I believe the need for relationship is structured into the very finest mechanics of creation.  Gd, the Creator, is an absolute Unity, not made up of parts (see Rambam's 2^nd Principle of our Faith).  Creation, on the other hand, is the realm of difference, of multiplicity.  To get from Unity to multiplicity, one first has to make the transition from one to two.  Perhaps we can locate that transition in our own ability to be conscious of ourselves.  If we can have self-consciousness, then surely Gd can as well.  Perhaps Gd, in His capacity as both the Subject and the Object of His Self-Consciousness, creates a kind of virtual relationship, a virtual Subject-Object duality within Himself.  At that point Gd's Unity, while remaining totally unchanged, projects an aspect of duality, and this projection is the beginning of the multiplicity we call Creation.

Feb. 19, 2011/15 Adar I, 5771

Ki Tissa

Ki Tisa involves the spiritual shaping and defining of the nation of Israel. This parsha has many key events which include the Almighty instructing Bezalel, whom the Almighty "imbued with the spirit of G-d" (31:3), to build the Tent of Meeting, Moses twice receiving Two Tablets from the Almighty, Aaron building a Golden Calf, and Moses pleading with the Almighty for the people of Israel. The children of Israel find themselves on a journey from the exile in Egypt and pursuing an exodus from Egypt.  They find themselves in a wilderness environment and at a formative stage. In this wilderness the people were exploring their identity and exploring the limits of their new freedom.  Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt, means boundaries. Much of this parsha and a good portion of the second book of the Torah, Shemot or Exodus, is devoted to what boundaries and limitations exist for the children of Israel in their relations with the Almighty. The people were finding new paths and those paths had many uncertain directions. In this environment are the Jewish people engaging in a "spiritual transition" during their forty-year journey? 

A census is taken to determine the number of males who are twenty years and older. Why is the census conducted at this particular time? The initial explanation is to determine who could serve in the army and be counted as men in the community. Rather than counting individuals, each person who qualified was required to give a half-shekel. The amount was counted to determine the outcome of the census. Perhaps this is an initial factor in Jewish accounting firms. The half-shekel had a broader purpose. It is "a form of offering to the Lord to atone for your souls" (30:15). This atonement for past deeds is also a form of personal evaluation (also see Lev 27:1-8). The amount of silver was contributed equally by rich and poor. Perhaps this signifies that every individual has an equal relationship with the Almighty. The Chassidic Masters ask, Why not a complete coin? Their response is that the half-shekel is "To teach us that no man is a complete entity unto himself. Only by joining with another can a person become a 'whole thing.'”  Further, the half-shekel payment was an opening to the Jewish people's future. It involved the Lord's promise to prevent the plague, and the funds were designated to build the Tent of Meeting (Mishkan). ( A shekel is twenty gerah, an ancient Hebrew weight, and a half-shekel is a coin containing 10 gerah or approximately 4.16 grams of silver) 

The Tent of Meeting is the future place where the Almighty will arrange meetings with the people (30:36). In the formation of the Tent of Meeting, what would be the first instruction that you would give to the children of Israel? The Almighty, in communicating through Moses, instructs "Only keep my Sabbaths! For it is a sign between Me and you for your generations, to know that I, the Lord, made you holy." (31:13 ).  In establishing  foundations for  faith and belief the Lord is also creating concepts of holiness.  Sabbaths are the contractual relationship between the Jewish people and the Almighty. It is noteworthy that this instruction and relationship occurs prior to the giving of the Tablets. In the Friday night Kiddush a key purpose of Shabbat is revealed. It is "to remember Creation and to remember the Exodus." 

Shabbat shalom,

Steven Puro

Feb. 12, 2011/8 Adar I, 5771

Tetzaveh

You shall make them linen breeches to cover the flesh of nakedness, from the hips to the thighs shall they be [28:42]

You shall not ascend My Altar on steps, so that your nakedness will not be uncovered upon it [20:23]

The kohanim, for whom the breeches mentioned in our Parashah are intended, are clad in linen tunics that reach down to their ankles and wrists, and are bound by a sash/belt.  The Kohen Gadol (High Priest) has in addition a robe and an apron that covers him from the waist down.  Why the emphasis on underpants? 

At the end of Parashat Yitro, where the second quote comes from, the concern apparently is that by raising their legs to walk up a flight of steps, the kohen's nakedness would be exposed to the floor of the Sanctuary beneath them.  The question then becomes, do stones see, that they would be embarrassed, or that the kohanim should be embarrassed before them?  The whole things sound a bit prudish. 

I think that we are being given a profound lesson here on the Torah's conception of modesty, and its importance in our spiritual growth.  Modesty in the Jewish world is a concept that is much more far-reaching than in Western thought, and it is clear from the moral tone of much of Western society that we would all be well-served by moving closer to the Torah's ideals. 

In the Torah's eyes, the essence of modesty is in keeping hidden that which is supposed to be hidden, that is, the inward values of life.  If one has a precious pearl, one doesn't go out into the marketplace showing it off to everyone – besides being a good way to get it stolen, it cheapens the pearl.  If we have a precious flower, we don't want everybody handling it, for it will become damaged.  We don't share our deepest feelings with the whole world (unless we live in California perhaps), rather we save them for the few truly intimate friends who will appreciate them.  And it goes without saying that our sexuality, which should be reserved for our spouse, and at the appropriate places and times, is not something we go about displaying to all and sundry. 

In behaving modestly we are actually imitating Gd.  Gd is the ultimate inner value – Gd is the infinite Source of all finite creation, and dwells as it were in the very core of every creature's being.  Gd is Omnipresent, yet we do not perceive Gd through our senses directly; instead Gd as it were "clothes Himself" in layer after layer of garments, "covering Himself" with levels of manifestation from the most refined and ethereal layers to the grossest surface layers.  Gd does not advertise Himself; rather He shares Himself with those who have yearned and striven to be close to Him. 

People, on the other hand, often do display an urge to advertise themselves.  I think the reason is simply a desperate need to establish their independent existence, and this in turn is a symptom of disconnection from Gd.  One to whom Gd is an ever-present reality is by that very fact humble – how is it possible to aggrandize one's finite self when the infinite is always right there for comparison?  And the fact that there are thousands of people out there who do feel a need to advertise themselves is a manifestation of the dangerous extent to which our whole society has drifted away from its sure anchor in the infinite and is floundering, trying to define itself in terms of the ephemeral.  Such a society cannot long endure, as even a superficial study of history will amply demonstrate. 

Shabbat shalom,

Rafi Rabinoff

Feb. 5, 2011/1 Adar I, 5771

Terumah

From a strictly halakhic perspective, the kindling of the menorah is not an act of serving God.  No doubt the menorah is a holy object, but still the Talmud concludes that "lighting [it] is not considered a service." (Yoma 24b)  

Perhaps this means that the lighting of the menorah creates a holy atmosphere that serves as a backdrop to the actual Temple service where we approach God.  This is accomplished through its representation of three major themes in human experience--- creation, revelation and redemption.   

The menorah brings us back to the creation story, where the first creation was light. (Genesis 1:3)  In the center of the Garden of Eden were the tree of knowledge and tree of life. The menorah looks like a tree.  It is adorned with flowers, knobs and cups.  The flowers represent the buds that spring forth fruit; the knobs are shaped like a round fruit; and the cups are symbolic of vessels into which nectar is poured. (Menahot 28a) As Eden was a society of peace, so the menorah sets the tone for what hopefully would be an experience of inner peace as we serve God in the sanctuary.  Its lighting accentuates the powerful beauty of the tree; it ignites serenity within us.   

The menorah resonates with the image of Sinai as well.  It brings us back to the moment when the Torah was given where light was abundant.  (Exodus 19:16)  The three branches on each side are associated with worldly knowledge.  Yet, the wicks in each of these branches turn toward the inner shaft - teaching the idea that everything has its source in Torah.  The lighting of these wicks focus our energy on our primary means of connecting to God

–love of the light of Torah.  (Mishlei 6:23)  

The menorah may also allude to the Messianic world.  Not only do the wicks point inward, the flames reach toward heaven, reminding us of our mission to be a light to the nations of the world. (Isaiah 42:6)  From this perspective, when viewing the lighting of the menorah our thoughts focus on the fact that the tabernacle experience should encourage us to fix the world, bringing it to

ultimate redemption.  

These ideas should speak to us today.  Upon entering a synagogue and seeing the eternal light, it ought to echo inner peace, love of Torah, and a striving toward perfection. When creation, revelation and redemption converge in the synagogue we can't help but feel spiritually drawn to God.


Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Avi Weiss

Jan. 29, 2011/25 Shevat, 2771

Mishpatim

Among its 53 mitzvot, Parashat Mishpatim discusses the punishment for (intentional) murder, (accidental) manslaughter, and bodily injury. The text provides scenarios that illuminate the fine distinctions of the law. One of the examples is the following (Shemot 21:22-25):

22) If men fight and collide with a pregnant woman and her babies go out, but there is no harm, he will certainly be punished as the husband of the woman assesses against him, and he shall give (pay) according to the judges. 23) But if there is harm, he shall give (pay) a life for a life. 24-25) An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, etc.

            It is a difficult passage. Yet its rabbinic understanding is highly relevant. 

                     Upon first encounter, one might think that “there is no harm” means that the babies survive, and that “there is harm” means that the babies die. But if that’s the appropriate interpretation, for what exactly is the accidental assailant liable if the babies survive? And how can one explain the inclusion of “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, etc.” as part of the punishment for the death of the babies? 

                     Our tradition accepts a different interpretation, which is reflected in the Talmud, Mechilta, classic Torah commentaries, and later halachic (legal) rulings. Accordingly, “her babies go out” means that she miscarries, i.e., that the fetuses are delivered dead; “there is no harm” means that the mother is not injured; and “there is harm” means that the mother dies or is injured. Paraphrasing, the text can now be read as: Suppose a man accidentally strikes a pregnant woman and she miscarries. If she is not physically injured, the man shall pay a fine as requested by the woman’s husband and approved by the court (to cover emotional distress and/or the lost future economic value of a child). But if the woman dies or is physically injured, the man shall pay a life for a life, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, etc. 

         The rabbinic interpretation of this difficult passage implies that causing an abortion is neither murder nor manslaughter, since its stated punishment (a fine) is less severe than the previously stated punishments for murder (death) and manslaughter (exile). In other words, a fetus is not equivalent to a person. 

         The paths from this starting point to the halachic positions regarding abortion are too complicated to explore here. First and foremost, one must recognize that this text discusses accidental abortion, not intentional abortion, and applies only to Jews. But nonetheless the text’s message is crucial: Judaism does not consider a fetus to be equivalent to a person. Indeed, all halachic rulings on intentional abortion fall between the pro-choice and pro-life extremes that dominate the debate in American society.

Shabbat shalom, Jeffrey Melnick

Jan. 22, 2011/18 Shevat, 5771

Yitro

“In the third month from the Exodus of the Children of Israel from Egypt, on this day, they arrived at the Wilderness of Sinai.” They camped opposite the mountain. Moses was familiar with this area because it was at this same mountain where he saw the Burning Bush. Three days later in an awesome display, Hashem revealed Himself to the Israelites, on the Mountain. Then Hashem spoke the Ten Commandments, which were the rules they had to practice as His special people, a kingdom of ministers, a Holy people. 

“A Jew by the very condition of his Jewishness pays the continuing price of Sinai. If Jewishness remains his fate, Judaism remains the framework of his native spiritual existence and G-d his partner.” Each generation should regard itself as standing at Sinai, says the Passover ritual; as one people, miraculously delivered, in the wilderness, trembling before G-d, His treasured possession. As long as we keep alive the consciousness of Sinai each Jew can find their roots. “The berit was his father’s but it is his also.” (The Torah: A Modern Commentary, W. G. Plaut 1981) 

The people had seen Hashem’s heavenly presence, therefore He didn’t want them to make images; gods of silver and gods of gold for themselves but rather, “An Altar of earth shall you make for Me and you shall slaughter near it your elevation-offerings and your peace-offerings, your flock and your herd; wherever I permit My Name to be mentioned I shall come to you and bless you.”  

May our synagogue and all places of worship continue to merit Hashem’s presence. 

Shabbat shalom,

Jeff Rose

Jan. 15, 2011/11 Shevat, 5771

B'shalach

      One has to admit that the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, the narrative of which is contained in this week’s parasha of Beshallach, has to be near, or at, the top of the list of “‘Great Torah Moments.” That is not to say that it is the climax of the Torah, which is certainly reserved for the Revelation at Sinai, which we will read about in next week’s parasha of Yitro.   But the splitting of the sea has its own unique recognition.

     The Children of Israel were in a desperate situation, pursued by Pharaoh’s army, and terrified to the point of complaining to Moses, saying,  ”... for it is better that we should serve Egypt than that we should die in the Wilderness.”   But salvation arrives.

     The sea divides for the Children of Israel, allowing them to pass safely through, but crashes down on the Egyptian army, destroying it.  They then join in great celebration: The Shirah, the Song by the Sea.   In fact, this celebration is emphasized not just by the words of the song, but also by the unique way the song is actually written in the Torah itself.   Clearly, the Children of Israel recognized the significance of the moment:  They are finally freed from Egypt, their enemy has been destroyed, and they are now a nation unto themselves.   Nothing bad ever happens to the Jewish people again.

     Well, wishful thinking. In fact, no sooner than the celebration finishes, then the people are confronted with new unpleasant realities.  And their complaining begins anew. They are now in the wilderness and find a lack of water and food, only to be saved once again through Divine aid.  Subsequently, they are confronted with a new enemy, Amalek, the first of the other nations to attack Israel, and certainly not the last, to state the obvious.   It seems their problems are really never ending.

     So now what to make of the celebration and the Song by the Sea.   Acknowledgement of Divine intervention to be sure, but why then?   Was it a premature or ill-timed celebration?     

     Perhaps the Torah is suggesting an important lesson.   Life’s journey can be seen as a series of climbs. As we go higher up the mountain, we may reach a point that appears as a great view.  We may pause, reflect in awe at what we perceive, and even celebrate. But there is always more climbing to do, and it may get harder as we climb higher. 

      Rejoice in good times, but be mindful of the fact that new difficulties may be forthcoming.   However, we should not confront these challenges with complaints, or by becoming embittered, or feeling self-pity.   Rather as opportunities to show our mettle.   

Shabbat shalom,
Paul Tesser

Jan. 8, 2011/3 Shevat, 5771

Bo

The book of Exodus discusses the children of Israel's Departure from Egypt. We recognize these activities in our daily prayers when we say passages from Exodus. The Departure from Egypt is part of the children of Israel becoming a people--Klal Yisrael (the people of Israel)--and fulfilling the covenant which the Almighty made with our forefathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

            Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ Future Tense points to Judaism's original purpose "as a partner with G-d and with those other faiths in the never ending struggle for freedom and social justice for all." He argues that the covenant that Jews entered into involved creating a just world in which the divine presence can dwell. Judaism shows that Jews are a people of G-d, and their covenant with the Almighty indicates behavior they should follow to achieve the goal(s) of being the people of G-d.

            Our Sages and other scholars often proposed arguments that were conducted--l'shem shamayim--"for the sake of Heaven."  In an earlier parsha of Exodus Moses' demand of Pharaoh (see e.g., Ex III:18) was "The Lord, the G-d of the Hebrews, hath met with us. And now let us go, we pray thee, three days journey into the wilderness, that we may sacrifice to the Lord our G-d." We can raise the question of what would have happened if Pharaoh agreed to Moses' initial demand?  What would be the story of the children of Israel and Judaism? Three questions can be raised for your thoughts. Would there be differences in the fabric of the covenant between the children of Israel and the Almighty? Second, absent the plagues, which serve as an example of the Almighty's presence and authority, would as large a number of people have left? Recall in an earlier parsha, Va'era, Moses, speaking in the name of the Almighty, tells the children of Israel to leave Egypt; and they do not follow him. Third, is it possible that rather than Aaron serving as the High Priest there would be an egalitarian community for prayer and religious observance? The example of Korach and his followers indicate that an egalitarian framework would probably not be self-sustaining.

            When you inquire about this different view of Pharaoh's behavior, what other changes would you make in the Exodus saga? How would your changes affect the way Jews lived and how Judaism was practiced in the post-Exodus era to the present day? 

Shabbat shalom,

Steven Puro

Jan. 1, 2011/25 Tevet, 5771

Va'era

     Beginning in the fourth Aliya, we read about Moses and Aaron asking Pharaoh to let the children of Israel ‘do their own thing,’ as it were. The initial requests to Pharaoh are modest ones. “Let us go and worship our G-d”. This begins the story of the pleadings of Moses and Aaron, and Pharaoh’s agreeing and then breaking his word. This process is repeated a number of times before the Almighty finally sends the terrible plague of the firstborn. What an extreme measure G-d finally had to resort in order to finally get the point across. 

     How many times have the Jewish people said to their oppressors, we simply want our freedom to live as Jews without bothering anyone else? How many times have we pleaded with host countries and cultures just to be left alone? How many times has Israel extended its hand to the Arab communities to live in peace? And how many times have their hearts hardened to reject the Jewish plea for peace. 

     Today’s enemies, just like Pharaoh, wish us ill. They want us to live according to their worldview and their expectations.  Thus in order to settle the conflict, just as in bible times, the solution may be so radical, that the enemies of the Jews, at the end, may be very sorry that that they didn’t listen to the initial overtures for peace and tranquility. 

     Rather than negotiate with terrorists whose word will not be kept, we may be forced to fight.  A possible outcome would be the creation of an exodus of vast numbers of Arabs from the area of the Jordan River westwards. This will be similar to the plague of the firstborn, which convinced Pharaoh to finally let our people go. This way may be the last option to achieve real peace.

 Shabbat shalom, Gene Brody

Dec. 25, 2010/18 Tevet, 5771

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. 18, 2010/11 Tevet, 5771

Vayechi

Following the blessings of his grandsons Ephraim and Manasseh, Jacob tells Joseph that he is about to die.  Since Jacob is the last of our patriarchs to die, we cling to his final words.  Abraham, Isaac and Jacob form the cornerstone of Judaism for all future generations.  Jacob promised Joseph that G-d will not abandon him and that G-d will bring Joseph to Canaan, the land of his fathers.  This belief permeates all of Judaism.  We believe that G-d will not leave us, that He is with us in the Diaspora and in Israel. 

Jacob addresses all of his sons immediately before his death, “And Jacob called his sons and said, “Come together that I may tell you what is to befall you in days to come.” (49.2)  But when the text continues, Jacob does not tell his sons what the future will bring.  Instead, he speaks personally to each of his sons.  (Rashi’s interpretation regarding why Jacob did not tell of “the end of days” is that the Divine Presence, or the Shechinah, was removed from Jacob so that he could not pass on such information.)

This portion of text is still puzzling.  As we know, the Torah is complete and every word is intentional.  According to the Zohar, the foundation of Jewish mystical works, there are three kinds of speech:  Speaking, Saying and Relating.  “Speaking” is the most general and is defined as a verbal act.  “Saying” is also a verbal act but the words come from the heart.  “Relating” differs from the first two in that it is the voice of the soul.  This differentiation can help us to understand Jacob’s words. 

According to the Aggadah, the classical rabbinic writings, Jacob wished to relate deeply and soulfully to his sons on his deathbed.  In poetic form, Jacob gave each son an honest appraisal of his life’s accomplishments.   The words Jacob uttered to his sons, the fathers of the 12 tribes of Israel, were of heightened value because they came from the voice of his soul.   Each son still had his life ahead of him, tasks to complete and obstacles to overcome.  Jacob was a righteous man and the poetic blessings he gave his sons would help them create the nation of Israel.

How often do we get an honest appraisal of our own lives like Jacob gave to his sons?  Like Jacob’s sons, we are each on a unique journey.  We need loving words, objective criticism and guidance in order to succeed. 

The lesson we can take from this part of Vayechi is to place a higher value upon “relating” than “speaking” or “saying”.  Our conversations should be meaningful and sincere with children and adults alike.  “Relating” is an expression of empathetic honesty, the opposite of sarcasm and platitude.  Emulating our forefather Jacob in this way pushes us to share our true thoughts and feelings.  Our goal becomes to look for and point out the value in others.  Although it takes no extra time to speak from our heart and soul, it requires thoughtfulness, courage and compassion.  I cannot think of a more worthwhile tool that each of us can use on our own personal journey.

Shabbat shalom, Laura Lieber

Dec. 11, 2010/4 Tevet, 5771

Vayigash

Today’s parashah, Vayigash, has an underlying theme which is carried from the previous parashah, Miketz.   As the story goes, Yosef’s jealous brothers sell him to merchants, who take him to Egypt.  When the brothers go back to Yaakov, they tell him that Yosef has been killed by a wild animal.  Since that day, Yaakov mourns over his favorite son.   

Meanwhile, in Egypt, Yosef eventually becomes the chief advisor to Pharaoh.  Because of a famine, many people from Canaan, like Yosef’s brothers, travel to Egypt for food.  When Yosef’s brothers come before him requesting food, he recognizes them, but they do not recognize him.  Yosef does not tell them who he is, until after he plays a little trick on Binyamin.  After Yosef’s servants “find” his goblet in Binyamin’s bag, Yehudah pleads for Yosef to take him as a slave and not Binyamin.  At this point, Yosef reveals himself to his brothers.  As they weep, all the mean and bad things said and done seem to be forgotten. This in itself is amazing.  Even after the brothers SOLD Yosef, he appears to forgive them.  

So after rejoicing at the sight of his brothers, Yosef sends for his father and the rest of his household.  At first Yaakov does not believe that his favorite son is alive.  Why would he believe this?  His other sons told him that Yosef was dead, killed by a wild animal.  But after much persuading, he brings his family up to Egypt to see his son.  When father and son meet, both cry, happy to be reunited.  Now a family again, Yosef finds a home for his father, brothers, and the rest of the household in Goshen.  During this time, the brothers do not seem to get questioned or admonished for what they did.  Nowhere in this story does Yaakov speak of the lies about his son’s death, nor does Yosef try to get his brothers to admit that they acted poorly or jealously. 

Perhaps all was not forgotten, but the Torah only speaks of the joy of getting back together. To me this means a lot.  It shows that even after everything they did to each other, they still made amends.  The Torah, by emphasizing the weeping and unifying of this family seems to be teaching us that we should strive to do what Yaakov and Yosef and their family did. Looking out for each other even after all of our arguments and difficulties is more important than holding a grudge.  If we do this, we will all learn to appreciate our parents, children and siblings more than we already do.   Life is short; remember that when your family wants to hang out with you, consider it, they love you more than you know.

Shabbat Shalom,

      Madison Rinder

Dec. 4, 2010/27 Kislev, 5771

Miketz

   When Yosef (Joseph) is appointed second to the king by Pharaoh he is given an Egyptian name.  In the words of the Torah; "and Pharaoh called Yosef - Tzafnat Paneach." (Genesis 41:45)  The Torah then tags on an additional statement: "and Yosef went out over the land of Egypt."  If Yosef was given a new name why does the Torah not use that name when describing his going out to rule Egypt?

    Perhaps the answer lies in evaluating Maimonides’ position that the person who sanctified God’s name most in the world (Kiddush Hashem) was Yosef.  (Laws of the Fundamentals of Torah 5:10)  This is strange, because after all, sanctifying God is commonly associated with dying for God.  Why did Maimonides not pick any of the myriad of Jews who gave their lives for the Almighty to embody this most important principle?  Why pick Yosef who did not die for God?

   Rav Ahron Soloveitchik offers an interesting insight.  He argues that for Maimonides the greatest sanctification of God is not dying for Him but living for God.

   In many ways dying for a cause is easier than living for one.  Dying takes a moment and is often associated with great honor.  Living for God requires an every day and every moment commitment.  Doing the small things that often go unnoticed is the true test of Kiddush Hashem.

   Note Maimonides formulation of the laws of Kiddush Hashem.  What is Kiddush Hashem, he asks?  Rather than list the times that one should die for God, Maimonides first lists those times when one should transgress the law rather than die.  Only after explaining when life overrides the law, does Maimonides mention the few times when dying for God is mandated. (Laws of the Fundamentals of Torah 5:1,2)  Rav Ahron concludes that living for God is mentioned first, as it is paramount.

   No wonder Yosef is the model of Kiddush Hashem.  True, he did not die for God. Still, although the only Jew living in Egypt he lived every moment for God -- never forsaking his Jewish identity.  In the most difficult of times he did not assimilate, he did not forget who he was. This is Kiddush Hashem par excellence.
   Our original question is now answered: Pharaoh’s intent in giving Yosef an Egyptian name may have been to encourage him to lose his identity.  The Torah, however, is quick to point out that Yosef went out over the land of Egypt to underscore that Yosef remained Yosef.  He was not swept away by Pharaoh’s thinking; he remained true to his Jewish identity.

   An important message for Jews living in the modern world.  When engaging modernity and gleaning from worldly wisdom and becoming involved in tikkun olam we dare not forget our roots, our names, our responsibility to see the world from the prism of Torah.  A good starting point in keeping our roots is to retain our Hebrew names.  Names reveal a great deal about character, about who we are.  Like Yosef who despite Pharaoh’s efforts to rename him, to redirect him, remained the same Yosef.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Avi Weiss

Nov. 27, 2010/13 Kislev, 5771

Vayeishev

 Joseph is a key person in understanding the development of the Hebrew people and their relationships with the Almighty. Our analysis and knowledge about this complex individual begins in Vayeishev and continues to the end of Genesis, i.e. , three additional parshas. The Torah's approach explores numerous and complicated roles concerning Joseph's activities, such as interpreter of dreams, a Hebrew slave in an important Egyptian household, and a prisoner. Joseph begins the path of the descendants of Abraham into Egypt (mitzrayim). Discussion and reference to mitzrayim is a regular part of our daily and Shabbos prayers.

Jacob, Joseph's father, has an important connection in Vayeishev and the following three parshas. The Pentateuch argues: 

If Abraham represents the root of the Jewish people and Isaac the continuation toward that trunk, then Jacob represents the true trunk....  For Jacob is the one who will hand to the future nation its name and destiny. 

Jacob has received promises from the Almighty about a successful future for the Jewish people. In this parsha we find that Jacob would not be consoled when presented with "evidence" concerning the death of his favorite son, Joseph (37:35). This idea shows a vulnerable, insecure side of Jacob's character. Prior elements of this insecurity occur when he interprets the Almighty's message(s) during the dream relating to a ladder (Vayetze). The parsha informs us that Jacob's pain will continue by using the verb "he wept" (37:35) in the future tense. Is it reasonable to suggest that Jacob's weeping involves his questioning whether the Almighty's promises will be kept? In contemporary Israel, the Israeli novelist David Grossman (To the End of the Land, and The Yellow Wind) develops ideas concerning how individuals in Israel struggle to remain themselves and retain their Jewish identity during tragedies faced by the Jewish state.

When Joseph is brought to Egypt, he is purchased by Potiphar, the chief of cooks who was an official in Pharaoh’s court. Immediately, the parsha tells us (Gen 39:3) that "The Lord was with Joseph and he became a successful man."  The idea that the Lord was with Joseph reflects the Torah concept of Divine Providence. The Lord intervened on Joseph's behalf.  Joseph, while a slave in a hostile culture, remains loyal to the  Lord's principles. How did our great-grandparents or grandparents remain loyal to central Judaism concepts while living in hostile cultures?

I found difficulty in understanding the idea "And his master saw that the Lord was with him (Joseph) and that the Lord made all that he did to prosper in his hand."  How could Potiphar have this knowledge about the Lord, since he did not know about either the Lord or principles of Judaism? In further contrast, the dominant cultural activity in Egypt was to worship idols. In the current time period, how would we attempt to answer the question about the Lord being with an individual?  What would be the definitive characteristics?  In addressing Potiphar's view of Joseph, Rashi and the Midrash Rabbah (Gen 39:3) suggest that Potiphar saw that Joseph whispered G-d's name whenever he came in and whenever he went out. Further, Joseph prayed for G-d's blessing in whatever he did. Another possible source of the Egyptian's recognition was Joseph's honesty and treatment of others.  One outcome of Joseph's behavior was that Potiphar promoted him to be his personal servant and supervisor of his entire household (Gen 39:4). R. Simeon b. Yohai connected these ideas by teaching that wherever the righteous go, the Shechinah accompanies them. So the blessing followed Joseph and the Lord also blessed Potiphar's house for Joseph's sake. In this and subsequent parshas Joseph indicates his success is based upon the Lord's guidance; see, for example, the way he initially address Pharaoh (Gen 40:8 and 41:6). 

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

Nov. 20, 2010/13 Kislev, 5771

Vayishlach

This week’s portion, Vayishlach, means “and he sent.”  This refers to the messengers that Yaakov sent to make peace with his brother Esav.

Yaakov was very worried about his reunion with his brother.  The last time Yaakov and Esav were together, Yaakov had just stolen Esav’s blessing from their father.

Yaakov was very frightened that his brother was approaching, prepared to wage war against him.  So Yaakov came up with a three-part plan.  The first part was a military plan.  He divided his group into two camps.  He thought that if Esav did strike, then at least one of his camps would survive if one got attacked.  Second, he prayed to G-d.  Yaakov reminded G-d of the promise that G-d made to protect him.  The final part of Yaakov’s plan was to send gifts to his brother, Esav.  Yaakov would send servant after servant with gifts for Esav in the hope that by the time he made it to Esav, his brother would be willing to forgive him. 

The night before the two brothers met, Yaakov wrestled with an unidentified being.  There are many interpretations that refer to Jacob’s struggle with an “angel.”  Some say it was the angel of Esav.  Another source parallels this as a struggle between two worlds--the spiritual and the material.  Another mentions the struggle between the divine and man. 

It was a long and difficult night for Yaakov.  In the end he was not defeated and it was at this point that his name was changed to Yisrael.  Just like Yaakov, the Jewish people have struggled against many foes.  At this point in our history, we are fortunate enough to say that we have prevailed.  Though no one looks for a struggle, these difficulties bring out the highest and deepest potentials in human beings.

When Yaakov and Esav do finally meet, Esav hugged Yaakov and forgave him. 

Sara Lynn and Mimi Levy

Nov. 13, 2010/6 Kislev, 5771

Vayetse

 Joseph is a key person in understanding the development of the Hebrew people and their relationships with the Almighty. Our analysis and knowledge about this complex individual begins in Vayeishev and continues to the end of Genesis, i.e. , three additional parshas. The Torah's approach explores numerous and complicated roles concerning Joseph's activities, such as interpreter of dreams, a Hebrew slave in an important Egyptian household, and a prisoner. Joseph begins the path of the descendants of Abraham into Egypt (mitzrayim). Discussion and reference to mitzrayim is a regular part of our daily and Shabbos prayers.

Jacob, Joseph's father, has an important connection in Vayeishev and the following three parshas. The Pentateuch argues: 

If Abraham represents the root of the Jewish people and Isaac the continuation toward that trunk, then Jacob represents the true trunk....  For Jacob is the one who will hand to the future nation its name and destiny. 

Jacob has received promises from the Almighty about a successful future for the Jewish people. In this parsha we find that Jacob would not be consoled when presented with "evidence" concerning the death of his favorite son, Joseph (37:35). This idea shows a vulnerable, insecure side of Jacob's character. Prior elements of this insecurity occur when he interprets the Almighty's message(s) during the dream relating to a ladder (Vayetze). The parsha informs us that Jacob's pain will continue by using the verb "he wept" (37:35) in the future tense. Is it reasonable to suggest that Jacob's weeping involves his questioning whether the Almighty's promises will be kept? In contemporary Israel, the Israeli novelist David Grossman (To the End of the Land, and The Yellow Wind) develops ideas concerning how individuals in Israel struggle to remain themselves and retain their Jewish identity during tragedies faced by the Jewish state.

When Joseph is brought to Egypt, he is purchased by Potiphar, the chief of cooks who was an official in Pharaoh’s court. Immediately, the parsha tells us (Gen 39:3) that "The Lord was with Joseph and he became a successful man."  The idea that the Lord was with Joseph reflects the Torah concept of Divine Providence. The Lord intervened on Joseph's behalf.  Joseph, while a slave in a hostile culture, remains loyal to the  Lord's principles. How did our great-grandparents or grandparents remain loyal to central Judaism concepts while living in hostile cultures?

I found difficulty in understanding the idea "And his master saw that the Lord was with him (Joseph) and that the Lord made all that he did to prosper in his hand."  How could Potiphar have this knowledge about the Lord, since he did not know about either the Lord or principles of Judaism? In further contrast, the dominant cultural activity in Egypt was to worship idols. In the current time period, how would we attempt to answer the question about the Lord being with an individual?  What would be the definitive characteristics?  In addressing Potiphar's view of Joseph, Rashi and the Midrash Rabbah (Gen 39:3) suggest that Potiphar saw that Joseph whispered G-d's name whenever he came in and whenever he went out. Further, Joseph prayed for G-d's blessing in whatever he did. Another possible source of the Egyptian's recognition was Joseph's honesty and treatment of others.  One outcome of Joseph's behavior was that Potiphar promoted him to be his personal servant and supervisor of his entire household (Gen 39:4). R. Simeon b. Yohai connected these ideas by teaching that wherever the righteous go, the Shechinah accompanies them. So the blessing followed Joseph and the Lord also blessed Potiphar's house for Joseph's sake. In this and subsequent parshas Joseph indicates his success is based upon the Lord's guidance; see, for example, the way he initially address Pharaoh (Gen 40:8 and 41:6). 

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

Nov. 6, 2010/29 Cheshvan, 5771

Toldot

At the end of this week’s parasha, the aftermath of the blessing incident is described.  As was to be expected, Esau is angry at his brother Jacob for agreeing to connive with their mother Rebecca to receive the blessing originally intended for him (Esau).  And Esau threatens Jacob’s life.  Hearing of it, Rebecca arranges to have Isaac send Jacob to spend time with her brother Laban in Padan-Aram on the pretext that it would be beyond bearing were Jacob to marry a Canaanite woman as Esau had.  His send-off is described in the following words:

     “Isaac sent Jacob; he went to Padan-Aram to Laban, son of Betuel the Aramean, the brother of Rebecca, mother of Jacob and Esau” (Genesis 28:5).  

     On the homiletic assumption that no unnecessary words appear in the Torah, we have to ask ourselves what might be the significance of adding the information at the end of the verse that Rebecca is the mother of Jacob and Esau? 

     Take some time to think of a response to this question before reading on.                                                                                    

     This very question seemed to have troubled Rashi.  Commenting on these words, Rashi says:

“I do not know what this teaches us.” 

     Rashi, by admitting a question exists, but that he has no answer, is teaching us an even more valuable lesson.  Rashi is indicating to us it is nobler to reveal our ignorance than to attempt to cover it up.

     What is unacceptable is to be aware of one’s ignorance, have the opportunity to remedy it, but do nothing about it.

     If we are prepared to admit ignorance of things Judaic but do not take advantage of the many adult Jewish education opportunities available at Traditional Congregation and in the St. Louis Jewish community or in cyberspace, in that ignorance there is no nobility.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Ephraim Zimand

Oct. 30, 2010/22 Cheshvan, 5771

Chaye Sarah

Although the bulk of this week's Parashah is devoted to the story of Eliezer's successful search for a wife for Yitzchak, the earlier portion gives considerable attention to Avraham's purchase of a burial plot for Sarah.  I believe that, in the spirit of "the deeds of our ancestors are a sign for their descendents," much of what happens has relevance to us today, as we sort out the relationship between ourselves, the Land of Israel, and the nations of the world. 

First we note that Avraham must approach the native peoples and petition to be allowed to purchase a landholding.  This in fact is considered by our Sages to be one of Avraham's 10 trials.  Despite the many promises Gd made that the Land would be his and his descendants’, it was not clear that he would even be able to bury his dead there.  Avraham tells the Hittites "A sojourner and a resident am I with you" (23:4) and Rashi quotes the Midrash as saying: "If you want I am a sojourner, but if not I'll be a resident and I'll take the plot by law, for Gd has told me 'to your descendents I will give this Land.'" 

Apparently the sale of any of the Land to "outsiders" was frowned upon, for the Hittites offer "the best of our gravesites" to Avraham for use in burying Sarah, sort of a lease arrangement.  Perhaps they thought, or hoped, that Avraham would move on after a while.  Avraham, however, asks for an achuzat kever; the word achuzah comes from a root meaning "to grasp" or "to hold."  In other words, Avraham wants to buy the land, and after making it known that money was no object, the owner of the land he wanted finally did sell, for an exorbitant sum of money. 

This is the first of three instances where full price was paid for land in Israel, deals made out in the open and recorded in Scripture.  The second was the purchase of a field around Shechem by Ya'akov upon his return from Lavan, and the third was the purchase of the site of the Temples in Jerusalem by King David.  The first two of course came before Gd's promise was fulfilled, and the third was afterward.  The three locations are right along the spine of the Land of Israel: Shechem (Ya'akov.  Shechem is the modern Nablus = Neopolis = "new city" although Shechem is quite ancient), Jerusalem (David) and Chevron (Avraham).  They are also the sites most hotly contested by the so-called Palestinians, although their interest in this land does not go back any further than the Jews' repossession of it. 

Why does Scripture spend time describing real estate transactions that happened long ago?  First, these transactions set the pattern for our relationship to the Land to this day.  At the beginning of the Zionist enterprise we, as a people, found ourselves exactly in the position of Avraham.  We were still the rightful possessors of the Land, having relinquished neither claim nor connection through all the vicissitudes of history.  Yet we were forced to repurchase the land, often twice, from absentee landlords in Beirut or Istanbul, and from the peasants working it.  We were often forced to pay once again with the blood of our children, as in Chevron in 1929, or in any of the wars that we have fought with our adversaries.  Even today, Arabs are executed by our "peace partners" for the "crime" of selling land to a Jew, and the world decries our attempts to live in the properties we have purchased. 

Shabbat shalom,

Rafi Rabinoff

Oct. 23, 2010/15 Cheshvan/5771

Vayera

Our story begins with the appearance of three "men" at the door of Avraham's tent.  These "men" are actually 3 angels, each with his own mission: Rafael (from the root r-f-a = to heal) to heal Avraham after his circumcision; Michael, who announced the impending birth of Yitzchak to Sarah (Gd had already informed Avraham); and Gavriel (from the root g-b-r = strength, and associated with the Attribute of Justice) to overthrow Sodom and its associated cities.  Of the 3, Rafael (who is also assigned to save Lot and his family from the coming disaster in Avraham's merit) and Gavriel head off to Sodom to complete their assignments.  When they approach the city Lot, recently appointed to be a judge in Sodom, invites the "angels" to spend the night with him.  Rashi points out (to 19:1):

Above [when they came to Avraham's tent] they were called anashim ["men"]; when the Shechinah was with them they were called "men."  Or, by Avraham who was stronger [i.e. on a higher spiritual plane than Lot] there were angels around all the time like men, but by Lot they are called angels. 

This phenomenon may be similar to the debate on Noach's status as discussed in the opening verses of Parashat Noach: "Noach was an ish tzaddik tamim in his generations..."  Rashi on this verse (6:9) says:

"In his generations": Some of our Sages teach this as praise – certainly if he had been in a generation of tzaddikim he would have been a greater tzaddik.  Some teach this as denigration – in comparison to his generation he was a tzaddik; had he lived in Avraham’s generation he wouldn’t have been considered anything [special]. 

 Apparently everything we evaluate is colored by the environment we are in (and which we create as well).  As a wise man once said [paraphrase], In a smoky room nobody can see clearly.  In particular, our evaluation of phenomena is colored by the background against which we perceive them. 

 This environment is created by the collective thinking and activity of the people in the location under consideration.  Thus when Avraham is "bargaining" with Gd he specifically mentions that the righteous people must be found "within" the city.  If the righteous hold themselves aloof from the life of the city, they are unable to have much of an influence on their surroundings.  Rather they must teach by word and example and offer criticism where that is necessary.  Otherwise the community continues on its course and suffers the consequences of its activity.  As our Sages tell us, he who is in a position to protest the activity going on around him (on whatever level – family, workplace, city, nation) and does not, is held responsible for the sin that he let slide.  Additionally, he is likely to be caught up in the general conflagration – Lot was saved only in Avraham's merit (19:29) and not his own. 

 Finally, some words about Sodom and why it was destroyed.  According to our Sages, Sodom was not destroyed because of sodomy; rather it was destroyed because the strong took advantage of the weak.  People were treated as objects to be made use of, either economically or otherwise.  And this evil was institutionalized.  For example, in Pirke Avot (5:13) we read: "Four types of natures: … One who says 'what is mine is mine and what is yours is yours' – this is the ordinary average person, but some say, this is the nature of Sodom."  In another place we are told that Sodom was destroyed because its citizens insisted in all cases on their strict rights under the law.  (Measure for measure then, Gd exacted His full rights under the law!) 

 The Midrash tells us that in Sodom if a vendor came to town selling produce, the residents would each steal a little bit – less than one could claim recompense for in court, until the person was left with nothing at all.  It was forbidden to give a poor person food.  When a young lady was discovered sneaking bread to a beggar she was covered with honey and stung to death by bees.  All in accordance with the law. 

Shabbat shalom,

Rafi Rabinoff

Oct. 16, 2010/8 Cheshvan, 5771

Lech Lechah

Oct. 9, 2010/1 Cheshvan, 5771

Noach

Today’s Torah portion is Noach.  The first thing that stood out to me, believe it or not, was the first sentence: “… Noah was a righteous man, perfect in his generations.”  Righteous means having good morals, listening to Hashem, and doing the right thing.  I immediately wondered why the phrase “in his generations” was used.  How is your righteousness connected to your generation?  In the commentary, one of the main explanations was that he was a good man despite being surrounded by a horrid culture.  He would have been better if he lived in a better time.  Another explanation was that he was only good compared to the other people of his time.  This further says that the goodness of a person is measured in comparison to his/her peers. 

To me, neither explanation seemed quite right.  I thought it might mean that Noah had morals that were good (and he listened to Hashem and did good deeds…), but in comparison to his generation they were perfect.  Later in the portion Hashem says to Noah “…for it is you that I have seen to be righteous before Me in this generation.”  Again I was faced with the emphasis on the generation.  I read the rest of the portion again and thought about a different man in a different time.  Abraham, when faced with a situation much like Noah’s, pleaded with Hashem for the lives of the people rather than just listening to him as Noah did.  I think Abraham’s behavior was better.  Still, I don’t think Noah would have been considered an ordinary, insignificant man in any generation.  Even if Noah lived in a better time, I think he would be considered a righteous man.  Without any expectation of being rewarded, he lived a life full of good deeds, where he also listened to Hashem.  He did not give in to his surroundings.  I also don’t believe that morality depends upon circumstances.  It is always important to do the right thing, to be righteous, especially in the worst of times, even if you will get no reward.  Luckily for Noah, as for us all, the reward for his righteousness was life. 

Shabbat shalom,

Thomas Hack

Oct. 2, 2010/24 Tishrei, 5771

Shmini Atzeret/Simchat Torah/Bereshit

 In the beginning… 

The first 5 Books of the Bible comprise the Torah.  Moses received the Torah on Mount Sinai in the year 2448 after creation.  The Torah contains 613 commandments divided into 248 positive commandments – “Thou shalt” –, paralleling the 248 limbs and organs in the human body, and 365 negative commandments – “Thou shalt not” – , paralleling the 365 major blood vessels and tendons.  The first positive commandment is contained in Genesis and is addressed to Adam and Eve: “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and master it." 

The Torah is written in a very concise manner, and much of it is difficult to understand without resorting to the Oral Torah (compiled to become the Mishnah in the year 3949 after creation, and 120 years after the destruction of the Second Temple).

In Hebrew, the first 5 books of the Bible are also called Chumash, from the number in Hebrew Chamesh (5).  Each book in the Torah is named in Hebrew after its first or second word, while in English, names summarize the content of the book.  The first book of the Torah is called in Hebrew Bereishit that means “In the beginning."  Bereishit, or Genesis, tells, in its first 11 chapters, the story of the creation of the world.  Genesis's goal is not to give a textbook lesson in science, but to affirm that nature was created by God.  The Book of Genesis also includes narratives related to Noah and the flood, the Tower of Babel, the story of the Patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and finishes with the death of Joseph. 

Each week in Synagogue we chant a passage from the Torah that is referred to as a Parashah.  The first Parashah is Parashat Bereishit.  The weekly Parashah is followed by a passage from the Prophets, which is referred to as a Haftarah.  The word comes from a Hebrew root meaning “end or conclusion." 

The Bible has been, according to many, the most influential book in human history.  Several of its central ideas – One God, one universal standard of morality, care for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger, and a holy day to refrain from work - have transformed humankind.  Despite its importance, few people today read the Bible.  It is never too late to start!

Shabbat shalom,

Mauricio, Marcia, Paul, Claire, Karyn Lisker

September 23-25, 2010/16-17 Tishrei, 5771

Succot Readings

     This Shabbat is the Shabbat of the Intermediate Days (Chol HaMoed) of Sukkot.  The Torah readings for Sukkot all have to do with the details of the offerings made on the various days, an interesting topic in its own right.  However on the Shabbat of Chol HaMoed Sukkot we additionally read Kohelet (Ecclesiastes).  What is the significance of this reading in the context of this holiday?

      I believe we can only understand Sukkot in the framework of the High Holiday season.  Indeed, the last day of Sukkot itself (Hoshanah Rabbah) is often explicitly linked to Yom Kippur as the last opportunity to set things right between Gd and the individual.  Rosh HaShanah is often referred to as the day on which we coronate Gd as our King; we accept Gd's sovereignty over the whole universe, and over our individual lives.  (This latter by the way, since it affects us directly and sometimes inconveniently, can be much harder than the former!)  At this stage we acknowledge both the existence and the primacy of Gd, the transcendent, ultimate reality.  However that reality is perceived as being outside ourselves as it were, separate from our individual existence.  This is of course a valid perception if we are focused on our individual body and mind, as we must be to some extent anyway.

      On Yom Kippur we take this a step further.  Now we strip ourselves of our individuality as much as we can.  We don't pay any mind at all to the needs of the body – no eating, no drinking, not much sense perception outside of the prayerbook.  We also don't pay much attention to our individual mind; rather the day is spent in prayer, focused on the holy words that have come down to us through thousands of years of tradition.  Yom Kippur is a day spent in the transcendent; the metaphor is immersing in a mikveh, the ritual bath from which we emerge purified. 

      Virtually as soon as Yom Kippur is over we have to begin preparing for Sukkot.  The agricultural aspect of Sukkot is the harvest festival, when we gather in the fruit of the year's labors and rejoice with them.  We are specifically commanded to be joyful on this festival, and to make others joyful as well – the poor and the vulnerable especially.  In the liturgy Sukkot is called z'man simchateinu, the time of our joy.  However there is another aspect of Sukkot, from which the holiday derives its name, and that is that we leave our comfortable, and seemingly permanent, houses and go live in makeshift huts for a week.  And we read Kohelet.

      For those not familiar with Kohelet, it was written by King Solomon and discusses his attempt to find something of permanent value in the world.  Whether it was wisdom or partying, Kohelet comes to the same conclusion: All is vanity (hevel).  Now one way to read this expression is to emphasize on the ephemeral nature of material creation, and even the subtler, more spiritual levels, which are also not permanent in the way the transcendent is.  This is certainly a valid reading, for the material world is indeed ephemeral. 

      I'd like to take a bit of a different tack.  The word hevel at its root means "breath."  Just as a breath is about as ephemeral as you can get, so the word has taken on that meaning.  But there is another feature of a breath – it is transparent (except maybe on a cold winter's day).  And being transparent, it has no clear-cut boundaries – a breath, as it were, becomes one with its surroundings.  Similarly the Sukkah – for a week we leave the solid walls of our houses and live in a hut, a structure in which the boundary between inside and outside is not so very clear.  What we seem to be doing is putting ourselves in a situation where either physically (Sukkah) or intellectually (Kohelet) we are learning to take the unbounded transcendent and to evaluate boundaries in terms of the unbounded.  That is, on Rosh HaShanah we acknowledge the unbounded, but as separate from the world of boundaries.  On Yom Kippur we internalize the experience of unboundedness directly into our minds and hearts.  Finally, on Sukkot, we learn to view all boundaries as nothing other than expressions of the boundless.  Rather than understanding ephemeral in the negative sense of impermanent, we evaluate it as ethereal, light, permeable – something that doesn't block our perception of Divinity.  Instead of being a garment that cloaks and hides the infinite, the finite reveals the infinite it all its endless possibilities of expression. 

Shabbat shalom,
Rafi Rabinoff

September 11, 2010/3 Tishrei, 5771

Ha'azinu

     In Hebrew there are many words for prayer; this alone should indicate its central importance to living a Jewish life – a language reflects in its diversity and its nuances the priorities of its underlying culture.  How many slang terms do we have for “money” in the US?!  The one I would like to focus on is avodah or service.  When the Temples stood in Jerusalem, worship centered around the sacrificial services, especially the regular daily service (tamid = constant service). Our Sages tell us (Pirke Avot 1:2) that the service, in the Temple is one of the 3 pillars on which the world exists (the other two being Torah and acts of lovingkindness).  When the Temple was destroyed, the daily sacrifices were replaced by prayer, and the name avodah was transferred to the prayer services (this is where we get the word “services” from). 

      Now really, what "service" can we do for Gd?  Gd is infinite and self-sufficient and doesn't need anything that is within our poor powers to give Him.  Yet Gd has given us commandments so that we will become sanctified and draw close to Him, and know him in all our ways.  In some way that we, as limited human beings probably cannot fully comprehend, Gd takes pleasure in His creatures' drawing near to Him and knowing Him.  So the service we perform for Gd is gradually to detach ourselves from the material world and connect to the spiritual world, and then act as a conduit for the holiness of the spiritual world to flow back into the material world.  In this way "…the earth will be full of the knowledge of Gd as the waters cover the sea."

      Now we can understand why prayer is "service" par excellance.  Prayer is the most direct mechanism by which the individual human soul can connect with the Divine.  Through the inspired words of prayer, whether from the sacred texts that have been passed down to us through the millennia, and which serve as the superstructure for our prayers, or through the spontaneous outpourings of our hearts, which form the spirit that infuses that superstructure, we begin a conversation with Gd that elevates us and delights Gd and brings fulfillment to Gd's original design of creation.

      Now this is the ideal.  Most of us are shaking our heads at this point and asking what this has to do with the reality that we inhabit.  And the answer is, in most cases, unfortunately not much.  Why is this?  If prayer is so powerful, why do we come to synagogue and are not moved?  Why, even when we are at our most inspired, are our prayers sometimes, or maybe most of the time, not answered?  Are we doing something wrong, or is prayer just a pious hoax?

      Our Parashah tells us with regard to Torah: It is not an empty thing for you.  The word "for you" is michem, which can also be translated "from you."  In other words Torah is telling us that if we find it empty, meaningless, irrelevant, then we had better look at ourselves first.  This is especially the case with prayer.  We have a tendency in our day and age, and especially in the industrialized West, to seek instant results, instant gratification.  We think that if we do something a few times we should be experts at it.  But any performer, be it a musician, an athlete, a surgeon, will tell you that the main thing in gaining expertise is repetition.  It takes time and it takes reps, to the point where, in the words of a legendary magician, "the difficult becomes easy and the easy becomes natural."  Imagine that you had a powerful meditation technique that was practiced twice a day.  If you practiced it 3 or 4 days out of the year, you would hardly blame the technique if the results were not as promised.  It's like the tourist wandering the streets of NY who ran into Toscanini and asked him, "How do I get to Carnegie Hall?"  Toscanini's one-word response: "Practice!"

      A different meaning of the word avodah is “work.”  To become expert at prayer takes work.  Although one may pray in any language, it is far better to pray in Hebrew.  Our Sages tell us that the words of the Hebrew language capture the essential vibratory qualities of the object that the word references.  Therefore when one prays in Hebrew there is no disconnect between the words we are speaking and the ideas our mind is to be entertaining.  This is not so, or at least not to as great an extent, in other languages.  So if we want to have success in praying, it would be worthwhile to learn at least "prayerbook Hebrew."  There are many programs available to help with this effort; we need only supply the time and the motivation.

      Perhaps the most important thing we can do to make our prayer more effective is – pray!  Our tradition ordains three daily prayers – morning, afternoon and night.  Each of the 3 daily prayers has its own flavor, and when we get into a rhythm of saying the services at their appropriate times, our days get into a rhythm of connecting with Gd, perhaps only slightly at first, as we feel our way through unfamiliar structures and unfamiliar sounds try to roll off our tongues, but eventually growing more and more close and intimate.  Our holidays and fast days have special prayers, as do our Shabbats and New Moons.  All of this puts our lives in the same rhythm of the weeks and the seasons and the years, slowly but surely attuning us with the rest of Creation, and eventually with the Creator as well.

Shabbat shalom,

Rafi Rabinoff