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.  

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            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