators have asked what behavior or what abandonment of commandments were involved? One suggestion often given is that they were intoxicated. Another approach may provide a closer and direct link. The portion informs us that priests and Israelites were beginning to establish elements of holiness. Nadab and Abihu entered the inner sanctuary without proper respect for the holiness and sanctity of that environment where individuals come closest to the Almighty. They contravened laws concerning the Priesthood, and replaced human authority for the Lord's authority. The latter occurred when they chose to use a fire other than that which would descend from the Lord, and then when they offered a strange fire before the Lord (Lev 10:1). These specific behaviors stained the holiness of the inner sanctuary and diminished the ideal that priests would represent the highest standards of holiness. Nadib and Abihu received rapid punishment. Can their deaths be seen as a burnt-offering to sanctify the name of the Lord and maintain parameters of holiness for the society?    

Shabbat shalom,

Steve Puro

March 22, 2008/15 Adar II, 5768

Tzav

This week’s parashah is titled Tzav, which means command.  In Tzav the various offerings are discussed as they relate to the Kohanim.  The rituals and procedures for elevation, meal, peace, sin, guilt, and thanksgiving offerings are commanded to the Kohanim, the proper procedure for koshering vessels and implements which may have become unclean or unusable. The Kohanim are also told what to do with Pigul, disqualified or rejected offerings. The last section of the parashah describes in detail the consecration ceremony for the Kohanim.  

            It is interesting to note that the commands that Hashem gives through Moses are directed to Aaron and the Kohanim. However, in the second half of the parashah there are two specific commands given to B’nai Israel as a whole. The first is a prohibition against eating fat.  The second is a prohibition against consuming blood.  The penalty for violating these commandments is the infractor’s soul being cut off.  Why are such important commandments with such severe consequences for all of B’nai Israel placed in the middle of commandments directed to a small portion of the overall population, the Kohanim? 

            One possible explanation could be that these commandments, being where they are, are to stress the importance of the Torah as a whole. That is, all of it applies to all of B’nai Israel.  At first glance it may seem that this parashah and its commandments would only be relevant to Kohanim. Close study shows that it contains commandments that have a very important bearing on the entire nation of Israel.    

 

Shabbat shalom,

Adam Bell

March 15,2008/8 Adar II, 5768

Vayikrah

The Torah in this week's portion informs us that when one brings an animal sacrifice, the person leans down on the head of the animal (semikhah). (Leviticus 1:4) It is then that the individual confesses the sin that precipitated the bringing of the sacrifice.
     Are women permitted to perform this process? After all, this mandate is issued only to men, as the Torah states, "speak to the sons of Israel." (Leviticus 1:2) In one word: does the exemption of women imply exclusion? Two opposing views on this issue are recorded in the Talmud. Rabbi Yehudah maintains that the exemption implies exclusion, yet Rabbi Yossi and Rabbi Shimon disagree. (Rosh Hashannah 33a).
     This question has larger ramifications. It bears on whether the exemption of women from particular affirmative commandments fixed by time--such as Succah and donning a Talit--implies that they are prohibited by Jewish law from performing these commandments.
     Rambam maintains that exemption does not mean that women are barred from performing certain mitzvot (commandments). However, he contends that women should not recite blessings over these mitzvot. This is probably because the blessing includes the words, ve-zivanu, "you have commanded us." (Rambam, Code, Laws of Zizit 3:9)
     In contrast, Rabbenu Tam states that women may recite blessings on commandments, even those they are exempt from performing. This is possibly because ve-zivanu is not in the singular form, but is a plural term relating to the community as a whole, of which women are, of course, an equal part. (Tosafot, Rosh Hashannah 33a, s.v. ha)
     By and large, the Sephardic tradition follows Rambam's position. Women, for example, may eat in the Succah, yet they do not recite the blessings.
     The Ashkenazic custom follows the opinion of Rabbenu Tam. Women could, therefore, recite a blessing when eating in the Succah.
     Notwithstanding the position of Targum Yonatan ben Uzziel that a Talit is a garment specifically designed for men, and therefore prohibited to women  (Targum to Deuteronomy 22:5), virtually all other authorities disagree. Indeed, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein concludes that women donning the Talit is a valid Halakhic option provided that the women performing the mitzvah are doing so l'shem shamayim--for proper and sincere reasons. (Iggerot Moshe, Orah Hayyim 4:49)
     While many believe that this portion has little meaning today, the debate concerning women and sacrifices reveals otherwise. What may seem to be far from having contemporary value can sometimes surprise us.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Avi Weiss

March 8, 2008/1 Adar II, 5768

Pekude

     The word Mishkan (tabernacle) is doubled in the first pasuk of our parashah.  Rashi quotes Midrash Tanchuma: “Twice – hinting at the Temple which served as ‘collateral’ [mashkon] through its two destructions for Israel’s sins.”  Our Sages tell us that were Moshe Rabbeinu to have entered the Land of Israel and constructed the Temple, that Temple could never have been destroyed, and Gd, as it were, would have been forced to take His anger out on the people, rather than the wood and stones of the Temple(s), and we would have been destroyed.  However when the Third Temple is built by Mashiach, may it happen speedily in our time, there will be no need for this kind of “collateral,” and the Third Temple will indeed last forever.  Presumably we will no longer need collateral because we will no longer sin.  In light of our Sages oft-quoted dictum “The prisoner cannot free himself” we must question how human beings will be transformed from creatures who sin more often than not, to creatures that do not sin.  Ultimately the transformation must come from Gd.

     This answer leads us to another question, which really goes to the heart of the nature of our existence as individuals.  In the universe we see all kinds of activity, and we appear to take part in that activity.  But who is really acting? 

     If we turn towards the end of the parashah we find: (40:17-18) It was in the first month of the second year, on the first of the month that the Mishkan was erected.  Moses erected the Mishkan…   The Rabbis comment on the use of the passive construction in verse 17: Moshe asked Gd how anyone could erect this massive structure.  Gd told him to put in a little bit of effort (hishtadlut) and the whole thing would then go by itself.  Torah appears to be telling us that while it appears that we are acting and accomplishing, in reality everything that happens in creation happens according to the Will of the Creator.

     This debate is reflected in the Talmud as well.  The Tanna R. Shimon b. Yochai indicates that if Jews were to devote themselves wholeheartedly to Torah, there would be no need to work for a livelihood; Gd would see to it that we would have everything we need without our undertaking activity from our side.  The Amora Abaye comments that “many have tried this but very few have succeeded.”  From this it appears that our evaluation of the role of hishtadlut in fact depends on our spiritual level.  For those on the level of Moshe Rabbeinu or R. Shimon b. Yochai, Gd does everything.  For the rest of us, our activity is real and without it we would not survive!

     Finally we find both expressions in Rambam’s 13 Principles.  In the first principle we affirm our belief that “the Creator, Blessed is His Name, … alone did, does and will do all actions” (my translation).  But in the eleventh we state that He “rewards with good those who observe His commandments and punishes those who violate His commandments.”  If Gd is the sole Actor, there is no room for reward and punishment (and, as Rambam forcefully states elsewhere, if this were so the entire basis of Torah and of Judaism would be undermined).  Reward and punishment depend crucially on our ability to act independently on the basis of our own choices.

     I believe that framing this question as an either-or proposition is an incorrect approach.  Perhaps the reality is more quantum-mechanical, where multiple possibilities coexist at all times.  In such a world we must accept paradox for what it is, rather than trying to reduce it to one of a set of mutually exclusive choices.  Ultimately our evaluation of the nature of creation depends on our perspective.  Our perspective is not Gd’s, and although Gd’s may be the ultimate Reality, our perspective is also legitimate.  In fact, since it is our perspective, we have no choice but to adopt it as the basis on which we live our lives.  Thus we must strike a balance at all times, exerting ourselves while always remembering that ultimately it is “by His Word that all things are created.” 

Shabbat shalom,

Rafi Rabinoff 

March 1, 2008/24 Adar - I, 5768

Vayakhel

    The main part of this parashah is the description of how the Tabernacle was built.  It goes into explicit measurements and details concerning who contributed and who was the artisan in charge of the project.  While building the Tabernacle was significant, if we accept that every aspect of the Torah is significant, there must be a reason for the details being relayed to us.

    Another consideration is the placement of this parashah. Chronologically the building of the Tabernacle did not follow immediately after the incident with the golden calf.  The Israelites had sinned mightily and atoned; is their reward the building of the Tabernacle as a visible sign that G-d is with them?  Or is there more to it?  If G-d is everywhere, why does He need a Tabernacle to be with the Israelites?

    There is no way for us to know the workings of G-d, but a possible explanation could be that G-d did not want or need a Tabernacle at all. The question then arises, why did He have the Israelites build one and why is it described so explicitly in the Torah?  A possible answer is that G-d did not need a Tabernacle, the Israelites did.  They were a slave people who had not adjusted to freedom. The fact that this parashah follows the incident with the golden calf illustrates the point that the Israelites could not deal without their leader Moses.  To the Israelites he was their conduit to G-d.  Even though he was not a priest, he was the instrument that G-d had utilized to free them and perform miracles.  The Israelites needed a symbol that could represent another method of communing with G-d, since they did not yet realize that they could do so directly.  The slave mentality kept them from appreciating that G-d was everywhere and available to all, even a slave or an ex-slave.

    There certainly would come a time when Moses would no longer be with the Israelites.  Thus, the Israelites needed a symbol that could be with them even after Moses was gone.  The creation of the Tabernacle was not under Moses directly.  Moses told the Israelites what G-d wanted, a then unknown artisan to do the work.  G-d did not provide the materials, the Israelites did.  The Tabernacle became a part of them because they contributed to its creation.  They gave generously so that they could have ownership. Women gave up their mirrors.  Thus the people had a symbol that could go with them to the Promised Land.  A representation that the next generations could be brought up knowing they were worthy of serving G-d and accept that He would listen to them and that they were His chosen people.  By relaying this history the Torah illustrates G-d’s divine qualities, all forgiving, all loving and knowing what is in our hearts even if we do not always understand our own motivations.  G-d is always ready to accept us back to Him even with our frailties as long as we have a desire to repent our sins and let Him into our hearts.

Shabbat shalom,
Michael Roth

February 23, 2008/17 Adar -I, 5768

Ki Tissa

Show Us Your Glory! 

                       One of the most striking and emotionally tense moments in the entire Torah occurs in this week’s Parasha.  Moshe, in a fit of spiritual passion, exclaims to God, “Please! Show me Your glory!” (Ex. 33:18).  Moshe, it seems, had a dream: to experience an intense moment of unbridled God-consciousness.

We can picture Moshe, utterly exhausted from pleading on behalf of the Jewish people after their sin with the golden calf.  He is finally triumphant in securing God’s promise to always lead and love our people.  After having worked so hard for the needs of the Jewish people, he allows himself to ask for his one wish.  In the words of the great commentator Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040-1105, Troyes, France), “Moshe perceived that it was a time of God’s good will, and his words were accepted, so he continued to ask that God show him the appearance of His glory.”

We would expect that God would grant Moshe’s wish.  After all, Moshe was a pretty holy guy.  He did split the sea and receive the Two Tablets and all. Yet instead God tells Moshe, “you cannot see My face, for no person shall see Me and live” (33:20).  This is generally understood to mean that no matter how great a person you are, even if you are “holy Moses,” pure God-consciousness and spiritual connection are unachievable.

As usual, however, the Talmud comes and complicates things (in a good way of course!).  The Gemara in Brachot 7a comments on this verse, “So said God to Moses: When I wanted to show you My face in the burning bush, you did not want to look, as it says, ‘And Moses hid his face, for he feared to look upon God’ (Exodus 3:6). Now that you want to, I am not willing.”  Clearly, pure God-consciousness and spiritual connection are achievable!

Was God being stubborn?  Was God saying, “You had your chance”?  That may be one reading of the Talmudic text, but after a second reading, I believe the Talmud is teaching us an important lesson about spirituality and finding God in our lives.  Approaching God at an “opportune” time and seeking a spiritual connection is not the correct path to experiencing God’s glory.  Rather, we must be conscious and aware of the moments that God approaches us.  These may be moments when we are called upon to perform a mitzvah, do an act of kindness for another, or be a loving parent or child.  All these are “burning bush” moments.  Will we be there to answer God’s call?

Many of us have the same dream as Moshe - to experience a deep and spiritual relationship with God and Judaism.  If we seek out the burning bushes in our lives, those moments when we are called on to become God’s partners, then we will surely merit to experience that which Moshe dreamed about--a clear and beautiful vision of God’s glory.

Shabbat Shalom!

     Ross Shapiro, Rabbinical Student-YCT

February 16, 2008/10 Adar-I, 5768

Tetzaveh

Don’t Judge a Priest by His Garments 

In this week’s portion the Torah devotes an entire chapter (Exodus 28) to describe the clothing of the Kohanim, Aaron and his sons.  Does G-d really care how many lazuli stones are in Aaron’s ephod?  Garments both conceal and reveal.  They say, “clothes make the man.”  On one hand, as much as people don’t want to admit it, first impressions are often superficial.  On the other hand, we can actively transcend the surface to truly reveal the person. 

The Talmud says, “G-d wears the world like a garment.”  We cannot see Him without opening our eyes to the world around us; but only seeing Him at that level is superficial.  We must also abandon reason and logic and have faith.  In this way, we transcend the visible world hoping to truly experience   G-d.  Two weeks ago, we read that the Children of Israel heard the Revelation and responded:  “Na’aseh v’nishmah”; “We will do, and we will hear.”  Active performance of the mitzvoth elevates us so we may transcend the physical world. 

This week marks Karli’s and my fifth wedding anniversary.  A comedian once compared marriage to the Temple service, saying, “People still make sacrifices at the altar.”  Sacrifice is scary, but also important.  Our ancestors were thankful for the opportunity to use sacrifices to approach G-d.  Similarly, we all must sacrifice some of our rationality and ego to become stronger through interpersonal relationships. 

May we all have the strength to transcend the superficial to become closer to each other and to G-d. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Danny Sherwinter

February 9, 2008/3 Adar-I, 5768

Terumah

In this week’s parashah, Terumah, G-d gives instructions to the Israelites for building the Mishkan, the Tabernacle.  Unlike most of the previous portions in Bereshit and Shemot, this is not a story – it is simply a listing of instructions.  But it is not so simple.  One notes how detailed these instructions are.  Not only does G-d include very specific materials to be used, and measurements for the building; these instructions pertain to all its furnishings as well.   

These instructions given by G-d are actually told to Moses:  “The Lord spoke to Moses,” and Moses, in turn, is to deliver these directions to the Israelites.  This Tabernacle is a holy place – it is to house the “presence of G-d.”  It will hold the tablets with the Ten Commandments written upon them.  Within this space, G-d also includes instructions for the aron (ark), the shulhan (table) and the menorah (lamp-stand) as well as the cloths for the tent, the planks, a screen and curtains. 

It struck me how important all these details were, as even in the Chumash we use at our synagogue, there are pictures showing what these spaces should all look like.  You will note very few other pictures in the entire text.  I also found it interesting that as specific as G-d directed, even down to half measurements “two and a half cubits long and a cubit and a half wide,” our synagogues today and for centuries have been all different.  The materials are different, the colors used are different, the shapes of the buildings are different, and the layouts are all different.   

Recently, on a trip to Israel, while visiting the Museum of the Diaspora, I enjoyed an exhibit with model synagogues of the past from many countries of the Diaspora.  All these models were vastly varied.  Each synagogue took on the look and culture of its Jewish people, from its shape to the materials used.  Although G-d had commanded the Israelites to build this first Tabernacle to look a certain way, later the Jews used creativity, as the synagogues were representative of each individual culture and society.  Just as Jewish people are all different, every synagogue is different.  But all synagogues are connected by the people inside – Jewish people, who have the obligation to study Torah, and live by its teachings.

Shabbat shalom,

Sue Weintraub

February 2, 2008/26 Shevat, 5768

Mishpatim

The parashah Mishpatim follows on the heels of the Revelation at Sinai and the recitation of the Decalogue. Although the Decalogue seems to cover the full range of responsibilities that people have to God and to each other, the Decalogue in and of itself could not have been intended as being a comprehensive guide for human obligations. This is evidenced by the legislation that is greatly elaborated upon in Mishpatim.  Indeed, the remainder of the Torah is primarily legislative in character. 

Yet something paradoxical immediately presents itself. The people of Israel had just emerged after centuries of slavery in Egypt. One might expect, if not in the Decalogue itself, then perhaps in the subsequent expanded civil legislation, that there be a total prohibition of involuntary servitude. In fact, what we see is that Mishpatim begins with regulations concerning bondsmen, clearly indicating that the Torah permitted bondage. How can this be reconciled? Slavery, as an institution, had been part of virtually every past culture, and regrettably remains in force in many present day societies. Moreover, we know that slavery was part of the way of life of our patriarchs even before they journeyed to Egypt. When the Jewish people were liberated and transformed into an independent nation, it would have been difficult to suddenly and completely eliminate certain practices that were deeply rooted parts of their prevailing culture. 

What had become different, however, is that the Torah, while acknowledging bondage, emphasized the rights of the individual even in the case of a bondsman or slave. Moreover, the Torah legislates that there be a time limit to the length of servitude. It is also noteworthy that the rights of Jewish bondsmen are the first individual rights that are expanded upon in Mishpatim. 

Contrast this with the institution of slavery as it existed in the United States at the time of its founding. The original constitution of the United States, including the Bill of Rights, made virtually no reference at all to slavery, let alone granting any rights to slaves or provisions for their freedom. In fact, the constitution specifically prohibited addressing any issues of slavery for a period of twenty years after its ratification. Ultimately, it took much longer and, of course, a civil war was necessary with the subsequent amending of the constitution to resolve this issue. While it is true that the Torah is immutable, human behavior is not. It is a tremendous testament to the humanity of the Jewish people that by using the Torah as a moral compass, practices that are objectionable by modern standards, yet were common place in our history, were  voluntarily abandoned even though they were permitted by the Torah. We can only hope that other peoples will follow these examples.  

Shabbat shalom,

Paul Tesser

January 26, 2008/19 Shevat, 5768

Yitro

The parashah Yitro describes the preparation of the nation of Israel (B’nai Yisrael) for the Giving of the Torah, and carefully specifies the Giving of the Torah, which occurred on Shavuot.   

How would you envision your individual or collective reaction as part of B’nai Yisrael, if you found yourself preparing for G-d’s Revelation at Sinai?  In this context there is importance in suggesting G-d’s relation to the people of Israel.  The people lived as slaves all their lives under Pharaoh; and by what actions could G-d change that mentality?  This mentality could be most easily altered through real events, especially taking them out of Egypt and the house of bondage, and creating a personal relationship by speaking directly to them.  G-d offers a major promise to the people with the following words: “And now, if you hear My voice and observe My covenant, you shall be to Me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for Mine is the entire world.”  (Ex 19:5). 

B’nai Yisrael’s knowledge and experience of real events deepens acceptance of Torah and its commandments, and also leads to future communal and national projects.  How we recognize these events and their importance is significant for our individual development and for the direction of B’nai Yisrael. 

Shabbat shalom,                                                         
Steve Puro

January 19, 2008/12 Shevat, 5768

Beshallach

This week’s parashah, parshat Beshallach seems to be the parashah of complaining.  When being pursued by Pharaoh and his army the Children of Israel complain to Moses saying “You had to take us out here to die?  We could have just as easily been buried in Egypt.”  Moses then leads the people through the Sea of Reeds.  Following the parting of the Sea of Reeds, they journey to Marah, where there is nothing to drink except bitter water.  Once again the Israelites complain about having nothing to drink.  With G-d’s help, Moses makes the water sweet and solves the problem.  Then they complain about having nothing to eat and G-d sends the manna to feed them.   The final complaint is about water, and again Moses solves the problem.

            It is difficult to comprehend how the Israelites can continue to complain after G-d has led them out of slavery in Egypt.  One would think that they would have faith that   G-d would provide for them.   On the other hand, after enduring hundreds of years of slavery, it is not completely surprising that the Israelites are complainers.  It seems as if the Israelites have gone to both extremes.  As slaves, they were completely dependent on their own labor and had to work for everything.  Nothing was provided for them.  Once they were liberated, they became completely dependent on G-d for everything. 

            Perhaps the lesson of this week’s parshah is to find a middle ground.  The Midrash expounds upon the story of the crossing of the Sea of Reeds.  The People are reluctant to go into the water, as they fear they will drown.  One man, Nachshon Ben Aminadav, who would later become the leader of the tribe of Judah, takes the initiative and enters the water.  When the water is up to his neck, the water then parts.   We can learn from this that we should not always wait for G-d or our fellow human being to take action.  Sometimes, it is up to us to take this initiative.

            One way to accomplish this is to volunteer to write the weekly insight into the parshah.  We always assume that someone else will write and that it will somehow get done.  However, it is up to each one of us to take the initative and write at least one insight a year.  Just like all of the Israelites benefited from Nachshon’s actions, so too will the entire congregation benefit from each fresh new perspective into the Torah. 

Shabbat Shalom

Zumi Brody

January 12, 2008/5 Shevat, 5768

Bo

     This week's portion records the first commandment given by God to the Jewish people. "This month shall be to you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you." (Exodus 12:2) What makes this mitzvah important enough to be the first legislated?
     Perhaps it teaches the importance of time. As we became a people, we were reminded that life is fleeting, and that we all have just so long to live. No wonder this commandment is given soon after we leave Egypt. Slaves have no control over time; free people do. It is our choice either to squander time or to control and sanctify it.
     Time, of course, has past and future dimensions. Ramban connects the first commandment to our responsibility to remember the past. He suggests that considering that it was during the month of Nissan that the Jews were freed, God instructs us that "this month" would be "the first month" of the Jewish calendar year. All months would be counted from Nissan as a way of constantly recalling the seminal event--the exodus from Egypt--wherein we became a nation. Indeed, Ramban points out that in the Bible the months have no names. They're called the first, second or third month, and so on, with the number referring to how many months from the moment when we were established as a people. Hence, the mitzvah anchors us to our past, reminding us always of our roots.
     It is also possible that the first commandment relates to the hope of a renewed future. God is commanding that every month the new moon be dedicated, and that Rosh Chodesh (the new month) be celebrated. Rosh Chodesh is nothing less than a day in which we reevaluate and renew ourselves. It is a monthly, quasi Rosh Hashanah experience. Certainly the message of personal reflection and reevaluation is an important enough idea to become the first commandment.
     In fact, the Zohar teaches that the just as the moon diminishes in size and ultimately disappears, so too do we often face obstacles and insurmountable challenges. But the message of the moon is that one should never be overcome by despair, but always, like the moon, be alive to the message of hope and rebirth. At the same time, in good times, realizing that, although we hope it will be different in messianic time, life will not always be smooth and perfect. Life, like the moon, waxes and wanes.
     A story is told of a skeptical young girl who challenged her believing friend to prove that God exists. "My dolls hand is broken," the believing child said. "I’ll place it beneath my pillow and pray to God. No doubt, He will listen to my prayers and repair the doll." Upon rising and seeing the dolls hand still broken, the skeptic said, "I told you God wouldn’t listen to your prayers." "On the contrary," responded the believer. "God did listen, but his answer was no.
     But for every "no," there are countless "yeses." For like the moon, there are moments of struggle followed by moments of renewal.
 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Avi Weiss

January 5, 2008/21 Tevet, 5768

Vayera

At the Passover seder, we gather with family and friends to celebrate the release from Egyptian bondage of the children of Israel. Within the Haggadah, the story, the passage containing plagues that the Lord brought upon the Egyptian people, their animals, and the land, receives particular attention. In this week's parashah, Vayera, and next week's, Bo, there is discussion of these ten plagues. An initial question that can be considered is what were the goals and purposes of the plagues?

Several replies can be suggested to view the Almighty's goals and purposes of these devastating plagues. A few prominent themes in Vayera are that the plagues demonstrated that the all powerful G-d is the G-d of Israel; that the children of Israel shall be released from Egypt to serve the Lord; that Egyptians and the children of Israel shall know that he is the Lord, G-d of Israel; and that Pharaoh must submit to the Lord's demands as conveyed through Moses. An idea that captures some of these themes is that the G-d of Israel brought plagues to show his existence and his control over the natural world.

               Egyptians had multiple gods and they worshipped inanimate natural objects, such as the Nile River. Many of their gods, often through astrologers and magicians, claimed wondrous individual events, such as turning rods into serpents (Ex VII:10-12). In contrast, the G-d of Israel claimed and showed that he could change the nature of things at will. The G-d of Israel had to overcome the disbelief—or in terms of modern psychology, the cognitive dissonance—of the Egyptian population and Pharaoh’s arrogance and stubbornness. In this parashah, we find that the scope of the plagues increases and the dynamic elements of the G-d of Israel's control over nature is shown.

For example, the plagues prior to gnats were stationary and of limited geographic scope while later plagues were mobile and encompassed the entire nation.  Further, the later plagues, such as the gnat plague, specifically excluded residences of Israelites (Ex VIII 18-19).  The plagues provided clear evidence to Israelites that the Lord, G-d of Israel, was a protector of their interests. Earlier in this parashah (Ex VI:7), prior to the plagues, the Lord asks Moses to convey the following message to the leaders of the tribes of Israel: "I will take you to ME for a people, and I will be to you a G-d, and ye shall know that I am the Lord your G-d, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians." The leaders and children of Israel do not heed this message from Moses. Nachmanides argues that bringing forth of plagues was evidence of the Lord's miracles performed for the sake of Israel.  This analysis leads to the interesting suggestion that the plagues brought additional knowledge about the all-knowing and all-powerful G-d of Israel to the children of Israel. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Steven Puro

Dec. 29, 2007/20 Tevet, 5768

Shemot

I am always struck by how many self-improvement books perpetually make it to the best-seller lists.  Such titles as Become A Better You, Getting Things Done, and Your Best Life Now are typical.   What is it about human nature that creates a continuous need for motivation and reassurance?

In Shemot, Moses is portrayed as someone who is certainly in need of a motivational seminar.  When God first reveals Himself to Moses, the exchange is quite involved and rather intriguing.  God charges Moses with the task of taking the Children of Israel out of Egypt; Moses then readily declines this challenge.   In fact, four times Moses expresses reservations about his ability to carry out the task that God gives to him.

Initially, Moses seems to display humility, which is quite understandable given such a daunting undertaking, when he suggests that he is unworthy of the task.  God reassures Moses that He will be with him, which would seem to be motivation enough.  But Moses continues to express self-doubt.

Moses proceeds to express his concern that the Children of Israel will ask him for the Name of God who will be delivering them.  Moses implies here that the Israelites will not believe him without some type of evidence.  God again reassures Moses, but he seems to still be in need of tangible proof. God then demonstrates three miracles, symbolically agreeing that actions can speak louder than words.  Moses yet again refuses by indicating that his lack of eloquence makes him unqualified.    God appears to lose patience with Moses, and speaks to him in harsher terms, perhaps indicating that Moses is not within his right to refuse this mission.  Of course, after their lengthy dialogue, Moses, possibly reluctantly, finally accepts the challenge.

William Shakespeare said, “Some men are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.”   Where does Moses fit in this spectrum?  The Rambam stated that Moses was the greatest of the Prophets.   Does this mean that Moses was uniquely qualified for the task of delivering the Jewish people, and for that reason was chosen by God? Or does his litany of refusals suggest that he was, in fact, initially quite ordinary when first approached by God?

As the original “motivational best seller,” the Torah may support the idea that most everyone is initially unprepared to meet great challenges when forced by circumstance to face them.   Nonetheless, when the cause is just, despite initial reservations, greatness can be achieved by even the most humble of individuals.  

Shabbat Shalom,

Paul Tesser

Dec. 22, 2007/13 Tevet, 5768

Vayechi

     In Vayechi, the last parashah in Genesis, there is an exploration of future generations of the twelve tribes of Israel. We find that both Jacob, the Patriarch, and Joseph, his son, die in this portion. Substantially more attention is given to Jacob's passing, his instructions to future generations, and instructions concerning the lineage of future leaders. Jacob instructs each of the twelve tribes to take heed of the Almighty through their own skills and virtues. Future generations are reminded and mandated to keep the Almighty's statutes, commandments, and ordinances.

     In an important decision, Jacob rules that Joseph's two sons who were born in Egypt are within the people of Israel in order to continue the generational lineage. Jacob's authority and vision requires that Ephraim, the younger of Joseph's two sons, rather than Manasseh—the first born son—will have the task of unifying the tribes of Israel and making them into one nation in the land (Ezekiel 38:20-22). To maintain the generational line, Joseph forgives his brothers to insure continuity and unity within the Jewish people. He argues that G-d caused the brothers' acts against him for a greater good (Gen 50:20).

     A possible approach for this parashah is the question of how future generations of Israel will behave so that their sons and others are able to carry forth the heritage of Israel? Let us consider in this parashah how Jacob and Joseph's behavior reflect their heritage. As one example, both Jacob and Joseph specified and demanded in the strongest terms that they not be buried in Egypt but in the land the Israel people would inherit. The reasons for this request were that they were "strangers in the land" of Egypt, and that Egyptian culture and idolatrous religious practices were sharply contrary to Judaism. In the current complex culture, we can inquire how our way of life allows the next generation of Jews to accept what we have taught them?

     Joseph's last words to future generations contain the central promise of the Almighty to the Jewish people. In Gen 50:24 Joseph says "but G-d will surely remember you, and bring you up out of this land into the land which HE swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." This central promise is continued throughout the Book of Exodus. The wisdom of past, current, and future generations will establish the Almighty's relation to the Jewish people.

Shabbat Shalom

Steven Puro

Dec. 15, 2007/6 Tevet, 5768

December 8, 2007/28 Kislev, 5768

Miketz (Shabbat Chanukah)

     Joseph became a very powerful man in Egypt and his brothers came to Egypt for food. In the story, we see that Joseph hid himself from his brothers and he manipulated their transactions by hiding their payments in the bags of grain. Immediately upon seeing his brothers, why did Joseph hide himself? Why did he not run into their arms and reunite as their brother?

     Some of our texts remind us of earlier dreams in which Joseph interprets that all of his brothers bow down to him as king. Some would say that is the reason that Joseph must hold Simon and force his other brothers to return to Canaan and bring Benjamin back to Egypt. We are told that the dreams must be fulfilled in their sequence.

     Please look at Chapter 42, verses 21 through 23, and you will see that the brothers emotionally respond to the request. The brothers expressed anguish over what they had done to Joseph and felt that they were now being punished for their actions. Joseph heard their words and wept. The famine brought Joseph’s brothers to Egypt and God brought them in need of food. God fulfilled the vision of the brothers bowing to Joseph the moment that they appeared to him, and Joseph knew it. The question is why Joseph maintained the charade. The answer is what I share with you this Shabbat: Repentance.

     Joseph needed to see if his brothers were cruel men who would deceive or would they do anything they could to protect Benjamin and the last strength of Jacob. The latter is what Joseph saw. Joseph remembered not his vision from God, but God’s promise to Abraham. Who would be the seeds of the Jewish people? Would it be the two sons of Joseph or all of the grandchildren of Jacob? Here again, Joseph’s heart was moved to the latter. Joseph saw that his brothers wanted forgiveness for the way they treated him and they wanted no harm to come to Benjamin. Joseph could reunite the family of Jacob and work toward fulfilling the promise God made to Abraham.

     Forgiveness is a powerful lesson through all of Torah. After Shabbat, perhaps you can call an old friend whom you have not spoken to in a long time and catch up. Forgive whatever has kept you apart. Believe in them as Joseph believed in the good of his brothers.

Shabbat Shalom ,

Mark Seigel

December 1, 2007/21 Kislev, 5768

Vayeshev

Chanukah celebrates the miracle of the Hasmonean victory over the Syrian Greeks. What is forgotten is that their dynasty did not last. Why not?  

Ramban suggests that the disintegration of Hasmonean rule was due to their usurping too much power. (See Kiddushim 66a) By birth, the Hasmoneans came from the tribe of Levi, and could become priests. In the end, however, Judah Aristobulus, the grandson of Judah Maccabee assumed a second role, that of king. Here the Hasmoneans overstepped their bounds as kingship is confined to the tribe of Judah. (Genesis 49:10)

There is much logic to the idea that priest and king remain separate. Kingship deals with the politics of running the state, taking into account aspects of civil administration and international relations. Priesthood on the other hand, focuses on spirituality; on how to connect to God. Of course, the teachings of the priest give shape and direction to the state. Still, it can be suggested that kingship and priesthood should remain apart, in order to separate religion and politics. 

The distinct responsibility of king and priest is part of a larger system of Jewish checks and balances. The prophet for example, served as the teacher of ethical consciousness rooted in God’s word; and the Sanhedrin was the judicial/legislative branch of government. 

Not coincidentally, in the same week in which we begin celebrating Chanukah, we begin reading the Biblical narrative of Yosef (Joseph) and his brothers. Yosef dreams that he will rule over the family. Yehuda leads the brothers in removing this threat by selling Yosef.  In this sense, each seeks to become the sole heir of Yaacov (Jacob). (See Sforno, Genesis 37:18)

Indeed, up to this point in the book of Genesis, the Torah deals with the message of choice—that is, individuals were picked and others were excluded. For example, of the children of Adam, only Seth, from whom Noah came, survived. Of the children of Noah, Shem is singled out, as Avraham (Abraham) the first patriarch, comes from him. Yitzhak (Isaac) is chosen over Yishmael, and it is Yaacov, and not Esau, who continued the covenantal mission.  

The Joseph story breaks this pattern in that, in the end, all of Yaacov’s children were included. No wonder, Yosef and Yehudah and for that matter, all of the brothers are blessed by Yaacov. Indeed, their descendents form the tribes of Israel, each included in the community of Israel while having distinct roles to fulfill. 

One of the challenges of Chanukah is to learn from the mistake made by the Hasmoneans; to understand that attempts to usurp the roles of others are counter productive. Crucial to the continuity of Judaism is for each of us to make space for the other and recognize the respective roles every individual plays—as reflected by Yaacov’s sons and ultimately the tribes of Israel.

Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Avi Weiss

November 24, 2007/14 Kislev, 5768

Vayishlach

In Parashah Vayishlach, Jacob completes his journey home back to the Promised Land.  This journey home is in many ways similar to the return of the Jewish People to the modern State of Israel.  There are many lessons we can learn from Jacob in this parashah, both individually and as a people.

In the beginning of the parashah, Jacob sends messengers to his brother Esau in order to facilitate his reunion with his older brother.  The Stone Chumash translates Malachim as angels, instead of messengers.  This is a midrashic interpretation, and I feel it to be a very misleading one, so we learn not to trust every translation we read in the Stone Chumash.  The messengers inform Jacob that Esau is coming with 400 men.  Jacob has two responses to this news.  The first response is to divide his camp in two, so that if Esau’s intentions are hostile, at least one camp will survive.  The second response is to pray to G-d and ask for deliverance from his brother.  We learn from this that putting our faith in G-d can give us the strength to persevere over any obstacles and challenges that may stand in our way.  However, it is also necessary to take action and not just “wait” for G-d to rescue us. 

Before Jacob’s encounter with Esau, he has a struggle with what is commonly believed to be an angel.  As a result of this struggle Jacob is renamed Yisrael (Israel), he who has struggled with G-d.  We learn from this one of the fundamental traits of our People, which is our questioning nature and our desire to always “struggle” for the truth.  For Jacob, the struggle with the angel may have been a metaphor for his own personal struggle.  Even after dividing his camp into two, and praying to G-d for a safe return home, Jacob must still have had doubts about returning home to Canaan.  He had left his home of twenty years, as well as the home of his wives and his children’s birthplace.  He left the comforts of his existence, and went into the unknown. 

I find myself to be in a similar situation as Jacob.  Like Jacob, I am returning to the land that was promised to my people.  I am heading into the unknown, leaving behind the comforts of the life that I have known.  I am putting my faith in G-d, but I’m also trying to make whatever preparations I can to prepare me and my family for our new life in Israel.  This was not a decision that was made lightly, and like Jacob, I, too, had to struggle to overcome my doubts.   My wish for all of the Jewish People is that each Jew can overcome whatever struggle he/she may encounter to make him/her a better Jew and a better person. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Zumi Brody

November 17, 2007/7 Kislev, 5768

Vayetze

In Vayetze and the following parashah we will follow Jacob's journey as he encounters a spiritual search and a twenty-year personal exile 
from his own land.  The struggle between Jacob and Esau takes on new complexity in Jacob's journey. Jacob's journey and many of our 
journeys can be seen from different perspectives. The plain interpretation is that Jacob is fleeing from Esau and going to Padan-Aram. 
Another interpretation could be that Jacob's journey will establish his relationship with the Almighty. As part of these activities, Jacob is 
seeking paths to become a righteous person.  We recognize that he will become the Patriarch of Israel as part of his lineage from Abraham
and Isaac. 

In Vayetze we find Jacob making vows or promises which will define his relationships to the Almighty. There are both explicit and implicit 
elements in his and our vows or promises to the Almighty. The idea of Jacob's vow is puzzling. The key phrases are from Bereishit 28:20-21 
which say: If G-d will be with me, and will protect me on the way that I go...so that I come again to my father's home in peace; then shall the 
Lord be my G-d. Is Jacob's vow creating a new relationship with the Almighty in stipulating a series of conditions that the Almighty is required 
to fulfill? Another view can be that Jacob is praying to the Almighty for protection and an ability to fulfill his spiritual commitment. Rashi adds 
depth to these ideas. He argues that Jacob is requesting that the Almighty keep his promises to Jacob and the land of Israel, so that Jacob 
will be able to fulfill his promises to return to this place and build a temple to the Almighty.

As Jacob engages in these journeys during the next several parashiot, we can ask whether his standards of conduct are worthy of the 
Almighty's promises and protection? This idea introduces a central question of Midrashic interpretation concerning what promises are given
to a righteous person in this world.

Shabbat Shalom,

Steven Puro

November 10, 2007/29 Cheshvan

Toldot

In this week’s parsha, toldot, there are several sections to the overall story but the theme that I will discuss is how this may be the first instance of how a leader was selected for a role rather than assuming leadership based upon birth order.  Just as was the case with his father, Avraham, Yitzchak becomes older before he starts to consider passing on his innermost blessing.  Furthermore, he does not conceive a legitimate heir with Rivkah until he is quite old. 

There were no democracies, no votes, no caucuses, and no campaign finance reform, so that in keeping with tradition at the time, leadership was to be transferred to the firstborn. Ordinarily, it is obvious and certain (manifest destiny) that the firstborn will inherit power, but something is not right in this family. We are told of twin sons, Esav and Yaakov, who are not very similar in appearance and personality.  Throughout the parsha, it is implied that Esav is not so worthy of this leadership role.  He is hairy, red, likes to hunt in the fields, takes a wife outside of the community, and does not appear to understand the meaning of being a thoughtful leader.

 Such a man cannot lead a Jewish nation and it is up to others to successfully wrestle the birthright and blessings from Esav to the rightful Jewish leader.  We learn that this is orchestrated by Rivkah and Yaakov, but also we are told several times that Yitzchak was very old before he even considers giving his blessings.  He cannot even see his son clearly enough to distinguish his face. “Come closer- whether you are really my son Esav or not."   Is it by design that he waits until he is old and unable to see before this ritual?    If he is blind at the time, what a great excuse for making a mistake as he did.  The fact that Yitzchak is blind may be a metaphor.  He may not be able to assess the worthiness of his sons and he even seems to recognize his own inability to distinguish between the twins.  Another possibility is that he realizes that the one who comes to him with conviction, disguised or not, is truly the worthy son. Perhaps all of this was a subconscious test by him to see which son was more dedicated and intelligent enough to get back to him sooner. He even notes how quickly Yaakov was able to secure food and prepare a feast.  What was Esav thinking?  Here is the defining moment in his life and he is taking his time getting back to Yitzchak. 

The point is that Yitzchak may realize that he himself cannot break with the usual and customary process of naming the first born as the next leader.  He has his own personal bias in that he favors Esav, the child who is more athletic and strong.  But that is his personal bias as a father, not a leader.  It is difficult to separate his own fatherly bias from determining what is right for the greater good of the Jewish people.

     Perhaps this really was a caucus of sorts allowing the rightful leader to take over power at a critical time for this young nation.  In any case, this is Torah showing us that it is not necessarily the case that first born sons should always be given higher priority.  Why did Yaakov not come out first?  Why did G-d speak to Rivkah and let her know that the “older son will serve the younger one?”  It is because the torah is teaching us that this practice of passing along your heritage to the firstborn son is not a sound one.  Rather, we must evaluate each child on his or her merit, without prior bias, to determine who is a worthy leader.  This parsha is democracy at work. 

Morty  Rinder

November 3, 2007/22 Cheshvan, 5768

Chaye Sarah

As he buys a burial plot for his wife, Sarah, Avraham (Abraham) identified himself as a ger toshav (Genesis 23:4).  The term is enigmatic.  Ger means alien while toshav means resident.  How could Avraham be both?  On a simple level, Avraham tells the children of Heth that he came to their community as a stranger, but now has settled in.  Alternatively, the Midrash interprets Avraham declaring:  I am prepared to conduct myself as a stranger and pay for the burial plot.  If, however, you rebuff me, I will take it as a citizen who already owns the land that God had promised to the Jewish people. 

      Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchick sees it differently.  For him, Avraham is defining the status of the Jew living amongst foreigners.  No matter how comfortable a Jew may feel among others, in the end, the Jew is a stranger and is viewed as different by his neighbors.

      Another thought comes to mind.  Avraham was a very successful man.  He introduced the revolutionary idea of monotheism, and, indeed is chosen to be the father of the Jewish nation.  Still, as he buries his wife, he emotionally cries out that as accomplished as he may be, in the end he is vulnerable, with glaring weaknesses and frailties—just like everyone else.  Hence, ger toshav encapsulates the human condition.  As much as a person is a toshav, a “resident” in control of life, in the same breath one is a ger, a “stranger”—here one day and gone the next.

      Commenting on the verse recited every Friday night which speaks of the rivers clapping hands and the trees dancing, (Psalms 98:5), Rav Shlomo Carlebach, whose thirteenth yahrzeit (anniversary of death) will soon be celebrated, said:

      “You know, beautiful friends, the way we are living.  One day I’m so good, the next day I’m in the lowest dumps…I want you to know nature is very real.  When a tree sees I’m happy, the tree says, ‘hey, wait ‘til I see you tomorrow.’  One day I say I’m so holy, then the rivers will say ‘wait ‘til tomorrow’….  One day the whole world will be good forever.  One day there’ll be joy forever.  So every Friday night when we receive Shabbos, I’m crying, I’m begging, Master of the world, [like the rivers and trees] let it be forever, let it be for real….  Let us hear the great trumpet [that will announce the eternal Shabbos], let us hear the greatest message, from now on everything good and holy will be forever.”

      But until that time, in the words of Rav Shlomo, “nothing lasts forever.”  All joy, says the Talmud, must be tempered with trembling (Berakhot 30b). We are all, in the words of Avraham, a ger toshav.  Such is the way of the world. 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Avi Weiss

October 27, 2007/15 Cheshvan, 5768

Vayera

The Akedah, The Binding of Isaac, is at once fascinating and repelling.  It pushes the limits of comprehension when one tries to understand how God could command a father to sacrifice his son, and how a father would be willing to perform the actual sacrifice.  That Isaac is not sacrificed does not make the story any less enigmatic.  Indeed, one paradox of the Akedah is the apparent suspension of Jewish ethics since one might consider it always morally objectionable to take an innocent life.  However, Abraham seems to have made the ethical decision that in his case committing the gravest of sins would be justified in order to demonstrate higher principles, i.e., reverence and obedience to God.