Emor - Representing our Community

Emor - Shabbat 4/30/11

In Emor (literally “speak,”) God tells Moses to speak to the kohanim (priests) and tell them about the special laws that pertain to them and to the priestly service in the Sanctuary.  The second half of Emor then takes us through the cycle of the yearly Jewish calendar, hitting all of the highlights: the weekly Shabbat; the Passover Festival in Nissan, which was originally the first month of the year; the counting of the Omer for forty-nine days followed by Shavuot; a “remembrance of shofar blasts,” as Rosh Hashanah was initially called; a “solemn fast” ten days later; the week-long Sukkot Festival; and finally Shemini Atzeret on the heels of Sukkot.

There is an incident at the end of Emor which always reminds me of my childhood, when my mother would sternly remind us before we went out, "Remember—you’re representing the Jewish people!”  I always found this a bit hyperbolic, if not downright problematic; why should anything I or my siblings did reflect on anyone other than ourselves?  Surely, I thought, in the unlikely event that any of us actually committed some terrible act while out with our friends, no one would think to impugn our entire community or religion because of it. 

It turns out, though, that at least one commentator took my mother’s point of view.  At the end of the parasha, an Israelite is punished after blaspheming God's name.  In telling us about this person, the Torah records that his mother’s name was Sh’lomit, daughter of Divri, from the tribe of Dan.  The obvious question is, why so many identifiers?  Or put another way, why drag poor Grandpa Divri into this mess?? 

Rashi explains that this episode indicates how one can bring shame not only upon himself when he acts wrongly, but also upon his family and community.  Despite our efforts to avoid stereotyping and collective punishment, people will instinctively pass judgment upon those who are associated with a given offender. 

At least we can rest assured, says Rashi, that the opposite is also true; one who acts righteously brings praise and honor to those around him.  These are important lessons when considering how we can positively represent our community at all times, as important as the other lesson I (re)learned this week—Mother always knows best!

Kedoshim - Words to Live By

Not surprisingly, the parasha of Kedoshim (meaning “holy”) includes the section of the Bible referred to as the Holiness Code.  These chapters in Leviticus are characterized by a refrain, “kedoshim tihyu…You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”  Most of the Ten Commandments are restated here, as well as a broad range of other mitzvot, blending ritual requirements with ethical mandates. 

One verse from the beginning of the Holiness Code states, “You shall keep My laws and rules by which man shall live…” The Rabbis pick up on the words, “vachai bahem – you shall live by them,” and explain this to mean that we ought to live by the mitzvot and not die by them.  In other words, the purpose of the mitzvot is to lead a good life, not to put life at risk.  The Rabbis called this concept "pikuach nefesh," the maintaining of life.  

Thus, for example, if someone is starving and his life is at stake, it is more important to sustain his life by giving him un-kosher food than it is to keep the commandments of kashrut.  The same goes for lighting a fire on Shabbat if someone is freezing, and so on.  According to Jewish tradition, the only times it is preferable to give up your life are when given the choice between dying and committing murder, idol worship or sexual misconduct (such as incest).  Fortunately we don’t have to face such choices very often! 
           
The phrase “vachai baheim - you shall live by them” also has implications for how we approach Jewish education.  Judaism is not merely a subject to be studied, but a way of life to be lived.  This means that textual learning must be accompanied by real, authentic experiences that bring the text’s content to life.  Learning about tzedakah is not the same as giving; learning about prayer is not the same as actually davening; learning about Torah is not the same as truly engaging in Torah study.  I am proud to say that this has always been the philosophy at the TAS Hebrew School.  The more we are able to provide students with experiential learning opportunities, the greater the chances that the next generation of Jews will truly exemplify “vachai bahem.”

Sanctity at the Seder

The seder (which literally means "order") consists of fourteen discreet steps, beginning with Kadesh, namely saying Kiddush. 

If you look closely, you'll notice that the Kiddush consists of two different parts - a longer blessing which sanctifies the day as a sacred holiday, and a shorter blessing over the cup of wine, which we use as a symbol of our joy.

There is a famous dispute in the Talmud between the schools of Hillel and Shammai over which blessing to say first, that over the wine or that over the day.  I initially saw this debate as insignificant hairsplitting, but a comment in the FJMC Haggadah helped me see it in a new light.  According to Shammai, we should recite the blessing over the day first, because it is the day itself which is special, and if it were not for the nature of the day then we would not have any reason to be drinking the wine in the first place.  Hillel, by contrast, argues that we should recite the blessing over the wine first, because a day is not necessarily holy, whereas we are always supposed to say a blessing before drinking wine. 

Now we can see that there is something deeper behinde this debate.  At its core, the dispute is over the nature of what makes something holy.  For Shammai, the day is inherently sacred due to the fact that it was divinely decreed as a holiday on the calendar.  However, Hillel posits that holiness is something that is latent or potential, akin perhaps to kinetic energy, and it is ultimately our human rituals or actions that imbue the day with sanctity. 

As we celebrate our seders this year, we can reflect on what it is about the holiday of Passover that is inherently sacred or special for us, and also what it is that we personally do - as individuals, family and community - to bring a sense of sanctity to what might otherwise be just another day. 

(By the way, if you look again at the Kiddush in the Haggadah, you'll notice that we follow Hillel, and recite the blessing over the wine first.)  Chag sameach!

Shabbat Ha-Chodesh - The Mystical Quality of Mitzvot

 Shabbat Ha-Chodesh

Shabbat 4/2/11

This Shabbat is the week before the new month of Nisan (aka "Shabbat Ha-Chodesh").  Nisan is considered a particularly sanctified time, given that it is the month or our redemption; as such, certain "sad" prayers are omitted during this month, and it is even traditional not to give a full eulogy.  On Shabbat, we read a special maftir portion (after the regular parasha of Tazria) in which the Israelites are commanded to observe Rosh Chodesh, the festival of the new month, beginning with Nisan as the first month of the year.  The Torah then goes on to discuss the observances of Passover in Nisan, including eating matzot for seven days and refraining from chametz. 

The commentator Or Hachayim asks, If the matzah is supposed to be a reminder of the Israelites' rush out of Egypt before their dough could rise, why is it commanded here?  The people won't leave Egypt until later in the chapter!  How can the Torah legislate a memorial for something that hasn't happened yet? 
He answers that we should understand that the Israelites, as a result of eating the matzah and performing the commanded rituals, thus brought about a quick redemption from God.  His comment points to a conception of mitzvot as having a certain theurgic or mystical quality; what we do "down here" has an effect "up there." 

What role do mitzvot play for you?  Do you have a mystical conception of them, like Or Hachayim?  Or are mitzvot a way of practicing discipline, and improving yourself?  Are mitzvot a means to an end, such as remembering the events or miracles of the past, or is the performance of mitzvot an end in itself? 

Whatever our personal understanding of mitzvot, may we all find meaning in their observance as we enter the heightened sanctity of the month of Nisan.  Happy Rosh Chodesh!

Vayikra - A Mid-Year Checkup

Vayikra/He Called

Shabbat 3/12/11

            In the first parasha of Leviticus, we read about the main types of sacrifices that individuals would offer.  For example, the Chatat was a sin offering to atone for unintentionally violating a prohibition, while the Asham was a guilt offering for an act such as robbery, or for when someone was in doubt about having committed a transgression.

           

Given that Passover is coming up, it is appropriate that this week’s parasha mentions the prohibition of placing chametz (leavened food) on the sacrificial altar with meal offerings.  Chametz may be defined as food prepared from grain that has been allowed to rise through prolonged contact with a liquid, or with a leavening agent such as yeast.  On Pesach, of course, we refrain from chametz for a full week.  The Torah gives us the reason for this, namely because our ancestors left Egypt before their bread could rise.  They refrained from chametz out of necessity, and we abstain from it today as a memorial to their flight from slavery. 

So we understand abstaining from chametz on Passover; but why was chametz not allowed on the altar for sacrificing on other occasions?  Is there something else about it that is problematic?  Maimonides suggests that leaven and honey (which was also forbidden on the altar) may have been used together in pagan worship, while Sefer HaChinuch suggests that prohibiting the ‘puffy’ chametz symbolizes the value of humility over haughtiness.  Other scholars suggest that it was essentially a practical issue; the leavening of cakes on the altar would prolong the process of preparing, offering and eating food gifts. 

Whatever the reason behind it, chametz was simply not allowed on the altar.  Rabbi Brad Artson teaches that by emptying our entire house of chametz for Pesach, we symbolically turn our whole home into God’s altar, elevating our household to the level of sanctity and purity of the Sanctuary itself.  I also think it is significant that six months after tossing away our sins in the form of breadcrumbs at tashlich during Rosh Hashana, we now have the opportunity for a mid-year checkup, wherein we once again rid ourselves of the physical chametz that clutters our lives and the spiritual chametz that weighs upon our hearts.   May we all do a thorough cleaning!

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Vayakhel - Extending the Spirit of Shabbat

Vayakhel/He Gathered

Shabbat 2/26/10

The process of constructing the Mishkan (portable sanctuary) had been interrupted by the episode of the golden calf and its aftermath.  Now, after finally receiving all the building instructions, Moses gathers the people in order to begin the construction itself.  The Israelites go above and beyond in donating all the required materials, bringing precious metals, fancy fabrics and choice animal skins in such abundance that Moses actually has to tell them to stop giving. 

           

          The people join in the work of building and sewing.  Bezalel, the head artisan, then turns to the task of fashioning the accoutrements of the Mishkan, including the ark, menorah, altar and washing laver.  When all the requirements have been completed, Moses officially initiates Aaron and his four sons as kohanim (priests).  A cloud appears over the Mishkan, symbolizing the divine presence that has come to dwell within it. 

             

           

            At the start of Vayakhel Moses reiterates the laws of Shabbat observance.  We might ask what connection there is between Shabbat and the rest of the parasha.  The commentator Ramban notes this juxtaposition of Shabbat with the Mishkan, and explains that there is a similarity between the two.  The Mishkan was meant to be a focal point for God’s presence that would in turn spread throughout the Israelite encampment, not merely rest within the confines of the Mishkan itself.  In a similar fashion, sanctifying Shabbat as a sacred time can elevate our sense of holiness throughout the rest of the week.  As it says in the Sim Shalom siddur at the end of the Shabbat Amidah (the devotional prayer recited while standing), “Let the spiritual dimensions of Shabbat’s pleasures extend to all the days of the week.”   Amen! 

Ki-Tissa - Communal Counts and Contributions

Ki-Tissa/When you Count

Shabbat 2/19/11

            If you are a Jewish music lover like I am, you may be familiar with the Klezmer revival band called The Klezmatics.  Their album entitled “Jews with Horns” makes for especially good pre-Shabbat listening this week, considering the content of the Torah reading.  In this week’s parasha, Moses descends from Mt. Sinai with two stone tablets inscribed by God, but he shatters them when he sees that the people have built a golden calf in his absence.  After convincing God to forgive the people for their idolatry, Moses brings down a new set of tablets, and this time his face is so radiant from being in God’s presence that he needs to veil himself.  In Hebrew, the word ‘karan’ is used to indicate that rays of light shone from his face; however, a ‘keren’ can also mean a horn.  This confusion in translation led Michelangelo to place small horns on the head of his famous sculpture of Moses. 

           

If Michelangelo were alive today, meanwhile, he may have enrolled in the Bezalel Academy in Jerusalem.  Bezalel is Israel’s leading school of art and design, and one of the most prestigious art institutions in the world.  The school’s name refers to Bezalel in our portion, the wise and talented artisan who was placed in charge of constructing the Mishkan (portable sanctuary).  Regrettably, Bezalel’s fellow craftsman Oholiav, his partner in overseeing the building project, never had a school named after him; perhaps if he had pledged more to the building fund he too could have been a naming donor!

The parasha in fact begins with the obligation to give monetary contributions for the construction of the Mishkan.  A census was conducted and a half-shekel poll tax was levied on everyone over the age of twenty—the rich did not pay more and the poor did not pay less.  The Rabbis note that the word “v’natnu,” meaning “each person shall give,” is a palindrome in Hebrew—the letters are the same forwards and backwards.  This indicates the reciprocal nature of tzedakah; when we contribute to the community, we receive something special in return. 

Shabbat shalom!

Mishpatim - The Many Meanings of Mitzvot

Mishpatim/Laws

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!

Very good; that way the whole world will be blind and toothless.

–Fiddler on the Roof

            When Tevye the milkman made the statement above, he did not realize that the verse “an eye for an eye,” which appears in this week’s portion, was interpreted by the Rabbis to mean that a person is required to give monetary compensation for committing a bodily injury.  According to Maimonides, no Rabbinic court ever ruled that one who blinded another should himself be blinded; rather, he must pay the value of the eye (or other injured limb).  Still, if Tevye’s sentiment was that we should not be overly harsh in our treatment of one another, even our enemies, then he makes a good point.  The parasha certainly agrees with this sentiment, admonishing us to return an ox to our enemy if we encounter it wandering off.

           

These laws are part of a wide range of mitzvot (commandments) given to the Israelites immediately after the revelation at Sinai.  In total, fifty-three mitzvot appear in this parasha (which is appropriately titled Mishpatim, or “laws”).  Twenty-three of them are imperative commandments, such as bringing agricultural gifts during the three seasonal Festivals; the other thirty are prohibitions, including those against taking bribes in court, charging excessive interest and cooking a kid (i.e. a goat) in its mother’s milk. 

Jewish laws are often divided into two categories:  chukim (statutes or decrees) and mishpatim (laws or judgments).  Mishpatim are laws with readily apparent utility or rationale, such as not murdering; such laws stress the function of the mitzvot as educators and enlighteners of human life.   By contrast, chukim (such as the dietary regulations) have no apparent rational basis; we follow them simply because they are God’s decree, and thus they emphasize the supra-rationality of our commitment to God. 

Of course, even the rules we don’t understand can be powerful communal markers.  For many people who are committed to Jewish life, it is the force of history, family and tradition that compels them to keep the laws of kashrut and others.  And as we all know, without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as—well, as a fiddler on the roof!

Yitro - Experiencing Revelation

Yitro/Jethro

 

In Parashat Yitro, Moses is visited by his father-in-law, Yitro.  Like any good father-in-law, Yitro gives out plenty of advice, and it turns out to be very helpful; realizing that Moses is burned out from dealing with the people's problems, Yitro helps Moses devise a new system for judging their disputes. 

            The high point of the parasha (and perhaps of the whole Torah) is the arrival of the Children of Israel at Mt. Sinai, where they receive the Ten Commandmants (aseret hadibrot, literally "the ten statements," or "utterances").  Six weeks after leaving Egypt, and after hundreds of years in slavery, the Israelites as a whole people now experience divine revelation and enter into a covenantal relationship with God.

            According to Neil Gillman, a preeminent Conservative rabbi, scholar and theologian, "revelation is what creates Judaism as a religion; it is what brings God into a relationship with a community of human beings. Without God's revelation - however we understand it - Judaism would be a matter of peoplehood and culture alone, and God would be irrelevant to the human enterprise."

            How do we understand revelation?  Was the Torah indeed revealed directly by God?
Are there other ways in which God reveals Godself - or God's will?

            One traditional Jewish response is that the Torah is in fact the explicitly revealed word of God.  God dictated the words of the Torah to Moses, who recorded God's words in the text we have today. This understanding has been articulated by Norman Lamm, president of Yeshiva University, who writes that the Torah was revealed "in discreet words and letters."

            By contrast, Mordecai Kaplan (who taught at JTS before founding the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College) described God as "the power that makes for salvation." He viewed revelation as human discovery; for Kaplan, God works naturally in and through human beings.

            For the 20th century philosopher Franz Rosensweig, what was revealed at Sinai was God's presence. The verse in the Torah that says "God came down on Sinai" concludes the revelation; the next passage is already interpretive. Torah, then, is Israel's response to the revelatory encounter, spelling out how Israel undertood its relationship with a commanding God.

            Abraham Joshua Heschel likewise wrote, "As a report about revelation, the Torah itself is a midrash (interpretation)." The Torah, he explains, was divinely revealed, but interpreted by people into the text we have today. Heschel accepts the personal, transcendent God of the Bible, but insists God cannot be conceptualized by humans.

            Martin Buber had a unique view.  He wrote about engaging in a fully present “I-Thou” relationship with God, a relationship that serves as a model for our interactions with all people.  In an I-Thou relationship, each person turns toward the other with openness and ethical engagement.  It is a relationship characterized by dialogue; each participant is concerned for the other person.  The honor of the other—and not just his usefulness—is paramount.  According to Buber, it is through such encounters with other human beings that one encounters God. 

            According to this view, how we engage with others not only affects our human interactions but can actually lead to a divine, revelatory experience...even with our in-laws.   Shabbat shalom! 

Beshalach - Mourning into Dancing

Shabbat Shirah ~ Beshalach/When he Sent

“Then Miriam the prophet took out a timbrel in her hand…”  

            This Shabbat is known on the calendar as Shabbat Shirah (Sabbath of singing), and indeed, this week’s readings are truly filled with song.  In Beshalach, Moses and the Israelites sing a song of praise after crossing the Red Sea, and Miriam then leads the women in joyful music and dance.  Additionally, in the haftarah we read Deborah’s song celebrating her military victory.  And why shouldn’t there be lots of singing?  After all, the story is also filled with God’s miracles, which the people experience directly and powerfully:  After the splitting of the sea, God sweetens the bitter waters at Marah; causes potable water to spring from a rock; rains down manna to eat each morning; and sends quail to eat in the evenings. And when the Amalekites attack the Israelites along their journey, Moses raises his staff in the air, enabling them to miraculously defeat their attackers. 

After providing them with manna, God instructs the Israelites to gather a double portion on Friday so that it will last them two days, as none will descend on Shabbat, the day of rest.  We reenact this gathering of the double portion every week in our homes by reciting Ha-Motzi (the blessing for bread) over two loaves of challah at the Shabbat table. 

            This instruction to refrain from going out on Shabbat to look for manna was an exercise in faith for the people; instead of being concerned with where the next batch would come from, they focused instead on what they had at the present time, resting assured that there would be more in the week ahead.  And so it is with us each Shabbat.  When we recite the Shabbat Amidah we omit the usual prayers of petition (for wisdom, redemption, success) that appear in the normal weekday liturgy.  Instead of focusing our Shabbat prayers on things that are lacking, we instead reflect on those things—the everyday miracles, the joy, the songs—that we already have in abundance.  

             **********************************************************

                       

            This week we mourn the loss of beloved singer/songwriter Debbie Friedman, who for decades enriched the lives of Jewish congregants, campers, students and families with her joyful music.  Many people are familiar with her melodies—such as the well-known “yai-dai” Havdalah—without even realizing it.  Among her greatest hits are “Miriam’s Song” and “Devorah’s Song,” about the heroic women in this very week’s parasha and haftarah.  And her rendition of “Misheberach,” the prayer for healing, is used in synagogues and schools around the globe. 

            In her recent album, Friedman quotes Psalm 30, singing, "You turned my mourning into dancing, so that my soul might sing to you and not be stilled."  When we raise our voices in joyful prayer and invigorate the synagogue service with spirited music, we carry on Friedman's monumental legacy.  This Shabbat Shirah, as we read about Miriam's dance and Deborah's song, may the songs of our own mouths and hearts turn "mourning into dancing." 
Zichrona livracha - may her memory be for a blessing. 

Debbie Friedman performs "Mourning into Dancing" and Video Tribute

Va'era - Thank (and don't overthink)

Va’era/He Appeared

“I will redeem you with an outstretched arm…” (Ex. 6:6)

            Dai-dayenu, dai-dayenu… Although we just celebrated Hanukah, this week’s Torah portion really puts us in the Passover spirit, advancing the exodus story and including some significant sections found in the Passover Haggadah.  (Or perhaps it's just that all this snowfall is making me long for spring!)

For the second time, Moses and Aaron go before Pharaoh, demanding that he allow the Israelites to go worship God in the desert.  Pharaoh remains unwilling to accede to the demands of Moses and Aaron, or the hitherto unknown deity whom they represent. As a result of this stubborn defiance, the Egyptians are struck by seven plagues—blood, frogs, lice, wild beasts, pestilence, boils and hail.  Despite the devastation that ensues, Pharaoh still refuses to let the enslaved people go free, setting the stage for the final three plagues in next week’s parasha.

According to the text, it is Aaron and not Moses who strikes the Nile with the staff, in order to bring the first plague of blood.  Why doesn’t Moses do it himself?  The commentator Rashi explains that Moses did not want to strike the Nile because the Nile saved him long ago, when his family shielded him from Pharaoh’s murderous decree and sent him in a basket along the river to safety.

Why did Moses care so much about the “feelings” of an inanimate object; would the water really care if Moses struck it?  Moses’ actions model an important lesson for us, which is to habitually practice hakarat ha-tov (“recognition of the good”) or gratitude toward others, as a matter of course.  The alternative—namely to over-think the situation, or calculate how much effort we think someone put in for us –may result in our coming up with excuses not to show them the proper thanks.  Instead, it is important to cultivate the habit of showing gratitude whenever it is due.  If Moses showed such consideration and gratitude toward the water, all the more so we are obligated to give thanks to the actual people who help us in so many ways. 

This Shabbat and New Year’s Eve, as we reflect on the blessings of the past year, let’s remember to reach out and thank all those who helped us along the way.  Personally, my sincerest thanks this week go to the intrepid snow plow drivers…

Shabbat shalom! 

Parashat Shemot - Striving to Step Up

Shemot/Names - Shabbat 12/25/10

                                                                         

“He looked, and behold, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed.” (Ex. 3:2)

            What do science fiction writer Robert Heinlein, Popeye the Sailorman and pre-teens have in common? It turns out they all have Parashat Shemot to thank for quotations that made them famous.  Cases in point:  When Moses flees Egypt and marries Tziporah, he names their son Gershom because, as Moses says, he has been a “stranger (ger) in a strange land,” thus lending Heinlein the perfect title for his classic book about life on Mars.  Later, God instructs Moses to go to Pharaoh and tells him, “Ehyeh asher ehyeh,” translated as “I will be what I will be”, or “I am that I am.”  When Popeye’s famous cartoon short “I Yam what I Yam” was made, he was lucky not to have to pay divine royalties.  Finally, there are the indelible words of a pugnacious Israelite.  After Moses asks this Israelite why he is striking his fellow, the man retorts, “Who made you chief and ruler over us?”  This infamous phrase lives on among adolescents everywhere in the form of “You’re not the boss of me!”

             Aside from famous one-liners, this theme of intervention is the major subtext of the parasha.  In the face of Pharaoh’s decree that Israelite boys be killed, the midwives Shifra and Puah put themselves at risk to save newborns;  Pharaoh’s daughter adopts the endangered baby Moses, despite indications that he is a Hebrew;  Moses intervenes three times when faced with injustice, first breaking up a fight between Israelites, then defending a slave from a taskmaster and finally helping Tziporah and her sisters ward off harassing shepherds; and of course, Aaron joins his brother to intercede on behalf of the oppressed. 

           

When Moses saw the taskmaster who was beating an Israelite, he "looked this way and that way, and when he saw there was no person (ish) he smote the Egyptian."  Commentators note that there probably were other people, yet when Moses looked around he saw that no Egyptian would defend the slave, and neither were any Israelites willing to get involved.  He realized that he needed to do something, and took action.  In this way Moses followed the teaching of the Mishna (Pirkei Avot): “In a place where there is no ish, strive to be one.” 

Now that’s a quotation worth remembering.

Shabbat shalom!

Micah Liben, Legacy Heritage Rabbinic Fellow

Vayechi - Blessing Each Other

Vayechi/He Lived - Shabbat 12/18/10

“May the angel who has redeemed me from all harm bless these lads.”

            I consider myself to be a polite person; I hold the door for others, RSVP promptly, even fold my dinner napkin before placing it on my lap.  Emily Post would surely give me high marks.  However, I refuse to say “God bless you” when someone sneezes.  Yes, I know it is a social convention, but I just don’t get it.  Why should a semi-autonomous, convulsive expulsion of air from the lungs through the nose and mouth warrant a blessing?  Jerry Seinfeld’s response to a sneeze (“you’re so good-looking!”), while perhaps not entirely appropriate, at least has the advantage of making someone feel good after the sneeze’s force has thrown their head and face out of whack.  But “bless you” just never seemed right to me. 

           

            Notwithstanding this small personal protest, I believe that giving and receiving blessings can be very profound.  Jewish ritual prescribes occasions for doing just that: parents bless their children on Friday nights, rabbis bless students who become bar/bat mitzvah, kohanim (in many synagogues) bless the congregation, and brides receive a special blessing during their veiling ceremony.  Additionally, many brides follow the custom of giving out blessings to their guests during the kabballat panim reception, drawing on their role as “queen for the day.”  And I know of one shul with another beautiful tradition—when parents of a newborn have an aliyah, everyone together blesses the child, singing words right out of this week’s parasha.

           

            In Vayechi, Jacob blesses his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe, and also offers each of his own sons a blessing in what is one of the Bible’s most poetic passages.  The parasha brings to a close the age of the Matriarchs and Patriarchs.  It is a fitting theme for a Torah portion that always comes around the time of the new calendar year.  As we prepare for this transition, we have the chance to reflect on the blessings we’ve received up to this point, and on the blessings we wish for ourselves and our loved ones in the time ahead.  This week, find the opportunity to offer a blessing to someone—a family member, a neighbor, a friend.  The word for blessing (b’racha) is related to the word for knee (berech), the joint supporting over half the weight of the human body.  Indeed, when we bless each other sincerely, what we gain is a sturdy source of support.

           

            With brachot for a week of health and happiness (and minimal sneezing).

Shabbat shalom!

Micah Liben, Legacy Heritage Rabbinic Fellow

Parashat Vayigash - Arguing for Heaven’s Sake

Vayigash/He approached - Shabbat 12/11/10 

             In the wake of last week’s cliffhanger ending (what would become of Benjamin after being framed for stealing Joseph’s goblet?), Judah makes an impassioned plea for his brother Benjamin’s fate, asking the “Egyptian ruler” to imprison him in Benjamin’s place.  Moved by this act of integrity, Joseph decides to finally reveal his identity to the stunned brothers.  In a great show of decency, Joseph tells them he has no hard feelings towards them for their past actions.  This is indeed rather surprising; a more cynical reading might be, “Now that I’ve made you feel powerless and reduced you to groveling before me, I have no hard feelings – anymore!”

    Letting bygones be bygones, Joseph gives his brothers gifts and sends them to settle in the province of Goshen.  After twenty-two years, Jacob is reunited with his beloved son.  When Jacob arrives in Egypt to settle with his childrens’ families, he comes before Pharaoh and offers a cynical statement of his own.  Having already played the roles of a simple tent-dweller, a cunning charlatan, a misguided parent and everything in between, Jacob shows that he can play a grumpy centenarian, as well, telling Pharaoh, “Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they measure up to the life spans of my fathers!” 

Other than the sweetness of revenge and the bitterness of old age, what does Vayigash teach us?  When Joseph sends his brothers home, he tells them, “Do not be quarrelsome on the way.”  Rashi explains Joseph’s words to mean, “Do not engage in arguments over halacha (Jewish law), lest the road become unsteady for you.” Like Joseph’s brothers, the Jewish community is comprised of many groups, whose conceptions of Jewish law vary.  The Mishna teaches that sometimes machloket (argument or debate) is a good thing, like in the case of the Rabbis Hillel and Shammi; such debates will endure because they were for the sake of Heaven.  But when Jews get caught up in the passion of their arguments because of factional disputes or personal aggrandizement, they truly risk losing their way.  In such cases, machloket will not bring us closer to Heaven, but will only leave us bitter and cynical. 

May this Shabbat bring peace among brothers and a sense of life's fulfillment, and may all of our arguments be for the sake of Heaven. 

Vayeshev - The Power of One Act of Kindness

Vayeshev/He Returned - Shabbat 11/27/10

            Repeating his parents’ mistakes, Jacob favors Joseph over his other sons and gives him a colored tunic.  Joseph has recurring dreams – which he readily shares - of his family bowing to him.  If all that weren’t bad enough, Joseph is also a tattle-tale.  The jealous brothers plot against Joseph and sell him into Egyptian slavery, where he serves Pharaoh’s adviser, Potiphar.

               The Torah takes a break* in the narrative to tell the story of Judah--one of the brothers--and Tamar (this is that chapter they skip in Hebrew School!).  Judah chooses Tamar as a wife for his eldest son, but his son dies prematurely before having children. As per the custom, Judah’s second son then marries Tamar, but he dies also.  Instead of marrying off Tamar to his third son, Judah tells her to wait.  Many years go by as she is unable to start a family and is barred from marrying someone else.  Finally, when Judah’s own wife passes away Tamar seizes the chance to achieve justice for herself.  Dressed like a prostitute, she seduces Judah and conceives.  When Judah hears that Tamar has become pregnant, he calls for her execution; but Tamar presents the items that he himself paid her with, and Judah realizes he has wronged her.

               Meanwhile, Joseph impresses his master in Egypt – and his master’s wife, as well.  When Joseph refuses her advances, Potiphar’s wife retaliates by accusing him of assault.  Joseph is imprisoned and interprets the dreams of his fellow prisoners while in jail.    

            Among the colorful cast of characters in Vayeshev, perhaps the most significant is the one with no name.  When Joseph cannot find his brothers at the beginning of the portion and gets lost in the fields, an anonymous man sees him wandering and helpfully points him in the right direction.  The result is a chain of events that leads Joseph and eventually Jacob’s whole family to Egypt, a prelude to the Israelites’ redemption and encounter with God at Sinai.  The powerful lesson this nameless character teaches is that we never know how the smallest deed can affect others.  Performing acts of chesed (kindness) can have profound and far-reaching effects; indeed, they may even change the course of history.  May we merit to change the world through our actions - one deed at a time. 

* In our Continuing Education class we discussed whether this story was indeed a "break" from the Joseph narrative, or whether it was an integral part of the story, using different lenses of reading and interpreting the text.  See here for the source sheet! https://sites.google.com/site/tassourcesheets/source-sheets/TorahthroughMultipleLenses.JudahandTamar.doc?attredirects=0&d=1

Vayishlach - Overcoming our Impulses

           Vayishlach/He Sent - Shabbat 11/20/10

“No longer shall your name be called Jacob, but rather Israel (Yisrael),

for you have striven (sarita) with beings divine and human and have prevailed.”  (Gen. 32:29)

            After leaving Lavan’s household, Jacob prepares to confront his brother, Esau.  That night he wrestles with a mysterious figure who ultimately blesses him and renames him Yisrael (Israel).  Jacob overcomes his adversary yet his thigh is injured during the struggle; for this reason Jews to this day do not eat meat around the sciatic nerve.  When the brothers finally meet, they embrace and part ways peacefully.  Later they reunite to bury their father, Isaac.

           

Jacob relocates with his family to Shechem, where his only daughter, Dina, is abducted by the prince of the region.  Jacob’s sons retaliate by convincing the men of Shechem to undergo circumcision and subsequently putting them to the sword and plundering the city.  Jacob is displeased by their extreme reaction and, fearful that his family will be endangered, moves once again.  En route to Efrat, Rachel gives birth to a second son who is named Benjamin.  She dies in childbirth, and is buried on the road near Bethlehem. 

In the section of the Mishnah called Pirkei Avot (or Ethics of the Fathers), the Sages teach, “Who is mighty (gibor) – one who subdues his own impulse (yitzro).”  Jacob strives to be mighty – to be a gibor by getting ahead – from the time he grabs Esau’s heel in the womb.  To reach his goals, Jacob succumbs to his evil impulse, his yetzer hara.  He rarely lets a chance to be deceptive or manipulative pass; he takes advantage of his exhausted brother, tricks his blind father, and in last week’s portion even has the chutzpah to insist that God meet certain demands of his.

 But after struggling with a mysterious, unidentified figure – perhaps the embodiment of his own yetzer hara – Jacob emerges with a new name, identity and outlook.  He outgrows his earlier identity as Jacob the trickster and manipulator, and instead becomes Israel, who engages with spiritual struggle.  He reconciles peacefully with his brother, and declares that he can see God in the face of others.  Despite the injury he sustains, Jacob is described as “shalem,” which connotes “wholeness,” ultimately becoming what he always strove to be - a true gibor.  May all of our struggles result in transformative growth, and may our mightiness stem from our ability to conquer our own impulses. 

Missed a Class? Want Extra Source Sheets?

 Click Here for Source Sheets from prior Lunch-n-Learns and Continuing Education Classes

Vayera - A Lie for the Sake of Love and Peace

Vayera/And He Appeared - Shabbat 10/23/10

“I will surely return to you at this time next year, and behold Sarah your wife

will have a son…And Sarah laughed.” (18:10-12)

            This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayera, is a veritable “top ten” of biblical narratives.  We read of the three divine messengers who bring God’s promise of childbirth to Abraham and Sarah; the fiery destruction of the lawless cities S’dom and Amorah, even as Abraham argues against their annihilation; and the dramatic binding of Isaac episode.  

As it says in the verse above, Sarah laughs upon hearing the news of her future childbirth.  This nervous laughter—encapsulating both hope and gratitude along with disbelief and derision—is indicative of the emotional roller-coaster running throughout the parasha.  On one hand we have the elation accompanying Isaac’s birth and the moral audacity of Abraham’s arguing with God regarding the destruction of S’dom, while on the other hand we have the heartache of Abraham’s separation from his son Yishmael, and the tragic fate of Lot’s wife after she flees the burning city. 

            In addition to the conflicting emotions it raises, the text also includes a strange discrepancy which serves as the basis for a beautiful teaching by the Sages.  When Sarah first hears that she will give birth, she remarks, “Now that I am so old, and my husband is old, will I truly bear a son?” God then relays this statement to Abraham, but omits one crucial element, telling him merely that Sarah said, “Will I really bear a child, old as I am?”  Note that God left out Sarah’s remark about Abraham’s age!  Realizing the discrepancy, the commentator Rashi explains that her words were altered by God for the sake of peace.  That is, God realized Abraham would be insulted by the implication that he was too old to father a child, and therefore He sacrificed pure honesty for the sake of sh’lom bayit, or “peace within the home.” 

When we are honest for the sake of being constructive, then we do a mitzvah.  However, being “brutally honest” at someone else’s expense defies the example that God Himself sets for us.  May the coming week be filled with honesty in the service of peace, and with much joyful laughter.             

            Shabbat shalom!

            Micah Liben, Legacy Heritage Rabbinic Fellow

Chayei Sarah - Praying our Hearts Out

Chayei Sarah/The Life of Sarah - Shabbat 10/30/10

“Sarah’s lifetime was one hundred twenty seven years…and Sarah died in Hevron.”

            Well, if your spouse took an unplanned excursion with your child in order to offer him as a sacrifice, wouldn’t you die from the shock?  This is precisely what happened to Sarah - at least according to one Rabbinic explanation.  Indeed, no sooner does the binding of Isaac episode take place at the end of last week’s Torah portion, then this week’s story opens with Sarah’s death in the immediate aftermath.   

After Sarah is buried in the Cave of Machpelah, Abraham charges his servant with finding a suitable wife for Isaac.  The servant prays for God’s assistance with this challenge, and soon meets Rebecca at a well.  She kindly draws water for him and his camels before ultimately travelling back to become Isaac’s wife.  At the end of the parasha, Abraham is laid to rest alongside Sarah, by his two sons Isaac and Yishmael.

There are few instances of personal prayer in the Torah, so it is noteworthy that Chayei Sarah contains two examples of spontaneous praying.  The first is the servant’s aforementioned plea for heavenly guidance, which he makes on the side of the road before his journey.  The second is more subtle; the text says that Isaac “meditated in the field before evening.”  According to the Rabbis, this indicates that Isaac actually instituted the afternoon prayer service (mincha)! 

Today we are used to a fixed, set liturgy; spontaneous prayer feels foreign to us. How often do we approach God with a sincere outpouring of our hearts?  I remember how some of my rabbinical school classmates would lament their discomfort with offering prayers on the spot during chaplaincy, while their counterparts from other religious institutions in the program had no trouble doing so.  Yet the Talmud teaches that we should add something new to our set prayers—every time we pray.  And surely we are as much in need of pouring out our hearts to God as our ancestors were; we, too, have challenges that test us.   

           

This week let us follow the example in our Torah portion, and take the opportunity to offer our own spontaneous prayer – be it during services, in the afternoon, or on the road.  May our prayers give us strength to overcome whatever challenges we face.  And, of course, may the week ahead be free of any traumatic family outings. 

Shabbat shalom!

Micah Liben, Legacy Heritage Rabbinic Fellow