Congregation Bnai Israel
10-10 Norma Ave
Fair Lawn, NJ 07410
Phone: 201 796-5040
Fax: 201 796-2415
Rabbi Ronald Roth
rabbi@fljc.com
Cantor Eric Wasser
elw613@optonline.net
Executive Director
June Aranoff
thefljc@aol.com
June Aranoff
Nursery School Director
Rona Klein
201-796-9434
fljcgan@aol.com
Rona Klein
201-796-9434
Religious School Director
Judy Gutin
principal.fljc@gmail.com
Judy Gutin
Phone: 201-796-7884
Rabbi's Study
Rabbi Ronald Roth was born in Far Rockaway, Queens and spent his childhood in Brooklyn, New York. He graduated from Cornell University with a BA in theatre arts. While he grew up in a non-observant home, he was greatly influenced by the Cornell Hillel Rabbi, Morris Goldfarb, as well as the Rabbi of the Town and Village Synagogue in Manhattan, Stephen Lerner.
Rabbi Roth with Rep. Steve
Rothman at Rep. Rothman's
Washington office. More...
Rabbi Ronald Roth on You Tube commenting on the Mitzvah InitiativeTransliteration for Friday Night Services (pdf)Rabbi's Study Archives
What Does it Mean to say that, "The Lord is a man of war"?
Here's a phrase from the Torah this week that may be unfamiliar to you. After the splitting of the Sea of Reeds (or Red Sea as it is sometimes called), and after Pharaoh's army drowns in its waters, in the Song at the Sea (Shirat HaYam) we read, "The Lord is a man of war." (Exodus 15:30). There are many ways that God is described in the Bible. God speaks and hears in the Torah, yet God does not have a mouth or ears. God is called "He" yet God is neither male nor female. We humans have to use metaphors to describe God who is beyond our cognition. Therefore, what does it mean to say then that God is a "man of war?" Doesn't God hate war? Does God battle on one side of wars? The Torah indicates that God battles against the enemies of Israel who are also the enemies of God. In such conflicts the continued existence of Israel is at stake and God is involved in them. In more recent times we know how Israelhas fought in many wars for its survival. Here are the words of Yitzak Rabin, who fought in those wars and who was assassinated shortly after singing a song of peace, "...we wanted nothing to do with war. It was forced upon us by countries and by organizations that wanted - and some of which still want - to destroy us. We ended every war as victors. We came out of every war wounded. The scars of wars stay with us." This attitude expresses the tragic necessity of war and the harm it causes. Let us hope that there will be a time when we no longer think of God as a warrior. In the Talmud we read that "the name of God is 'Peace (Shalom)" (Perek ha-Shalom, Shabbat 10b). I pray that war will become obsolete and all humanity will imagine only one name for God and that appellation would be, "Shalom."
Just How Dark Was It in Egypt?
The ninth plague that struck Egypt is described in the following words, "People could not see one another, and for three days no one would get up from where he was; but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings." (Exodus 10:23). Here are two comments that attempt to understand the exact nature of this plague. They both propose that it was not something that could be removed by simply lighting a lamp. The Italian Jewish commentator Sforno, of the 16th century says, "...[it was] a distinct phenomena, something entirely different, with real substance - "a darkness that could be felt" - and no light therefore could dispel it." If it was not just a visual effect but something else, what was it? A commentary called Eshkol Ma'amarim, suggests a metaphorical meaning, "When a person does not see another, or chooses not to see him, darkness descends on the world." It was an inability to see or relate to others. It was like placing every Egyptian in solitary confinement, utterly alone, a severe punishment that can lead to despair, and destroy any type of community. It isolates each person and eliminates involvement in the lives of others. Today we can remove the darkness with our technology, but let's hope we never are plagued with an inability to see, and care for those around us.
Human Beings Are Meant to be Free
As read about the Exodus in the Torah this week, beginning with the first plagues that struck Egypt, I think of words written by Rabbi Irving Greenberg, also appropriate when we celebrate the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. Rabbi Greenberg wrote, "The overwhelming majority of earth's human beings have always lived in poverty and under oppression...Power, rather than justice seems always to rule. Jewish religion affirms otherwise; much of what passes for the norm of human existence is really a deviation from ultimate reality." (The Jewish Way, p. 34). He reminds us that our ancestors' Exodus from Egypt teaches that all human beings are meant to be free. It is an insult to God to oppress others.
Just as the Book of Genesis begins by telling us that God is the God of nature, the Book of Exodus declares that God is the God of history. We recall the Exodus on Passover, and we also declare every week that Shabbat is "zecher litziat Mitzrayim - a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt," in our Kiddush. The Exodus is not just a onetime historical event, but a constant prompt reminding us that human beings are not to be subjugated. It was a theme that was frequently recalled during the struggle for civil rights for African Americans and a major part of our heritage to all humanity.
What qualifies or disqualifies a person to be a leader?
When God speaks to Moses and asks him to go to Pharaoh demanding freedom for his people, Moses responds, "Please, my Lord, I'm not a man of words...I'm heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue." (Exodus 4:10). There are a number of classic interpretations of the exact meaning of those words. Some suggest that Moses stuttered. The Midrash describes a speech impediment that resulted from Moses burning his tongue in his infancy in the Egyptian palace. Maybe Moses believes he is not an eloquent orator, although he does express himself well later on in the Torah. Dr. Richard Elliott Friedman, in his Commentary on the Torah (p. 181), suggests a novel interpretation based on the use of the Hebrew word translated as "heavy of mouth." He demonstrates how that phrase in other places in the Bible refers to "nations who speak foreign languages... [in other words, perhaps Moses] does not yet speak Hebrew!" Dr. Friedman notes that God's choice of a leader with a significant deficiency, no matter what it is, teaches us that God can work through anyone. Perhaps "...it takes divine insight to comprehend what would make someone the best person for a task...one should not judge a person's ability to do a task too hastily or by the most obvious characteristics." That is a good lesson for today. A thirty second television ad or a campaign leaflet is not the best way to understand whether or not a candidate is worthy of my vote. I lost track of the number of color flyers I received in the mail before the election last November. Every one of them went immediately into my recycling bin. I tend to question almost anything that I see or hear about a candidate in a negative television commercial. We may need great insight to understand candidates for political office or even judge other people. Our greatest leader, Moses, is a prime example of how the lack of one skill, oratory, did not disqualify a person from leadership and doing God's work.
A Hope for those who mourn
Sadly we have experienced a series of deaths in our congregation during the past few weeks and this week we read in our Torah portion about the death of our patriarch Jacob. I want to comment on the traditional phrase we say to those who are mourning. Before leaving the mourner at that the cemetery or when making a shiva visit we say to him/her, “Hamakon yinachem etchem b’toch sh’ar aveilei Tzion virushalaim,” which means “May God comfort you together with all other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.” In that phrase we use the Hebrew word “Hamakom” to refer to God. That word literally means “The Place” and refers to God as being in all places or simply as “The Omnipresent.” Why do we use that word when comforting a mourner? There are many other Hebrew words that refer to God. Often when a person has suffered a loss, he or she feels that God has abandoned him/her or that there is no God. Very often a mourner is angry with God. We therefore are expressing a hope that the mourner, even, in grief will not be in a place that is devoid of God. We hope that at some point, even if it is not true at the moment, he/she will be able to find a place where God’s presence can be felt, and help to comfort the mourner for his/her loss.
Imagine a Jewish parent saying with pride, "My child is a shepherd."
When Joseph's brothers join him in Egypt, he advises them to tell Pharaoh that they are "Breeders of livestock...for all shepherds are abhorrent to Egyptians." (Genesis 46:33) The brothers violate Joseph's instructions and tell Pharaoh that, "We your servants are shepherds, as were our fathers" (Genesis 47:3). We can speculate as to why the brothers disobeyed Joseph. However, I would prefer to comment on that fact that many of the great leaders of our people in Biblical times were shepherds. Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the chief Rabbi of the Jews of pre state Israel during the British mandate, asks why three of our greatest leaders Joseph, Moses and David were shepherds. He suggests that the occupation of their early years prepared them for their roles later on. He points out that "Shepherding is a lifestyle that allows for reflection and inner contemplation. The labor is not intensive...the shepherd remains in constant contact with the real world. His reflections are sound, based on reality. He does not delve in artificial philosophies detached from life." I admit that I would not encourage people today to become shepherds. I understand that there are not as many openings in that field as there used to be and the pay is not so high. Few of us today would brag about, "Our son or daughter the shepherd." However, as we think about leaders for our people and our nation we could do well to choose a person who spends time on inner contemplation and one whose political positions are based on reality and not some purely abstract political philosophy. Let's hope that our leaders will have those traits even if they don't watch sheep.
It's Not About the Gift - It's the Concept Behind It that Matters!
Would it be odd for a Rabbi to say, "I hope you have finished your Hanukkah shopping. It you have not - it's too late." Is that making the giving of gifts too central to our celebration of the miracle of the oil? Many of us, myself included, recall that during our childhood our grandparents would give us a few dollars of Hanukkah gelt. Usually I spent it quickly at the local toy store. Unfortunately, we sometimes hear that Jewish children speak of Hanukkah as their favorite Jewish holiday, not because they want to recall Judah Maccabee, but because of the presents. So when I read the following I was pleased to know that the giving of gifts at this time of year is not just following the customs of our culture. Rabbi Alan Lucas, in a forthcoming book that will explain how Conservative Jews observe Jewish traditions says, "The giving of gifts in the days and weeks around the winter solstice, when daylight is minimal and the weather is cold and unpleasant, is part of many cultures...The point is clear. Giving gifts is a sign of confidence in the future and the eventual arrival of spring; one can afford to be generous with one's stores, since one clearly believes they soon will be replenished." So when we give presents, and I would add tzedakkah at this season, it not just because our society overemphasizes it. That shows our faith in the future. Isn't that what the Maccabees did when they lit the oil that could only last for one day? They had faith not in the inevitable arrival of spring, but confidence in God and the future of our people.
Sorry, Filet Mignon is Not Kosher - And It's Not Just About Food!
Our Torah portion begins as Jacob is returning home to Israel and is about to encounter his brother Esau. During the night Jacob wrestles with what the Torah calls a "man." The "man" or angel grabs Jacob's thigh and injures him. The sun rises, Jacob, is blessed, and his name is changed to Israel. Then limping along, he goes forward to meet Esau. The Torah then tells us that this injury to our patriarch is why we do not eat the gid hanesheh, the sciatic nerve in the hind quarter of animals. That means, many cuts of beef are not kosher including filet mignon. (In some Jewish communities that nerve is removed by a skilled butcher, so other cuts of beef are available, but that is not common in the United States.) Many Rabbis have seen in this passage not only a dietary restriction, but also a moral lesson. Rabbi Allen Kensky says, that when we read of an injured Jacob, we are reminded of how we can identify with him. "...The Gid Hanesheh speaks to all of us who are wounded, who carry scars and pains from the past. It reminds us that we can overcome these wounds, and as our ancestor Jacob did, march to a better future." Our deficiencies need not prevent us from reaching our goals. We struggle with them, but with God's help, we pray that we can overcome them, just as our flawed patriarch, Jacob did. He rose in the morning. He limped, but still he was able to be reconciled with Esau, his brother. Reminder from Rabbi Roth - I hope you will bring in your donation for the MITZVAH INITIATIVE PROJECT: EMERGENCY SUPPLY PACKAGES - see below. It is a significant way to help those in need in our community.
It's Time To Go - I Don't Like What I Am Becoming
In our Torah portion Jacob leaves his family, travels to Abraham's original homeland where he meets and marries Rachel and Leah. He works for his wives' father, Laban, for many years and then decides to return home with his family because, as he says to his wives, "I have noticed that your father's disposition is not toward me as it was in earlier days." The traditional assumption among the commentators is that Jacob noticed a change in Laban's behavior. His father- in - law was becoming hostile to him and it was time to go. One commentator suggests a different interpretation based on a close reading of the Hebrew words in the Biblical text. He suggests that what Jacob notices is not a change in his fathe r- in - law, but in himself. Jacob was saying to his wives that in the past when he looked at their father, he saw the evil in him and it was repellent. Now Jacob seems to be more tolerant of Laban, who does not appear to be as wicked as he once did. Sensing this inner change, Jacob fears that remaining near Laban will corrupt him even more. In a similar vein, Rabbi Abraham Twerski remarks that, "The first time something unethical or scandalous occurs we react with vehemence As the same act is repeated it loses its opprobrium. Indeed the Talmud says that when a person commits the same sin several times, he or she may not longer recognize it as a sin (Yoma 86a)" . There is a story of a man who was walking around in a community with a placard that read, "Sinners: Repent your evil ways." Someone asked him, "Do you really think you are going to change this community?" The man answered, "No but my protesting will help me avoid becoming like them." Evil does not change its character when it is repeated. We must not become habituated to it. I wonder if some of the recent scandals in the financial world, and at universities could have been stopped earlier if more people were repelled immediately by the wrongs they witnessed.
Jewish Prayer is Always in the Plural - Except When it is Not
Some of you may recall a lesson you learned at some point in your Jewish education, that Jewish prayer is usually expressed in the plural. We are a communal people. We require ten Jews, a minyan, in order to recite certain prayers. When we speak of God we most often say “Our God” and not “My God.” However there are a number of exceptions to this rule and one of the most notable is the following simple daily prayer that has special resonance this week. “I am grateful to You, the living, enduring Sovereign, for restoring my soul to me in compassion. You are faithful beyond measure.” That prayer, often know by its first Hebrew words, Modeh Ani, is said in the first person singular, and is recited immediately upon waking. In a commentary to our prayer book, Or Hadash, we read that, “…nothing is to be taken for granted, certainly not life itself. The first words of this prayer are perhaps the most important Modeh Ani [means] I am thankful. [emphasis added] The essence of prayer is the grateful acknowledgement of the gifts we have been given. (Rabbi Reuven Hammer). That prayer is a reminder that each of us should feel an individual obligation to express appreciation. What gifts have you been given? What personal words of thanksgiving would be appropriate for you to say this week? I hope all of you enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday with family and friends, and also feel a personal responsibility to thank those around you directly. It is not only our Rabbis but psychologists who emphasize individuals expressing thanks. They say, according to the New York Times this week, that there is a direct connection between giving thanks and better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety, and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others, including romantic partners. Modeh Ani is a daily reminder of that lesson. We start each day thanking God, and then we can continue by individually thanking those around us. Fulfilling our religious obligations can lead us to a path to a better life.
The Life of Sarah or the Death of Sarah
This week our Torah portion is called “Haye Sarah - The Life of Sarah.” That is a bit odd since it tells us about the death of Sarah and how Abraham buys a place for her burial. That title of the reading also reminds us of how in Jewish life we recall people on their yahrtzeit, the anniversary of their death and not on their birthday. We celebrate the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln on Presidents’ Day in February, but we recall Moses on his yahrzteit, the seventh of Adar, and our deceased relatives on their yahrtzeits. The only birthday that is mentioned in the Torah is the birthday of Pharaoh, a non Jewish ruler. What is the point of recalling the day a life ended as opposed to the day when it began? At times in a eulogy, I have quoted from the Book of Ecclesiastes, “Better is the day of death, than the day of birth.” (7:1). Then I add the following Midrash that expands that verse with the following words, “When a person is born, no one knows if his deeds will be good or not; when he dies the world knows his deeds. R. Levi said, ‘To what can this be compared? Two boats are in the harbor, one leaving on a voyage and one coming home after a voyage. People shout for joy for the one coming in. Someone asks, surprised, ‘You shout for this one and not for that one.’ They answered, ‘We shout for this one because it went out in peace and returned in peace. But for that one, we do not know what the future will bring.’ So too, when a baby is born, no one knows his future deeds. Only at the end of this life do we know his deeds.” What will be said about each of us at the end of our lives? We can make good choices every day. Then at the end of our lives while there will be grief, it can be eased by the memories of the good deeds we accomplished, just as Abraham was comforted by his memories of the life of Sarah after she died.
Sometimes All the News is Not Fit to Broadcast
God decides to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah in our Torah portion this week. Angels warn Lot, Abraham's relative, to flee from those cities and save his family. As they escape, we read, "Lot's wife looked back and she turned into a pillar of salt." (Gen. 19:26) Why did she become a pillar of salt? What was her sin? A modern Jewish commentator Judith Antonelli, tries to make sense of this passage in her book In the Image of God: A Feminist Commentary on the Torah. She points out that it is wrong to look at a tragedy while it is happening. It is inappropriate to look at other people in pain, especially when one is surviving the same tragedy. Antonelli writes, "The concept that there are certain things at which one should not look is the antithesis of acceptable behavior in our modern society, which validates voyeurism as a "normal" activity." There are two other examples of this in the Torah. When Noah built the ark, God tells him to construct it with only one window on the top and none on the sides. Noah and his family could not sit and watch the flood cause death and destruction. When the death of the first born Egyptians occurred as the tenth plague in Egypt, our ancestors were in their homes. They neither caused nor witnessed the deaths that struck the homes of the taskmasters. Today we see too much violence in the media. With the advent of video cameras in our cell phones and the proliferation of security cameras, many brutal acts are broadcast on the daily news. I don't advocate censorship but consistent with this interpretation of the Torah, I suggest we would be better off understanding that some matters are not appropriate for public viewing. Imagine a newscaster who did not say, "The following report contains graphic images," but told us that, "In the interest of decency, we will not show the material that is available." I would applaud such a statement and want to watch that broadcast.
Build An Ark - But First Plant A Tree
When God tells Noah that a flood will destroy the world, Noah obeys God's command and builds an ark. However, the Bible does not indicate that Noah questioned God's decision to drown everyone except the members of his family. He did not warn people to repent, change their evil ways and perhaps forestall their annihilation. In a marked contrast, when God tells Abraham that the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are to be obliterated, Abraham protests saying that the righteous should not be killed along with the evil. Abraham argues with God and eventually, God agrees that if there are ten righteous people in those cities, they will be spared. Noah, however, is silent. The Rabbis of ancient times, in the Midrash, create a better Noah. According to one of their interpretations, after God tells Noah to build the ark, he first plants cedar trees. He intends to construct the ark from their wood. It takes one hundred and twenty years for the trees to mature. Noah hopes that all those around him will wonder why he planted those trees. That will give him the opportunity to warn his neighbors about the impending flood and change their evil ways. However, that does not happen. Instead Noah is mocked. The inhabitants of the world, except for Noah and his family, die in the flood. The Rabbis want Noah to be more righteous and have more concern for those around him. That is a lesson that Abraham knew and one I hope we would all heed, to act and help save those around us when we know of an impending disaster. It sounds so obvious, but Noah, according to the Biblical text, does not follow that lesson. So we can ask ourselves, what would we do - just build the ark, or start planting trees?
Why do we fast on Yom Kippur? The Torah tells us that it is a day when we should "afflict our souls." (Numbers 29:7) Not eating or drinking is part of that command. There are many reasons that scholars have given our fast. One interpretation says, that we fast as a means of penance. It is an act to show we are truly sorry for the sins we have committed over the past year and we deserve to be punished. Others, see it as an act of self discipline. Often sins are the result of our inability to control our urges. For one full day we control a basic urge eating, one that we satisfy three or more times a day. If we can do that, can't we have power over all of those other urges that lead to sin? Fasting also removes us from the physical world and helps us concentrate on the spiritual. Judaism generally is not an ascetic religion. We do not deny physical urges but make them holy. Kashrut turns our need for food into a sacred path several times a day. But for one day we are more concerned with the holy than the physical. Finally, we willingly fast as a sign of our compassion for those who do not eat because they are needy and poor. The Haftorah for Yom Kippur from the prophet Isaiah, makes that point explicitly. He says that the purpose of our rituals, such as fasting, is to influence our ethical behavior, feeding the hungry. I hope you have brought in food for our food drive. The need is very great this year as the shelves of our local food banks are nearly empty. For whatever reasons you find compelling, I hope you have an easy fast and are inscribed and sealed into the Book of Life for a good new year.
You can't say, "It's not my fault! I'm not good at Torah."
We know that each of us has different talents and abilities. Most of us get higher scores in either the reading, or math parts of the SAT exams. Often those who excel in one field of study struggle in others. That is why some colleges offer a course nicknamed "Physics for Poets," so that students not majoring in science can satisfy their requirements for graduation. This week the Torah says, that we can't claim to be "not good at Torah," unlike people who say they are "not good at math." Moses tells the Israelites that "...Surely this Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach...Nothing is very close to you - in your mouth and in your heart to observe it." (Deuteronomy 30;11-14). How difficult is it to study Torah or to learn more about Judaism? The Torah to use a cliché, is an open book, if one truly wants to learn. In the ancient world, religious knowledge was often arcane and restricted to a few people. In opposition to that, we say that the Torah is the inheritance of all Jews. Especially today with so many books available in English, with so many adult education classes and Jewish web sites there are no impediments to anyone who wants to increase their Jewish knowledge. As the Kotzker Rebbe said, "The Sages teach us that we should not believe the man who professes to have labored hard in the study of Torah and found himself unable to comprehend it." We are all capable of being good at Torah.
The Pursuit of Happiness or the Happiness of Pursuit
How and where do we find happiness? In the Torah portion we read that Moses tells our ancestors they should “…rejoice before the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 27:2-8) We can easily think of the many times that joy and happiness are part of Jewish life. We call a life cycle celebration a “simchah” – a joy. When we finish reading the annual cycle of Torah readings we come together for “Simchat Torah,” the happiness of the Torah. How do we become happy? Rabbi Mordecai Gafni suggests that we Americans understand happiness backwards. He writes in Soul Prints, “The problem with that notion [here he cites the famous phrase from our Constitution that we have an inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness] is this: Happiness cannot be pursued. When we pursue happiness, it always runs away from us. Instead we must pursue goals other than happiness, and as a natural by-product of that pursuit, we will be happy.” The verse in the Torah that I quoted says that we will be happy when we are following what God wants us to do. You could think of some of the most joyous moments of your life. How would you rate watching a Woody Allen film to being present at the birth of a child? Both will bring a smile but which one creates true happiness? When we achieve a difficult and demanding goal that too is a time to rejoice with deeper feeling than going to a bar during “happy hour.” Following the Torah, God’s plan for us, is a source of joy. Deeply felt happiness is the result of attaining worthwhile goals. I hope we are often able to discover that happiness is pursuing us at such times.
How Large Is One Can of Tuna? How Many Months in a Year?
In our Torah portion we are told that business people must be scrupulously honest. "You shall not have in your pouch alternate weights, larger and smaller. You may not have in your house alternate measures, larger and smaller. You must have completely honest weights and completely honest measures, if you are to endure long on the soil that the Lord your God is giving you." (Deuteronomy 25:13-15). The Rabbis even say that when a person dies and is brought to judgment the first question the heavenly court will ask is, "Did you conduct your business honestly?" (Talmud Shabbat 31a) Today we expect that there are government inspectors to be sure that the gas pumps give us a full gallon when filling our tanks and that the scales that weigh produce in the supermarket are accurate. My colleague, Rabbi Joyce Newmark, asks a modern question about this passage, "Today manufacturers often disguise price increases by reducing the amount of product in each container - a can of coffee that once held one pound now holds twelve ounces..." She gives other examples and asks, is that practice a violation of the Torah? I think of the shrinking size of tuna cans that once held two portions and now hold about one and a quarter portions or less. I recently paid for what I thought was a renewal for a year's subscription to a magazine. Then I noticed that the expiration date on my first new issue was only ten months from the date I resubscribed. I suppose it is not a total violation if the package is marked clearly with the new size, but perhaps it should read, "New packaging-you pay more for less!" or "This package is the same size - but only half full - we don't charge you for the extra air!" The magazine could have said, "We defy the laws of nature - a year is now only ten months!" We can't legislate intent, and it is not deceit to make those changes, but I would prefer that the consumer be made more aware of them, consistent with the spirit of those verses from the Torah.
Should Congress Study the Wisdom of the Ancient Rabbis?
The word “Justice” appears twice in verse 16:20, “Justice, Justice you shall pursue.” Why is the word “justice” repeated? Here is one answer from the Talmud that might be useful to teach to our representatives in Washington: “R. Ashi said: One [use of the word “Justice”] refers to a decision based on strict law, the other to a compromise. As it has been taught: Justice, justice shall you pursue; the first [mention of justice] refers to a decision based on strict law; the second, to a compromise. How so? — E.g., where two boats sailing on a river meet; If both attempt to pass simultaneously, both will sink, whereas, if one makes way for the other, both can pass [without mishap].” Here the opposite of a compromise is a disaster for all. The Rabbis understood that there are times when we should defer to others. In this example it does not matter which of the two boats has the right of way, which one is further from home, which one has a heavier load, or which one has passengers of a higher status. Without compromise, there will be a tragedy. I know there are times when one stands for a principle that is not up for compromise, but our political system is usually like the two boats in this example. I hope that it will be so in the future. We cannot afford a catastrophe because one side is blind to the outcome of their obstinacy.
Should I Say A Blessing First?
Here’s an easy question, what blessing do you recite before lighting the Hanukah candles? Similarly you could tell me how to recite hamotzi, the blessing we say before eating bread. This next question may be a bit harder: What blessing do we recite before fulfilling the mitzvah of tzedakkah, giving to the needy? After all helping the poor is clearly a commandment from the Torah as we read, “If, however, there is a needy person among you, in any of your settlements in the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kinsman, rather you must open your hand…” (Deuteronomy 15:7-8). I admit this is a trick question. The answer is that there is no blessing that we say when we help those in need. Why? One answer is of a technical nature. What if the poor person refuses to take your tzedakkah? Then you will have recited a blessing and said God’s name in vain, for you did not complete the action you began with the blessing. That is to be avoided. Here are two reasons I prefer. Rabbi Mendel of Rimanov says that “A person has to be totally at ease with himself and joyful in order to recite a blessing. In most cases, a person is not totally at ease with giving away his money and the money is given begrudgingly.” Or as Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Greenberg points out, “As you can only give tzedakkah if there is a poor person to give it to, it is improper to recite a blessing at another person’s misfortune.” Here we have the usual rules of Jewish life suspended. There is no blessing for an act demanded by the Torah. While there is no one right answer to this, I like to think that we are not giving away our money reluctantly but that we are sensitive to the feelings of the recipient. Concern for the dignity of the poor trumps our need to be aware of God at the moment we fulfill God’s will and give to those in need.
Let’s Make A Deal
I was never a great fan of Let’s Make A Deal. However I once heard Monty Hall, the host of the television program, speak about his involvement in Jewish life in Hollywood. He mentioned that he knew about the level of Jewish commitment of all the Jewish stars in Hollywood, because he was a fund raiser, and he, “…saw all their pledge cards to the United Jewish Appeal!” There is another connection to making a deal and Jewish life in our Torah portion where we read, “For the Lord your God is God supreme, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who shows no favor, and takes no bribe.” (Deuteronomy 10:17). What type of bribe could God possibly take? Here is a Rabbinic commentary, “Our masters taught, ‘Do not take bribes.’ (Exodus 23:8). It goes without saying that a bribe of money is prohibited, but even a bribe of beguiling words is prohibited for Torah says, ‘Do not take [monetary gain]’ Talmud Ketubot 105b. Do we try to bribe God with our words? Unlike Let’s Make A Deal our bargains with God are not about choosing Door Number One or Door Number Two, but may involve promises that we will change our behavior (“I will start going to synagogue more often!”) if we pass through some danger or are granted a wish (“If I win Power Ball I’ll give half my winnings in the lottery to the shul!”) Isn’t that a form of attempted bribery? In fact I can’t say that I am immune to such thoughts. Let’s try to be honest in our prayers and words to God and recognize that God shows no favor. God listens to our prayers but we cannot manipulate God to automatically follow our will. Let’s hope that in times of need we won’t try to bribe God and that God will be with us to strengthen us whether or not our prayers are answered.
Towards the end of our Torah portion we read the following, "Do what is right and good in the sight of the Lord..." Why do we need this additional advice? What exactly is it talking about? Rashi, the classic commentator, says the following about these words, "This implies compromise beyond the letter of the law." Sometimes a society is not served best by strictly following the demands of the legal system. This is illustrated in the following story from the Talmud, "Rabbah Bar Bar-Chana had a barrel of wine broken through the negligence of laborers hired to transport the wine. Rabbah seized the laborers' cloaks as a lien for damages, something permissible by law. The laborers complained to the great master, Rav, who directed Rabbah to return the cloaks. Rabbah asked Rav: "Is this then the law?" And Rav answered: "Yes, for it is written, 'That you shall walk in the path of the virtuous'" (Psalms 2:20). Rabbah returned the cloaks. The laborers then said to Rav: "We are poor, we have labored all day and we are hungry, but we have not the means to purchase food." Rav thereupon said to Rabbah: "Pay them their hire." Rabbah asked: "Is this the law?" And Rav answered: "Yes, for it is written, 'And the paths of the righteous shall thou keep'" (Bava Metzia 83a). The plaintiffs had no claim based on the law. They were careless. Yet a society requires individuals who have a concern for moral demands that are not codified in writing. This week we commemorated the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, as well as many other disasters that have befallen our people on Tisha B'Av - the ninth day of the month of Av. One Rabbinic source says Jerusalem was destroyed because the judges of ancient times did not go "beyond the letter of the law." In any legal code justice and mercy exist side by side, but a wise judge will know when mercy needs to overrule strict justice. Few of us are judges, but in our own lives we often make judgments about others. There too, mercy should often be applied.
I once recall seeing a video training exercise about prejudice. Two men were speaking to a bank officer about a business loan. One was dressed as an auto mechanic and pointed out that people in his neighborhood were keeping their cars for longer periods of time because they could not afford to buy new ones. He had a solid business plan with him for an auto repair shop. The other applicant was a well dressed man who had only vague ideas about his proposal for a new company. The point of the video was to stress how much we are likely to have more positive feelings about people who are like ourselves. The second applicant, no surprise, appealed more to upper class viewers. The Torah portion this week reminds us that, "You shall not be partial in judgment: hear low and high alike." (Deuteronomy 1:17) This verse is about legal procedures and Rashi comments that, "... [a judge] should not say, "This litigant is poor, while his opponent is rich and is obligated to support him. I'll rule in favor of the poor man so that he can receive assistance under the presumption of innocence." Rashi also points out that a judge should not favor a wealthy person and rule in his favor out of concern for such a person's honor and then "...when we leave the courtroom [the judge tells the rich man who can afford it] to pay back his opponent, who should rightfully have won the case." While this text is specifically speaking about judicial procedure it also is a warning to us not to prejudge a person based on their income, appearance or social status, either in a positive or a negative direction. If all other factors were equal ask yourself: Whose loan application you would have approved in the example I began with? I would like to think that I would judge it objectively and hope that we all would do so as well.
Mapping our Physical and Spiritual Locations
Were I to tell you that on my vacation I traveled through the following locations in New York State and Canada: Corning, Henrietta, Niagara Falls, Lockport, Geneva and Ithaca, you might respond, "So what!" Those places may not have any meaning unless you attended Cornell University, in Ithaca, as I did. One might remind you of an old vaudeville routine with the straight man saying innocuously "Niagara Falls" and his sidekick responding with "Slowly I turned step by step, inch by inch...," and then pummeling his partner. Lists of places are not intrinsically full of meaning. Yet, we read in the Torah at the beginning of our portion, the names of forty places that our ancestors stopped during their many years of wandering in the wilderness from Egypt to the land or Israel. Why does the Torah give us such a long list of locations with names such as Ramses, Etham, Pi-hahirot, and Baal-zephon? Many commentators have tried to explain why we read such a detailed enumeration in the Torah. Isn't that more suited to a book about geography or archeology than in our most precious sacred writings that are our guide for living a holy life? One answer I like, is quoted by Maimonides, who points out that the list of places comes to remind us that our ancestors passed through many places that were uninhabitable and dangerous. We are reminded by naming them that the Israelites were constantly sustained by God's mercy. If you were to recite the locations where you lived in the journey of your life, there would be a number of different places. Can you recall how, in your life's journey you felt God's care in each place? Maybe some of the locations were dangerous and sites where God seemed distant and uncaring. As we map our past, both as individuals and as a people, I hope that our locations are not just places on a map, but also points of reference in our spiritual path, as they were for our ancestors.
What's With the Salt on the Challah?
At the end of Shabbat morning services, we invite the students to the bimah where Cantor Wasser, recites Kiddush. Then I ritually wash my hands, say the blessing for that mitzvah and put salt on the challah before I recite hamotzi. Many times I have been asked why I sprinkle that seasoning on the bread. I am tempted to say, "Because it tastes good," but seriously it is part of our tradition. Why? Here are a few reasons given by Rabbi Abraham Chill, in his book, The Minhagim, pp. 85-86: "1. We sprinkle salt on our bread to emphasize the similarity between the table at which we eat and the altar of Temple times, and between our food and the sacrifices. The Bible states: 'And with all your meal-offerings you shall offer salt' (Leviticus 2:13). 2. Salt reminds us that the poor should be welcome guests at a Jewish table. According to the Midrash, the people of Sodom were severely punished for their inhospitality by being turned into blocks of salt. 3. Salt is a common and inexpensive ingredient. When people are surrounded with plenty, they should give thought to more austere ways of living and remember that food is a gift from God." Here is the connection to our Torah portion. This week we read of an, "...everlasting covenant of salt before the Lord for you and your offspring as well." (Numbers 18:19) Rashi, the great Biblical commentator, says, "God entered into a covenant with Aaron, describing it by comparison with something which is healthy and lasting and makes others healthy. "Covenant (brit in Hebrew) of salt" means that like salt [a covenant with God] never spoils." There is no one "correct" answer to explain our use of salt on challah. I assume that the first one comparing our table to the altar in the ancient Temple, is most likely the original reason. Some of our laws and customs have many explanations. Salt connects us to our past and our values. Its molecule contains only two elements, but it has multiple meanings for Jewish life.
Those who live near our synagogue know that when their phone rings at 7:30 PM and the caller ID says "Fair Lawn Jewish Center/Congregation B'nai Israel" it is a call asking them to come to the synagogue to help us complete the ten people we need for a minyan. How do we know that there are ten in a minyan? This week in the Torah portion we read about twelve men who were sent out to spy out the land of Israel, before our ancestors entered it. Ten of them are discouraged and say that the land cannot be conquered. Then God says, "How much longer will this wicked community keep muttering against me?" (Numbers 14:26-27) The Rabbis of ancient times note that God calls the ten wicked spies a "community" and derive that a "community" must be comprised of at least ten. There are other texts, as well ,that are used to prove the point, but they all agree that ten is the minimum number of Jews present to publically proclaim the holiness of God and read prayers such as, the kaddish and the kedusha. The communal reading of the Torah also requires at least ten. Our congregation counts both men and women in the minyan. We Jews are a communal people. We celebrate and enhance our spirituality and joy with others. We don't follow a quote I have sometimes heard by Archbishop William Temple who said, "Your religion is what you do with your solitude." Judaism can only be fully practiced within the community. While we recognize the need of the individual to find his or her path to sanctity, it is in community that we become whole and holier.
Is It Ever Good to Forget?
There are several places in the Torah where we read about our festivals. This week Numbers 9:2 gives us rules about the Passover offering, "Let the Israelite people offer the Passover sacrifice in its set time." Why does the Torah repeat something that we have already been told in other books of the Torah? Is God nagging us? Here are some comments from the ancient Rabbis: Midrash Sifre, "...Why does Moses repeat the same injunction twice? Because he knows how forgetful people can be." Midrash Kohelet Rabbah states, "It is for our own good that we learn Torah and forget it; because if we studied Torah and never forgot it, the people would struggle with learning it for two or three years, resume ordinary work and never pay attention to it. But since we study Torah and forget it, we don't abandon its study." We place such an emphasis on memory in Jewish life, it is surprising to read that forgetfulness is both recognized as a common reality and even praised. Certainly there are events in our lives that we are better off forgetting. Personal slights and insults should not haunt us for too long. Yet we read that even forgetting sacred texts is not necessarily negative because it causes us to renew our studies. I would argue that by reviewing what we might have forgotten, we are also giving ourselves an opportunity to find new insights into the texts. Maybe I am drawn to this discussion of forgetting because it has been more than a few years since I was a student at the Jewish Theological Seminary. There, I was able to spend so much time in study and I know I have forgotten some of what I learned. Each year as I reread the Torah potions and the commentaries, I find new interpretations. Forgetfulness is an impetus for constant study. That is not a bad lesson this week as we also celebrated Shavuot, the giving or the Torah, and our obligation to keep the lessons of the Torah fresh in our lives.
The familiar words of the blessing of the Cohanim appear in our Torah portion this week. "The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord deal kindly with and graciously with you! The Lord bestow His favor upon you and grant you peace!" (Numbers 6:24-26) Most likely you have heard these words many times at synagogue services when they are recited in our daily prayers. I say them to each Bar/Bat mitzvah and to every couple at their wedding. They are used when parents bless their child(ren) before Shabbat dinner. The words are familiar, yet there is an important question raised about them. In ancient times, the Cohanim recited the blessing in front of a large gathering of people at the Temple in Jerusalem. However, the words are written in the singular in Hebrew, despite the fact that so many people were blessed. Why is that so? According to Rabbi Dovid Goldwasser in Something to Say, "...the reason is that it is not always possible or wise to give the same blessing to everyone. For example, rain maybe a blessing for a farmer, but a hindrance for a traveler. Only God knows precisely what blessing is appropriate for each of us." What blessing would each of us want to receive if we were truly blessed by God? What would really be good for us and good for those around us? Would many of us wish for material goods? I recall reading of many lottery winners who find out that the prize money did not solve all their problems. In some cases, they were worse off after winning than before. So imagine for a moment that you could have a single blessing. What would it be? And if God doesn't bless you with it, how can you help to realize it? Think for a moment: What is the singular blessing you and you alone need?
We read a simple verse about how our ancestors marched in the wilderness after they were freed from slavery in Egypt to go to the promised land of Israel. "The Israelites did accordingly just as the Lord had commanded Moses, so they camped by their banners, and so they marched, each with his clan according to his ancestral house." (Numbers 2:34) A question is asked about this verse by Rabbi Zalman, the Rabbi of Lutzk. He wants to know, "What was so great about this? [Why does the Torah have to tell us that they marched in the order that God asked them to march? Is it a big deal that they followed God's arrangement of the tribes? ]. He answered, It was not enough that they were satisfied with the banners, but they had no argument among them as to who would go first and who at the end, who in the East and who in the West - like what is found, to our sorrow, in our synagogues and study houses- but they accepted God's word willingly and they camped by their banners as Moses said." Some of you may know how difficult it is to arrange the seating at a wedding, or a bar mitzvah celebration. Some people don't want to be next to others. Others demand special honor and must occupy a prominent place. Synagogues can have similar issues when arranging the seating for a community dinner or distributing the honors for the High Holidays. In the Torah portion we read that all of the Israelites were satisfied with their place. Did that happen because God did the organizing? Perhaps there was a greater spirit of cooperation then. Maybe fewer individuals had inflated egos. We should learn from that arrangement of the tribes and be more accommodating and less concerned with our sense of self. Imagine how much easier that would make our lives, not just in creating seating arrangements for our own special events, but also in all places in our community.
In this week's Haftorah we read the following, "Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord alone." (Jeremiah 17:7). That verse can be understood in a variety of ways. Here is a comment from the Talmud, about whether or not that those in need should accept tzedakkah, communal funds, intended to help the poor. "What constitutes real trust in God?...A [poor] person who is not in need of tzedakkah but takes it anyway will not depart the world until he really does need to take it. And one who really needs to take tzedakkah but does not take, it will not die in old age until he supports others from his income. Of such a person it is written: 'Blessed is the man who trusts in God; whose trust is the Lord alone.'" (Jeremiah 17:7) (Mishnah Peah 8:9) According to this opinion, having trust in God means not accepting charity even when one needs it. One assumes that God, not charity from people, will provide for you. There is an objection raised to that position from the Jerusalem Talmud: "Rabbi Acha said in the name of Rabbi Hanina: 'But isn't it taught...Anyone who needs to take tzedakkah in order to survive and does not take it, should be compared to a person who sheds blood and it is forbidden to show such a person mercy.' Why? Because a person who does not have mercy on himself, certainly won't have mercy on others." (Jerusalem Talmud Peah Chapter 8) Here is an opposing opinion. The first text above suggests that if you are in financial need and refuse financial help, you are praiseworthy because you display trust in God. Such a person will eventually return to economic self sufficiency and be able to give tzedakkah to others. The second opinion claims that, one who is needy but refuses help has a bad attitude. He or she lacks compassion, for him or herself and for others. Which explanation is preferable? While some scholars try to find reasons for accepting both opinions, it seems clear to me and based on other Rabbinic sources, that we should not refuse help when we need it. We can both trust in God and also accept tzedakkah when it is offered.
I Pledge the Value of My House! - It is not as common as it once was, but I recall fundraising campaigns when people were asked to publicly pledge to a cause. The fundraiser would stand in front of a group and ask for donations. Similarly, we have our Israel Bonds Appeal with cards that have folding tabs, each printed with a specific amount. Imagine a person saying, or folding a tab with "I pledge the value of my home" to a holy cause. In our Torah portion that is mentioned, ""If anyone consecrates his house to the Lord, the priest assesses it." (Leviticus 27:14) In that way a person would donate his home to the sanctuary in Jerusalem. There was also an option of donating the value of the home, adding twenty percent of its price to the donation and retaining ownership of the house. Clearly this is an indication that there were those who wanted to be very generous to a holy cause. That level of giving may not seem realistic to us, so here is a homiletic interpretation of that verse. The Kotzker Rebbe, said, "When a person is involved in spiritual matters, it is relatively easy for him to do so in a sanctified state. But true holiness is when a person sanctifies the seemingly mundane daily activities of running his house. [When he "consecrates" what happens in his home.] When one behaves in an elevated manner in his own house, he is truly a holy person." Few people can give the value of their home to tzedakkah. It is not hard to act in a holy manner when we are in a synagogue. However, the more difficult task is to sanctify our actions at home and make our residence into places of holiness.
September 12, 2001 was a Wednesday. At the end of the morning service I recall reading the appropriate Psalm of the day, Psalm 94. During the time of the Mishnah, some two thousand years ago, a Psalm designated for each day of the week was recited at the Temple in Jerusalem. Those Psalms have been added to our daily liturgy. The Psalms for Friday, Shabbat and Sunday have a clear connection to the cycle of the week and the themes of those days in the Biblical creation story. Outside of those three Psalms it is hard to understand why a specific Psalm was chosen for its day. So there is no clear link between Psalm 94, the Psalm for Wednesday, and that day in the middle of the week. However, ten years ago I recall reading that Psalm's first verses as the rubble of the Twin Towers continued to smolder. "God of retribution - Lord, God of retribution, appear! Judge of the earth, punish the arrogant as they deserve. How long, Lord, how long shall the wicked exult? Swaggering boasting, they exude arrogance. They crush your people, Lord, and oppress your own. Widows and strangers they slay, orphans they murder." (Psalm 94:1-5) In 2001, as I read those verses, I literally had to pause and compose myself to continue to pray. This week there are other traditional words I turn to referring to the death of Osama bin Laden. Those words are yimach shmo v'zichrono, May his name be blotted out and his memory forgotten. Psalm 94 describes a world where evil is real. Towards the end of the Psalm we read, "Who will stand up for me against the ungodly? Who will take my part against evildoers?" Now as we live in a world without Osama bin Laden, yimach shmo v'zichrono, let's praise all of those who oppose evil, and pray for their continued success in the future.
This week we read one of the most well known phrases in the Torah, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." (Leviticus 19:18). That is only part of the Biblical verse. I recall many years ago, Rabbi Morris Goldfarb, the Hillel Rabbi at Cornell, liked to point out that we often forget the last words of that verse, "...I am the Lord." In the modern Jewish Publication Society translation, the punctuation is the following, "...Love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord." Clearly the use of a semi colon tells us that the two ideas are connected. (Remember that the text of the Torah has no punctuation.) Rabbi Goldfarb pointed out to me that the verse is reminding us of the connection between love of one's neighbor and acknowledgement of God. After all why should we love our neighbor? Or as I have heard someone say, "The author of that verse didn't have my neighbors." We cannot prove rationally that we should care about others and act towards them as we would want them to act towards ourselves. Maybe taking advantage of our neighbors would be in our best interests. Maybe we should ignore them. After all, why should we waste any of our energy on those outside our own family? "I am the Lord" in that verse says that there is a moral code beyond ourselves, and that morals are not the product of one or another set of rational calculations. Therefore we can recognize the bold statement of loving our neighbors.
At the end of the second Seder we begin the counting of the omer, literally counting the forty nine days from Passover to Shavuot as the Torah states, "...you shall count off seven complete weeks." (Leviticus 23:15) Connecting the time of our liberation from Egyptian slavery to the commemoration of the giving of the Torah on Shavuot reminds us that the purpose of our freedom is to receive and follow the Torah. It also reminds us of the importance of counting each day in our own lives. Rabbi Chaim Zuckerman in Otzar HaCHayim states that "So too, each of a person's days and years should be important to him so that none of them are ever wasted. Each second is precious because once it has passed it is gone forever can never be retrieved...It has been already been explained that the seven weeks symbolizes the seven decades of a person's life." During the omer period, we are supposed to say a blessing each day and then note the number of days that have passed since the counting begin. I hope that we can also think of the blessings that are given to us each day of the year, whether or not it is during this time of conscious counting and blessing.
Here is a question you can pose at our Seder: Why do we spill wine from our cups when we mention the plagues? Often people will answer by saying that it is an indication that the joy of our redemption is not complete because it was brought about through the suffering of the Egyptians. The book of Proverbs 24:17 say’s, "When your enemy falls do not exult." There is a comment with a totally different way to understand this custom by Jacob Ben Moses Moellin (circa 1360-1427), of Germany. He writes, "It is as if to say we were saved from all this [i.e. the plagues]. And it will be brought upon those who hate us. These very cups [now symbolically purged of ill fortune] represent the success of Israel." I suggest that at your Seder you bring these two comments and ask your guests which one they prefer and why. Ask them which of these they would put in a Haggadah if there was room for only one explanation. Are we saddened by the agony of our enemies, or hope that they will be punished and we will be spared suffering? Ask your quests how they would you feel if Ahmadinejad or Ghaddafi were overthrown? And consider which is more important: concern for our enemies or reducing the suffering of our people? Such discussion can enliven your Seder and add to your understanding of Passover. I wish all of you a joyful holiday.
There are a number of unusual laws in our Torah reading about a house that is afflicted with tzara'at, some type of mold that appears on its walls. We certainly know the hazards of mold today and how it can destroy a home. The stain on the walls of a house described in the Torah has been called a matter that is "...caused by damp and its existence is indicated by mold which is usually green or red." (Gersonides - 14th century France). If we read the Torah carefully however, we will see that what is described does not reflect the reality of any known moldy affliction. The Rabbis of ancient times were aware of this and said, "The afflicted house never was and never will be. Why then is it written? That we might examine it, and receive a reward for doing so. And similarly with the stoning of the rebellious son - Deuteronomy 21:18-21 and similarly with the destruction of the idolatrous city - Deuteronomy 13:13-19." (Talmud Sanhedrin 71a). The Rabbis understood that certain parts of the Torah were not reflective of reality and other sections were not consistent with the morals of the Torah as a whole. They said those passages were not to be taken literally. They are there for study. We read the words, and discern their literal and symbolic meanings. Doing so enhances our understanding of the Divine word, and is a rewarding intellectual and spiritual experience. For example our homes may not be infected with mold, but what values seep into our dwellings? Are there matters that we should expunge from our dwellings to purify our lives? That is a reality we would do well to ponder.
If the Kohen sees that the person with tzara-at [some type of scaly skin infection that corresponds to no known illness - it is usually mistranslated as leprosy] has been healed of his scaly affection, the priest shall order two live pure birds, cedar wood, crimson stuff, and hyssop to be brought for him who is required to be purified. (Leviticus 14:3-4) The Rabbis try to understand why each of these different ingredients were used for the purification of the person afflicted. In the Midrash they say "Why are the tallest of the tall and the lowest of the low - the cedar and the hyssop - used in the ritual cleansing of a leper? Because when a man exalted himself like a cedar, he was smitten with leprosy; and when he humbled himself like hyssop, [a plant that grows near the ground like mint], he was healed with hyssop." (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:3) The Rabbis are trying to understand something that is not at all clear in the Biblical text. This mysterious disease, tzara-at, had an unknown cause. The Bible and the Rabbis of ancient times did not know about the germ theory of disease nor how illnesses spread. They assumed a moral flaw became manifest as a physical symptom. While we know that is not true, we can still understand that the Rabbis were trying to make clear that humility is a significant value. They say that Moses was the most humble of all people. Today arrogance is common. Our culture of celebrity dismisses humility, but as the Rabbis knew we would be a finer society if it were practiced more often.
What is wrong with eating pork? The Torah says, "These are the creatures that you may eat...any animal that has true hoofs...and that chews the cud you may eat...the swine - although it has true hoofs...it does not chew the cud; it is impure for you." (Leviticus 11:2-6) Given that there are so many non kosher animals, why does the pig have such a large place in our consciousness as the epitome of traife? Many answers have been given. Mary Douglas, a scholar, suggests that since the definition of a domestic animal according to the Torah was one that had a cloven hoof and chews its cud, Pigs by not having both criteria were a disorderly presence in an ordered world and a "frightening glimpse into the chaos of the universe and therefore avoided." Others have suggested the pig is symbol of evil, dirt, and the diabolical. I prefer a Rabbinic suggestion. "When the pig is resting, he stretches out his legs in front of him, displaying his cleft hooves. "How kosher I am," he seems to say, making no mention of the fact that he does not chew the cud. He symbolizes the hypocrite who parades his virtues and conceals his faults." (Midrash Leviticus Rabbah 13:5). The laws of kashrut are considered hukim rules that do not have rational basis. Yet, I like the idea that this dietary restriction reminds us of integrity, an essential element of Jewish life.
One of the key verses in the Book of Esther that we read on Purim occurs when Mordecai asks Esther to approach King Ahasuerus to stop the evil plot of Haman to kill all the Jews. Up to this point Queen Esther has kept her Jewish identity a secret. Mordecai says to her, "Do not imagine that you, of all the Jews, will escape with your life by being in the King's palace...And who knows. Perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis." (Esther 4:13-14). Mordecai does not say that there will be a miraculous intervention orchestrated by God to save the Jewish people. There will be no repetition of the plagues that ravished Egypt. It is up to Esther to act. After hearing those words, she pleads for her people in front of the King and the Jews are saved. The words of Mordecai remind us of a way to see our own actions. Sometimes we experience such a "Purim moment." Like Esther, we are in a place at a unique time where we are able to perform a special deed that has great positive consequences for others. Some would see such an event as pure coincidence. The Book of Esther, where God's name is never mentioned, suggests otherwise. Those moments help us recognize a pattern of meaning in our lives. We feel part of a larger plan, even as we live in a world without God's obvious presence. I hope you can think of such moments in your life and recall that Purim is both a time for joy and for seeing how our lives are part of the Divine plan.
The Torah is concerned with those who sin unintentionally. We read, "The Lord spoke to Moses saying, speak to the Israelite people thus: When A person unwittingly incurs guilt in regard to any of the Lord's commandments about things not to be done, and does one of them...[the Torah then lists the sacrifice that must be brought] (Leviticus 4:1-2). The Rabbis note that a person may either be ignorant of the law that he was violating, for example, he didn't realize that the monk fish he was eating was not kosher, or did not realize he was violating the law. You can know monk fish is not kosher but buy it, cook and eat it because the fish market sold it as flounder. As a brief aside, I have often been asked about whether monk fish is kosher and let me clearly say, with a name like that what would you expect! A larger question on this topic is one about actions and motivations. The Torah assumes that sometimes, even when our intention is pure, our actions may inadvertently be wrong. After all, in my example the person was trying to keep kosher. The Torah is asking us to avoid sin by not only acting properly but by being especially careful to avoid doing something wrong inadvertently. But the Torah also realizes that even with good intentions we sometimes err. For that the Torah offers a way to repent with the offering at the Temple. Today there is no Temple but we also should do our best to avoid sin, and know that we can repent if we do wrong accidently.
When the building of the Tabernacle is completed we read that Moses inspected all the work "And when Moses saw that they had performed all the tasks - as the Lord had commanded, so they had done - Moses blessed them." (Exodus 39:43). The verse seems to have an extra phrase "so they had done." What do those words add to our understanding of what Moses did or how the work was done? Rabbi Pinchas Peli points out that this text tells us two things that Moses saw. First, he was able to verify that the workers had followed the orders given to them. They did not try to change or improve anything. Second, even though they followed the orders exactly as they were given, they managed to put into the work "much of themselves, their 'personal' touch feelings and dreams." That is a reminder as well, that when we follow what seems like a routine, there are ways for us to personalize it. In a similar manner the Rabbis tell us that our prayers are recited in a fixed ordered pattern, with the traditional texts. However, our prayers also need kavvanah, intentionality, direction, the ability to be there with each word, a personal dimension. Rashi says that a person "whose prayer today is just like the one of yesterday and tomorrow" has not truly prayed. (Comment to Talmud Berachot 29b) Each day, each moment of each day, brings us different emotions, challenges and dreams. I hope we can express them in the words of the Siddur, just as our ancestors added of themselves while building the Tabernacle.
The accounting for the funds that were used to build the Tabernacle by our ancestors is described in our Torah portion. "These are the accountings of the mishkan, the Tabernacle of testimony...all the gold that was used for the work came to 29 talents and 730 shekels..."(Exodus 38:21, 24). There is a list of the amount of silver and copper as well. It is a reminder of the need for open and transparent reporting of the use of public funds. The Rabbis in the Talmud even went further and expressed how we should avoid even the slightest suspicion of impropriety. They give an example from the time when the Temple stood, of how a family engaged in baking for the community never wanted to appear as if they were using community dough for themselves. "The house of Gamru was skilled at making the showbread [Hebrew lechem hapanim, a type of bread used in the Temple] but good bread was never found in their children's hands, so that people should not say that they benefited from the showbread..." (Talmud Yoma 38a). There is a Talmudic term, marit ayin, meaning the appearance of the eye. That term means that even if something is totally correct, one should avoid the appearance of wrongdoing. The house of Gamru could have made challah as good as Zaydies Bakery for their family but avoided doing so. Someone might have suspected them of using the communal dough for their own benefit. I have seen non dairy margarine served at a fancy meat kosher dinner with its wrapper attached. You might think the catering hall staff forgot to remove it. It remains on the table so it would not even look like butter is being served with the meat. While the Torah and the Talmud give examples of public figures who should not appear in a suspicious manner, we can also think of how each of us can act without any appearance of misconduct in our own lives.
We hear a great deal about freedom in the events that have recently transpired in Egypt. On one level it is ironic that Egypt, the place of slavery and bondage in our Torah, is now a leader of popular revolts attempting to overthrow despotic leaders. However, I feel great trepidation for I am worried about whether Egypt will continue to honor its peace treaty with Israel. Will its freedom so recently attained move toward a truly democratic state or be the prelude to another type of authoritarian rule? This week in the Torah portion we read about the stone tablets that contained the Ten Commandments. "The tablets were God's work, and the writing was God's writing, incised [charut in Hebrew] upon the tablets." (Exodus 32:16). The Rabbis comment on this verse in The Ethics of the Fathers 6:2 "Read not incised [charut] but freedom [cherut - the Rabbis read the word for "incised" in Hebrew creatively by changing its vowels and making it the Hebrew word for freedom] for there is none who is free save one who is occupied with Torah study." The concept of freedom is complex. The Rabbis are saying that freedom is not the license to do whatever one desires. Such freedom can lead to anarchy. The freedom to realize the potential for Godliness in all of us is the result of disciplining one's actions in line with the commands of the Torah just as the freedom to become a tennis player is based on the discipline of regular practice on the tennis court. I hope the freedom of the Egyptian people will be disciplined and directed. A true democracy is not defined just by a freely elected government. It also requires that citizens discipline themselves to respect for the rights of all, create and support an independent press and impartial judiciary. Minority rights must be upheld. Open public debate is encouraged. Let's pray that Egypt will realize such a freedom.
"Slaughter the ram and take some of its blood and put it on the ridges of Aaron's right ear and on the ridges of his sons' right ears, and on the thumbs of their right hands, and on the big toes or their right feet..." (Exodus 29:20). Why was the ordination of the priests accompanied by marking these three parts of their bodies? According to Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Greenberg, in his book Itturei Torah, "...every Kohen and leader must have: an ear to hear the cries of Jews, to know and understand their needs and requirements,: hands not only to accept the offering due the priests, but also to bestow a blessing on whoever needs it: and feet that hasten to run and help whoever is in need." These requirements say that such a leader is primarily a person who is aware of the needs of the people he/she leads and who is able to respond quickly, and unselfishly, to those needs. Are those characteristics sufficient for a religious leader today? Many years ago when I was seeking a new pulpit, I was told that the Rabbinic Search Committee had compiled a long list of what it wanted in its new spiritual leader. Noting the length of the list, one person suggested adding, "Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound." Not even Superman could possess all the characteristics they sought. I was not offered that job. Today there are other roles a leader must fulfill. However, the interpretation of Rabbi Greenberg reminds us that compassion, quickly reacting to needs, combined with integrity, are essential in spiritual and political leaders now as they were in the past.
God says to Moses, "Let them make me a Tabernacle that I might dwell among them." (Exodus 25:8) That verse refers to the portable sanctuary, called the mishkan in Hebrew. It was constructed by our ancestors after they received the Torah at Mount Sinai. They carried it from encampment to encampment during their wanderings from Egypt to the Land of Israel. The word mishkan literally means "abode." There is an odd element to this verse. We might expect the verse to read "Let them make me a Tabernacle that I might dwell within it." Answering that difficulty Rabbi Mendel Menachem of Kotzk said that every person is required to build an abode for God within his or her heart, and then God will dwell within them. He also said, "Where does God dwell? Wherever people let God in." Do you sense God's presence in the synagogue? I find that when I ask most people to tell me about moments in their lives when they felt that God's presence was most palpable to them, it is often not in a synagogue. They speak of experiences in nature, a life cycle event, or a visit to the Land of Israel. This is not meant to negate the spiritual nature of being in a holy building, but only to remind us that we should try to make our synagogues more holy and let God into our lives wherever we are.
Which came first the chicken or the egg? As I recall in a recent New York Times article, it was definitely the egg. I am no expert on science, but here is a similar question about Jewish practice. Which comes first, understanding a mitzvah or doing a mitzvah? Our ancestors, immediately after the theophany at Mount Sinai, said "We'll do everything that the Lord has spoken and we'll listen." (Exodus 24:7) The classic question about this verse is: "Which comes first hearing God's commandments or doing God's commandments?" Obviously you can't observe a mitzvah that you haven't heard, however, the Hebrew verb in this verse can mean "understand" as well as "listen." Therefore, the word order from that verse has created a great deal of commentary about whether understanding a mitzvah should precede doing a mitzvah, or whether the understanding of a mitzvah comes after fulfilling it. I don't believe there is one simple answer to that question. Does the experience of visiting a sick person depend on how well one has studied the sources of that mitzvah? Can a Passover Seder be fully understood without experiencing it? Certainly we should strive to know why we observe Judaism, but often it is the doing that enhances or creates the understanding.
This week we read of the God’s appearance on Mount Sinai and the giving of the Ten Commandments. We read, “All the people saw the voices [literally: the thunder] and lightening, the blare of the horn and the mountain shaking…” (Ex. 20:15) Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger (Poland 19th century) comments on this verse, “The voice [that each person heard at this point was also the one] that said, “I am the Lord your God,” [the word “your” is written in the singular here as if God were speaking directly to each person alone] Each one of Israel saw the root of his or her own life-force. With their very eyes each one saw the part of the divine soul above that lives within. They had no need to “believe” the commandments, because they saw the voices. That’s the way it is when God speaks.” (The Language of Truth The Torah Commentary of the Sefat Emet Rabbi Yehuda Lieb Alter of Ger translated and interpreted by Arthur Green p. 105) This comment says that it is possible to “see” a voice as well as hear it. The experience of God for our ancestors at Mount Sinai was intense and incapable of being expressed in rational terms. Does that make sense for you? Was there a time in your life when you felt that God was addressing you and you alone in a way that cannot be described? Belief in God can be based on an abstract theological proof or acceptance of what one’s parents, Rabbi, or teachers say. However at that moment in our past, all those at Mount Sinai felt that they were being directly addressed by God in an ineffable way. The Rabbis of ancient times say that all Jews, both those alive at the time of Moses, and those born in every future generation were standing together at the foot of Mount Sinai. Therefore we all felt that immediate sense of God. I only hope that there are moments in our lives when we are able to have that mystical experience of God as did our ancestors.
Before the last plague in Egypt, God tells our ancestors to slaughter a lamb and, "...take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses… [it] shall be a sign for you: when I see the blood I will pass over you, so that no plague will destroy you when I strike Egypt." (Exodus 12:7, 13) Didn’t God know where the Jews lived? Why did God, or the angel of death, need a sign to inform him which houses to pass over? The Midrash asks that questions and answers that God said to Moses, "...Israel will not depart from here [Egypt] until they slaughter the Egyptians gods [lambs, according to this Rabbinic source, were gods to the Egyptians] before their very eyes that I may teach them that their gods are really nothing." (Shemot Rabbah 16:3) Here the sacrifice of the lamb is a way of disproving the Egyptian’s belief in one of their gods. Other interpretations see it as an open sign of Jewish identification, not needed for God’s sake but for the Hebrew slaves to publically define themselves as Jews. The mezuzah on our doorposts is also a public symbol of Judaism as is wearing a kipah. You could ask yourself, have you ever felt uncomfortable with an open declaration of your Jewishness? Alan Dershowitz, a law professor at Harvard, once said that a student told him he was reluctant to be seen or known as a Zionist, because then he would never be able to get a date. Let’s hope that such anti Israel sentiments are countered on our campuses, and that proclaiming one’s Jewish identity or support for Israel is not a matter that must be hidden in our country.
Are You in A Rut or a Groove?
We read a familiar line in our Torah portion. God says, “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, that I may multiply my signs and wonders in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 7:3) As Rabbi Ismar Schorsch, the former Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary explains, “The intrusion runs roughshod over the basic principle of free will on which the entire superstructure of Jewish law rests. Without the ability to make the food prevail in us or to control our passions, we can hardly be held accountable by God for our actions.” So how do we understand that verse? Some Rabbis say that attributing all actions to God is a theological statement of ultimate cause and not a negation of free will. I prefer the explanation of those who point out that while we have free will at all times, we are also creatures of habit. Our past actions are often the best predictors of our future choices. The repetition of harmful actions hardens our own hearts and makes it difficult to change our path. Once Pharaoh began to refuse to listen to Moses and ignored the plagues that God sent, he was unable to change that pattern. I know that does not exactly fit the words of the verse. There we read that God and not our own habits make our hearts hard. However, it is the best explanation that I have found. This Torah portion often occurs as it does this week at the beginning of a new secular year, when we hear about resolutions to change our behavior. Thinking of Pharaoh’s heart, we can also look at our own actions and hope that we are not in rut, unable to move out of destructive paths just as wheel cannot change direction when it moves along on a muddy road. Rather I hope we are able to pause, change our habits, and to use another metaphor, get out of the rut and into a groove – a constructive path or habit that softens our hearts and brings us closer to God.
God tells Moses, “Thus says the Lord; Israel is My first born son.” This verse implies that we are God’s “Chosen People.” Rabbi Louis Jacobs, writes about that idea and says that it is not a “…dogma incapable of verification, but the recognition of sober historical fact. The world owes Israel the idea of the One God of righteousness and holiness…Clearly God used Israel for this great purpose.” (A Jewish Theology p. 271). The Bible considers all people to be of infinite worth and equally loved by God. That is why the creation story speaks of one couple, Adam and Eve, as the parents of all humanity. We are all brothers and sisters. Being the “chosen people” does not mean that we are better than others. Some critics have even pointed out that the Bible is brutally honest in its portrayal of our ancestors in the Bible. They constantly rebel against Moses and build the Golden Calf. In later generations they refuse to listen to the prophets and bow down to idols. Are those actions worthy of being God’s “first born?” Rather we are chosen, as Rabbi Jacobs points out, to bring a message of virtue and sanctity to the world. We don’t always live up to that challenge and are thankful that many other people follow that message. We hope that ultimately all people will feel that they too are commanded be righteous and holy.
The Torah portion notes that when Jacob blesses his children he mentions two of them out of order. He blesses Zebulon before Issachar, despite the fact that Issachar was born first. Why? A classic answer is that those two sons had a partnership. Issachar spent all his time studying Torah and Zebulon was a businessman who supported his family and the family of Issachar. “By mentioning Zebulon first, the Torah teaches us that that one who supports those who learn Torah has a greater reward than the one who learned it.” (Rabbi Yitzak Caro, 15th – 16th century, Spain and Turkey). That should make all of those in our congregation proud who support the Jewish Theological Seminary by donating to the Women’s League Torah Fund campaign that Carol Peligal runs so well. But here is another question about donations. Ideally, donations should be anonymous and donors ought to be modest about their giving. How does that principle apply to all the plaques we see in many Jewish organizations? The Rabbis say that public recognition of giving is not intended to honor the donor. Rather we do so to motivate others to be generous. So whether it is wearing the Torah Fund pin, or putting a plaque on a wall with a donor’s name, both actions are intended to increase funds that others give and not to bring praise to the contributor. It is a sign of support for those who learn Torah, an admirable trait of Jacob’s son Zebulon.
When Jacob arrives in Egypt and greets his son Joseph he says, “Now I can die, having seen for myself that you are still alive.” (Genesis 46:30). We recall that Joseph’s brothers had told their father years before that Joseph was dead. The brothers cast him into a pit and then sold him into slavery. Yet, we never read in the text of the Bible that the brothers admitted what they did to Joseph. Joseph himself never tells his father what really happened nor does Jacob himself ask about it. Why? One commentator, Rabbi Mordecai HaCohen in his book Min HaTorah, says that “The Torah teaches us a great teaching: that a person should not pick at the scabs of the past and should not mention former iniquities…What difference does it make what happened in the long-ago?” I both agree and disagree with that assessment. There are times when we should not dwell on the past and mention former misdeeds. However, I would also warn that there are times when a full disclosure of the past is needed for healing and forgiveness to fully occur. When is it best to mention the past, and when to keep quiet? I only hope we all have the wisdom to make that distinction.
As we read the story of Joseph in the Torah portion, we can also think of some parallels to the story of Hanukkah. Joseph and then the rest of his family lived in Egypt, outside the protected walls of a ghetto or shtetl. They faced the same issues many of us deal with, being part of the larger society and preserving our heritage. In the Midrash we read, Rav Hunna stated in the name of Bar Kappara, that our ancestors in Egypt were redeemed on account of four things: They did not change their names. They did not change their language. They did not go about tale bearing. They keep away from sexual immorality. The Maccabees had to fight a war to preserve Jewish life against a larger culture, Hellenism. Joseph, his family and their descendants, found that maintaining a unique way of living kept their Judaism alive. By not changing their names, they insisted on defining themselves as Jews and not allowing the external society to determine who they were. By retaining their language they kept strong ties to their ancestors and their sacred texts. Finally they maintained a life of moral and ethical purity. As we light our candles each night of Hanukkah, we too can ask ourselves – Who are we? How do we maintain our uniqueness? How do we define ourselves? Does the great wisdom of Jewish life guide our lives? Are we leading lives with moral purity? In America we don’t have to take up arms to retain being Jewish, but Joseph and Hanukkah remind us of the challenges of being true to Judaism.
The story of Joseph that begins in this week's Torah portion depicts how he suffers and is victimized. He is sold into slavery. In Egypt his master’s wife falsely accuses him and he is thrown into prison. Rabbi David Kimchi comments that, "We have to learn from this whole story that when a person suffers a setback in life, one that appears to him underserved, he must remember how all these setbacks worked in Joseph’s favor at the time although he was not yet aware of it." Do I believe that all events in our lives are sent by God for our benefit? Do the obstacles and tragedies in our lives occur to test and help us as they did for Joseph? Sometimes I say yes, and sometimes no. Certainly there are events that turn out well despite the pain they initially cause. However, that is not always the case. There are random events in our lives. There are tragic accidents. There are diseases that defy logic. Yes, at times as in the story of Joseph a pattern will appear. Ultimately Joseph becomes second to Pharaoh in charge of Egypt and saves his family. The patterns in our lives can be more complex and the setbacks more painful. I only pray that when such events occur, we are supported by our family and community and find the faith and the strength to face the future with hope.
The Rabbis of ancient times often find meaning in verses that seem to be bereft of any deeper significance. We read “Timna was a concubine of Esau’s son Eliphaz; she bore Amalek to Eliphaz.” (Genesis 36:12) According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 99b) Timna wanted to convert to Judaism but was rebuffed by Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. She became a concubine to Eliphaz, the son of Esau, because “better to become a handmaiden of this nation than a princess of any other.” We read that her son was Amalek who brought great trouble to our people. The Talmud asks, “Why did this transpire?” The answer is “Because they ought not to have repelled her.” A verse that could simply be read as a genealogical footnote becomes part of a polemic favoring an open attitude towards welcoming proselytes. In the next few weeks there will be laws proposed in the Israeli Knesset about conversion to Judaism, an attempt to legislate greater strictures for those who seek to join our people. I hope that those efforts will not succeed, for we live at a time when there are many Jews by Choice both in Israel and the Diaspora who come with great sincerity and add so much to the Jewish people. Seeking openness to them is not just a modern issue. The Rabbis see it in the Torah.
When Leah gives birth to her second son she calls him Reuven, because, “...she said the Lord has seen my affliction.” (Genesis 29:32) She felt distress because she was not loved by her husband Jacob and the Hebrew name Reuven contains part of the Hebrew verb root “to see.” A commentary on this verse points out that God “saw” the pain that was expressed in Leah’s face and her whole demeanor. Rabbi Zelig Plishkin suggests that this is also a lesson for us. We should train ourselves to be aware of the way others around us express their emotions. We should try to “…hear someone’s pain, be aware of both the content and the tone of voice of another person…Also learn to see someone’s pain even if he [or she] does not express it verbally.” (Growth Through Torah by Rabbi Zelig Plishkin p. 80). There are many people who seem to have a greater ability to notice and feel the emotions of others. That may be an inborn trait, but we can work to focus on the feelings of those around us. The more we are able to do so, the more we will be able to be sympathetic and act to help those in need.
The newspaper report said the following, "America's ultra-rich are queuing to join in a grand gesture of generosity. Forty US billionaires have signed up to pledge at least half of their fortunes to charity under a philanthropic campaign kicked off by Warren Buffett and Bill Gates." Is that good advice? This question is tied to our Torah reading. We read, "May God give you of the dew of the heaven and the fat of the earth, abundance of new grain [wheat] and wine." (Genesis 27:28) These are the words Isaac uses to bless his son Jacob. The Rabbis speak of how we use the resources in this blessing, for necessities such as grain for food to support the needy and for wine, considered a luxury item. The assumption is that one only drinks wine an extravagance, if there is sufficient wheat to feed the poor. Therefore is it good that the super rich, consumers of many luxuries, are banding together to give away a considerable part of their fortunes to charity? The Talmud says that we should not give away more than twenty percent of our income to charity so that we ourselves will not become dependent on communal support. That rule is waived when one is so wealthy that giving away more of one’s assets will not create any risk of impoverishment, as is the case for Bill Gates and Warren Buffett. They are within the limits of Jewish law. For the rest of us, a code of Jewish law, Shulchan Aruch (Yoreh Deah 249:1) reminds us that, "If it is within his means, he should give what the poor need. And if it is not within his means, he should give up to one-fifth of his wealth, the choicest way of performing the mitzvah; one tenth is the average way; less than one tenth the evil eye (miserly)."
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the rainbow as a sign of harmony and respect for all people. There is a Jewish organization called Keshet, the Hebrew word for a rainbow, that is “a national grassroots organization that works for the full inclusion of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (GLBT) Jews in Jewish life.” Recently they have asked members of the Jewish community to sign the following statement, in the wake of several tragic events including five suicides by gay teenagers. The Rabbinical Assembly, the national organizations of Conservative Rabbis as well as the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism have signed on. I have as well. Here is the text: Do Not Stand Idly By: A Jewish Community Pledge to Save Lives - As members of a tradition that sees each person as created in the divine image, we respond with anguish and outrage at the spate of suicides brought on by homophobic bullying and intolerance. We hereby commit to ending homophobic bullying or harassment of any kind in our synagogues, schools, organizations, and communities. As a signatory, I pledge to speak out when I witness anyone being demeaned for their actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. I commit myself to do whatever I can to ensure that each and every person in my community is treated with dignity and respect. You can also sign on by going to www.keshetonline.org I hope many of you will do so.
After the flood we read that God makes a covenant with the world and says, “I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall serve as a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth.” (Genesis 9:13). The Torah explains that this refers to the rainbow. It is a sign of harmony and that God will never again destroy the earth with a flood. We can ask how a rainbow symbolizes peace, unity and the continued existence of the world. Rabbi Z. Hillel who is cited in Itturei Torah, a book compiled by Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Greenberg, answers by saying, “It is because the rainbow is composed of a number of colors, shades and hues, and all of these unite into a single whole. The same is true with the differences between people, groups and nations. A life based on mutual understanding and tolerance on harmony and peace is the basis for the existence of the world.” This reminds me of the images we have used in our own country to speak about how our nation understands itself as a mixture of different peoples. We used to speak of the “melting pot.” Differences would disappear as immigrant groups each lost their unique identity and became Americans. Now we hear the metaphor of the “tossed salad.” Each individual retains its uniqueness and adds a unique flavor of the whole. The salad and the rainbow remind us of a goal that is not always easy to attain – to maintain our own individuality and integrity while being part of a larger group. That has not been true in history. I pray that such a goal is attainable.
A familiar translation of a Biblical verse can lead to misunderstandings. In the Torah portion we read, “And the Lord God said, “It is not good for the human to be alone. I shall make him [an] ezer kenegdo.” (Genesis 2:18) Those Hebrew words describe the creation of the first woman. In the Kings James Version of the Bible that phrase calls her a “help meet.” This suggests that a woman’s role is meant to be subservient to man. In a more modern translation Robert Alter notes that those two Hebrew words are “notoriously difficult to translate.” His version of the Bible says that the first woman is a “sustainer beside him.” That suggests a more active and equal role for women. Alter says that the first Hebrew word connotes “active intervention on behalf of someone, especially in military contexts,” and the second one means…”alongside him…a counterpart to him.” (Robert Alter The Five Books of Moses, p. 22) Here we see a modern translator seeking to understand the ancient Hebrew not only within the context of ancient and modern times, but trying to render in English the true sentiments of the Torah. Aside from a lesson in the importance of learning Hebrew, this is also a reminder that the Bible can teach us lessons that are very contemporary.
Before the Selichot service, I held a discussion group based on a study sheet prepared by my colleague, Rabbi Mark Greenspan, “Four Questions We Should Ask Before Rosh Hashanah.” This is still relevant after Yom Kippur. His last question was “Is there more to the concept of teshuvah, repentance, than self improvement?” As we start the New Year let me add to his question. In American life we think of “New Year’s Resolutions” as ways of self improvement. That usually concerns losing weight, exercising more and clearing off the mess on top of your desk at the office. I can relate to all three. There are numerous books on those topics. Certainly our tradition is concerned with our health and some scholars consider smoking contrary to Jewish law. However we should add that the turning we are thinking about this time of year is a matter of the soul. It concerns our relationship both to God and other people. Have we apologized for the wrongs we have done this past year and been reconciled with others? Is our speech ethical? Are we concerned with matters of the spirit that bring us closer to the Eternal? Keeping that in mind is as necessary this time of year, as is counting calories, and I hope will also bring benefits to your life.
Our Torah portion tells us "See, I place l before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity, - choose life in order for you and your descendants to live!" (Deuteronomy 30:15). In the Talmud, the Rabbis derive the following from this verse, "Rabbi Yishmael taught: This refers to a trade. From here the sages rules a man is obliged to teach his son a trade, and if he did not teach him, he [the son] is obliged to teach himself ... Rabbi Akiva ruled: A man is obliged to teach his son how to swim; and if he did not teach him, he [the son] is obliged to teach himself." (Jerusalem Talmud Kiddushin 1:7) "...choose life" in the verse is interpreted to mean teaching your child a trade and how to swim. We can understand that learning a trade provides for a livelihood, a necessity. Swimming is also a life saving skill. Just this past summer, several young people drowned at area beaches because they could not swim. Knowing how to swim can also be interpreted in a non literal sense. This means teaching your child to go against the current and not to float along with the crowd. Resisting peer pressure, especially for teens, can be the difference between life and death. There are so many negative influences on young people today. Knowing how to steer your own course is critical both in the water and on dry land.
"Cursed be he who will not uphold the terms of this Torah and observe them." (Deuteronomy 27:26) That is one of the many curses and blessings in this week’s Torah portion. What exactly are these words condemning? Rabbi Abraham Schreiber, who lived in Hungary in the 19th century wrote that this applies to those who think, "...it is not necessary to observe the commandments of the Lord in practice, claiming that the important thing is that one should understand their meaning and that one should be good ‘in one’s heart,’ and nothing more." This interpretation is based on the words in the verse “la’asot otam” – in the translation above “observe them.” There are those who say that they are not observant, don’t keep kosher, don’t give tzedakkah, or don’t belong to a synagogue, but that they are Jewish in their heart. Our actions are the way that we demonstrate our beliefs. Our behavior defines who we are. Imagine that someone followed you for one day, would they be able to tell that you were Jewish by your actions and not by your thoughts. What would they see you doing on Shabbat? A better question is what if they observed you on a Tuesday or a Wednesday? Would they see any Jewish activities on those days? These are appropriate questions as we are rapidly approaching the Days of Awe. Are your actions really manifestations of your beliefs? Do they prove who you are?
Deuteronomy 16:20 reads, “Justice, Justice you shall pursue.” The following explanation is based on the fact that the word for justice in Hebrew, tzedek, is also the root of the word for giving to those in need, tzedakkah. Therefore, the Talmud sees this verse as teaching about how to help the needy. Not just about the judicial system. Rabbi Huna said that applicants [for tzedakkah], for food are examined, if they are in need, but those who come for clothing are not examined. R. Yehudah ruled in the exact opposite way. We examine those who come in need for clothing, but not for food. The law follows R. Yehudah. Why follow his ruling and not question those who need help for obtaining food? Because we interpret …the verse. “Justice, Justice, you shall pursue,” in the following manner. – There are two types of tzedakkah, clothing and food. Which of them is it necessary to pursue without questioning? You should pursue justice in order to live. Since the rest of the Biblical verse says, “Justice, Justice you shall pursue in order that you may live…” Therefore, the tzedakkah that is for living – that is for food, we give without questioning the recipient because food is necessary for life.” – Rabbi Meir of Parmislan. How many inquiries do we make before we give a donation? How do we know that a need is real or that the person or group soliciting our help acts ethically? Do they obey the law? Do they spend your donations helping others or does a disproportionate per cent go for administration? Are those who collect donations held accountable? There are many questions we could ask when we are approached to give tzedakkah. It is not always easy to check whether or not the need is real and/or immediate, even with web sites that help us evaluate charities, such as http://www.charitynavigator.org However for one necessity, food, the Torah reminds us to be generous and give without hesitation.
Can One Deed Make A Difference?
We read in the Torah this week, “See, I place before you today blessing or a curse: the blessing, (provided) that you hearken to the commandments of YHWH your God that I command you today, and the curse, if you do not hearken to the commandments of YHWH your God, and turn-aside from the way that I command you today, walking after other gods whom you have not known.” (Deuteronomy 11:26-27, translation by Everett Fox) The passage begins in the singular (“See” singular in the Hebrew) and concludes in the plural (“before you” – plural you in the Hebrew) The Chatom Sofer explains, “This is an allusion to that which our Rabbis taught (Talmud Kiddushin 40b): A person should always regard himself as though he were half guilty and half meritorious: if he performs one mitzvah, happy is he for weighting himself down in the scale of merit; if he commits one transgression, woe to him for weighting himself down in the scale of guilt, for it is said, ‘…but one sinner destroys much good.’ (Ecclesiastes 9:18) [i.e.,] on account of a single sin which he commits much good is lost to him.” We are rapidly approaching the Days of Awe. We can be overwhelmed if we think of all the ways we want to improve our lives. This suggests that we should focus on just one part of our lives. It is said that change is gradual. One sure way to fail at transforming ourselves is to try to make too many changes at once. I hope that all of us can find just one point of improvement, or one mitzvah to add to our lives and make our existence more worthy.
The Torah portion this week contains the familiar phrase, “Shema Yisrael…Hear O, Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One.’ (Deuteronomy 6:4) We say them so often that we can forget what they stand for. Certainly their meaning is not simple and there are numerous ways to understand those words. I particularly like an interpretation from the Midrash because it is both so ancient and so modern. The Rabbis imagine that our patriarch Jacob, on his death bed, wonders whether or not his children will be worthy to carry on the heritage of our people. He calls them to his side, and they say to him, “Hear, [our father] Israel [Israel is Jacob’s other name], the Lord [that you and your father and your father’s father worshipped] is our God, [we fully understand that] God [is] One [unique and unlike any other – and that we will worship and act in accordance with God’s commandments in a way that will enrich our lives]. In other words, the Shema can be understood as a statement of loyalty to the faith that has been handed down to us from the past. Today we are concerned about how strongly the next generation will make Judaism a central part of their identity. When we say the Shema we can think of our own loyalty to Judaism and of how we can act to be certain that the next generation will also embrace it.
Do you agree with Gordon Gekko who said in the movie, Wall Street, “Greed is good”? We read in the Torah about Balaam, a non-Jew who is able to communicate with God. Balak, the king of Moab sends messengers to Balaam asking him to curse the Jews as they are about to pass through his territory. Balaam replies, “Though Balak were to give me his house full of silver and gold, I could not do anything, big or little, contrary to the command of the Lord my God.” (Numbers 22:18) This response is disingenuous. Balaam has indicated his desire to curse our ancestors. Now he is starting the negotiation about what his price will be. We could ask the following questions: Do we all have a price? How much money would it take for most people to do something illegal or unethical? When do our desires for the necessities and comforts of life turn into greed? In the Talmud we read that a man asked Rabbi Yose to live in his city. Rabbi Yose answered, “If you would give me all the gold and silver and precious stones in the world, I would only live in a place of Torah.” Would you?
In this week’s Haftorah we read of one of the Judges, Yiftach, who vows to God before a battle, “If You deliver the Ammonites into my hands, then whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me on my safe return from the Ammonites shall be the Lord’s and shall be offered by me as a burnt offering.” (Judges 11:30-31) He is victorious and the first one to greet him on his return is his daughter. One commentator Rabbi David Kimche’s, quotes from his father Rabbi Samuel Kimche (12th century Provance) to ameliorate the serious consequences of this promise. He says that Yiftach only promised to sacrifice what came out of his house if it were appropriate for sacrifice. Otherwise he would donate the monetary values of what left his house to God. This would mean that Yiftach’s daughter was not sacrificed. “Instead she became a celibate servant of God…people should exercise care and discretion when they express themselves. One never knows, in advance, the repercussion of one’s words…Yiftach learned this painful lesson the hard way.” [Rabbi Mordecai Silberstein of the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem] Do we really mean what we say? Do we use words loosely? This is a serious and a terrible warning about the consequences of our words and promises.
This week we read about the rebellion of Korach against the leadership of Moses. Rabbi Chayim Shmuelevitz comments that this quarrel teaches us an important principle about differences of opinions that we often ignore. (Quoted in Growth Through Torah by Rabbi Zelig Plishkin pp. 339-340) He points out that the dispute between Korach and his followers on one side, and Moses on the other side, was unique. Moses was one hundred percent right and Korach was one hundred percent wrong. However, in most arguments, and especially in many family disagreements, even if one side is more correct than the other, both sides are usually making some mistakes. This is something for each of us to consider when we are involved in a dispute. Do we usually start with the assumption that we are one hundred percent right? Does that blind us to hearing the words of those with whom we disagree with? If we assume there was some truth on both sides, wouldn’t that lead to a faster resolution of our differences? Ask yourself in a disagreement, especially when you argue with members of your family: Can’t both sides understand that there may be truth in the positions of those they oppose? I hope that could ease the way to a peaceful resolution of the dispute.
This week I want to omit my commentary and call our attention to the following letter sent from the UJA Federation of North New Jersey to our community. I will speak more on this topic on Shabbat morning.
A Letter to the Community
A tragic confrontation took place off Israel's coast early Monday between Israel’s navy and a flotilla of six ships trying to break the blockade and deliver goods to Gaza. We want to bring you up-to-date on the events so that you will be well informed and will understand Israel’s position and its justifiable actions. First, though, we want to emphasize that we stand with Israel. No matter what differences we might have, we share this: a love of Israel and a deep commitment to Israel’s security and well-being. That commitment is unshakeable. We are saddened by the violence, the loss of life and the injuries. Here is a summary of what occurred:
Early Monday, Israel Defense Forces naval forces intercepted six ships attempting to break the naval blockade of the Gaza Strip.
• The intercept took place after numerous warnings from Israel and the Navy prior to the action. The Navy requested the ships to redirect toward Ashdod , to unload their cargo which would be transferred to Gaza over land after security inspections. The passengers could then leave on the same vessels.
• Five ships were peacefully directed to Ashdod. During the interception of the sixth ship, the demonstrators attacked the IDF naval personnel with live gunfire and light weaponry including knives and crowbars. They prepared weapons in advance for this purpose. The Israelis acted in self-defense.
• IDF forces apprehended two violent activists holding pistols. These militants apparently grabbed the pistols from IDF forces and opened fire on them.
• The activists were carrying 10,000 tons of reported aid to Gaza. (Israel provides 15,000 tons of aid weekly to Gaza.)
There are several places in the Torah where we find descriptions of the festivals. In our portion we read about the Passover offering, “Let the Israelite people offer the Passover sacrifice in its set time.” (Numbers 9:2) Why does the Torah repeat matters that have already been described in other places in the Torah? One Midrash explains, “This teaches that he (Moses) heard the passage of the festival seasons at Sinai and stated it to Israel, and then went and repeated it to them when the time had actually arrived to keep the rules…He stated to the people the laws for Passover at Passover, the laws for Shavuot at Shavuot, and the laws for Succot at that season…Why does Moses repeat the same injunction twice? Because he knows how forgetful people can be.” Midrash Kohelet Rabbah continues in the same vein, “It is for our own good that we learn Torah and forget it; because if we studied Torah and never forgot it, the people would struggle with learning it for two or three years, resume ordinary work and never pay attention to it. But since we study Torah and forget it, we don’t abandon its study.” Maybe it is because I am getting older, that I find these comments striking. There are things that I have forgotten. I recall when I was in high school watching Candid Camera. I thought it was funny to see how adults could not figure out 10th grade high school algebra problems. It’s not so humorous to me today. I also realize that when I study the Torah or Rabbinic sources that I learned in the past, I am not only recalling what I once knew, but also seeking fresh insights based on my experiences of the intervening years. Learning and relearning is not just a matter of recalling lost knowledge. It also brings new meanings to our lives.
Recently I found out that I could purchase a raffle ticket for our congregation’s fund raiser next month. I was a bit apprehensive and chose not to do so at first. I thought that there might be some legal ruling prohibiting me, as an employee of the congregation, from taking a chance at the big prizes. However, even after I learned that I could buy a ticket, I chose not to do so and decided to support the fund raiser in a different way. Suppose I won the big prize. I know that it is unlikely. After all, since I have moved to the Northeast I have not won a prize in either the New Jersey or the New York lotteries. I suspect it is related to the fact that I have never bought a lottery ticket in either state. But even in Tennessee I never won the lottery, despite having spent over a period of many years, a total of at least $20. to take a chance. But again, let’s suppose I won the raffle here in June. It just wouldn’t look right, for me the Rabbi of the congregation to take home the prize, despite the fact that is was legitimate. Our tradition, calls such actions that are perfectly legal, but look improper marit ayin. So I have not bought a ticket, but I would urge you to do so to support the congregation. Rhonda and I took out a full page ad in the ad journal and while that won’t reap us any possible monetary rewards, we feel that we have made a positive contribution to the synagogue and that is reward enough. If you want to take a chance, buy a raffle ticket and if not, take out an ad in the ad journal. Either way you are rewarded for your support of our synagogue.
Just as our nation is currently taking a census, the book of Numbers begins with a count of all the males above the age of twenty one. Each of the tribes camped “…with his standard, under the banners of their ancestral home…(Numbers 2:2) One of my favorite quotes about the census of ancient times reminds us that the numbering of our people was done not just to find out how many potential soldiers there were. It reminds us of a crucial lesson: “Every Jew must know that he is unique in the world, and there was never anyone exactly like him; had there been someone just like him, there would have been no need for him. Indeed every single person is someone new in the world…” (Bet Aharon, cited in Itturei Torah edited by Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Greenberg). Can we each spend a few moments this Shabbat answering that question – What do I uniquely bring to the world?” There are many other people in the world who love photography as I do, but I hope my vision is unique. I am reminded of this when I enroll in a class and see the results of a diverse group of students taking photos of the same scenes. Just this week at a rabbinic meeting I marveled at the way each of my colleagues is able to enhance the Jewish world in a different way – this one as a teacher, that one with skills in counseling, another in organizational work while others find distinctive paths to reach out to their congregations. I often pray that I am truly using my specific talents well. Let’s hope we all can discern our distinctive roles and fulfill them with God’s help.
The Torah, speaking to our ancestors, an agricultural community, makes the following statement, “Your threshing shall overtake the vintage, and your vintage shall overtake the sowing; you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land.” (Leviticus 26:5). The image in this verse is one of bounty. “There will be so much grain to thresh that the threshing will continue into late summer when the vines are picked.” (Baruch Levine in The JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus p. 183). This means having more than we need. When such a large bounty of food, for example, is in front of us, are we still jealous of those with even more? “There are many people who would really feel satisfied with what they themselves already have. But because they see others have more, they feel envious of those people. They actually feel pain when they see that someone else has what they do not.” (Rabbi Abraham Samuel Benjamin Schreiber) Does that sound familiar? There will always be a person with a fancier cell phone, a better car, a higher paying job and more money in the bank than you. (I am excluding Bill Gates and Warren Buffet!) Abundance does not necessarily curtail envy. Compared to most people who have ever lived, we Americans, have so much more. Our “threshing” has overcome our “vintage.” I hope we can see our blessings and be satisfied with our lot. Compare to most people it is more than alot.
How does a society provide for those in need? In the Torah portion we read the following: “And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest, you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 23:22) The Torah is saying that you don’t own all you think you own. Some of what you possess, such as every plant in your field, or the gleanings of your crops do not belong to you. They are the property of those in need. Why? As the verse simply adds, “I am the Lord your God.” It is not because it is a good “public policy.” It is not because this is the way the Democrats and/or the Republicans legislate how to feed the hungry. As if the two parties could agree on anything! It is simply what you do when you live in a world created by God. It is also a reminder that the land ultimately belongs to God and we are only its human stewards. Similarly we might argue that all our time is not our own. A certain percentage is set aside for observing holy events (Shabbat and holidays) and a certain amount is used to study holy texts. Therefore we live in a counterintuitive way; some of what we think we own, like the hot dogs in the Hebrew National commercial, is not ours. It is responsible to a Higher Authority.
According to the Torah, “You shall not steal.” (Leviticus 19:11) What exactly is stealing? According to Rabbi Zelig Plishkin in Love Your Neighbor pp. 258, 251 , “Stealing is secretly taking money or any article from another person…or when an employee covertly taking something from his/her employer even something as small as pencils or envelopes…An employee must not waste time during his hours of employment.” Stealing from another person is something that few of us are tempted to do. However what about taking some office supplies home from the office? Do we excuse that behavior by saying that everyone does it? How do we distinguish between going on the internet to check business e mails with looking at our personal correspondence or shopping on line? Is that just a matter of taking a legitimate break from work or is it stealing? The Torah sets a high standard. Some businesses may excuse such practices as minor issues or understandable interruption from more serious tasks. At what point do they become stealing? The Torah portion that contains these instructions is called “Kedoshim – Holiness. Holiness is not just a matter for the most pious who study all day but a value that involves our lives even when we are at work on our computers. I am not sure exactly where we draw the line in the above examples, but I would hope that our conscience and the words of the Torah act as guardians of our ethics at work.
The Rabbis in ancient times knew that people who sin are not inevitably struck with illness, yet they still tried connect wrongdoing with a skin disease called tzara-at (erroneously translated as leprosy; Tzara-at does not correspond with the symptoms of any known ailment) We read in the Etz Hayim, “They [the Rabbis] see the Torah’s discussion of illness in the abstract as an opportunity to make a moral point, although they caution us that it is insensitive to tell an ailing person, “You are suffering because of your sins.” (p. 652) So we read in the Talmud, “Rabbi Shmuel bar Nahman said in the name of Rabbi Yohanan, ‘There are seven things for which tzara-at comes – for lashon hara [gossip], for murder, for false oaths, for sexual immorality, for a haughty spirit, for theft and for selfishness.’” Note how this lists combines very severe transgressions such as murder and sexual immorality with common matters that many people do not treat seriously, for example gossip and haughtiness. Imagine, and I admit this is a stretch, if the world worked as the Rabbis suggested and you saw a person walking down a street suffering from tzara-at. You wouldn’t know if he or she were a murderer, a gossip or a person who didn’t make an appropriate pledge to the UJA! Would you cross the street to avoid that person? Could Kurt Vonnegut write a great story about this? Perhaps it is better that our sins do not cause skin disease. However, if we lived as if the Rabbis imagine, then wouldn’t our behavior improve?
In the Midrash the two sons of Aaron, whose tragic deaths are narrated in our Torah portion are seen as having a very low regard for their elders, Moses and Aaron. We read, “They asked, ‘When will these old men die? How long must we wait to lead the congregation?’ ” (Midrash, Leviticus Rabbah) Following up on that concern about disrespect for elders is a comment made by Rabbi Nachman of Bratislav who said the following three things about seniors, “(1) The elderly bring stability to Israel and give good counsel to people. (2) The prosperity of the country is in accordance with its treatment of the aged. (3) Elderly men who are popular with young women are usually without wisdom. (Sefer Hamiddot p. 66). For his first comment, I would note that we are fortunate that wisdom of our elders helps to guide our congregation. On Rabbi’s Nachman’s last statement I leave others to determine its veracity. As for his middle statement consider the following. Some years ago when I was teaching a group of post b’nai mitzvah students a class about Jewish attitudes towards the elderly, I asked them to watch how the aged are portrayed on television the following week. Aside from “The Golden Girls,” and my students were not fans of that show, there was not much of a positive nature. The elderly were not central to any of the prime time dramas. Commercials showed their infirmities and need for prescription medication. There was little to affirm their wisdom, their value to society or address how to treat them with appropriate respect and care. I wonder if those attitudes in the media are a true indication of how our society views our elders. I hope that we are able to rid ourselves of stereotypes about the elderly and that our nation, if judged by its treatment of the aged, would become not only prosperous as Rabbi Nachman suggests, but just and righteous as well.
We Americans have begun to show great interest in eating healthy foods. The food author Michael Pollan recently suggested seven rules for good eating. How many apply to matzah? Consider his rules: The first one is not to eat anything your great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food. Matzah certainly satisfies this. Next is his warning not to eat anything with more than five ingredients, or ingredients you can't pronounce. Again matzah fits this rule. He warns us to, “Stay out of the middle of the supermarket; shop on the perimeter of the store. Real food tends to be on the outer edge of the store near the loading docks, where it can be replaced with fresh foods when it goes bad.” We all know that the Passover section is usually in the back of the Shop Rite. Then he adds that we should not eat anything that won't eventually rot. "…as a rule, things like Twinkies that never go bad aren't food," Pollan says. We could argue either way with matzah. It does stay edible for a long time. This one does not lead to a clear answer. This next one I will admit does not apply, "Always leave the table a little hungry," Pollan says. "Many cultures have rules that you stop eating before you are full. In Japan, they say eat until you are four-fifths full…" Well I can’t say I am not full at the end of a Seder. Overfull would be more accurate description. Rule number six, “Families traditionally ate together, around a table and not a TV, at regular meal times. It's a good tradition. Enjoy meals with the people you love. "Remember when eating between meals felt wrong?" Pollan asks. Again eating at the Seder means we are with family and the television is off. Finally he gives his seventh tenet, “Don't buy food where you buy your gasoline. In the U.S., 20% of food is eaten in the car.” I don’t think you can find matzah at the Gulf station so this one also applies. I would also recommend against eating matzah while driving. Matzah satisfies five and possibly six of his seven rules. Maybe the Rabbis were not just telling us about freedom from slavery, but freedom from bad food habits as well.
Here is a question for your Seder suggested in the book Creating Lively Passover Seders by David Arnow. He asks, “If you had the same amount of power that God displayed through the plagues, how might you have tried to bring about the Exodus?” (p. 190). There could have been easier paths with less suffering that also ended with our ancestors leaving Egypt as free people. Why did God need to send the plagues? Recall that they take up a great deal of the narrative of our liberation in the Book of Exodus, yet at the Seder they are recited somewhat briefly without any elaboration. One ancient Rabbi minimizes them, by using an acrostic to recall their names. Maybe this tells us not to gloat over the suffering of the Egyptians. So let us also ask: Why did all the Egyptians have to suffer for the stubbornness of the Pharaoh? Why not simply kill Pharaoh and replace him with a less inflexible leader? How about a foreign army defeating Egypt and freeing our ancestors? Maybe turn the Pyramids upside down to stand on their pointed tops as a sign of God’s power? Can you think of other options? I won’t give you a response to this question and hope you will bring this query to those at your Seder. May that discussion add to your understanding of the meaning of Passover. Rhonda and I wish all of you and your families a chag kasher v’sameah – a truly joyous Passover.
Our Torah portion discusses various sacrifices that were offered in ancient times. Since the destruction of the Temple, we have not followed these rules but there is an ancient comment that is quite contemporary. In the Talmud Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai remarks on the law that a ruler must bring a sin offering for an unwitting sin. He says that a generation is fortunate when a leader does so. He goes on to add “…if the ruler brings an offering then need we speak of the common person? And if for his sin through error, need we speak of his willful transgression?” (Talmud Horayot 10b) Imagine leaders who confessed their sins not only when they intentionally did wrong, but were eager to correct their unwitting errors. Imagine that such a leader was a model for all of us. We have seen far too many politicians who commit wrongs, and try to cover them up or who are unable to admit them. Similarly we can think of others who are in the media spotlight, such as athletes and celebrities. Has Tiger Woods shown enough remorse and repented for his misdeeds in a way that others could follow? The path of repentance is always open, and we hope that those in the public eye will seriously follow it, not just for themselves but as Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai suggests, because when they do so, they can become models for others.
There is a contradiction noted by several commentators on this week’s Torah portion. At one point we read that Moses “was unable to enter the Tent of Meeting.” (Exodus 40:35). Another passage tells us that “Moses did enter the Tent of Meeting.” (Exodus 40:32). The Rabbis try to reconcile this difference in the Midrash by saying that, “‘He was unable to enter…’ because the cloud [a symbol of God’s presence] had settled on it. As long as the cloud was on the Tent of Meeting, he could not enter. When the cloud departed, he could enter and speak to God.” There are many places n the Torah when Moses is able to initiate the Divine encounter. For example he does so during the conflict with Korach, and several times he seeks God’s wisdom to adjudicate difficult legal matters. Why did he have to wait for God to take the initiative here? God has free will just as humans do. We cannot be guaranteed that we will have a “spiritual experience” every time we try. We cannot force God to meet us. Moses, the greatest of all the prophets, who spoke to God “face to face”, had to wait. Sometimes, Moses, like all of us, is not able to be with God. Let’s pray that those moments are few.
Moses asks God a question we all ponder as well. He asks God to show him his “Presence.” Moses wants to see God. In return God says that Moses will, “…see My back but my face must not be seen.” What does that mean? One Rabbi, the Chatam Sofer, Rabbi Moses Schreiber, (1762 - 1839), said the following, “Everything we see, we see vaguely. A person does not know beforehand what present events will lead to in the future, as demonstrated by the miracle of Purim. “You shall see my back,” can be figuratively read. “You shall see My ending.” Only in the end do we grasp the purpose of any act. “My front shall not be seen,” i.e. we cannot know the reason for an event, “up front” before its conclusion.” Are there patterns in life that point to God’s reality? The Chatam Sofer reminds us that sometimes it is not possible to discern them until after the fact. We might think of Haman’s rise to power and his decree to kill all the Jews of Persia as evidence of the impotence of God or of God’s non existence. Only when we read the entire book of Esther do we see that there is a pattern. Sometimes only after a life is lived does an outline appear. Often when I sit with a family preparing for a funeral I hear of the main themes of a person’s life. That can create a blueprint of a life well lived and a pattern of how the values of our tradition were realized. We know the Bible tells us many times that we cannot see God’s face and live. Here we are reminded that sensing God’s presence is often a difficult task; a task that may only become apparent when the last chapter of a life or a story is completed.
We celebrated our victory over Haman, with “…merrymaking and feasting, and…an occasion for sending gifts [understood as food] to one another.” (Esther 9:19) That verse is the basis for the mitzvah of sending portions of food to friends (mishloach manot) on Purim. Maimonides in his codification of those rules considers a person who only has enough food for him or herself on Purim. He writes “And if one does not have (enough to send), he should exchange with his friends, each one sending his dinner to the other…” to fulfill the mitzvah. Note that he does not exempt such a person from sending food to others. Nor does he consider as an option, handing a plate of food to your neighbor, who then hands it back to you. This text was brought to my attention by one of today’s greatest experts on tzedakkah, Danny Siegel. He sent out an e mail this week asking the following question about Maimonides’ ruling, “What would be three good reasons why the person needs to actually exchange the Mishloach Manot (the food portions) rather than just do it symbolically?” See the end of this document for some answers.
More Than Just A Blessing
“You shall serve the Lord your God, and He will bless your bread and your water.” (Exodus 23:25) We read in Etz Hayim, The verse can also be read ‘and you shall bless,’ from which the Rabbis derive the obligation to bless one’s food before eating it (BT Berakhot 48b). The Rabbis go so far as to say that “one who enjoys the goods of this world without thanking God for them is like a thief.” This is the origin of all the blessings we say before eating. When we say the words of hamotzi we state that “…God brings forth bread from the earth.” We don’t mention the farmer, the miller, the baker, or the grocer, each of whom had a role in bringing the bread to our table. It is a way of being aware of more than what we see immediately in front of us. It reminds us of the wonder of creation and our dependence on an ultimate cause, God. Then by adding the word, “earth”, we consider our connection to the natural world. If we take for granted what the earth brings to us, it is as if we are stealing, taking from the earth without recognizing that we are but stewards of its resources and need to thank the earth for its ability to sustain us. Those are worthwhile thoughts to consider even during the mundane act of eating a simple piece of bread.
The Ten Commandments – It’s A Good Start and Not A Complete List
When there are public debates about the Ten Commandments, I sometimes say that I favor posting them on a wall in a prominent place, as long as that place is a synagogue and not a school or a court room. In fact most synagogues have them or a representation of them in their sanctuaries. However, we do not read them in our liturgy. Why is that so? According to the Talmud they were read as part of our services along with the three paragraphs of the Shema in ancient times, but were eliminated because of the “claims of the heretics.” (Berachot 12a) Rabbi Reuven Hammer in Entering Jewish Prayer notes that the “…heretics claimed that only the Ten [Commandments] were sacred; they alone represented the word of God, while the rest of the Torah and its commandments were not holy. In order not to give credence to those arguments the Talmudic Sages eliminated the public recitation of the Ten [Commandments].” (p. 81). Even today we hear people say that they are not too religious but they observe the Ten Commandments. Yes, there are many mitzvot, and yes the Ten Commandments do have a special place within them. However, if we are trying to add holiness to our lives and grow spiritually, I hope we recall that there are many paths to God. We should not limit those conduits to the Ten Commandments alone. They are only a starting place on our path to a better life.
What Is A Miracle?
This week we read about the splitting of the Red Sea (really the Reed Sea in Hebrew). We can ask ourselves what is a miracle? What would you have really seen had you been standing with your ancestors when that event happened? Was it like the scene filmed by Cecil B. DeMille with Charlton Heston holding out his staff and leading the Israelites? Or did was it a more natural event as the following comments suggest, “…a strong east wind, blowing all night and acting with the ebbing tide, may have laid bare the neck of the water joining the Bitter Lakes to the Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to cross in safety….” (Rabbi J. H. Hertz in The Pentateuch and Haftorahs) Maybe “The miracle consisted in the fact that at the very moment when it was necessary, in just the manner conductive to the achievement of the desired goal, and on a scale that was abnormal, there occurred, in accordance with the Lord’s will, phenomena that brought about Israel’s salvation.” (Umberto Cassuto, modern Israeli, Commentary on the Book of Exodus pp. 167-8) Even the normal laws of nature can be experienced as miracles if we see them with wonder and awe. I am often asked if miracles happen today. I am tempted to say simply, “The 1969 Mets,” but I don’t. Instead I comment that our siddur speaks of the “the miracles that happen every day.” Miracles are all around us, if we are sensitive to the wonder and astonishment present in our lives, the reality of our blessings and the love of those close to us. (Note: I want to thank all of those who contributed to the Bagel Breakfast for Haitian Relief. Our Religious School collected over $200. and a slide show with photos from last Sunday’s event are on our web site under “Photos.” Also please bring your donations of medical supplies or used orthopedic equipment to the Center to be sent to Haiti. Our thanks to the Northeast Podiatry Group and Dr. Ritchard Rosen for this project).
Do We Suffer from the Plague of Darkness – Even When Our Lights Are On?
We read the following about the plague of darkness, “Moses stretched out his hand over the heavens and there was gloomy darkness throughout all the land of Egypt, for three days, a man could not see his brother and a man could not arise from his spot, for three days.” (Exodus 10:21-23). Why does the Torah specify that “a man could not see his brother”? It was also impossible to see the walls of one’s home or the sheep in the field. One commentary seems particularly apt at this time, “The greatest darkness is when a person does not see his fellow and does not participate in the distress of others…they did not feel the other’s distress…Their senses were dulled.” (Rabbi Alexander Zusia Friedman (1897-1943) author of Wellsprings of Torah.) This plague is not just about the absence of light. It is about a deficiency of feeling and insight into the well being of others. As we are in the midst of the seeing the horrifying photos and news reports coming out of Haiti, it is still hard to fully imagine what everyday life is like for the victims who need medical care as well as those who have lost relatives, friends and all their belongings in the earthquake. So far we have heard that the outpouring of donations has been great. Here again are places where you can contribute and break out of the darkness: You can cut and paste them into your browser.
American Jewish World Service
https://secure.ajws.org/site/Donation2?df_id=3460&3460.donation=form1
The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC)
https://www.jdc.org/donation/donate.aspx
Checks also may be sent to United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism • 1820 Second Avenue, NY, NY 10017, attention: Rabbi Paul Drazen, mark envelope Haiti Disaster Relief.
If you would like to see Israel’s response to the tragedy, you can watch a CNN report about a mobile Israeli Defense Force’s hospital in Haiti at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yz44iZKUMng or read an article at: http://jta.org/news/article/2010/01/19/1010226/israeli-aid-effort-helps-haitians-and-israels-image
At our Passover Seder we begin the recitation of the plagues with “dam, tzefardeah…Blood, frogs…” We read those afflictions this Shabbat. We could ask, “Why did the plagues start with blood?” One answer that I have frequently quoted says that the Nile was the source of life to the Egyptians. Without its waters, they would not be able to grow their crops nor water their cattle. Changing that life giving resource to blood was a way of contradicting the Egyptians’ way of life and their entire world view. I recently read another interpretation that I will add to my Seder. Uriel Simon, a Biblical scholar, points out that there were Egyptians who denied the evil their government was doing enslaving our ancestors. They were like those in the United States who supported slavery in the 19th century claiming that Blacks were primitive and not suited to be free. The first plague makes that denial impossible. For years the Egyptians had cast Israelite babies into the Nile, and now the Nile turns to blood, bringing the crimes committed there to the surface. The people of a nation bear responsibility for their country’s policies. As the Talmud reminds us, “Silence is like agreement.” Even for a country with a monarch, such as Egypt, injustice cannot be countenanced. We can ask ourselves what are the wrongs in our society that we should protest against today.
This week I was asked by Freeholder David Ganz, a member of our congregation to give the benediction at the reorganization meeting of the Board of Chose Freeholders. Here are my words: I want to bless us all not only with words from the Bible but add a thought for us and our elected officials as the agenda of a New Year is before us. These words were originally said by the ancient Jewish Priests who blessed the people [I first said them in Hebrew at the meeting and then translated them.] May God bless you and keep you! May God’s light shine upon you and may God be gracious to you! May you feel God’s Presence within you always and may you find shalom – peace! (Numbers 6:24) A medieval Jewish scholar, Abrabanel, of the 13th century commented on first line of that text. He said that what God “blesses” us refers to material blessings, such as those that give us life, security, a home and children. The word that asks God to “keep” us refers to the hope that God will protect us from the dangers of those blessings: that our prosperity will be sufficient for our needs but that it will not blind us to others nor warp our values. May God bless us and our all our elected officials so that our needs are taken care of; that we resist the temptation to place our well being above the public good. May all of us, freeholders and citizens alike, be able to work for the good of our community with selfless ability. And may God bless us with possessions and keep them from possessing us. Amen.
Can You Manage Your Anger?
Is anger a positive or a negative trait? We read that Jacob on his death bed says the following to two of his sons, “Shimon and Levi are a pair: Their weapons are tools of lawlessness…for when they are angry they slew men, and when pleased they mutilate oxen.” (Genesis 49:5-6) He is referring to what they did after their sister had been kidnapped and abused. They killed all the male residents of an entire town. Their anger was appropriate, but they expressed it in an extreme way. Could they have rescued and vindicated their sister without all that slaughter? How much anger is appropriate? Rabbi Zelig Plishkin Growth Through Torah, (p. 133-4) says that “Someone without anger or zealousness will fail to take action to protest injustice. On the other hand, excessive anger is extremely harmful. It causes quarrels, hurt feelings, much pain and suffering.” Imagine there was a continuum that had “Too much anger” on one end and “Too little anger” on the other. Where would you place yourself? Can you think of times in your life when you were too angry, or not angry enough? Let’s pray that we will be able to master an appropriate balance to our anger.
Can People Change?
At the beginning of our Torah portion we read the longest speech in the book of Genesis, the plea of Judah before Joseph. It is a carefully constructed series of arguments. He measures every word and uses every gesture to plead for the life of his brother and father. Dr. Norman Cohen, in his book, Self, Struggle and Change comments on this speech. He asks, “Do we believe that we human beings have the capacity to grow in substantial ways over time, especially knowing ourselves as we do? Or is our attempt at change simply a matter of making small adjustments to personalities and patterns that are fairly well fixed? Do we know in our hearts that our essential makeup remains unaltered or can we become better?” He asks this question because he sees a great change in Judah. He did not intervene on behalf of Joseph as he languished in the pit before he was sold as a slave. Now Judah shows compassion for a brother. That is a great transformation. Think of change in your own life. As we begin the secular year and think of New Year resolutions, ask yourself - Did you actualize any changes you wanted to make in yourself when you were praying on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur? Are only small adjustments possible? How would you answer Dr. Cohen’s question about the capacity for change based on your life?
What was the miracle on the first day of the festival?
I have frequently written quizzes to teach about various aspects of Judaism. The following is from a quiz I once wrote about Hanukkah. No peeking at the answer (at the end of the Insider) until you choose your response(s). There may be more than one correct answer. Here’s the question: Why do we say that the miracle of Hanukkah lasted eight days? Since there was enough oil for the first day, there was no miracle on that day. Which of the following are some of the explanations given by various scholars?
a. Since some Rabbis said there was a miracle on the first day, and some said there was no miracle on the first day, we celebrate for eight days to satisfy all opinions.
b. After the menorah was filled with all the available oil, the jar remained full as before.
c. The very discovery of one remaining jar of oil with the High Priest’s seal was itself a miracle.
d. The Syrian Greeks prohibited circumcision, and since that happens on the eighth day of life, the Hasmoneans rejoiced for eight days on the renewal of the covenant of circumcision.
e. The fact that they did not despair from lighting the lamps even on the first day, despite their knowledge that they would not be able to do so on the next day was a great miracle.
f. On the first day the Rabbis diluted the one cruse of oil with water so that it could last for eight days. Despite the fact that that oil and water do not mix, they did so, contrary to the rules of chemistry as we know them.
Sharing the Miracle of Hanukkah
Rulings on Jewish law are not only legal matters. They also reveal the values of Jewish life. Imagine the following scenario. You are living in the Middle Ages, before it was so simple to go to your local ShopRite and buy an inexpensive box of Hanukkah candles. Instead, everyone used a menorah with spaces for real oil and then they placed a wick in the oil reservoir to light it. Suppose you find out that you have an impoverished neighbor who has no money to buy oil. Imagine that you could not afford buy more than the oil you have purchased – just enough to last for the entire holiday nor could you afford to give your neighbor tzedakkah to buy her own oil and wicks. What would you do? You could pray for another miracle like the one that happened in ancient times so that your oil would last longer than expected and share the extra oil with your neighbor. However the Rabbis tell us not to rely on miracles. Instead they say that you should share your oil with your neighbor even though you will not have enough left over to celebrate all eight days. In this case sharing with those in need and allowing them to observe the mitzvah trumps personal observance. This is a wonderful reminder of how we should think of those in need at this time. Consistent with that value I hope you will respond to help our homeless neighbors as described below in the Dinner for the Homeless project organized by our Social Action Committee. Let us share with those who are needy so they will be able to sustain their bodies as we sustain our souls celebrating the miracle of Hanukkah.
We Are All “Yisrael – Israel”
This week in the Torah portion we read that after Jacob wrestles with a Divine Being, he was told, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Yisrael (Israel) for you have striven with beings divine and human and have prevailed.” The Hebrew word “Yisrael” combines God’s name with a Hebrew word for “struggle.” (Genesis 32:29). Rabbis Larry Kushner and Kerry Olitzky interpret this verse by saying, “The struggle is now over. Jacob has a new name, Israel. Now Jacob wants his adversary to disclose his identity. Jacob reasons that if he knows his name, he might be able to understand the essence of the struggle. But he does not get the answer he seeks and therefore he must seek the answer to his struggle on his own. (Sparks Beneath the Surface, p. 43) Struggling to understand God can be a lifelong task. Like the wrestling match in our reading, there are times we feel we are able to prevail in our understanding of God’s ways and there are times when we are left without a satisfying answer. This Biblical scene has been seen as symbolic of the purpose of our people. We call ourselves, the People of Israel, those who in their lives constantly struggle to understand God. The angel’s words to Jacob remind us that wrestling with God does not always lead to clear answers, but validates our individual struggle for understanding the role of God in our lives. On a very personal note, I too know this struggle and see that as part of who I am and what I do, for my Hebrew name is in fact Yisrael.
If You Help me, God, I will Serve You – Jacob’s Conditional Faith
In Genesis 28:20, Jacob makes a vow,” If God remains with me, if He protects me on this journey that I am making, and gives me bread to eat, and clothing to wear, and if I return safe to my father’s house – the Lord shall be my God, and this stone which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God’s abode; and of all that You give me, I will set aside a tithe for You.” This conditional vow, if God will do so and so, then I will do such and such in return, has troubled many Biblical commentators. Just before this verse we read that God has promised Jacob in a dream that all these things will be done for him. Why does Jacob make this vow? There are many commentators who find ways to read these words to Jacob’s credit; that he was only asking for the minimum of food, clothing and safety to survive, or that he is just praying for a sense of God’s presence. I think those comments are not true to the words of the Bible. It simply sounds like the type of promise that many people make when they are in danger. I agree with the commentator Robert Alter who says in The Five Books of Moses, p. 151, that Jacob is still a “suspicious bargainer, a ‘wrestler’ with words and conditions...he wants to be sure God will fulfill His side of the bargain before he commits himself to God’s service…” I would also say that it reflects a hope we all have, that if God is good to us we will be good to God. While that is often the case, we know that is not always true. It is a high level of faith to serve God, when we are not prosperous, healthy or satisfied. The text is not just a statement to God, but to us as well, reminding us that in real life faith is difficult. It is not always constant. Moments of doubt with a need for reassurance can alternate with times of complete belief.
What Do We Learn from Our Parents?
In her book, Wrestling With Angels, Naomi Rosenblatt, suggests that the cycle of deceptions and favoritism we see in the family of Isaac and his sons had roots in his family relationships with his father and mother. Isaac himself was the favored son of his parents. Abraham and Sarah cast out of their home Isaac’s half brother Ishmael. Later in the book of Genesis we will see Jacob favor one son, Joseph, over his other children repeating his father’s pattern with disastrous results. He gives Joseph a “coat of many colors” and Joseph’s brothers become jealous of him. They almost kill him, and then sell him into slavery. At a distance and from the outside we can see this dysfunctional family pattern. We can wonder if Isaac and Jacob were even conscious of how their actions replicated what they saw and learned as children. As we read these stories, we can ask ourselves many questions. How can we accurately perceive both the positive and negative patterns of our families? Can we consciously avoid what has caused harm to previous generations and accentuate the positive? Family relationships can be complex, convoluted and difficult to discern, especially for those within them, but the Bible wants us to understand patterns that often lead to harm. I hope that with God’s help we can avoid them and guide our own families on the life-giving examples of our childhood.
The Election Campaign is Over – Thank God!
The election campaign is over and I am glad that I don’t have to see or hear all those negative ads anymore. I know the only reason negative ads are used is simple - they work! I wonder, however if they coarsen both our political discourse and our souls too much. I thought of this when I read a comment on the way that Abraham approaches the residents of Hebron, when he needs to purchase a burial place for his wife Sarah. The Rabbis of ancient times say that when Abraham, “…bowed low before the people of the land.” (Genesis 23:12), he was acting with great respect and not as a flatterer looking for a favor. He was using good manners and courtesy, what is called in Hebrew derech eretz. That term, as defined by Rabbi S. Wagschal in his book, A Guide To Derech Eretz, means that we should treat others “with impartiality, humility, sensitivity towards the feelings and rights of [them]; an understanding of human nature, a sense of justice; respect for each individual and for humanity as a whole.” Imagine if politicians campaigned that way. There would be no statements with deliberate distortions or words that stretch the truth. We could debate issues based on the merits of one side or the other without name calling and exaggeration. Could a person succeed in today’s political world if he or she decided that derech eretz was as important as winning? I guess not, but I like to imagine a place where the values of Abraham are second nature and are used as guides when politicians campaign for office and debate public policies.
Testing, Testing – Did Abraham Pass the Test?
When God tells Noah he is about to destroy the world with a flood, Noah does not protest. He simply follows God’s command to build an ark to save himself, his family and the animals. When God tells Abraham that he will destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah because of their sins, Abraham objects, and asks, “Will you sweep away the innocent along with the guilty?” He bargains with God until God agrees not to destroy the cities if there are ten righteous people there. In our Torah portion God “put Abraham to the test” (Genesis 22:1) by commanding him to sacrifice his son Isaac. Abraham obeys this shocking request without question. Why? Some account it to his great faith in God. By doing so, he proves to himself and to others how much he believes in the word of God. One striking modern interpretation suggests that Abraham failed the test. God wanted Abraham to protest at some point. After Isaac is saved from his father’s knife, God never again speaks directly to Abraham. This radical interpretation sees that as a confirmation of God’s disappointment at Abraham. I admit this understanding of our text is major rereading of it, but I am sometimes stumped by this passage. For your own consideration this week: Do you believe God tests us? Why? Why did God test Abraham in this way? What would you have done? Has God tested you? There are no easy answers to these questions. Once again, the Biblical text forces us to confront some of our deepest feelings and beliefs.
Why Should I Follow the Mitzvot?
As we are about to begin our Mitzvah Initiative, we read in the Torah portion this week a verse that speaks of the purpose of following God’s commands. “When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said, ‘…Walk in My ways and be blameless.’ ” (Genesis 17:1-2) This text asserts that by following the mitzvot one will become tamim, a Hebrew word that has also been translated to mean unblemished or wholehearted. Let me repeat one of my favorite rationales for the mitzvot that is similar to this verse. It is from the Midrash Tanchuma. Parashat Shemini. “What does God care whether a person kills an animal in the proper way and eats it or whether he strangles the animal and eats it [in other words, does God who is majestic and beyond all comprehension, really care about the exact manner that a kosher slaughterer uses?] …the commandments were given only to refine God’s creatures, as it says, ‘God’s word is refined. It is a protection to those who trust in Him.’ ” (II Samuel 22:32) We can find many rationales for doing the mitzvot. In my class we will spend one session talking about them. There are those who say that we should just follow God’s rules without seeking any reason for them because they are God’s rules. What is your motivation for doing mitzvot? I hope you will join me and many other members of the congregation as we seek to understand more deeply our relationship to the mitzvot and how they affect us. I do feel that by following them I have become a much better person.
The Greatest Verse from the Torah?
Here’s a quick question for you from the Rabbis of ancient times. Which verse of the Torah would you consider the greatest principle in it? “Love your fellow as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18) or a verse from this week’s Torah portion: “This is the record of Adam’s line.” (Genesis 5:1). Think about it for a moment. Why did you choose one verse over the other one? Here is an answer from the Talmud. Rabbi Akiva prefers the verse from Leviticus but Ben Azzai says that the verse from Genesis is even more significant. We can easily side with Rabbi Akiva’s selection, but what is so important about the quote from Genesis? Rabbi Menachem Kasher interprets the statement of Ben Azzai to mean “…[he] laid down a fundamental teaching of Judaism…[the verse traces] back the whole of the human race to one single ancestor, created by God, [and] the Bible taught that all men have one single Creator – the heavenly Father – and one ancestor – the human father.” This is not a statement about science or evolution. Rather it is a statement about the value of all human life. We are all equal. We are all of infinite worth. We are all related. Imagine a world where everyone believed and acted on those principles. That would be a far better one than the one we live in. I would argue that once we accept our common ancestry and humanity, inevitably we would treat each other with love.
Have You Read Any Good Books Lately on an Electronic Screen?
On Saturday night and Sunday we celebrate Simchat Torah, the festival when we both finish and begin the reading of the Sefer Torah. In Hebrew the word sefer can mean a scroll or a book. I thought of this when I read in an article in the New York Times, by Motoko Rich, who said, “Today we have many forms that books take…in the age of the iPhone, Kindle and YouTube, the notion of the book is becoming increasingly elastic as publishers mash together text, video and Web features in a scramble to keep readers interested in an archaic form of entertainment.” The Torah is the only book in the modern world that is read in the exact same form as it was read in the ancient world. It is a hand written document, on parchment, rolled as a scroll on wooden handles. It must not contain even one small error. It is not entertainment we seek when we read the Torah each year. It is not excitement we desire. It is a sense of history, continuity and connection to the Divine that makes the reading of the Torah in the synagogue so awesome. I have no idea what form books will take in ten, twenty or thirty years from today. But I do know that in one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years and more from now, Jews will chant the words of the Torah from a hand written scroll. Our past, present and future coalesce in reading from a sefer whose contents and format will never become archaic or obsolete. For our people holding on to those traditions is the very definition of how best to recall the past, learn lessons for the present and face the future.
When Yom Kippur ended and you gathered in the lobby of our synagogue, how did the first sip of orange juice and the bite into the muffin taste? I am sure it was satisfying and told you head as well as your stomach that the Day of Atonement was over. However, the Rabbis teach that even after we eat and drink, the messages of Yom Kippur continue on Succot. We take the etrog and the lulav and shake them on this festival. The Midrash points to these four types of plants and describes how they remind us of our sins; sins that we may not have fully removed from ourselves on Yom Kippur. The lulav (palm branch) is long and straight like the human spine. It recalls the sins we do by running to do evil. The myrtle leaves look like our eyes, and are reminiscent of the sins we commit with haughty looks. The willow leaves are like our mouths. They summon up the sin of speaking ill of others. Finally the etrog, the size and shape of a human heart brings to mind how we misbehave with a stubborn heart. We have finished our formal recitation of sins and ended our fast. Let’s hope we retain our commitment to remove faults from our lives as we wave the lulav and etrog.
The following text is based on the teachings of Rabbi Moshe Cordevero, from his book Tomer Devorah, chapter 1. “Since people are created in the image of God, we have the ability to act Godly. It is therefore not acceptable to use the excuse, ‘I’m only human.’ Here are some ways to emulate God: When some asks you, ‘How can I repair the damage I have done to our relationship?’ Don’t answer, “You made the problem, you fix it.” When man sins against God, God cleans up the mess that man created and repairs the relationship…Ignore the bad that were done to you as much as possible, just as we ask God to ignore our sins.” When I think of being like God, I often cite the Midrash that tells us to help those in need just as God does in the Bible. This quote reminds us that we have expectations about how we want God to treat us. We expect God to be forgiving of our weaknesses and sins. Imagine if we were to treat others as we want God to treat us. That is a more difficult level to reach that we ordinarily do. I hope we can be at that plane as we approach Yom Kippur asking others to forgive us and seeking forgiveness from those around us.
May you all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life for a good and sweet New Year.
When we sit with our families for a festive meal on Rosh Hashanah we don’t expect to ask questions as we do on Passover. Perhaps we think of the apples and the honey and the people closest to us. However, Rosh Hashanah is a time for introspection and to consider the course of our lives. In the book, Rosh Hashanah Yom Kippur Survival Guide, Shimon Apisdorf suggests the following questions as starting points for discussion at our holiday meals. One could go around the table and have each person respond to them. When do I most feel that my life is meaningful? What are my three most significant achievements since last Rosh Hashanah? What are the biggest mistakes I’ve made since last Rosh Hashanah? What project or goal, if left undone will I most regret next Rosh Hashanah? What would bring me more happiness than anything else in the world? What are my three major goals in life? What am I doing to achieve them? What steps can I take in the next two months towards these goals? Even if you are not comfortable to bring these to the table, I suggest that during the Rosh Hashanah services you could ponder these large questions to help you achieve a good and sweet New Year.
Last week I wrote about how the Rabbis of ancient time were sensitive to the needs of Jews who were uncomfortable with Hebrew and wanted to make the Temple in ancient times more open and hospitable. One new program that I want to begin to tell you about is intended to make our congregation a more welcoming place and a space of comfort and understanding. The following is a press release is being sent to local newspapers, but you saw it here first! Under One Roof: Interfaith Connections, a six week group that addresses the many issues that parents whose children have intermarried encounter is being offered by the Jewish Family Service of North Jersey together with the Fair Lawn Jewish Center/Congregation B’nai Israel. This group, led by a licensed clinical social worker, will focus on the following topics: clarifying religious and cultural values; bridging differences; dealing with extended family relationships; sharing traditions with grandchildren; and celebrating holidays. Rabbi Ronald Roth of the Fair Lawn Jewish Center/Congregation B’nai Israel said, “I am so pleased that we are able to work with the Jewish Family Service of North Jersey on this program. This collaboration will create a safe, open and understanding place for parents to discuss matters surrounding their child’s interfaith relationship. Having a trained and experienced social worker lead the group will make it a supportive place for all the participants.” A nominal fee will be charged for each session. For additional information as well as more information on dates and times and to register, please contact Ellen Masnaghetti, LCSW, (973)-595-0111. This evening program will begin in early October.
Some of Our Ancestors Had Difficulty Reading Hebrew
We read in the Torah portion that when a person brought the first fruits to the Temple in Jerusalem that he or she “…shall then recite as follows before the Lord your God: ‘My father was a fugitive Aramean...’” (Deuteronomy 26:5) This is one of the few places in the Torah when we read a liturgical passage from the Bible that was literally used as a prayer in the Temple. The Rabbis of ancient times decided that those words (unlike the words of other prayers such as the Shema and the Amidah) had to be recited in Hebrew. Later Sages realized that Jews who did not know Hebrew were not observing this mitzvah and not taking their first fruits to the Temple. They did not want to be humiliated in public by stumbling over the words. They Sages ruled that a person could repeat the Hebrew after it was said first by a Cohen so that no one would be embarrassed. They wanted to be open and accepting of those whose knowledge of Hebrew was limited if it existed at all. Remember that the vernacular language of that time was Aramaic not Hebrew. Some things change and some things stay the same. We live at a time when there are many Jews who do not know Hebrew or who are embarrassed about their lack of synagogue skills. We can learn from our Sages that we must endeavor to find ways to help all Jews feel comfortable in synagogue and able to participate in our rituals. We have transliterations and teach Hebrew to adults at our synagogue. There is no one easy way to do so, but we should be always conscious of that goal. An additional note from Rabbi Roth – As we approach the Days of Awe, our Synagogue once again relies on your support for its continued existence and its ability to excel. We all know that the past year has been difficult for all of us. Our Congregation has been able to maintain its standard of excellence and also act responsibility to keep expenses down. Please be generous in response to our High Holiday appeal.
Is It Acceptable to own a Pit Bull Dog?
We read in Deuteronomy 22:8, “You shall make a parapet for your roof…that you bring not blood upon your house; if a person falls from there.” In ancient times people would go up to the roof of their home or even sleep on it. Unless there was a guard rail on the side of the roof, someone could easily fall and seriously injure themselves. The general rule derived here is that we are not allowed to create a situation where damages could result. In the Talmud we read, “It was taught: Rabbi Nathan said, where do we know that a person should not raise a vicious dog in his house, or leave out a shaky ladder in his house, It is written, “Do not bring bloodguilt upon your house.” (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Ketubot 451b). What man made dangers are there today that we should avoid? Should there be laws against having places where mosquitoes breed on your property because of a fear of disease? How much of a warning is this to those who manufacture harmful or defective products – cigarettes, tires, etc.? While some of these issues may not be clear, the Torah and the Rabbis are certain that one must not consciously endanger others. I recall that after I left New Jersey for Tennessee some years ago, I was surprised by the differences in how my car was inspected in each state. In Tennessee, they only check your car’s emissions system. There is no state inspection of brakes, lights and other safety features. Despite the driving habits here, that are, shall we say, not as courteous as they could be, at least I feel that the cars on the road are safe. That is consistent with the wisdom of our Tradition. As for the pit bull it is clear that Rabbi Nathan would object to them as household pets.
It’s Time to Start Your Warm Up For Rosh Hashanah!
The Torah portion begins with the words, “See this day I set before you a blessing and a curse.” (Deut. 15:1). “The Vilna Gaon learns from this that a person should never say, ‘Since I once chose an evil path, there is no hope for me any longer.’ We always have the opportunity to choose between good and evil…Should a person say ‘What hope is there for me, for I am a sinner and what about all my sins until now? The Torah states ‘…this day…’ that each day is a new opportunity for a fresh start.’ Indeed a person who has repented is like a new born child.” (Torah Gems edited by Aharon Yaakov Greenberg p. 228) This comment is a clear statement of free will. Asserting our ability to change from a negative path to a healthy one is not easy. Many of us, myself included, are able to recall prayers and promises we made to ourselves on the High Holidays that were not fulfilled. Sometimes my momentum fizzles before I realize my goals. The above comment reminds us that now is the time to start serious soul searching. Some people have said to me that they wait until Rosh Hashanah to focus on ways to turn their lives to a better future. I always like to say that while Rosh Hashanah is a propitious time for such activities why wait! Like the announcement just before an auto race, “Gentlemen, start your engines!” that prepares those cars for a quick start, we can give ourselves a running start for the Holidays as well. Having these words in the Torah portion is a great reminder for us to begin to think of the ways we want to change and assert our free will over what enslaves us. What relationships need our attention? What bad habits do we need to break? What good habits require nourishing? It may still be many weeks to Rosh Hashanah but it is not too soon to see each day this week as, “…this day…” - an opportunity to seek a healthier, and more spiritual future path.
1. We are commanded to do mitzvot, not just to think about them or do them symbolically; therefore one must actually do the exchange.
2. From the viewpoint of the recipient, it makes him or her feel that he or she is cared for.
3. From the viewpoint of both giver and recipient, it creates community.
4. To use an important concept that Danny Siegel likes to emphasize, it says to a person who barely has enough to live on that you are an honorable, dignified human being who gives to another. Giving, even when you are needy, maintains your self-esteem.
For additional comments please go to the Rabbi's Study Archives
Read Israel Talking Points on the Current Mideast Situation
Rabbi's 2007 Rosh Hashana Sermon (pdf)
Rabbi's T'u B"shvat Questions (pdf)