Parshat Shoftim

By Diane Roosth, Saturday, September 7, 2019

This Parsha speaks to me not just as the anniversary Torah Portion of my Bat Mitzvah, but as one with relevant issues for our time. I lived through times where the pursuit of justice in legal and social spheres impacted what I read, the music I heard, and national military actions I witnessed both in the United States and in Israel. Shoftim speaks of legal and social justice in the context of our relationships with one another, in our local communities, and the larger society.

The Parsha touches upon the organization and basic principles of our legal system. Chapter 16:18 – 20 commands the appointment of “magistrates and officials” for your tribe who must judge fairly, show “no partiality, and not take bribes”. This is followed by the double emphasis of “Justice Justice shall you pursue”. But, as Rabbi Dorff asked in a Drash from September 2009, “How can we know God’s will on any specific question?” What happens when we don’t know what the words of the law mean, or how they should be understood? Who should we turn to? Who is entrusted with interpreting the law?

In Chapter 17:8 – 9, we are commanded to bring our legal questions to “the magistrate in charge at the time”. The sages understood “judge” literally as the translation of the word “magistrate”, explaining that every generation requires a Rabbinical court to apply Jewish Law to that generations particular circumstances. (Etz Haim, Torah and Commentary, quoting Bavli Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 25a-b). Today I wanted to touch upon two examples of how certain Rabbis today are applying Jewish law to pursue legal and social justice in our time.

An article from last week’s Jewish Journal told the story of Meir Kin, who separated from his first wife in 2007 and had a Civil Divorce. However, he did not issue her, and has continued to refuse, a get, placing her in the status of an “aguna”, or one who is anchored. Kin’s elderly mother recently died, and she was allowed to be buried in Israel with the understanding he would give his wife a get. He again refused to give the get and release her.

Eleven well known U.S. Orthodox Rabbis wrote a Letter to the Chief Rabbi of Israel, citing halachic rulings issued previously against the man in question, and asking that the “Chief Rabbi and Chevra Kaddisha” prevent the “erection of the tombstone” for his mother’s grave in Israel, until the son gives his wife an Orthodox Get and she is “released from her awful Aguna situation”. Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky is quoted in the adjacent article as saying, “this is a case in which Jewish law is being mocked, ridiculed, and dragged into the mud”.

According to the Jewish Telegraphic Network, March 20, 2019 article by Marcy Oster, “The Beth Din of America, the religious court of the Rabbinical Council of America, surveyed the RCA’s membership ahead of International Agunah Day” in the current year before Purim. They found that “84 percent of Modern Orthodox rabbis in the United States require couples they marry to sign a prenuptial agreement that guarantees neither side can use the religious divorce, or get, as a bargaining chip”. This is a necessary and bold step taken by Rabbis of our time in interpreting and applying Jewish law in the pursuit of justice.

Another contemporary example is related to Kaparot, a customary atonement ritual dating back to the Middle Ages practiced by some Jews on the eve of Yom Kippur involving passing a live chicken over one’s head. The custom was originally meant to jolt people into recognizing their own mortality and to encourage them to transform sins into good deeds.

The Shamayim V’aretz Institute, also known as Shamayim – Jewish Animal Advocacy, lists almost 100 Orthodox Rabbis on their web-site who have come out opposing practice of using chickens for Kaparot. Other Rabbis in Los Angeles across all Jewish denominations have also come out against the practice.

The Alliance to End Chickens as Kaporos, formed in 2010 as a project of United Poultry Concerns, comprises individuals and groups in The Yeshiva World, both Asheknazi and Sephardi, who seek to replace the use of chickens in Kaparot rituals with money or other non-animal symbols of atonement.

The law isn’t always just and, even when interpreted, doesn’t always lead to a just outcome. Law and justice don’t always go hand in hand – not when I was 13 years old, not today, and probably not in another 50 years. However Parshat Shoftim recognizes this, and reminds us of the importance of trying to continuously pursue justice by means of the law. This includes speaking out about the rights of Jewish women to get a religious divorce and not be held captive as agunot, and a more humane way to offer Kaparot with money for Tzedakah. I am certain that there are many more contemporary issues where Jewish law and American law can, and should, be interpreted to better pursue justice.

Our tradition, the torah and halacha, is a living tradition – an Etz Haim – filled with machlokot, disagreements, about how to interpret the law. Just as in the time of the Mishnah and Talmud, so too today. There are rabbis who, for lack of a better term, are “loose constructionists” and rabbis who are “strict constructionists” when it comes to interpreting our tradition. However, we must, as Rabbi Dorff said in a 2009 drash, “develop a high level of tolerance for listening to opposing opinions and a high level of skill in analyzing their relative strengths and weaknesses”.

As we prepare to enter a new year and head into an election year, both in Israel and in the United States, may we pray for a peaceful new year where we can hear each other’s opinions with respect and dignity and agree to disagree. And may we, our rabbis, leaders, magistrates, judges, and elected officials find the courage to continuously interpret the law to better pursue justice. Shabbat Shalom.

 

Parashat Va’etchanan

By Rabbi Jim Rogozen

We’ve all had the experience of mishearing song lyrics. A classic is Elton John’s “Hold me closer Tony Danza.”  Or we hear things correctly, but misquote them later on, “Play it again, Sam” is actually “Play it, Sam.”  Sometimes, though, we hear or read things correctly but we don’t really understand them.

There is a famous pasuk that, I believe, is the most misunderstood verse in the Torah, and I am here to set things right!

Back in Exodus 24:7 (page 478) we read:

ז) וַיִּקַּח֙ סֵ֣פֶר הַבְּרִ֔ית וַיִּקְרָ֖א בְּאָזְנֵ֣י הָעָ֑ם וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ כֹּ֛ל אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֥ר ה’ נַעֲשֶׂ֥ה וְנִשְׁמָֽע׃)

And he [Moses] took the Book of the Covenant, and he read it aloud to the people; and they said: ‘All that God has spoken “naaseh v’nishma.”  How do we translate that? We will do and we will….? It’s a problem.

If you’re confused, don’t feel bad. While modern English has approximately 172,000 unique words, Biblical Hebrew had only 8,679 unique words, of which 2,415 were people or place names. Which is why many words in the Bible have multiple meanings.

An early Midrash, Mechilta of Rabbi Yishmael, says nishma simply means we will hear. It asks: “How do we know there were no deaf people at Sinai? ‘We will do and we will hear.’” According to the Rashbam, it means we will do and we will hear more later on.  Yet another translation: we will do, and then we will understand. Which means: “we agree to do these things, before knowing the reason.”

This last translation presents us with a rather difficult theological statement, but it has had pride of place in Jewish Tradition for centuries.

Where did this translation, and this belief, come from?

The earliest mention is in the Talmud, Shabbat 88a. Rabbi Elazar taught: When the People of Israel said “We will do” before “We will hear” a Bat Kol, a heavenly voice, emerged and said to them, “Who revealed to my children this secret, which only the angels know? As it is written (Psalms 103:20) ‘Bless the Lord, you angels of His, you mighty in strength, that fulfill His word, listening to the voice of His word. At first the angels fulfill His word (oseh dvaro), without understanding it; only later do they actually hear the words (lishmoa bkol dvaro).’”   “oseh then shomea” “do, then hear” “naaseh v’nishma.”

It seems that Rabbi Elazar believed that saying “yes” before hearing or understanding, made the Jewish People just like the angels.

Centuries later Saadia Gaon added to this, saying that while some mitzvot are “sichliyot” – from the word sechel – meaning they make rational sense and we would have figured them out on our own, some are “shimiyot” – from shomea, meaning we had to hear them – as proclaimed by God – because we never would have thought of them ourselves. That’s what gives them their power, and, reasonable or not, we must obey them.

In the modern period, Orthodox writer Rabbi Eliyahu Safran doubled down on this belief when he wrote, “Today, there are Jews who have it backwards. They have to understand before they act.”   “Had these people been at Sinai,” he wrote, “I imagine they would have said, ‘prove it and we’ll consider acting.’ Hardly a divine statement of faith.”

So I have a question: Do our texts actually back up this line of thinking– that reason and understanding weren’t necessarily part of the deal? Let’s look at our verse again…

וַיִּקַּח֙ סֵ֣פֶר הַבְּרִ֔ית וַיִּקְרָ֖א בְּאָזְנֵ֣י הָעָ֑ם

“And he [Moses] took the Book of the Covenant, and he read it aloud (literally: within earshot) of the people.”

This first part of the verse points out that there were laws that God had already taught. In this case, it was the 10 Commandments, back in Chapter 19, as well as the laws in Chapters 21 to 24. Three and half chapters of laws!  It seems the people had heard plenty. They were not being asked to agree to things they had not yet heard.

If that’s so, what else could naaseh vnishma mean?

Consider the 2^nd paragraph of the Shema (Deut 11:13), page 1052: v’haya eem shamoa – it can’t mean “if you perform the physical act of listening” all these great things will happen. God wanted more – a commitment: if you obey, all these good things will happen. But, if you don’t obey, well…good luck! When my doctor says that I need to exercise more, I always say, “I hear you”…trust me: that means absolutely nothing! So, in our verse: naase means, we will do, and then nishma – in this context, means we will commit, we will obey.

To lock this down even further, the Gemara on the same page as the Heavenly Voice story tells us an additional story: God held a mountain over the people and warned them: If you accept the Torah – good; if not – here you will be buried.”  The message of the Gemara is not about “hearing” but about making a commitment.  So Naaseh v’nishma means: we will do and we will obey.

Still believe the Torah asks us to observe, without hearing or understanding? Wait, there’s more!

Let’s leave Shmot and look at this week’s parsha… on page 1022. There’s a pasuk I like to call the Rodney Dangerfield verse – it doesn’t get much respect…but it should.

In Dvarim 5:24, as his life draws to a close, Moshe re-tells the stories of Shmot through B’midbar. When he recalls the giving of the Torah, Moshe reminds the people how it all went down:

קְרַ֤ב אַתָּה֙ וּֽשֲׁמָ֔ע אֵ֛ת כָּל־אֲשֶׁ֥ר יֹאמַ֖ר יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֵ֑ינוּ

“You all said to me, you, Moshe, go closer and hear all that the LORD our God will say…and then you tell us everything that God tells you

וְשָׁמַ֥עְנוּ וְעָשִֽׂינוּ

…and once we hear it (or understand it) then we will do it.”

The words are not only in the exact opposite order of naase v’nishma, but they make our ancestors look like people who didn’t sign contracts until they’d read every word.

And that’s how it played out. God told Moshe: “Tell the people to return to their tents. You stay here with Me, and I will give you the whole instruction – the laws and the rules – that you will teach them.”

So Moshe teaches them, and then tells them:

וְשָֽׁמַעְתָּ֤ יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְשָֽׁמַרְתָּ֣ לַֽעֲשׂ֔וֹת

You have heard, Israel, or, you now understand, so make sure you do all of this.

Hearing or understanding came before commitment. When the verb “nishma” comes before “naaseh” we translate it as hear or understand, but when it comes after “naaseh” it means obey.

The Rabbis in the Midrash and Talmud were careful readers. They understood the various meanings of the verb shomea. So why did our Tradition give so much attention to naaseh v’nishma – we will do and then we will hear – when these other verses show the opposite?

Because some of the Rabbis had an agenda. I believe that they wanted to encourage a particular national theological narrative, some would call it a foundational myth, in which our ancestors had the highest level of faith and commitment, starting with Avraham and Sarah, and continued by those at Sinai, whose faith led them to accept a divine Torah unconditionally.

That’s the story they wanted to pass down, but not everyone agreed.

You see, Rabbi Elazar’s story may have another meaning, a crack in the narrative if you will, one that challenged this idea of the people’s perfect faith. Perhaps the voice from heaven who said “Who revealed to my children this secret?” – that naaseh comes before nishma – perhaps that Bat Kol didn’t say those words out of joy, but out of surprise, or even disappointment. Maybe Rabbi Elazar understood that God never expected the people to blindly accept the Torah in such a unilateral fashion. Take the law seriously? Yes. But blindly? No way. You see, the angels didn’t have free will. They had no choice but to be oseh, and then shomea, to do and then to understand, but people were given free will and open minds. As we say in the weekday Amidah: we thank God who, each day, is Honen Ha’da’at – granting us the ability to think and reason.

Free will and free thinking are good. But, the Rabbis knew that people are only human. What if they questioned too much? What if they weren’t inclined to start on this journey? Maybe that’s why the same page of Gemara relates the story of God holding the mountain over the people’s heads. It shows a different narrative, one that recognizes the tension between free will and compliance.

This tension shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. After all, our longstanding covenant with God is told through stories that are absolutely filled with such tensions. It’s a narrative the Bible makes no effort to hide. Observance and monotheism vs rebellion and idolatry. Even today, we have a wide range of observances, understandings, and beliefs.  Sometimes we are naaseh v’nishma, sometimes we’re shamanu v’asinu, and sometimes were in the middle. Obedience, choice, free will, commitment. It’s confusing, to say the least. As one of my teachers said, “Sometimes religion is neither logical, nor illogical, but psychological.”

So what’s the good news in these competing narratives? It is this: in all of these ancient stories and texts, the verbs all refer to “us” – we will do, we will hear, we will obey. Whatever our individual beliefs and practices, we are all tied to God and to one another. We navigate these issues…together.

We will all soon enter an extended period -from Rosh Hodesh Elul, through Parashat Nitzavim, and on to Rosh HaShana – in which we focus on renewal and re-commitment- as individuals within a communal context. As such, it is appropriate, and grounded in our sacred texts, to respect and support the various paths by which we are Shomea and Oseh, in whatever order makes sense to us.

As we will read in Parashat Nitzavim:

לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑וא לֵאמֹ֗ר מִ֣י יַֽעֲלֶה־לָּ֤נוּ הַשָּׁמַ֨יְמָה֙ וְיִקָּחֶ֣הָ לָּ֔נוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵ֥נוּ אֹתָ֖הּ וְנַֽעֲשֶֽׂנָּה:

It (the Torah) is not in the heavens that anyone should say “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and recite it so that we may observe it.”  Notice the words:  Yashmiyenu (hear it), v’naasena – (then do it)  – nishma v’naaseh.

And then, moving from the collective to the individual:

כִּֽי־קָר֥וֹב אֵלֶ֛יךָ הַדָּבָ֖ר מְאֹ֑ד בְּפִ֥יךָ וּבִלְבָֽבְךָ֖ לַֽעֲשׂתֽוֹ:

“Rather, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, to observe it.”

We all stood at Sinai to receive the Torah; we heard it then, and we continue to hear it today … with open minds and open hearts… each of us in our own way.

May this be a year in which we truly hear one another’s narratives, and respectfully learn from each other’s Torah.  Nishma – First we understand and respect one another, and then naaseh, then we do. Naaseh v’nishma might work for the angels up in heaven, but Nishma v’naaseh is in each of our hands down here on earth.

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

Korach 5779

By Abraham Havivi

Korach—a gripping story:

“Now Korah, son of Izhar son of Kohath son of Levi, betook himself, along with Dathan and Abiram sons of Eliab, and On son of Peleth—descendants of Reuben— ²to rise up against Moses, together with two hundred and fifty Israelites, chieftains of the community, chosen in the assembly, men of repute. ³They combined against Moses and Aaron and said to them, ‘You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?’”
(Numbers. 16:1-4, new JPS trans.)

Korach’s rebellion–prime example of “machloket sh’lo l’shem shamayim” (an argument not for the sake of Heaven)—M. Avot 5:21

Complicated story–joint rebellion by multiple factions joining together against leadership of Moses & Aaron; Rashi, following the Midrash Tanchuma, explains each had their own selfish their motivations—K upset that M & A (his first cousins)—both the political and the religious leader–were siblings from same family; and, that Elitzaphan was named chief (nasi) of Kehat clan (son of Amram’s youngest b., rather than the next b., K’s father); the 250 nesi’im (chieftains) were first-born—they were upset that Levites were appointed to serve at mishkan in their stead (“k’doshim”); Datan & Aviram from Reuben were jealous that Joshua was M’s 2^nd in command, in line to be the next leader, from tribe of Ephraim, completing the process of House of Joseph supplanting Reuben, bypassing their first-born status

So—this was a coalition of people who all had their own selfish motivations, but rather than articulating them, they cloaked their challenge in the language of populism—“The entire congregation is holy”—the entire congregation is holy—but, in reality, they wanted to be the leaders, rather than M & A, and the kohanim and levi’im

 K seen by Jewish tradition as arch-example of a demagogue

What is a demagogue? Why is the word used so critically? (Should just mean “leader of the people”, no?) OED–demos signifies “people” as a mob—“A leader of a popular faction, or of the mob; a political agitator who appeals to the passions and prejudices of the mob in order to obtain power or further his own interests” –this is not CNN’s words– it’s the OED!

Interesting machloket about the machloket between 2 commentators about when the K rebellion happened. Ibn Ezra says these events happened about 3 parshas ago, when the people were still in the wilderness of Sinai—before the spies, before the complaining about food and the miracle of the quails, basically at the beginning of Parshat Naso—right after the census, and the organization of the camp, and the establishment of the Levites’ tasks; at that point, the entire leadership that the K group complained about was in place, so it makes sense to Ibn Ezras that that’s when they mounted the rebellion; (he adds that the tribe of Reuben encamped to the South, and the Levitical family of Kehat, K’s family was in the South, adjacent to Reuben, so there is a moralistic point he makes about living adjacent to a wicked neighbor)

Ramban (150 yrs. later) disagrees; he says that Ibn Ezra accepts the principle of “eyn mukdam u’me’uchar batorah” (one needn’t accept that the order of narratives in the Torah reflects the historical order of events)—this is an idea that first appears in the Talmud and midrashim, which not all Sages accept—that the Torah does not necessarily relate events in the sequence in which they actually happened; Ramban says that, with rare exceptions, the Torah tells of events in their correct chronological order; this disagreement is, apparently, a standing one between the two commentators; so, for Ramban, the K rebellion takes place now, after the account of the spies

But this then forces the Ramban to address the issue of, Why now? If the leadership parameters about which the K gang was complaining, had been set some time ago, and in an entirely different geographic location—they had since moved on to the wilderness of Paran–why did K and his band wait until now to mount their rebellion?

Here’s where Ramban’s comment gets interesting. He says: When the Israelites were back in the wilderness of Sinai, before they started to travel, if anyone had anyone tried to rebel against Moses’s leadership, they would have had no following—in fact, says the Ramban, the people would have stoned such rebels, they would have killed them. This is because Bnei Yisrael had total faith in Moses’s leadership; the only bad thing that had happened to them was their punishment after the sin of the Golden Calf; God had wanted to destroy the entire nation, M prayed to God on their behalf and saved them, because God retracted the threat, and only a small number of Calf worshippers died

However, by this point in the story, several other misfortunes had recently befallen the Israelites; they had complained about the boredom of the daily manna—remember, they missed the watermelons etc. of Egypt, that was 2 weeks ago, in B’ha’alot’cha—and both before and after God sent the miracle of the quails—they were punished twice, before the quails with a fire and after the quails with a plague; then, last week, in Shelach, we had the sin of the spies; God again threatened to destroy the entire nation except for Moses, and Moses prayed on their behalf—but, acc. to Ramban, he didn’t pray for full forgiveness, as he had after the Golden Calf, but only that God wouldn’t destroy the whole people; So, God listened to M’s plea, and didn’t wipe them out entirely, but—the whole generation was sentenced to die in the desert. So, according to Ramban, at this point, the people’s faith in M’s leadership flagged; he says, “Az haya nefesh kol ha’am marah”, now the whole nation’s spirit was bitter–people were dispirited. M had let them down, and bad things had happened, and they were suffering. So now K saw his opportunity—he and his band had been resentful before, since they had felt passed over, but they had no chance to whip up support, when the nation felt confident in their destiny and confident in their leader; now, when their leader had failed them, and when they were feeling battered—K seized his moment. When BY felt secure and well-led, they weren’t open to a demagogue’s appeal; when they were hurting, K knew that his opportunity had come.

Ramban’s insight, coming us to from across seven centuries, is strikingly contemporary.  This is what so many pundits, historians, and economists have been writing about the last few years. You’ve all read it many times, so I won’t belabor the point. We live in a time when many across the Western world have found a creeping authoritarianism appealing. Economies seem shakier, the immigrants keep coming—as Nicholas Kristof says, fleeing the world of disorder to find a toehold in the world of order—and people no longer feel confident that their leaders have the people’s interests at heart—“the elites are out of touch.” Ours is a time of insecurity and anxiety, when few of us believe that our children will have it easier and better as adults than we had it. And so, demagogues–would-be leaders who sense the peoples’ fear and disappointment, and know how “to appeal to the passions and prejudices of the mob”—remember the OED definition–see their golden moment. They are truly interested, in the OED’s words, in seizing power and furthering their own interests, rather than the true interests of the people. This is Korach’s time.

But perhaps Ramban’s insight also points a way forward for us. In his understanding, the main problem, it seems, wasn’t K. He was there all along, waiting for his opportunity. The problem was the nation’s spirit—nefesh ha’am. It was marah—bitter, or maybe, sour. Disgruntled. Disaffected. K was just looking for the right moment. So, maybe potential demagogues are always in the wings, waiting for their cue. It’s the people—the demos—that can allow K an opening, or can shut him out. Erdogan, Orban, etc., even Hitler—they all won popular votes, right?  Their people had the opportunity to keep them away from power. In the Western world, at least for now, still, the demagogues have to stand for election. If our leaders were to lead in a way that strengthens people’s spirit—the nefesh ha’am—then people would be more likely to feel optimistic and confident in their national life, and savor a sense of national destiny. Then the am would feel capable and stand strong. And, it’s not only on the leaders—in discussing this with my daughter before Shabbat, she made the point that the people need to recognize their potential for agency, regardless of how the leaders conduct themselves–it’s the obligation of the am to clearly see the demagogues for who they really are. Then, no one would pay Korach any mind.

Perhaps, as in our parsha, God will intervene to set things straight.  But maybe, as they say nowadays, the grownups aren’t coming to save us, and we’ll have to do it ourselves. May Hashem help us find the wisdom and courage to meet our challenges, and the vision to discern our choices clearly.

Shabbat Shalom.

Shavout: The Ten Commandments

By Rabbi Susan Laemmle

I begin by asking three questions — please hold them in your mind: (1) How often do we read or chant Aseret Ha-dibrot, the Ten Commandments, publicly in synagogue? (2) Is this an important portion of the Tanach? And (3) If yes, why don’t we publicly read — or even privately daven — this passage on a more regular basis?

I continue with a mixture of answers and speculation. We publicly read Aseret Ha-dibrot in the synagogue three times a year: from the book of Exodus in Parshat-Yitro, from the book of Deuteronomy in Parshat-Va’et-hanan, and on this, the first day of Shavout.

In Second Temple times, the biblical Feast of Weeks, with its first-fruits harvest celebration, got connected to the day on which the Torah was given at Mount Sinai. According to the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Shabbat, “the Sages taught: ‘On the sixth day of the month of Sivan, the Ten Commandments were given to the Jewish People.’” In due course, Exodus chapters 19 & 20 became the synagogue reading for Shavout. We learn in Tractate Tamid that in the Temple, the Ten Commandments were recited every day. Furthermore, the liturgical scholar Ismar Elbogen places them squarely among the biblical passages expressing the central elements of Jewish faith that made up the religious assemblies that arose during the Babylonian Exile — and then took place parallel to sacrifices in the Second Temple. These religious assemblies evolved into synagogue services.

Why then, after the Temple was destroyed and the synagogue became the central Jewish religious institution, why do the Ten Commandments not form part of the daily, or even the weekly Shabbat, liturgy?

Brachot 12a teaches that “they would have liked to recite them outside the Temple as well, but the practice was stopped because of the insinuations of the minim” — that is, the heretics, among them the early Christians. In the Mishnah Torah, Maimonides provides background to that prohibition: the heretics claimed that these 10 commandments alone were given to Moses at Sinai. That is, the presentation of the Ten Commandments as a distinct, specially revered text in Jewish liturgy was held up by them as proof that only these commandments, and not the other 603, enjoyed Sinaitic authority. Rambam even wanted to prevent a custom we and other Jewish communities still observe — standing when reading the Ten Commandments in public — which he saw as giving the impression that certain parts of the Torah are holier than others.

And so it is that what could be characterized as an equivocal attitude toward the Ten Commandments made its way into Jewish thought and practice. Creative spiritual understanding by Saadia Gaon and others did find ways to have its cake and eat it too by viewing the Ten Commandments as including, or summarizing, all 613 mitzvot. Some prayerbooks include them at an optional point— for example, Artscrolls places them within a section called “Readings following Shacharis,” right after Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith. Rabbi David Golinkin (President and Professor of Jewish Law at the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem) asserts that the Ten Commandments are very important and it’s good for Jews to know them by heart. But he feels that there is indeed a danger of our thinking that there are different levels in the Torah and neglecting the halachic system as a whole while observing only these Ten Commandments. Golinkin concludes that it’s good that our ancestors only required the public reading of the Ten Commandments three times a year.

I agree with Golinkin’s evaluation, but would like to ask what we gain (and maybe lose) by de-centering the Ten Commandments within Judaism. One way to begin answering this question is with another question: If the Ten Commandments don’t stand at the very center of Jewish liturgy and faith, what does? That is, what liturgical formulation do we indeed recite publicly (as well as privately) on a daily basis? The Shma, of course. This is not the time to focus in depth upon the Shma. But I will draw attention to its rather odd way of coupling the Jewish People’s act of listening or hearing to the articulation of Adonai’s oneness. To my mind, the Shma declarative opening sentence captures the essence of Judaism, which is the relationship between the Eternal Power of the Universe and the Jewish People. And so this is that what we remind ourselves of when we lie down and when we rise up, in private and in public worship multiple times daily, and even more times on Shabbat and holy days: our commitment to the monotheism of one Divine Power and to Jewish Peoplehood. It’s as if everything else we take as vital and commanded stands rooted in that double commitment. Having the Shma at our center, rather than the Ten Commandments, encapsulates Judaism’s unusual pairing of universalism and particularism; the way in which it is both a world religion into which people can convert and a tribal identity encoded into our communal being.

De-centering the Ten Commandments also keeps us from over-simplifying what it takes to be a “good Jew.” We no longer consider Christians to be heretics or worry much about how they view our mitzvah system. But among ourselves and along the spectrum of Jewish observance, we continue to consider and reconsider the weighting of ritual and ethical mitzvot, of commitments that are distinctively Jewish over against those that virtually all civilized people and world religions uphold. Which mitzvot and sorts of mitzvot draw the most attention differs among the movements as well as the congregations within them. This enables individuals and families to find a niche that suits them within Judaism’s large tent.

Preparing to conclude these Shavout reflections, I remind us of this holy day’s essence: the desert encounter between God and the Jewish People. That encounter provided the foundation upon which Jewish life developed — the foundational context within which Jewish life goes forward today and, God willing, into the future. The central emotions of this holy day are gratitude, awe, and love. May they fill our hearts. Chag sameach!

Parashat Tzav

By Rabbi Jim Rogozen

Imagine Richard Dreyfuss’s voice in the background as pictures of famous people appear on the television screen…

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

Anyone recognize these words?They were part of an Apple Computer ad campaign called “Think Different” launched on September 28 1997. This was the ad campaign that led to one of the greatest corporate turnarounds in history and it continues to play a role in how we think about change.

Jeremiah’s words in today’s Haftarah should have earned him a spot in one of those Apple commercials. After all, Jeremiah went a little bit crazy. He basically claimed that the sacrifices described in this week’s parasha should be set aside. All 97 verses, 1,353 words…wiped out, gone. What did he see?

In Chapter 6, verse 20:

עֹלֽוֹתֵיכֶם֙ לֹ֣א לְרָצ֔וֹן וְזִבְחֵיכֶ֖ם לֹא־עָ֥רְבוּ לִֽי:

“Your burnt offerings are not acceptable, and your sacrifices are not pleasant to Me.”

Judaism’s central, and most public, rituals were being undermined by the paganism and immoral behavior of the people. Jeremiah, and other prophets, pointed out the same thing: In management terms, there was a lack of alignment between the organization’s goals and practices, and the target group. What existed wasn’t working. People weren’t buying in. Jeremiah’s suggestion for change? Drop the program.

Centuries later, when the destruction of the 2nd Temple put an end to sacrifices, it also led to other changes. While they prayed that the Temple would one day be rebuilt, the Rabbis, navigating through their mourning, needed to move on. As a result, the decades following the Destruction were a time of thinking different. It was a time of paradigm shifts: from korbanot to kavanna in prayer, from Hattat sacrifices to Hesed, from Trumah to Torah study.

These were creative and necessary pivots, and the Jewish People embraced them. So much so that when we speak about Judaism we really mean Rabbinic Judaism.

Over a period of 2000+ years, Judaism and the Jewish People have seen minor as well as transformative changes, both in practice and theology. Some changes have been reactive, some have been proactive. Some are complete, and some are still in process.

For instance, in the late 1980s, when the Temple Mount had been in Jewish hands for 20 years, a group of Jews founded the Temple Institute in Jerusalem, and began detailed planning for the 3rd Temple.

At the same exact time, another group suggested deleting all references to sacrifices or changing them to the past tense in what would be the first edition of, wait for it, the Sim Shalom Siddur.

Ahhhh….Jews! It seems that we are the ever hopeful, ever confused People.

Jews opt for a variety of practices and beliefs, some based in Torah and Halakha, some based on family tradition, and some based on a sense of comfort. There are practices and beliefs that work for us, others that don’t. In addition to death and taxes, two things are certain: change happens and change can be hard.

Even more so now. We are living through a time of transition, one that Klaus Schwab, Executive Chairman of the World Economic Forum, calls the Fourth Industrial Revolution. When it comes to organizations and companies, the common belief is that if you aren’t actively innovating, or “thinking different,” you’re dying.

The vocabulary of change sounds like this: lab, hack, design, catalyst, startup, jumpstart, transformation, digital leapfrogs, makers, boundary spanner, futurist, disruptive, accelerator, or just the letter “X” in the name of an organization.

The speed and volume of change make our heads spin. To make matters worse, Jewish population surveys are adding to this sense of urgency with predictions of gloom and doom. “Jews are abandoning Jewish life. The model is broken. Throw everything overboard. We need to start over.”

Change for survival, rather than change for improvement, has become the 614th commandment.

I think we need to take a collective breath. Yes, there are things that should worry us; there are trends that we must address. Synagogue affiliation, patterns of observance, connection to Israel, antisemitism. But let’s not forget: we know a little something about change. And… there is a lot that’s really good in the Jewish world. For instance: The overwhelming majority of Jewish children are receiving some kind of Jewish education during their school years. For the last 11 years, there have been a steady 16,000 children in Jewish preschools and day schools in Los Angeles. There have been 13 major Jewish fundraising galas in LA in the month of March alone, some on the same night. No one is going anywhere until those pledges have been paid in full.

Surveys report symptoms; they are neither diagnoses nor treatment plans. So before we offer sacrifices on the altar of radical change, let’s go back for a moment to Jeremiah (Ch 7, v 22) and put his plan into perspective.

Bemoaning the problem with sacrifices, God, through Jeremiah, reminds his audience about the early days, when the Jewish People stood before Mount Sinai:

כִּ֠י לֹֽא־דִבַּ֤רְתִּי אֶת־אֲבֽוֹתֵיכֶם֙ וְלֹ֣א צִוִּיתִ֔ים בְּי֛וֹם הוציא [הוֹצִיאִ֥י] אוֹתָ֖ם מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרָ֑יִם עַל־דִּבְרֵ֥י עוֹלָ֖ה וָזָֽבַח׃

“When I freed your ancestors from the land of Egypt, I did not speak to them, nor did I command them, anything regarding burnt offerings or sacrifice.”

Rashi explains Jeremiah’s radical comment:

תחלת תנאי לא היתה אלא אם שמוע תשמעו בקולי ושמרתם את בריתי והייתם לי סגולה’ (שם יט)

At the beginning, my only stipulation with the People was “If you hearken to My voice and keep My covenant, you shall be a special treasure to Me.” That was the main message.

Jeremiah and Rashi are pointing out that the sacrifices, the big “fail” described in the Haftara, weren’t even part of the original plan…and that’s why Jeremiah so easily says they should be thrown overboard.

Rambam, in his Guide to the Perplexed, adds: “…the sacrificial service is not the primary purpose [of the commandments about sacrifice]; rather, supplications, prayers, and similar kinds of worship are nearer to the primary purpose, and indispensable for obtaining it.”

Taking the longer view, he says that the practice of animal sacrifice was designed for the purpose of transitioning the people from idolatry to monotheism…and it worked!

The challenge for the Rambam, though, is that the practice of korbanot is required by the Torah, it’s on the books and can’t just be thrown out. Of course, for all he knew, the next time there would actually be a Bet HaMikdash would be in the world to come.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, moving beyond the Rambam, has a more constructivist approach, closer to the post-Destruction Rabbis: He points out that Jewish practices have outer and inner layers of expression. When it comes to connecting with God, animal sacrifice served as the outer layer, as it was limited in terms of time, location, and authorized participants. Prayer, on the other hand, was the longer-lasting inner or personal layer, and open to everyone, anywhere. When the Temple was destroyed, the outer layer disappeared while the inner layer was able to evolve into a central part of Jewish life.

To summarize these three approaches to change: Jeremiah: Drop the practice. Rambam: understand the intent of the practice, but even if the practice has no further value, keep it because it’s in the Torah. Sacks: update the old, as well as allow new practices to evolve that better express our core values or beliefs. By the way, on this matter, Rabbi Sacks sounds suspiciously like a Conservative Rabbi!

So let’s come back to the present.

On the one hand, we have Jeremiah, Rashi, Rambam, post Destruction Rabbis, and Rabbi Sacks. On the other hand, we have the ethos of the Apple ad campaign, which elevates change and innovation to the status of a religious obligation.

So, moving forward, what should our tag line or motto for change be: Tradition and change? Change without tradition? Change tradition? Change and tradition? We’re all about the “and”?

In the last few years, many Jewish organizations have been engaged in desperation programming, hoping something will turn things around. But we know that “ready, fire, aim” doesn’t work.

To quote Bob Dylan, channeling TS Eliot: when there’s too much of nothing, no one has control.

So let’s get in control by asking some tough questions.

What do we care most about as Jews? What are our core beliefs and commitments? What would it look like to שמוע תשמעו בקולי ושמרתם את בריתי

‘hearken to God’s voice and keep God’s covenant’?

In Jeremiah’s words, what would be L’ratzon? – What do we want and need; and, as Heschel would ask: what does God want and need?

What would our schools, shuls, and organizations look like if they were aligned with these core beliefs and commitments? What would job descriptions for Rabbis, teachers, Heads of School, Federation executives, fundraisers, and board members look like?

Once we have our purposes or goals, how would we measure success? Membership and enrollment numbers? The number of people who keep kosher? An increased level of social justice and income equality?

We need a vision and we need a plan, because a vision without a plan is just a day dream, but a plan without a vision is a nightmare.

Lo b’shamayim hee. We can do this. To paraphrase Mordechai:

וּמִ֣י יוֹדֵ֔עַ אִם־לְעֵ֣ת כָּזֹ֔את הִגַּ֖ענוּ

Who knows? Perhaps this is why we are here right now.

Yes, Jeremiah was a bit crazy, a misfit, a troublemaker. Even the Rabbis in the Talmud had mixed feelings about him. But his message is still relevant:

לֹֽא־דִבַּ֤רְתִּי עַל־דִּבְרֵ֥י עוֹלָ֖ה וָזָֽבַח It can’t only be about the sacrifices.

So, Netze v’nilmad — let’s figure out what it is about, and then… let’s make the main thing the main thing. The rest is programming. Shabbat Shalom

 

Parashat VaYigash

By Rabbi Jim Rogozen – December 15, 2018

Good morning!

When the Eagles reunited for a concert tour in 1994, Glenn Frey remarked, “For the record, we never broke up, we just took a 14–year vacation.” Well, my wife Marci and I never broke up with the Library Minyan, we just went on tour – the Jewish Education Tour – for 32 years. We are happy to be back in L.A., back in the Library Minyan, and we thank all of you for being so welcoming.

When a Head of School changes jobs, it almost always means a relocation. Our 32-year journey included several moves. We’ve lived in Northern California, Ohio, New Jersey, and Florida, and now, back here in Pico Robertson.

The good news is that our moves served our family’s needs: better professional opportunities, more Jewish infrastructure, or being closer to family.  And I’m happy to say that our 19 years in Cleveland gave our children a chance to be in one place from preschool through the end of college.

With each move we faced new realties: new houses, new work cultures, new people. As long as we could find the Food Trinity – Whole Foods, Trader Joes and Starbucks – we knew we would be okay.

With each move, there was also an opportunity re-assess and re-commit to our core values and family goals. Knowing who we were helped us navigate our journeys.

During each annual re-read of the journeys in Genesis, we encounter texts we’ve seen many times: we know the plot, we already know what’s lurking around the next corner. So it’s natural to look for some new insights or lessons.  This year, after what we hope will be our final move, I challenged myself:  What can I learn from the journeys of the Avot and Imahot?

One thing that stands out to me is that the book of Genesis, among other things, is a veritable travelogue of journeys and transformations.

• The world goes from chaos to order.
• Adam and Eve leave paradise for the messiness of real life.
• Noah sails off to a new world
• Avraham’s “founding family” moves around, adopts a new religion and a new land.

And in this week’s parsha, specifically, the book of Breisheet starts to wind down as the story arcs of Yosef and Yaakov come together.

With each step in their journeys, the three generations of Avraham and Sarah’s family had to do their own re-set. Who were they to one another? To the people around them? How did they understand their move to each new place? Was it due to something they did, or was God pulling the strings? Was there something they needed to learn?

These are the kind of questions we’ve all asked ourselves during our personal journeys. And yes, we’ve all been on journeys – some easy, some difficult. And we know that, over time, the questions change, as do the answers.

Classic Midrash has been the go-to place to understand the inner dialogues of our ancestors. But as we know, Midrash has an agenda. It often characterizes our ancestors, not so much as individuals with free will, but as models or archetypes who often follow a set of divine roadmaps. In mystical texts they are thought to be more than human – they are the Amudei HaOlam – the foundational pillars of the world.

So as much as I like Midrash, I found that the peshat, the plain meaning, spoke to me more directly this year.

Let’s look at how Yosef’s understanding of his journey to Egypt evolves.

When Yosef finally reveals his identity to his brothers, he says:

וְאַל־יִ֨חַר֙ בְּעֵ֣ינֵיכֶ֔ם כִּֽי־מְכַרְתֶּ֥ם אֹתִ֖י הֵ֑נָּה כִּ֣י לְמִֽחְיָ֔ה שְׁלָחַ֥נִי אֱלֹהִ֖ים לִפְנֵיכֶֽם

“Don’t reproach yourselves because you sold me; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you.”

In this verse, Yosef is saying, “Yes, you did a terrible thing – you sold me! –  and that’s on you. On the other hand…there was something else going on, and the result was good!”

In the next verse, we see a transformation. His anger disappears completely. He changes his personal narrative.

וַיִּשְׁלָחֵ֤נִי אֱלֹהִים֙ לִפְנֵיכֶ֔ם לָשׂ֥וּם לָכֶ֛ם שְׁאֵרִ֖ית בָּאָ֑רֶץ וּלְהַֽחֲי֣וֹת לָכֶ֔ם

“God sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives.”

In this verse, the brothers’ bad actions aren’t mentioned. Instead, Yosef says that their safety was the real purpose of his time in Egypt.

And finally, Yosef reformulates the story that his brothers, and we the readers, already know to be different:

וְעַתָּ֗ה לֹֽא־אַתֶּ֞ם שְׁלַחְתֶּ֤ם אֹתִי֙ הֵ֔נָּה כִּ֖י הָֽאֱלֹהִ֑ים

“So, it was not you who sent me here, but God.”

We don’t need Midrash to “interpret” this exchange for us. Yosef is already interpreting it for himself.

We can relate. We’ve all had the experience of re-formatting our memories, taking past events, and understanding them differently as the years go past. For instance, my wife recalls our garden in Northeastern Florida where vegetables grew quickly; I remember the bugs and the humidity. My wife thought the people in Florida were very nice. I remember that half of them owned guns and the other half were just plain crazy.

While Yosef is able to forget the bad, and to reframe his journey as part of God’s plan, his father is still struggling.  When Pharoah asks Yaakov how old he is, Yaakov replies:

יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י מְגוּרַ֔י שְׁלשִׁ֥ים וּמְאַ֖ת שָׁנָ֑ה מְעַ֣ט וְרָעִ֗ים הָיוּ֙ יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י חַיַּ֔י

“The years of my sojourn on earth are 130. Few and hard have been the years of my life.”

One could hope that in his final years Yaakov would be able to put his life into a more positive context. Maybe Yaakov just needed more time, or perhaps he realized he was running out of time. His final words to his children in next week’s parsha are, to put it mildly, mixed blessings.

So, one lesson for me this year is that we are the interpreters of our lives.

Emily Esfahani Smith writes that “Creating a narrative about the things in your life… helps you understand how you became you.” She adds that, “…we are the authors of our own stories and can change the way we’re telling them.”

Professor Dan McAdams, an expert in narrative psychology, says there are two kinds of stories we tell about ourselves:  contamination stories (the bad stuff, going from good to bad) and redemptive stories (where the themes are about love, growth, and success).

Taking it a step further, as we move through our journeys, we can use our narrative of the past to better understand our present, as well as shape our future.

Being a descendant of the Gaon of Vilna, and following in a long line of misnagdim, I am going to break ranks and go Hasidic for a moment. Don’t tell my relatives. Here goes…

Hillel, in Pirkei Avot, famously says: בִמְקוֹם שֶׁאֵין אֲנָשִׁים, הִשְׁתַּדֵּל לִהְיוֹת אִישׁ

This is usually translated as “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a “man,” or a “person” — meaning, be the mentsch in the room.  But Rabbi Mordecai Yosef of Ishbitz, a Hassidic master, said that it’s not about there being no other “people” or mentschen around; it means that each of us must fight against our own sense of complacency. He quotes: Mishle (Proverbs) 3:5:

וְאֶל־בִּ֥֝ינָֽתְךָ֗ אַל־תִּשָּׁעֵֽן

Even if you think you’ve learned a lot, or that you truly understand something, don’t lean too much on what you know now. Learn more; re-evaluate. Later on you might come to new conclusions.

So, another takeaway from Breisheet: the journey is an ongoing lesson.

Our daughter’s high school had a great motto:  we learn not for school, but for life. But the lessons of life don’t come easily; they must be learned, and re-learned.

As a response to what she was seeing on campus, former Dean of Freshmen at Stanford Julie Lythcott-Haims wrote in her book, How to Raise an Adult:

“If we prevent our children from learning how to navigate the world beyond our front yard, it will only come back to haunt them later on when they feel frightened, bewildered, lost, or confused out on the streets. Each of us…is on a life path that ought to be constructed by our choices, paved with our experiences, and aimed in the direction of our dreams.”

Perhaps our ancestors should be called the Amudei HaOlam (the Pillars of the World) — not because of their perfection, not because there are mystical and hidden meanings to their actions, but because theirs are the first comprehensive stories in the Torah about the journey to be fully human.

In his biography of Leonardo de Vinci (who moved at least 7 times in his life), Walter Isaacson wrote that it took Leonardo 14 years to paint the Mona Lisa.  “He added thin layer after layer of little glaze strokes as he perfected it, retouched it, and imbued it with new depths of understanding about humans and nature…as it was with Leonardo, who became more profoundly layered with each step of his journey.”

The more we know about life, the better. And the more we learn from our journeys, the better able we’ll be to deal with change, and to create change when it is needed.

Just as “God is  מְחַדֵּשׁ בְּכָל יוֹם תָּמִיד מַעֲשֵׂה בְרֵאשִׁית …in His goodness, continually renewing the work of creation”……we must do our part.

Living in a time of dramatic upheaval, cynicism, and a profound search for meaning, we all need to remind ourselves that we are not just readers of other peoples’ life stories; nor are we powerless victims of other people’s plots.  We are מחדשים — re-creators, world shapers.

We have the ability and the obligation to re-center and re-balance our communities, and our country, restoring hope to everyone we can, including those who feel that their journeys, their life stories, have been discounted or dismissed entirely.

So what did I get out of re-reading Breisheet this year?  It reminded me that our ancestors were the first, but not the last, to head out on journeys that changed their lives and the lives of those around them. And that what we learn in our personal journeys, through the laughter and the tears, gives us the ability, and the obligation, to create a better future. May we all have the hutzpah and the courage to serve, in some small way, as our generation’s Amudei HaOlam – the pillars of a better world.

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

 

Parshat Vayeshev

By Susan Laemmle, December 1, 2018

Like many of you I imagine, I’m fond of the short insert at the end of the Torah service that comes on the Shabbat before each New Month, rendering it Shabbat M’vorchim — the Sabbath of Blessing. With the wrapped Torah before us, we stand to join the Shaleach-Tzibur in chanting three sections, the central one of which proclaims the upcoming month. Mayer Brenner has just beautifully led us in that chanting as we approach the month of Tevet.

This morning, I’d like to reflect upon the Birchat Ha-Chodesh prayer, and then use one verse of the proclaiming section as a bridge to this week’s parsha.

One would think that Birchat Ha-Chodesh’s opening section Ye-hee ratzon mi-lifanecha was written expressly for this occasion; but that’s not so. Except for the third line referring to the new month, it was composed by Rav during the 3^rd century as his personal prayer to follow the daily Amidah. The things for which he asked nearly two millennia ago remain relevant: a life that is extended, peaceful, and blessed; during which we enjoy physical vitality, social abundance, and love of Torah — and avoid shame or reproach. If we are pious and self-aware, we mean what we say in asking to be “conscious of heaven’s demands and wary of sin” and granted only “the worthy desires of our hearts.”

After this largely personal opening section, the second half of the prayer asks blessings upon the Jewish People. In the middle of the prayer, functioning like a hinge between local and national concerns, comes the name and day/days of the new month.

Just before that announcement, God is invoked in a way that particularly fits Chanukah — as “the one who wrought miracles for our ancestors” beginning with the Exodus from Egypt and stretching to “the gathering of our dispersed from the four corners of the earth.” Amidst this historical and theological sweep comes the phrase that particularly resonates with me: chaverim kol Yisrael — translated by our new siddur as: “May the entire people Israel be united in friendship.”

For me, what’s touching about the phrase chaverim kol Yisrael is its compact simplicity and everyday language. Thus, I would prefer the most literal translation: “All Jews are friends.” This statement covers some of the same territory as the well-known kol Yisrael arayvim zeh b’zeh: “All Jews are responsible for one another,” which has motivated us from the redemption of pirated captives to the campaign for

Soviet Jewry. And yet, being friends with someone can actually be more difficult that being responsible for them. To be a real friend, you have to like them and be willing to share with them. That’s the tough part.

We move now to Parshat-Vayeshev, which initiates the Joseph story that occupies the rest of Sefer-Bereshit. The story’s drama focuses on Joseph, favored by his father Jacob and at odds with his 11 brothers. Essentially, the Jewish national story is rooted in sibling rivalry.

From Cain and Abel, to Joseph and his brothers, to many of us with our siblings and among our children, there arises the challenge of nurturing friendship within the petri dish of blood or blood-like relationships —of endeavoring to take the differences among children in a family neutrally, rather than judgmentally and hierarchically. It seems to me that for growing and grown children, this challenge requires significant learning — learning to handle being treated less than fairly, learning to empathize with our sibling’s sense of grievance, and learning to talk things over rather than letting feelings fester.

Such festering breaks to the surface in our parsha. Rashi drashes the opening word va-yeshev thus: “Jacob sought to dwell in tranquility but the anguish of Joseph fell upon him.” We are well familiar with the likely sources of that anguish, going back to Jacob’s having two wives, with the two sons of Rachel preferred over the more numerous, earlier-born sons of Leah.

Whether because of his father’s favor, his brothers’ enmity, or his own nature, Joseph adds insult to injury by becoming a boaster and tale bearer. His father’s sending him to join his pasturing brothers has been interpreted as naïve failure to protect his vulnerable young son and as positive moral instruction urging him to “search out the good points of your brothers rather than their imperfections.” What winds up happening to Joseph — the pit, being sold into slavery, his ups and downs and ups in Egypt — validates both interpretations. In the end, of course, the family is reconciled, though at a very high —even if providentially guided — cost.

Chaverim, kol Yisrael: Are the sons of Israel/Jacob friends by the time their father dies? Are they friends by the time Joseph dies, making his brothers promise to carry his bones with them when they leave Egypt? Are they friends by the time their multiplied descendants go out, cross the parted sea, and arrive at Sinai? By the time they stand at Sinai to receive the Torah, wander in the dessert, and follow Joshua to enter the Land? When they build the Temple, see it destroyed, and build it again? When they leave the Land once again, and then return two thousand years later? After all the destruction and repair, death and renewal, suffering and achievement, do they become — are we now — friends?

The Tanach presents to us at least two great representations of personal, dyadic friendship: David & Jonathan, and Ruth & Noami. The rabbis extol the value of friendship, so that “your friend’s honor is as dear to you as your own” (Avot 2:15). Hassidic Judaism places special emphasis on the value of friendship among the adherents of a given Hassidic rebbe, endowing it with theological significance.

But how do siblings, individual Jews, and groups within the Jewish people grow beyond envy and rivalry to accept who they are and what they have as enough? Can we build families and communities founded on justice and good practice — and carry on with equanimity when complete fairness eludes us? What enables the sister or brother of a talented, attractive Josephine to support her fulfillment, rather than trip her up — or stew with corrosive resentment? In a world of expanding possibilities and declining resources, how shall we find the paths toward peace and well-being?

Being bound together biologically provides a bottom-line, a foundation that is argued with or denied at great cost. In contrast, becoming friends with others takes place in an arena of free choice. The relationship is less encumbered, less fraught; both less, and potentially more, profound. It is an ideal worth striving for, whether yoked to a blood (or legal) relationship or on a separate track. Within our families, our tribe, and our world, the ideal of friendship glimmers like the waxing moon in the evening sky.

Shabbat shalom

Vayishlach וישלח

By Zwi Reznik ,  November 24, 2018

The journey continues. When we left Yaakov last week he was on the run again, as he had been for the last twenty years. In this week’s parsha he stops for a while. The parsha opens with his preparations for meeting his estranged brother Esau. Before they meet Yaakov has a wrenching nighttime encounter which transforms him into Israel. The meeting with Esau actually goes well and they agree to see each other again soon—but we all know how those kinds of plans often work out. This is then followed by a horrific tale of what happens to Yaakov’s daughter Dinah, the subsequent violent conduct of his sons and this story closes with Yaakov being rebuked by two of those sons. The text then returns to Yaakov’s journey, new blessings from God and the deaths of those closest to him. The parsha ends with a lengthy genealogy of Esau. Clearly my first task in preparing this brief drash was to get focused. So let’s get back to just Yaakov.

Yaakov knows he cannot keep running and avoid dealing with his brother and what he, Yaakov, did to him. Recall that Yaakov had once taken advantage of Esau’s great hunger and managed to buy the elder brother’s birthright for a bowl of lentils. That was followed by following his mother’s guidance in a scheme to trick Yitzhak into giving him, rather than Esau, his blessing and his mother’s subsequent advice to run for his life. He can’t avoid dealing with this anymore. So he sends messengers to Esau to let him know that he’s been with their uncle, that he’s done well and (32:6) “…I send this message to my lord in hope of gaining your favor”. The response, via the messengers is brief, (32:7) “… he himself is coming to meet you, and there are four hundred men with him”. In antiquity these are enough men to constitute an army. Then in (32-8) “Yaakov was greatly frightened…”. So he prepares. Rashii succinctly notes that he does so in three ways—“by war, by prayer and by gifts”. Specifically that is, firstly, with strategic planning by splitting all the people and livestock into two camps; secondly, with prayer. After reminding God that he’s on the move because of God’s advice, he then says—(32-11): “I am unworthy of all the kindness that you have steadfastly shown your servant; with my staff alone I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps”. In other words he’s gone from being homeless with just the clothes on his back to becoming wealthy. This is not just a prayer which is asking for things. It is emphatically a statement of GRATITUDE! Think about how much of our own prayer today, on Shabbat, is just saying Thank You. Something has changed in Yaakov after twenty years of servitude with Laban. He is no longer just the “cheat” or “usurper” that his name would indicate. Finally in preparation he prepares a huge gift for Esau. Five hundred and fifty head of livestock; in the gender proportions that would assure future exponential growth in this herd! Now it is nighttime. There is one more thing to do. He takes his wives, maid servants, his eleven children and all his possessions across the stream. Then, (32:25) “Yaakov was left alone,”. He is alone and in the dark! We know what’s coming next but, I want to pause here for a moment. Why did he do that and leave himself alone. Was this some sort of protective act? That is, separating himself, the object of Esau’s hate, from his wives, maids and children. We’ll see him doing something similar to that the next morning. Or was it something as simple as wanting to be alone so he can be by himself and think about what is happening and how he got to this point. The last time he was home, twenty years before, his mother told him to run because his brother was coming for him. Now his brother is coming for him and with an army behind him! Now, back to(32:25)—“Yaakov was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.”.

We know how the fight turns out. This “man” is losing the fight and tries to prevail by injuring Yaakov. That doesn’t work and Yaakov demands a blessing to let him go. So Yaakov becomes Israel—one who strives with God. This is definitely an improvement over “cheat” and “usurper”. Further, a name change is a clear acknowledgement of an overwhelming transformation of the spirit. We’ve seen that before with Avram becoming Avraham and Sarai becoming Sarah. However those were just a change of a single letter. Israel is a much more comprehensive change.

Now the commentaries of the Midrash do identify this man as an angel of a sort. This sometimes included this angel as being specifically Esau’s angel or guardian which would make this a fight between Yaakov and Esau. We must consider that the writing of the Midrash took place in the context of knowing what happens in the future between Esau-Edom and Israel’s descendants, as well as the period following the devastation done by the Romans. There are in the Midrash commentaries which are even critical of Yaakov and berate him for sending gifts and being conciliatory to Esau. A medieval commentary by Rabbi David Kimhi of Provence states that “God sent his angel to strengthen Yaakov’s courage; having overcome him, he need not fear Esau”.

However for a contrast we should consider Nehama Leibowitz. She notes some of these preceding commentaries but her comments take a different direction. Firstly, she states noting Yaakov’s fear, that “Yaakov’s fears were not indicative of lack of trust in God, but rather a lack of confidence in oneself, in one’s own worthiness and conduct”. So suppose lack of confidence in oneself and in one’s own worthiness are at the root of Yaakov’s feelings of anxiety and stress as he waits alone and in the dark for Esau and his army. So, with that in mind let me explicitly state that Yaakov’s struggling with a man is Yaakov struggling with himself. That struggle to transform oneself and rid oneself of undesirable character traits can itself be the cause of great fatigue and even physical pain. Of course these are not new thoughts original to me and there are numerous contemporary commentaries which correspond to my own thoughts and that can easily be found. However let’s continue with commentaries that are both contemporary as well as traditional in outlook.

Rabbi Avraham Twerski, M.D, is both a Hasidic rabbi and a psychiatrist. He had a psychiatric practice that specialized in addiction treatment. He has a large body of work related to his medical practice. Much of it is addressed to general audiences and much of it is also addressed to Jewish audiences. One of those oriented to Jewish audiences contains short commentaries on each of the parshas in the Torah. The one for Vayishlach, titled “Changing Character Traits” includes the following: “ For Torah to transform one’s personality, the study of Torah in the abstract does not suffice. It must be studied with the intent to live up to what it teaches, and it must be implemented in daily living. The study must involve the ethical as well as the formal halachic aspects. Then and only then can we expect favorable changes in our personalities to occur.”

I also like the clarity and simplicity provided by another of Nehama Leibowitz’s comments: “We have merely to try to understand the significance of the struggle and what the Torah wished to teach us through it.”

So if we accept the need to do so, as Yaakov did heading into that lonely night, a transformation of the spirit is possible.

Next the text informs us that with the break of day Yaakov sees Esau and his army approaching. Israel moves out ahead of his wives, maids and children so that Esau will see him first and that he is separated from the others. We thus see again the protective move akin to what Yaakov had done the night before by separating himself from everyone and everything else. He bows seven times. Then (33:4)—“Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and falling on his neck, he kissed him; and he wept.”. (I have to note that this verse almost exactly describes my father’s description of seeing his brother the first time they met at the airport in Israel twenty-four years after separating in Italy. The only difference was they went to a men’s room first for some privacy). By the way, the Midrash which won’t cut Esau any slack, states that Esau was trying to bite him in the neck. Family is introduced, and after some back and forth Esau accepts Israel’s gift. Rashii notes that Yaakov saying “Please accept my present” is to be understood literally as “Please accept my blessing…”. Both of them know what Yaakov had done, but, with this conversation Esau seems to be saying “I’m doing fine as well, we’re OK!”. They separate and move on.

What happens to Yaakov-Israel next is one tragedy after another in this parsha and the ones to follow. I initially noted the tale of what happened to Dinah and the conduct of her brothers and I will not be talking about that. In the next chapter, 35, there is a seemingly out of place verse which reports that (35:8)—“Deborah, Rivkah’s nurse, died, and was buried…”. We have not seen this Deborah since a brief mention of Rivkah’s unnamed nurse (wet-nurse) who accompanies her on the way to meet Yitzhak. Both Rashi and Nachmanides state that this verse is here to note that Rivkah has died and that Deborah’s death and burial are when Yaakov finds out about it. Yet, Torah makes no specific mention of his mother’s death! I must leave it for others more learned than myself to comment on this erasure of one of the matriarchs. Nachmanides also goes on to comment that this, his mother’s death, is why in the next verse God reappears to Israel. God confirms his earlier name change and promises that a great nation shall descend from him and that the land assigned to Avraham and Yitzhak are assigned to him. However, there is nothing promised to Yaakov in the way of a tranquil life.

Then Rivkah dies.

In another one of his works Rabbi Twerski writes; “We should understand that absolute tranquility is not achievable and that realistic peace of mind exists with some stress and tension”. There are other learned commentaries in a similar vein. For myself I would prefer to close with a poem I first heard at the funeral of a young woman thirty two years ago. At that time I just heard sadness, however, with time I’ve learned it is comforting and provides some measure of hope.

‘Tis a fearful thing

‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.

A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –

to be,
And oh, to lose.

A thing for fools, this,

And a holy thing,

a holy thing
to love.

For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.

To remember this brings painful joy.

‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.

– Yehuda HaLevi

 

 

 

 

Vayera

By Melissa Berenbaum, October 27, 2018

Shabbat Shalom! This Parsha is rich, substantial and significant. There are many important topics to be discussed. I could talk about faith…. the Akeda, how Abraham seemed willing to sacrifice Isaac, and believed that God had a purpose and reason for tasking him with this unfathomable directive. I could talk about leadership… and demand for justice …. Abraham’s challenge of God’s intent to destroy Soddom and Gemorah.

But I have another subject in which to take a deeper dive. I want to talk about kindness and acting Godly.

The parsha opens with Abraham at home recovering from his circumcision. He is sitting at the entrance of his tent. Commentators note that he was sitting at the entrance to look out for travelers who made need some rest and water.

But the day was a particularly hot one. Rabbi Chama Bar Haninah wrote that God made it hot, too hot to travel, so that Abraham would not have his rest and recovery interrupted by hosting visitors.

God visits Abraham on this hot day, maybe to check in that his recovery is progressing? Or to show him honor for carrying out the commandment of circumcision.

Nevertheless, Abraham spots three strangers, and despite God’s presence and his own ailment, he runs to greet the strangers. Imagine turning your back on God to go greet strangers? You’re in the middle of a conversation with God, some strangers appear and you tell God to hit the pause button? This is rather extraordinary. Rabbi Shraga Simmons in analyzing these verses, writes, “There is an experience even greater than talking to God. To be like God. Human beings are created in the image of God. God is a giver. Thus, giving is our greatest form of spiritual expression.“

Acknowledging the profound moment, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes: The idolaters of Abraham’s time worshiped the sun, the stars and the forces of nature as gods. They worshiped power and the powerful. Abraham knew, however, that God is not in nature, but beyond nature. There is only one thing in the universe on which God has set God’s image: the human person, every person, powerful and powerless alike.”

Aaron of Karlin taught that when we turn our attention from God to tend to the needs of people, we do God’s will. Conversely, God is not pleased when we place such a great focus on God that we ignore needy human beings.

You may be questioning why I am focused on this message of the parsha. After all, we at the Library Minyan are very welcoming, we have a greeter each Shabbat, we have many programs to include many people. We arrange Shabbat hospitality. We have already taken this lesson to heart.

But I am going to challenge us to act in an even more Godly way with our fellow congregants. We need to make sure that all our Library Minyaners have access to our service in every physical manifestation. We don’t have a large space, whether it’s the Dorff Nelson or Adelson. We don’t have wide aisles. We have to cram in as many chairs as we possibly can. This makes it extraordinarily challenging when someone with a walker or wheelchair enters our prayer space. We need to make room and offer assistance to those who are less able than we. It means if you are sitting by the door or on an aisle, you need to give up your seat. Think of yourself as Abraham, leaving his own tent to greet the strangers and offer them what they needed on a hot travel day.

We also don’t have great acoustics and we have among us those who are hard of hearing. And we recognize that there are also among us, those who don’t use electricity on Shabbat. But as Abraham turned away from his conversation with God to serve strangers, we must give everyone access to every part of our service and that means the use of a sound system and microphone. I will be working with the Steering Committee in the coming weeks to address the regular use of a microphone and speakers so that all of our congregants can partake of the service, while accommodating those who don’t use electricity. And we will bring it back to the Minyan for implementation.

And there is another way in which we can act like Abraham and embody the qualities of God. In the next verses, Abraham invites the strangers for rest and water. He offers to get them a morsel of bread and then runs to find Sarah and asks her to prepare cake with the choice flour. He then ran to the cattle shed, chose a calf and asked his servant to prepare. And there were other refreshments for the strangers. Similarly, we are blessed with Kiddush and refreshments following our Shabbat service. For some, this may be their main meal of the day, and perhaps the bulk of their provisions for the week. Let us offer assistance to those who need help in sharing in our abundance. Lend them a helping hand when they cut in line. There is plenty to feed us all and for some it may be vital sustenance.

We come to shul each Shabbat to talk to God, to pray. That is mitzvah, of course. But perhaps we need to turn away from that mitzvah sometimes to do another mitzvah and assist a congregant or someone who may be visiting our community.

Abraham turned away from God to see the face of God in the strangers; we must see the face of God in each and every one of our fellow Library Minyaners and know when we accommodate them, we are acting Godly.

Shabbat Shalom.

Noach

By Judy Weintraub, October 13, 2018

The Window- TSOhar- 6:16 The word for window, Chalon, is attested 31 times in the TANACH.        TSOHAR? EXACTLY 1 time

In fact a few chapters later the word chalon is mentioned in reference to letting out the raven

Baal Shem Tov: no sun and no moon… there was no external light! This opening then, must be referring to a different kind of light – a spiritual light

 Each of us to Hashem  we must take that step –in all 3 situations- (PS 118 Min HaMetzr) Karati Ya
Our light upward… Hashem’s light down to us

Each of us to community
Our light to each other as individuals. Allowing our light to shine
Our light to our community… Our communities light to us

SOS program Rabbi .Efrem Goldberg Sr Rabbi at Boca Raton synag, FL believes so much in Community and Clal Yisrael that he has a full-time Rabbi doing outreach work through various projects one of those projects – Share One Shabbos. In this program members are asked to open their homes to people they don’t know or they don’t know well twice a year. There is no better way to build community than to share a meal in a warm and welcoming home

Each of us to the world  beyond our comfort zone-universality of R Kook, amodel for us – didn’t just see those with similar beliefs, supported Zionists, felt they had a very important function as part of the whole

SPECIFICATIONS – God gives explicit instructions-details are not random
Mishkan—-Beit Hamigdash—-TEIVA

Rabbi Avraham IBN Ezra-12^th cent Spanish philosopher, biblical commentator poet: Place where the LIGHT comes from -a ladder was needed to reach it- not so readily accessible- beyond automatic reach- need to expend energy —but always open-

 Opening in the shape of a triangle- 1 measure wide on the top and 6 measures wide on the bottom. A triangle with a solid base- where else do we see that triangle- the Mogen David- with the midrash of humanity striving upward to know God by doing Mitzvot

Here to complete CREATION- but can’t do that w/o light that comes from TZOHAR.

RASHI: Tsohar=  WINDOW & PRECIOUS STONE RADIATING- access to the light coming in to us- our openness to sending our light outside
LIGHT within LIGHT               LIGHT within  DARK

Is it more challenging to see the light when times are blessed- to keep in mind the source of the blessing to remain grateful and humble- to understand the connectedness of humanity and to share the blessings with others

And let’s look at the DARK

RABBI ELIE MINK: Call of the Torah comb  classic commentary, Kabbalistic thought and his own insights.- offers his own thoughts

USING THE LIGHT FROM WITHIN TO ILLUMINATE THE DARKNESS

Another twist: Seeing the light and being open to it uplifting you—EMUNAH=faith
REB NACHMAN of Bretzlov, Aleph Bet Book—SEFER HAMIDOT
A14: Gazing at the sky when it is clear and bright will bring you to faith in the Rabbis (as the Rabbis)

REMEMBER: The window is the opening from the narrow space to the BIG space

Aviva Zornberg describes the Ark as a small enclosed safe space – Why a window if heading into a huge storm-Why do we need that window?

Window allows light to come in us and for light to go out and for us to see out and interpret – a communication between the internal and external world

Midrash Tanhuma:
Noach’s prayer was release my soul from enclosure: our souls can be caught in all kinds of enclosures

WE NEED THAT WINDOW! We need to find, as Zornburg says, our OBJECTIVE reality and our optimal place within it.

REB Nachman of Bretslov offers this beautiful drash on the opening-
Our Bodies- our souls- our essence within our dwellings-within our TEIVAH- we have the challenge of constructing our lives- we are challenged to create a WINDOW for our ark- to allow light in –to let ours flow thru- to make a space for our dove to fly out – to maintain a flow of communication between ourselves and with God, with those we love, with our community, & with the world – to use OUR TSOhar- our precious stone – OUR source of LIGHT-

The window is not just there, but ours to CREATE- it is part of our free will to do it or not- it doesn’t just happen passively- From the Torah we are given the wisdom- TSOHAR TA’ASEH L’TEVAH–AN OPENING shall you create-may we all create our tsohar – our window- our precious stone that RADIATES LIGHT and may we use it well